Time is always subjective.
Fang Juexia finally acknowledged this truth. In the past, he had hoped painful moments wouldn’t drag on, which is why he developed the habit of silently counting down in his mind. But gradually, he realized his internal clock was merely a tool to avoid confronting his pain. Once happiness surrounded him, he no longer needed constant reminders of time’s passage.
In the blink of an eye, the six of them had walked side by side through countless places. From that bitterly cold winter when they were barred from the red carpet, to endless red carpets they walked, to award ceremonies both distinct and yet similar, they had collected every kind of award and received every kind of praise. They carved a path distinct from past idol groups, using their talent and skill to secure their place at the pinnacle. The storms never ceased, yet their standing remained unshakable.
In the blink of an eye, Kaleido had been active for eight years.
Earlier this year, Jiang Miao won Best Actor for portraying a fugitive criminal, cementing his status as the most successful member of the group to transition into acting. He Ziyan, riding the wave of several consecutive hit dramas, has become a rising star in the television industry—one of the rare young actors capable of single-handedly driving ratings.
Ling Yi immersed himself in his passion for musical theater and became a regular host on a national variety show, doing what he loved most. The dance troupe led by Lu Yuan, honed and guided by him over the years, rose to become a top-tier domestic dance company, winning numerous international awards.
Three years ago, Pei Tingsong participated in a hip-hop competition. Through sheer talent, he secured second place on the show, completely dispelling the public’s prejudice that he, as a boy band member, was unworthy of being called a rapper. The two solo albums he released afterward also generated tremendous buzz, cementing his status as a widely recognized rapper. Meanwhile, Fang Juexia, consistently among the most popular idols, has dedicated himself to original music over the years. Leveraging his innate talent for crafting melodies, he has evolved from a boy band member into an original singer-dancer through successive solo albums. He even launched his own solo concert series, with Pei Tingsong serving as the guest performer at both the inaugural and final shows.
Since childhood, he dreamed of owning a stage, so he burns his life’s brilliance on it without pause.
Each member followed their destined path. They arrived at Kaleido for various reasons, fatefully becoming teammates. They merged their distinct goals into one shared vision, advancing together. Later, they gradually charted their own trajectories, pursuing dreams they once thought unattainable.
Six distinct yet converging dreams formed Kaleido’s collective vision. Ultimately, Kaleido’s kaleidoscope would radiate six distinct hues.
Not only did their individual paths shift, but the broader societal trajectory also gradually transformed. Through collective efforts, equality and fearlessness in love gained wider acceptance. Finally, the day arrived when same-sex marriage became legal.
The day before the bill’s enactment, the six members of Kaleido resolved to do something profoundly meaningful. On the day of the rainbow flag parade celebration, they persuaded Cheng Qiang to participate as ordinary supporters rather than celebrities.
Cheng Qiang agreed to this, but he kept Fang Juexia in his office to have a chat.
Fang Juexia sat across from him, looking at the well-tended asparagus fern on Cheng Qiang’s desk—a gift Fang Juexia had given him when he first debuted.
Cheng Qiang poured him a glass of water. Fang Juexia probably guessed what Cheng Qiang was about to say.
In truth, Fang Juexia had confessed his relationship with Pei Tingsong to Cheng Qiang long ago, during the filming of the second season of the Kaleido group variety show. He still remembered Cheng Qiang’s reaction then—fiddling with a lighter trying to light a cigarette, failing to get a spark, finally tucking the cigarette behind his ear, and saying to him:
“Come to think of it, I was the one who pushed you toward him.”
Fang Juexia hadn’t expected that to be his first reaction. He smiled. “Yeah, so you can’t object.”
Cheng Qiang didn’t object. He was such a workaholic with nerves of steel that he’d even suspected it a few times. When Fang Juexia asked him why he’d suspected, he’d only said, “You know how much you’ve changed since we started promoting your CP? It’s like you’re a different person.” “
A different person.
Fang Juexia lowered his eyes. In that moment, he could still picture himself at twenty, fresh out of his debut. Back then, he was so silent he couldn’t utter a word beyond his self-introduction. His mind was filled only with practice, practice, practice. He had no expectations for the future, only a pursuit of stability, terrified of any possibility of things spiraling out of control.
But now, he was no longer that person.
Even Cheng Qiang remarked, “From a professional standpoint, your relationship with Xiao Pei is complicated. No one knows what the future holds. What if you’re exposed? What if you break up and things get messy? It’s all very troublesome. But honestly, as an older brother and a friend, I’m genuinely happy for you.”
Having accompanied Fang Juexia all these years, Cheng Qiang cares for him more than anyone else in the team.
“Since being with him, you’ve become more like the person you should be. That alone makes it worthwhile.”
Cheng Qiang didn’t say much more then. He tossed aside that faulty lighter and patted Fang Juexia’s shoulder again. He reminded him to proceed cautiously, that going public needed the right timing, and that the company needed time to prepare.
That wait stretched on for another five years.
“Mr. Chen has agreed to your attending the Rainbow Carnival.”
Cheng Qiang’s voice pulled him from his memories. Fang Juexia nodded. “Did Mr. Chen say anything else?”
Cheng Qiang shook his head. “He respects your decision.” He leaned back in his chair and slapped the table with both hands. “Speaking of which, have you two been thinking about going public? You’ve been together nearly six years now.”
He hadn’t expected Cheng Qiang to get to the point so quickly, but despite the surprise, Fang Juexia didn’t deny his own thoughts. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to come out. Not just to stop hiding, but to set an example.”
Seeing the confusion on Cheng Qiang’s face, he explained, “There are many people who, for various reasons, lack the courage to reveal their sexuality. Some even hide it their entire lives. I hope my coming out gives those friends more courage to face themselves.”
After speaking, Fang Juexia gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “That sounds really high-minded, doesn’t it? And I’d only say it to you.”
“Besides, I now have enough courage to hold hands with him and stand together in the sunlight. So why shouldn’t I be more honest?”
Cheng Qiang had always believed that if they ever went public, it would be Pei Tingsong’s decision. After all this time, Pei Tingsong had managed to keep their relationship hidden—it must have been Fang Juexia who kept him grounded. Now it seemed he’d been wrong, and had it all backwards.
Cheng Qiang smiled. “You know what? Before coming to talk to you about this, I actually went to see Pei first. We talked for a long time. As we chatted, I asked him, ‘You’re so bold—why haven’t you just gone public one day when you couldn’t hold back anymore?’ Guess what he said?”
Fang Juexia had a vague idea, but unsure, he shook his head. “What?”
“He told me he thinks about coming out every single day. He wants the whole world to know you belong to him. But every time that thought surfaces, he holds back. Whenever the urge hits, he starts weighing the consequences—the challenges you’d face if you came out now, the pressure on the team, whether you could handle it… Especially you. He can’t bear the thought of you having to face it.”
Cheng Qiang repeated Pei Tingsong’s words, unable to suppress a smile himself. His fingers tapped the desk. “Can you imagine? Pei Tingsong actually considering consequences? Worrying that his words or actions might have negative repercussions? Actually restraining the urge to express himself…”
As he spoke, Cheng Qiang exhaled a long breath. “That kid has changed too.” He looked up and pointed at Fang Juexia. “You two… it’s like you’ve swapped places.”
For some reason, even though Cheng Qiang was merely relaying Pei Tingsong’s words, Fang Juexia’s mind conjured a scene of him sitting here, troubled, listing all the possible futures with Cheng Qiang. Suddenly, his nose stung.
He could picture Pei Tingsong’s expression when he said he couldn’t bear to part, even with his eyes closed.
“Yeah,” Fang Juexia lifted his head and smiled openly, “We’ve both changed.”
It turned out love could make someone try to be brave, and it could also teach someone to restrain themselves.
Rising from the chair, Fang Juexia pointed at the potted plant before leaving, “This asparagus fern has grown so big, it’s time to repot it.”
“Right, but I don’t know how. What if I mess it up and kill it?”
Fang Juexia smiled. “Then I’ll find time to help you repot it.”
The same-sex marriage legalization bill had become one of the internet’s most discussed topics recently, and the Pride Parade was the largest grassroots commemorative event. Both the number of participants and the online buzz surrounding it were exceptionally high.
Though members of Kaleido had publicly voiced support for the LGBT community on numerous occasions, this was a spontaneous grassroots event where they preferred to keep a low profile. So on the day of the march, all six dressed inconspicuously in plain white T-shirts like many others in the crowd, each bearing a rainbow emblem on the chest.
Rainbow paint adorned their cheekbones, and they blended into the crowd wearing hats and masks. Ling Yi held a hand-painted sign reading “Love is love.”
The weather that day was exceptionally beautiful. The sky was a washed-out blue, and even the clouds seemed softer, floating like cream-colored dots. The early summer sun was full and abundant, bathing the world in a translucent lemonade glow—bright and refreshing.
Rainbow flags fluttered beneath the sky, their beautiful colors blending together. The summer breeze filled them with life, making them rustle and wave, vibrant and full of hope.
The crowd was a tapestry of diversity: young people bold to the point of behavioral art, reserved college students, straight couples showing support, marginalized sexual minorities bravely expressing themselves, and elderly parents backing their children. People of all kinds gathered, wearing clothes painted with the same rainbow, becoming summer’s most unique landscape.
During the parade, attention focused on celebration and revelry. Among the crowd, countless couples embraced fearlessly under the sun—boys with boys, boys with girls, girls with girls—kissing like any other couple deserving of the world’s blessings.
Amidst so many happy, ordinary couples, Fang Juexia and Pei Tingsong felt overlooked, so they held hands.
But six people together were still too conspicuous. Later, they decided to split up. Fang Juexia and Pei Tingsong walked together. Among the crowd, many young girls found their gazes drifting toward them. Some recognized them immediately, snapping photos and posting them on Weibo.
“I see people taking pictures of us,” Pei Tingsong remarked, slipping his arm around Fang Juexia’s shoulder and waving the little flag Fang Juexia had taped onto it.
Fang Juexia shot him a glance and blamed it all on him. “It’s because you’re too tall and too conspicuous.”
Pei Tingsong pinched Fang Juexia’s cheek with the hand around his shoulder. “Hey, big guy, you think being 6 feet tall is inconspicuous? How much better is that than 6 feet 3 inches?”
Fang Juexia cursed himself for wearing a mask—otherwise, he might have bitten someone’s hand off by now.
Lu Yuan, walking beside them, quipped, “A six-foot-three guy hugging a six-foot-one guy? That’s the most eye-catching sight ever.”
Fang Juexia chuckled at the joke, then heard Pei Tingsong add, “Exactly. And then there’s this giant third wheel who’s almost six feet tall.” “
“Ugh, I should’ve stuck with Erhuo and the others. I must be out of my mind tagging along with you two.”
“We’re the ones who feed you. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
“You kid, your mouth is really…”
As they joked and bantered their way through the crowd, they reached the most thrilling moment of the celebration—the point where everyone followed the route to the very center of the square, waiting for the live broadcast of the bill’s enactment on the giant screen.
Standing in the crowd, Fang Juexia suddenly felt his own insignificance. He could barely hear the words of the man in the suit announcing the news on the screen. All that echoed in his ears were the shouts and screams of everyone around him. Suddenly, streams of colorful streamers shot into the sky, dancing freely.
A loud bang made Fang Juexia instinctively look up, where rainbow-colored smoke rose above the crowd, dispersing into the blue sky.
He clasped Pei Tingsong’s hand tightly, feeling the same nervousness and reluctance to let go as when they first held hands.
Couples of all kinds around them began embracing amidst the grand celebration. Fang Juexia suddenly felt an urge to say something, yet found himself momentarily speechless.
Pei Tingsong placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face him. The surrounding noise was deafening, everyone immersed in joy. Pei Tingsong removed his mask, leaned in close to Fang Juexia, and whispered, “I’ve been waiting for a meaningful day to give you the gift I prepared three years ago.”
Fang Juexia’s eyes held a trace of confusion.
“Do you remember what I said when I confessed to you for the first time?” In the next moment, Pei Tingsong took his hand amidst the roaring crowd. “I chose a point on that timeline very carefully. Back then, I thought that as long as this point accepted me, I would be the happiest person in the world. But gradually, I became more and more greedy.”
Pei Tingsong’s eyes shone brightly, reflecting the colorful crowd and Fang Juexia’s clean-cut face in his pupils.
“Now, I want to circle that point, to make it mine forever.”
As he spoke, he opened his palm, revealing two platinum diamond rings glinting silver. Pei Tingsong picked up one ring and handed the other to him. He was so nervous his hands trembled, afraid he might drop it.
“God, I never imagined I’d say something so corny one day. And I’ve been waiting three whole years for this moment.”
Fang Juexia felt like laughing, yet also wanted to cry. The 26-year-old Pei Tingsong before him still smiled like a child.
Pei Tingsong clasped his hand, his smile growing steadier and more solemn. He took a deep breath, then exhaled with deliberate effort—more nervous than he ever had on stage.
“Mr. Fang Juexia, will you commit to being with Pei Tingsong forever in a different way?”
Not “marry me,” but “be together forever.” Fang Juexia liked this phrasing. He made a small joke, lifting the ring in his own hand. “A different way… like what?”
“For example…” Pei Tingsong smiled. “My beloved, my husband—whatever you prefer.”
“I only prefer you,” Fang Juexia replied, lowering his eyes. His gaze inadvertently caught the engraving inside the ring’s band—a tiny ship.
“I drew it myself, though my skills are poor—I’ve been practicing for ages,” Pei Tingsong admitted honestly. “My abilities are limited, and the result doesn’t do it justice. My Theseus is actually quite beautiful.”
Fang Juexia smiled, offering his ring finger to him. He nodded solemnly, uttering only three words—the very words Pei Tingsong had been anxiously awaiting and most hoped to hear: “I do.”
The relief in Pei Tingsong’s expression was impossible to hide, his hands trembling even as they exchanged rings.
“No backing out. From now on, I won’t be your little boyfriend anymore.” Pei Tingsong pulled him into an embrace. “I’m your fiancé.”
Fang Juexia returned the embrace, nodding against his chest. They were lost in the sea of happiness, gently enveloped by ribbons and rainbow lights, ordinary yet exuberant. He faintly felt Pei Tingsong plant a tender kiss on his crown, knowing it was Pei Tingsong’s restrained yet profound expression.
So he loosened his embrace, wanting to give Pei Tingsong more.
Standing on tiptoe, Fang Juexia wrapped his arms around Pei Tingsong’s neck. “I love you, Pei Tingsong.”
Amidst the bustling crowd and the rainbow arching across the sky, he smiled and leaned in for a kiss.
This kiss caught Pei Tingsong completely off guard. He froze for a second before pulling Fang Juexia into a tight embrace, holding him close. After the kiss, he lifted Fang Juexia off his feet and spun him around several times.
From today onward, they were no longer the people they once were.
Forget about others recognizing them—even Lu Yuan, standing nearby, couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to capture the moment. It was pure front-row sweetness. When the parade ended, the group reunited, quietly slipping away from the crowd to celebrate the youngest’s successful proposal at the restaurant Jiang Miao had booked long ago.
“A lot of people must have seen us,” Ling Yi remarked casually as the appetizers arrived. “I saw a guy filming me.”
“Probably just because you look cute, hahaha.”
They’d expected to be spotted, but in reality, the six of them were discovered much sooner than anticipated—and it caused an absolute firestorm online.
The mere presence of supergroup member Kaleido in the group was already enough to generate buzz, let alone the final celebration where Pei Tingsong and Fang Juexia shared a passionate kiss.
Once photos and videos from bystanders surfaced online, Weibo crashed. Star Map Entertainment’s phones were flooded with calls, despite their advance preparations.
Only after programmers worked frantically to repair the system did Weibo barely resume operations. Unsurprisingly, the hashtag #FangJuexiaPeiTingsongKiss# dominated the top spot with terrifying heat, causing the feed to lag even when scrolling. The original video post had already garnered 130,000 reposts and 140,000 comments.
Over the years, the Fang Juexia-Pei Tingsong pairing had achieved near-universal recognition among those familiar with male idol groups. Their chemistry was so palpable that even their own fans felt compelled to keep their relationship under wraps, establishing them as an unparalleled powerhouse in the fandom landscape. Yet most casual observers had long assumed their interactions were purely professional, rarely entertaining deeper interpretations. So when this kissing video surfaced, the public reaction was both stunned and somehow expected.
CP fans were no less devastated. When major platforms reposted the clip, the “Listening Girls” went wild in the comments.
[@ListeningIsReal: Seeing my ID right now feels like a dream—I’ve had so many similar dreams!]
[@FollowMeVerticalDeafness: I can’t even say I’m deaf anymore—I’m just plain crazy!]
[@LoveTingjueForever: Waaaaaah I started crying the moment I saw this video. I know I’m not alone!]
Yet many still insisted that “since they haven’t publicly confirmed it themselves,” it doesn’t count. The discussion grew louder and louder. Before the media workers clocked out, Pei Tingsong logged onto Weibo. He carefully selected the most beautiful photo from the blogger who captured their kiss and posted it.
[@Kaleido裴听颂: The photo is stolen, but the people in it are mine. [Image]]
At the exact moment he posted, Fang Juexia also shared a photo on his Weibo. It was from five years ago, on a Maldivian beach. Fang Juexia had written “FJX&PTS” in the white sand with his finger, circled it with a heart, and placed a white lisianthus beside it.
[@Kaleido Fang Juexia: [Share Image]]
These two posts nearly crashed Weibo again. The top trending topic shifted from #FangJuexiaPeiTingsongKiss# to #FangJuexiaPeiTingsongOfficialAnnouncement#. This marked the first time in a boy band’s history that an official announcement confirmed a romantic relationship—and that the partner was a bandmate.
The other bandmates weren’t idle either. Shuttling between two filming locations, offering congratulations here, demanding wedding gifts there. Ling Yi posted a long string of crying emojis on his secondary account, lamenting the loss of his roommate—prompting netizens to tease him: “What you’re really grieving is the world’s most useful tool guy.”
The public buzz remained relentless, keeping them on trending lists for days. Overnight, the once-devastated CP fans ascended to the top of the food chain. Finally, they could openly compile every sweet moment since the relationship began, editing them into videos stacked sky-high.
One die-hard CP fan even confessed on Weibo that tears welled up while organizing the archives—so much traceable tenderness and sweetness had been right before their eyes all along.
On the third day after the announcement, Fang Juexia attended the promotional event for his third solo album as scheduled. During the two-hour interview, he demonstrated his ability to handle things independently.
During a game similar to Truth or Dare, he drew a small challenge.
“Please share with everyone a WeChat username you’ve used in the past.”
Fang Juexia pondered for a moment. “That’s actually quite interesting. My old WeChat name did attract a lot of attention.”
The host raised an eyebrow with curiosity. “Really? What was it?”
“Non-differentiable life,” Fang Juexia explained further. “I used that name throughout high school. It’s the online alias that accompanied me the longest.”
“Why choose such a name?”
Fang Juexia smiled faintly. “Many people know I’ve shared about my family publicly. My father’s transformation felt like a turning point in my life—a sharp, abrupt shift that sent my existence spiraling down from a smooth, steady curve. That point remained painfully sharp for a long time, something I couldn’t let go of.”
“In mathematical terms, a sharp point on a curve has unequal left and right derivatives—it’s non-differentiable. So I chose this name as a warning to myself.”
The host nodded thoughtfully, then smiled with a hint of relief. “So you’ve changed it now, right?”
Fang Juexia nodded. “That’s correct.”
As the interview drew to a close, the atmosphere remained pleasant. Ultimately, the host inevitably broached the topic of his relationship. Fang Juexia had anticipated this, knowing it was his first public appearance since the official announcement. Every media outlet would seize this rare opportunity.
“Juexia, your recent public announcement of your relationship with a teammate has shocked many, though there’s also been an outpouring of well-wishes. We’re curious to hear your own perspective on this relationship—is there anything you’d like to share with us?”
Cheng Qiang, standing nearby, looked slightly exasperated and seemed ready to intervene, but Fang Juexia shook his head. “It’s fine, Brother Qiang.”
“About this relationship… let me think. I wasn’t prepared at all.” Facing the camera, his usually unflappable, even slightly aloof expression softened into a gentle smile. Only then did the host sitting opposite him truly sense this was genuine emotion, not a rehearsed expression.
After a moment, Fang Juexia spoke again. “I was thinking about what I mentioned earlier regarding my WeChat name. Actually, it does have some connection to my love life.”
“Oh? So you changed your WeChat name because of a relationship?” The host cracked a little joke to lighten the mood. “Did you change it to something like ‘differentiable’?”
Fang Juexia burst out laughing, sounding almost childlike. “You guessed right.” “He sat back in his chair, his expression settling into the contemplative calm that only deep thought could bring. ”Those who’ve studied derivatives know there are certain types of points that are non-differentiable.”
He imagined that if Pei Tingsong were to hear what he was about to say next, she’d probably laugh and tease him, calling him “Teacher Fang” again. The thought made the corners of his mouth lift slightly.
He held up a finger to illustrate. “Take the sharp points I mentioned earlier, for instance. Or discontinuous breakpoints—where a curve suddenly snaps at a point, rendering it non-differentiable and disrupting continuity. Then there are undefined points like denominators of zero, and points where the derivative becomes infinite—all non-differentiable.”
The host nodded. “I think I get it…”
Fang Juexia looked at him. “You must be wondering what the heck I’m talking about and how it relates to today’s question.”
The host burst into laughter.
“Truthfully, I’ve always believed that while mathematics stands firmly within the realm of logic, it can also construct the patterns of the real world—even the most complex tapestry of human existence. These points of non-differentiability resemble the setbacks and imperfections we encounter in life. We all yearn for our life curves to be smooth, continuous, and free of regret, but achieving that is incredibly difficult.”
A hint of resignation tinged Fang Juexia’s voice, yet soon, a brighter light shone in his eyes.
He pondered, carefully crafting his words as he spoke slowly, his tone growing gentler. “But I was fortunate—a certain person appeared in my life. He softened the sharpest scars in my life, filled the gaps and breaks in my life’s curve, gave me the courage to define emotions I once avoided or deemed unworthy of definition, and turned back the infinite darkness that once enveloped me.”
He lowered his eyes and smiled, treasuring the moment as he spoke his lover’s name. “Because of Pei Tingsong, the curve of my life has become continuous and smooth—and filled with anticipation.”
These words were deeply moving, even drawing a look of genuine happiness to the host’s face. “To have someone who can change you like that is truly precious.”
Hearing this, Fang Juexia nodded in agreement. “I’ve always believed the most precious things in the world are dreams and love. But I seem to be a little luckier, because my beloved is also my teammate—fighting alongside me and accompanying me in realizing my dreams.”
“For these two to overlap—to me, that’s the best possible outcome.”
