Chapter 1

3AM, Beijing. A heavy snowfall blanketed the city.
After wrapping up the recording of a show, Fang Juexia got into his manager’s car and headed back to the dorm. He sat in silence, staring out the window. The concrete jungle, now softened by snow, looked obedient and still—like stiff limbs finally tucked under a quilt, ready to rest.

The shoot had dragged on too long. The indoor competitive games had drained him. Fang Juexia wasn’t the sociable type, but he still had to compromise for the sake of screen time.

“Juexia, you tired? That was a long one, huh? Seriously…”
Manager Cheng Qiang glanced at the rearview mirror. Reflected in it was Fang Juexia, bundled up in a bulky black down jacket, his pale face nearly swallowed by the shadows. He looked like a beautiful mirage sealed inside the mirror.

Fang Juexia turned his head slightly. A faint red birthmark peeked out from beneath his fringe near the corner of his left eye. Out the window, he caught a glimpse of a faded maple leaf buried in the snow. It looked like late autumn had fled in a panic and forgotten it there—one last smear of red left in the ice.

Or maybe he was imagining it.

“Eight hours and forty-two minutes,” he said with quiet precision. Then he answered the earlier question. “I’m okay. Not tired.”

“Next time, get some proper sleep before the shoot. Don’t waste your energy in the practice room.”
Cheng Qiang changed lanes, then shifted the topic. “But you barely said anything the whole time. That’s not gonna work. The station already doesn’t give you many shots during editing. If you keep quiet, you’ll get completely cut. You’ve got the kind of face that could win over half the viewers with just a close-up. As long as the camera’s on you, it’s a win.”

Fang Juexia knew Cheng Qiang meant well. So he pulled a faint smile and answered gently, “Okay, I’ll be more mindful next time.”

Hearing that, Cheng Qiang couldn’t bring himself to push further.
Fang Juexia was a member of the six-man boy group Kaleido, and honestly, he was a lucky catch for their company. He used to be a trainee at Astar, one of the country’s top-tier entertainment agencies. He hadn’t even debuted yet, but already had a fan club. Everyone thought he was set to be center of their next big boy group.

But things didn’t go as expected. Right before the group was finalized, Fang Juexia left Astar and joined StarMap instead. After two more years of training, he finally debuted with Kaleido as the group’s visual, main dancer, and sub-vocalist—the soul of the team.

Their debut did cause a bit of a splash. Fang Juexia still had a solid fanbase from his Astar days, and many had stayed loyal, waiting for him. When Cheng Qiang first took over the group, he had high hopes. The boys had looks, skills—everything you could ask for.

He never expected things would fall apart so fast.

That kind of disappointment stung.

Something crossed his mind. “Oh right, about that magazine shoot tomorrow…”
Just thinking about it made Cheng Qiang feel frustrated again, but he kept his tone light so as not to upset Fang Juexia. “Forget it. They’ve made other arrangements.”

Fang Juexia had already found out earlier that afternoon. During a break, he’d overheard their assistant Xiaowen on a call, cursing about someone “stealing the spot” and grumbling things like “Just because it’s one of the Big Five and he’s got traffic now, huh?” She was clearly pissed.

It turned out a rising actor—fresh off the popularity of a hit web drama—had snatched the cover shoot and interview that had already been confirmed for them.

By all accounts, it should’ve been disheartening news. But Fang Juexia… actually felt relieved.

“It’s okay,” Cheng Qiang comforted him. “There’ll be other chances. Besides, that magazine kinda owes us now. So let’s look on the bright side—no work tomorrow morning. You can sleep in, eat something good. You’ve gotten too skinny again. Oh, and tell Ling Yi—if he keeps ordering late-night takeout, I’m putting him on forced weight loss. No sense of idol awareness at all! His face is all soft and pudgy—what’s he trying to do, switch to being the team clown?”

As his manager continued rambling, Fang Juexia’s phone suddenly buzzed. He took it out and glanced at the screen.
[Deputy Director Yang] was calling.

After two seconds, he pressed the side button and turned off the screen, pretending he hadn’t seen it.

Less than a minute later, the phone vibrated again. This time, it was a string of texts:

[Why aren’t you answering?]
[Have you thought about what I asked last time?]
[Call me. Now!]
[Don’t worry—I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.]

Text messages kept flooding in—like snakes slithering out of a dark hole, one after another.

Fang Juexia’s fingers were stiff from the cold, and it took effort to type.

[I already turned you down last time.]

Not two seconds after sending it, his phone rang again. He had no choice but to answer.

The man’s voice on the other end, rough and impatient, barked, “I’m giving you one more chance. This is for your own good! If you want to stay on the show, you’d better start cooperating.”

“Sorry,” Fang Juexia replied coolly, his tone calm to the point of sounding out of place.
Cheng Qiang, sensing something was wrong, shot him another glance. “Who is it?”

After half a month of coercion and sweet-talking, Deputy Director Yang had clearly run out of patience. His temper exploded. “You know how many desperate nobodies are begging for a chance with me? You think you’re some kind of pure little saint?”

Here we go again.

“I’m only interested in you because of that pretty face. You think I’d be chasing after you otherwise? Ha! A whore acting like a virgin. Don’t bother showing up anymore! Pack your shit and get lost. You really don’t know what’s good for you!”

Fang Juexia didn’t say a word, just quietly listened until the man hung up in a rage. Only then did the tension in his chest ease.

“…Who was that?” Cheng Qiang asked again.

“Deputy Director Yang.” Fang Juexia replied like he was reporting the weather. “He just kicked me off the show.”

“What?!”
Cheng Qiang slammed on the brakes and twisted around. “Wait—what the hell happened?!”

Fang Juexia licked his dry lips, skipping all the ugly details. “He’s been trying to get me to sleep with him. I refused. Now he’s retaliating.”

He said it so plainly, just one word—get—but Cheng Qiang’s expression darkened immediately, struck speechless.

“This isn’t some joke. We signed a six-episode contract, and we’ve only recorded three! This is breach of contract!”

Fang Juexia’s tone stayed calm. “They’ve done this before. There’s no point talking about professionalism with someone like him.”

That was true.
Cheng Qiang rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. Cold air whipped in and slapped his face. “Just wait, they’re definitely going to spin this and throw you under the bus. If you drop out suddenly, they’ll need a cover story… No. I’m calling the network. We’re not letting him get away with this.”

Hearing all that, the frost in Fang Juexia’s demeanor finally cracked. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t part of a group—so he could shoulder everything himself, without dragging anyone else down with him.

“…Sorry for all this, Qiang-ge.”
He finally let out a quiet sigh, letting go of his carefully guarded composure.

Cheng Qiang’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. He muttered a curse under his breath, brow furrowed, then flicked the half-smoked cigarette out the window and rolled it up again. Restarting the car, he said, “It’s fine. This show’s pulled shit on us before. Last time didn’t blow up, did it?”

Last time…

A tall figure passed by on the sidewalk, and Fang Juexia, lost in thought, mistook them for someone else. He wiped away the fog on the window and watched as the person turned around—definitely not who he’d imagined. His heart calmed again.

Of course nothing had happened last time. Who would dare mess with someone so well-connected and untouchable?

After a while, from the back seat, Cheng Qiang heard a quiet “I’m sorry.”

It made him feel even more powerless.

Outside the windshield, the city nightscape slid by, streetlights casting overlapping halos across their path.

In a flash, he remembered the day Fang Juexia first came to the company. A female colleague had pulled him aside to gossip: “Hey, did you hear? We’ve got a new trainee—crazy good-looking.”

He’d been curious—how good-looking was crazy good-looking?

So he’d put down his work and gone for a peek.

And yeah, it was true. Not just good-looking. Ridiculously good-looking. The kind of face that could earn the scout who found him a top spot in the company’s year-end awards.

Back then, Fang Juexia was only eighteen, dressed in a plain black hoodie. Cheng Qiang even remembered thinking how that unremarkable hoodie somehow looked good on him. The boy’s bare face had a translucent quality to it, and near the outer corner of his left eye—close to the temple—was a narrow, pale red birthmark. Unusual. Memorable.

In this industry, pretty faces were a dime a dozen. Polished, charming, engineered to attract and stir fantasies.

But Fang Juexia was different—his beauty kept you at arm’s length.

There was a natural remoteness to him, as if he were a work of art: quiet, cool-toned, and aloof, muted in saturation but impossible to ignore.

—

That night, Cheng Qiang dropped him off at the dorm.
Fang Juexia was exhausted, but his thoughts were restless. After a hot shower, he sat at his desk in silence, opened his sudoku book, and began methodically working through the grids. Pen in hand, numbers filling the blanks—bit by bit, his mind calmed.

When the puzzle was done, he climbed into bed and pulled the covers up. Sleep came fast and heavy, like a tidal wave pulling him under.

He had no idea how long he’d been out when a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Juexia? Jue—xia—”

He forced his eyes open. A face with a sheet mask loomed in front of him. He blinked twice like a camera trying to focus, then burrowed deeper under the covers and mumbled, “What time is it?”

Ling Yi peeled the mask off his face.
“It’s practically afternoon tea time!” he sang out, his high tenor voice cutting through the room. The group’s main vocalist and high-note king, his energy was always a few notches above everyone else’s. He shoved his cold hand under the covers and dragged Fang Juexia out. “Get up, man! Something big just dropped!”

The words something big pricked at Fang Juexia.
He shook off the fog in his brain and sat up, rubbing his face. “I’ll go wash up.”

“Seriously, how is this guy always so calm…” Ling Yi muttered, scrambling off to the living room.

On the sofa, two guys were hunched over a laptop: Kaleido’s main dancer, Lu Yuan, and sub-rapper, He Ziyan. Their heads were almost touching as they stared intently at the screen.

“You’re up?”
Their leader, Jiang Miao, had just finished wiping down the guzheng in the corner. “I’ll heat up some soup for you. You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

Ling Yi nodded eagerly, eyes tracking Jiang Miao to the kitchen. “Miao-ge, I want a bowl too!”

From the sofa, Lu Yuan yelped, “Damn, these girl fans are crazy slick with their edits!”

Beside him, He Ziyan teased, “Yo, Dalian Prince—maybe try using Mandarin?”

“I am speaking Mandarin!”

Ling Yi flopped onto the couch beside them, mimicking Lu Yuan’s accent.
“Totally, man. So standard.”

“Get lost, you punk!”

In the middle of all this ruckus, Fang Juexia walked out. All three guys on the couch looked up at once, their expressions a little… complicated.

He felt it. And before they could say anything, he got ahead of it.

“Sorry… I dragged you all into this again.”

The three exchanged glances. Then turned back to him, faces full of disbelief.

“Wait, aren’t we supposed to be thanking you?” He Ziyan laughed. “I mean—who knew this would be how our group finally blows up!”

Thanking him?

Fang Juexia could tell something wasn’t lining up.
“…What are you guys talking about? What ‘big thing’?”

Ling Yi spun the laptop around to face him. “You and Xiao Pei’s airport video just hit the hot search! Look—over 30,000 reposts already!”

Xiao Pei? Fang Juexia narrowed his eyes and looked at the screen.

The clip was from two days ago, when he and Pei Tingsong were waiting at the airport.

In the footage, Pei Tingsong strode toward him in a long black coat, sunglasses on, long legs moving with deliberate swagger. Fang Juexia stood there, head down, looking at his plane ticket—until he was backed up against the wall by the younger man’s approach.

Pei Tingsong, towering close to 190 cm, reached out and snatched the ticket from his hand, twirling it playfully between his fingers with a crooked grin. He said something that wasn’t picked up on audio, and then casually raised the ticket—

—and began lightly tapping Fang Juexia’s cheek with it.

Over and over.
The clean, sharp edge of the boarding pass brushed across Fang Juexia’s pale face like a quiet provocation. The paper danced on skin—teasing, testing—flirting with a line neither crossed but both felt.

That was classic Pei Tingsong—always acting like a little punk.

No one had expected the moment to be caught on camera.

In the video, Fang Juexia slightly tilted his head and gave Pei Tingsong a look, only to see the smirk on his face getting even more arrogant. He remembered the vibe back then—Pei Tingsong had been trying to force him to switch seats. He had stuck to his usual strategy when dealing with Pei: avoid at all costs, never pick a fight. So he calmly took the ticket back, held it between his lips, adjusted his collar with both hands, then looked up and gave the group’s youngest and biggest troublemaker a soulless smile.

Ling Yi, who was leaning on Fang Juexia’s shoulder, watched him closely as he rewatched the video. This “living Buddha” of a man looked deadly serious. After a pause, he finally spoke.

“So… the netizens think Pei Tingsong was bullying me in the group? Has PR dealt with it yet?”

The rest of the group: ……

“Juexia, snap out of it!” Ling Yi shook his shoulders hard. “They’re shipping you and Pei Tingsong!”

“Shipping…” Fang Juexia was stunned.

Who in the world would ship the two people with the worst relationship in the whole group?

Road Yuan from Dalian, who was the group’s designated internet sleuth, grabbed the mouse and opened the comments. “Man, you haven’t seen what the fans are saying. Come here, check this out, it’s next-level.”

[PolarCircleLickingSugar]: Aaaaahhhh the pheromones are practically spilling out of the screen!!! (quietly: the pretty guy in the white knit hat, leaning against the wall—does he have an injury near his eye or is that a birthmark? He’s way too pretty!)

Fang Juexia only needed to read the first comment to get what “next-level” meant.

[RoastDuckAssociationPremierMember]: How the hell can one plane ticket be this sexy??

[77复77]: OMG the guy in the black coat is so tall and hot! Who is he!?

[Player12]: I’m shook—black coat guy is giving major top energy. That ticket slap was everything…

[HasKaleidoComeBackToday]: FJX really is one-of-a-kind among current male idols. Cool, detached beauty, biting that ticket with that icy, seductive look… absolute perfection.

[BuddhistDevoteeFromPutuoTemple]: That’s our little underdog group Kaleido’s 19-year-old youngest member and rap lead, Pei Tingsong! A rich heir chasing his dreams—get to know him! Little Pei never disappoints!

[CertifiedHottieConnoisseur]: “Putuo Temple Scenic View” 😂 The group’s secret code names are hilarious!

[IAmFangJuexia’sBeautifulBirthmark]: Check out idol-born Fang Juexia! Main dancer, main vocal, visual—he’s the group’s all-around ACE in all caps!

[LoveMyKaleidoForever]: Is our Kaleido finally breaking into the mainstream? 😭😭 But real talk, these two Aces aren’t even the official pairing… They’re the coldest CP in the group. It’s a ship that sank at debut.

[IHateThePythagoreanTheorem]: Wtf how is such a perfect ship dead on arrival!?

[LittleSmartypantsThat’sMe]: Casual fan here, but yeah, they’ve had rumors of not getting along since debut. PTS doesn’t even live in the group dorms. Some say it’s ‘cause he’s still in school and lives off-campus. Dude’s loaded for sure. Apparently grew up in the States, just recently came back. Feels like he’s doing this idol thing for fun, but no lie—his skills blow most idols out of the water. Super talented.

[ScenicViewline]: Isn’t the feud because someone parachuted into the group?

[MoneyGetsYouAnything]: He earned that debut. Got skills and money—jealous much? Your fave can sing and rap? No? Then maybe go schmooze the execs and kick the rich kid out yourself.

[BlockGameStrong]: Who TF is this Z-list nobody buying hot searches again? I’m speechless.

[StanAllTheHotties]: Is my Arctic Circle CP finally getting popular? Honestly, once you get it—you get it. Wild, badass, troublemaker top x cold, pretty, emotionally unavailable bottom. What’s not to love?

Some of the settings in this story may differ from the current Chinese entertainment industry (for example, things like comeback stages—currently, there are no widely recognized music shows in the industry). Midway through the story, there will be an escape room reality show with a more brainy/complex plot.

All characters in this story are purely fictional, with no real-life prototypes.
There are no prototypes.
Please do not mention real-life celebrities.
Doing so can affect the reading experience of others, and I believe you wouldn’t want real-life stars to be dragged into this either. Thank you for your cooperation.

Fan circle terminology guide:

• u1s1: “To be honest” (slang abbreviation of “有一说一” in Chinese).
• Visual: The member officially designated as the face of the group—the one with the best looks.
• ACE: The “ace” or all-rounder of the group, the member with the most balanced and strongest overall skills.
  Fang Juexia is the visual, main dancer, and main vocalist.
  Pei Tingsong is the rapper and songwriter.
  Together, they are the group’s Double Aces.
• Arctic Circle: A ship (fan pairing) with little to no fan content—very “cold” (inactive).
• Parachute Member: Normally, every member should train as a trainee until they reach debut level before debuting. However, some members debut without training or with very minimal training. These are called parachute members.
• Comeback: When a group releases a new album and returns to the public spotlight.