How did we end up back here?
“We…” Fang Juexia wished he could drop dead right then and there, even considering the feasibility of biting his tongue to end it all.
Ling Yi chimed in, aiming the bottle of soda at Pei Tingsong and the others. “That’s right! Spill the beans!”
Pei Tingsong snatched the bottle from his hand. “Confess my ass.” He then turned to Lu Yuan. “Seriously? You actually want to hear it?”
Lu Yuan clutched his chest with one hand while leaning on the lamp with the other, his expression solemn and righteous. He even swallowed hard. “Go ahead and tell me. Big bro can handle it.”
Glancing at He Ziyan and Jiang Miao, both wearing amused, silent expressions anticipating the show, Pei Tingsong raised an eyebrow. “Well then, I really will tell. Need a detailed description?”
Lu Yuan slapped his thigh. “Hurry up!”
Catching sight of Fang Juexia’s crimson neck and his utterly bewildered expression, Pei Tingsong knew he was embarrassed and unwilling to discuss such things in front of so many people. Smiling, he pulled his precious brother into his arms. “Dream on. What kind of nonsense fills your head day after day? I already said nothing happened.”
Fang Juexia had genuinely thought he was going to spill the beans, so when he was suddenly pulled in and his shoulders were wrapped in an embrace, he froze.
“Impossible,” Lu Yuan pointed at Pei Tingsong. “You two couldn’t even match your stories about watching a movie. You’re definitely pulling our leg.”
“Yeah,” Pei Tingsong shrugged. “We didn’t go see a movie. It’s such a big park—can’t we just walk around?”
Ling Yi stammered, “Th-then why didn’t you guys come with us to… go to the hot springs?”
“Do you really need to ask?” Pei Tingsong tilted his head. “Because I didn’t want you guys seeing my boyfriend naked.” With that, he yanked Fang Juexia’s collar up to his chin. “Not even a glimpse.”
Fang Juexia slapped his hand away and glared at him, signaling him to shut up.
“Since everything’s out in the open, let’s be crystal clear.” Pei Tingsong held up a soda bottle, pointing it at each of them in turn. “From now on, all your Fang Juexia pairings are officially shut down. From this day forward, it’s all BE.”
“Hah, how bossy.” He Ziyan hugged his right knee, shaking his head. “Feels like we’re back in the Boxer Protocol era.”
“What gives?!” Ling Yi protested. “Before your so-called Tingjue craze, my Fang-Jue ship was super popular!” He reached for Fang Juexia’s hand, drunk and clamoring, “Juexia, ditch him! I’ll sing to support you!”
“Get lost.” Pei Tingsong pried Ling Yi’s hand away. “I can support him even without singing.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Lu Yuan cleared his throat. “While I ship Tingjue, let’s not talk money. This poor youth feels called out.”
He Ziyan raised his hand—adorned with a bag of Miao Cui Jiao chips—like a high roller at an auction. “I’ll add one.”
Ling Yi belched, having forgotten what he’d said or been told. He just followed the crowd. “I’ll add one.”
Fang Juexia couldn’t stand it anymore. He wriggled free from Pei Tingsong’s embrace and whispered, “Cut it out.”
“Alright, alright,” Pei Tingsong indulged him as usual. “This topic’s settled.”
Jiang Miao, who hadn’t joined in the chaos until now, spoke up. “Already moving on? Aren’t you going to spill the beans on how you two got together?” He smiled. “Like… who chased who? When did you start dating?”
Lu Yuan immediately clapped. “Captain, you’re the best!”
Ling Yi joined in, “Yes!”
Pei Tingsong turned to his wife, “Can we talk about this?”
Fang Juexia promptly looked away. “Why are you asking me?”
Which meant yes. Getting the hint, Pei Tingsong confessed openly, “I pursued him. As for when we got together… it was the day I fell off the stage and hurt my hand, and he came to the hospital to take care of me.”
After hearing this, Jiang Miao reached out to He Ziyan, who was sprawled on the floor listening to the story, “I won. Pay up.”
The remaining four looked utterly confused as He Ziyan sighed and transferred the money to their captain.
“What?” Pei Tingsong looked utterly bewildered. “How many bets did you guys make?”
Probably more than the private group chats they had.
Jiang Miao, satisfied with the red envelope, explained, “Nope. We both thought you two were actually dating, but we disagreed on when it started. He Ziyan said around Jue Xia’s birthday, while I said earlier. I won.” He then looked at Jue Xia and smiled deliberately, “But I didn’t expect it to happen this soon. I thought Jue Xia would make him work for it before agreeing.”
Fang Juexia flushed crimson and froze in place, then buried his head back in his potato chips, crunching away like a hamster.
“So when exactly did you realize you liked Juexia? Didn’t you swear up and down to me before that romance was boring? When did you confess?” He Ziyan, sprawled on the floor, nudged Pei Tingsong with his foot. Unwilling to accept defeat, he insisted on getting to the bottom of it.
Suddenly struck by an idea, He Ziyan exclaimed in realization, “Ah, I get it! You bastard must’ve taken advantage of his vulnerability after he got hurt, right? Played the sympathy card so kind-hearted Jue Xia couldn’t refuse you and reluctantly agreed, didn’t he?”
Pei Tingsong rolled his eyes, about to retort, “What the hell are you talking about?” but someone beat him to it.
“No, that’s not it.” Fang Juexia, who’d been offline the whole time, suddenly chimed in to refute. “I didn’t agree because I was forced. I agreed because I like him.”
This direct hit left the young men present stunned. After the initial shock, restlessness spread.
“Whoa!!”
“No way, I can’t listen to this.”
Lu Yuan stuffed a mint into his mouth. “Damn, I was raised on dog food.”
“No… I mean…” Fang Juexia finally stumbled over his words, instinctively glancing at Pei Tingsong.
To be publicly declared loved by Fang Juexia, Pei Tingsong felt nothing short of ecstatic—as if he’d reached the pinnacle of his life. Pride made him talkative, basking in his triumph. “See? Blind guesses get you slapped in the face.” He began reminiscing, “When did I realize I liked Juexia? …It was the day I found out about Xie Qu. Liang Ru’s provocation made it clear.”
Ling Yi’s little brain couldn’t process it all. Clutching his head, he groaned, “Liang Ru?! Why does Liang Ru have a role?! Wait, this plot… why does this storyline feel so familiar?”
“Because Liang Ru’s number was the one you found for me,” Pei Tingsong prompted.
“Right!” Ling Yi slapped his forehead. “Oh my god! So I, I, I…”
“Right, you were the middleman for the confession.” Pei Tingsong ignored the little fool who’d nearly uncovered the script’s secrets and continued, “Liang Ru secretly took Juexia out to talk. When I went looking for Juexia, I called Liang Ru. He never hung up, so I overheard him confessing to Juexia. I blew my top right then. I don’t know what I was so angry about, but I was furious.”
Jiang Miao could almost picture the youngest brother’s reaction. “So someone showed you how it’s done and finally broke through your mental barrier.”
“Anyway, I realized, oh, so my feelings for this person could actually be something other than friendship.” Pei Tingsong suddenly turned serious. “So after I got through to him, I confessed.”
“Damn, that’s efficient.” He Ziyan genuinely applauded him. “Pei Tingsong, you’re something else.”
Lu Yuan was stunned. “So Juexia accepted?”
Fang Juexia immediately shook his head. “No, I… I didn’t accept then.”
Jiang Miao pressed, “Then what were your feelings toward him? Did you reject Xiao Pei the same way you rejected Liang Ruo?”
“It was different. When Liang Ruo told me, I was just a little surprised because I didn’t have those feelings for him at all.” Fang Juexia lowered his eyes, speaking slowly. “Then when Pei Tingsong said it… I was genuinely stunned, scared. But… but there was something else, something I can’t quite put into words.” He furrowed his brow, then offered Jiang Miao a weak smile. “I was too overwhelmed to think clearly. He begged me not to reject him so quickly, so I didn’t refuse outright.”
Ling Yi rubbed his eyes. “Juexia, you’re way too easygoing.”
“Not easygoing.” Jiang Miao wore an expression that seemed to see right through him, skillfully zeroing in on the crux. “Juexia, when you mentioned Liang Ruo earlier, you used the phrase ‘I have absolutely no romantic feelings for him’ without hesitation. But the moment you talked about Xiao Pei confessing, you started stumbling over your words. You’re usually the most logical person here. You must have already had some feelings for Xiao Pei back then, you just didn’t realize it yourself.” ”
“Is that so?” Caught red-handed, Fang Juexia felt a pang of embarrassment. Hugging his knees, he murmured, “Maybe…”
But suddenly, he sat up straight, turning to glare at Pei Tingsong beside him. “But why am I always the one admitting I like you?”
Pei Tingsong burst into laughter, lifting Fang Juexia’s chin. “See? This guy only acts like this with me.”
This was a direct hit.
He Ziyan covered his ears. “No more, no more! I’m torturing myself.”
“I’m still here! Keep going!”
“Why did I ever give Pei Tingsong Liang Ruo’s number?! I… I hate myself!”
While his teammates were going crazy, Pei Tingsong was still pondering Fang Juexia’s earlier question. “Why do you think they found out about us?”
Fang Juexia blinked.
Why…
Pei Tingsong gently flicked his forehead with a finger and whispered, “Do you really think anyone could miss that I like you, Fang Juexia?”
For some reason, Fang Juexia’s heart suddenly began to race.
Sure enough, being around Pei Tingsong made it hard for him to stay composed.
Young boys find it hardest to hide their feelings, and the hardest feelings to conceal are those of affection.
Knowing Fang Juexia was too shy to endure such persistent questioning, Pei Tingsong shielded him by changing the subject, forcing them to continue playing Truth or Dare. Fortunately, their bad luck had passed—after several rounds, neither of them got dared. Ling Yi, however, suffered the worst, facing multiple dares in a row. The final one landed him a slip of paper reading: [Call Brother Qiang and tell him you’re carrying his child]. Taking advantage of his tipsy state, the others pressured Ling Yi into actually making the call.
Cheng Qiang had already gone to bed. The ringing woke him, and when he answered, it was Ling Yi, crying and saying he was having a baby.
The others pinned Ling Yi down, holding their breath as they waited for Cheng Qiang’s response. Unexpectedly, after a few seconds of silence, he hung up.
“Beep—beep—beep—”
Hearing the busy signal, they released Ling Yizhen.
“It’s over. Ling Yizhen’s fallen out of favor. Even with a baby, no one cares.”
“You’re the one pregnant!”
Fang Juexia stifled a laugh. “Brother Qiang probably thinks he’s dreaming. He’ll definitely call back tomorrow when he sees the missed call.”
“Hahahaha, exactly!”
Jiang Miao suddenly remembered something. “By the way, when are you guys planning to tell Brother Qiang?”
“We’ll see what Juexia says,” Pei Tingsong replied. “I always listen to him.”
He Ziyan sneered, “So even you, the troublemaker, listen to someone else. Truly, every dog has its day.”
Fang Juexia pondered, “I was planning to tell him soon, but I’m a bit worried. Even though Brother Qiang said having a relationship isn’t a big deal, he probably never imagined it would be an intra-team romance.”
“He practically set it up himself,” Lu Yuan shook his head dramatically. “Honestly, you don’t even need to tell him. How could a romance within the team get exposed? Just say it’s for work.”
“We’ll keep your secret locked tight!” Ling Yi looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Pei Tingsong teased, “You? Yeah right. I thank God every day you don’t grab a megaphone and broadcast it everywhere.”
“I absolutely won’t this time!” Ling Yi declared solemnly, his drunkenly silly voice booming as he swore, “I can do it! I promise!”
“Alright, you,” Lu Yuan said, cracking sunflower seeds, “don’t scare the baby in your belly.”
“Hahahahahaha!”
The six of them stayed at Lu Yuan’s place until three or four in the morning. Ling Yi was the first to fall asleep. They’d been playing cards, and when it was his turn to play, they realized the guy had already passed out on the floor. Lu Yuan dragged him to bed, tucked him in, then chatted over drinks with the others. Fang Juexia was a lightweight; this strong liquor knocked him out before he could even get drunk. It was late, so the rest headed to bed too.
Pei Tingsong, who hadn’t drunk much, carried Fang Juexia to another room. Somehow, Fang Juexia became a bit more lucid. Clinging to Pei Tingsong’s neck, he kept asking if he liked him. Pei Tingsong obediently answered each time.
“If you like me, you have to tell me stories.”
“Sure thing.” Pei Tingsong pulled Fang Juexia into his arms, patting his back as he told him the story of Lily and the abacus. He kept talking until Fang Juexia fell asleep, and then he drifted off himself.
The next day, everyone slept until noon before heading out to feed the peacocks in the afternoon. Ling Yi ignored warnings and wore a flashy, laser-printed jacket, attracting several male peacocks to chase him while displaying their feathers. Lu Yuan captured the scene on camera and posted it to Weibo, earning him the playful fan nickname “Human Peacock.”
After leaving the hot spring resort, Kaleido plunged back into the hectic schedule of a boy band. The public acknowledgment of their romance within the group brought little change. Only Pei Tingsong persistently tried to coerce Ling Yi into switching rooms every day. But Ling Yi refused to budge, instead acting as the third wheel daily. Whenever he spotted Pei Tingsong sneaking into his room, he’d follow suit, squeezing in right next to the lovebirds.
The year-end period was the busiest time in the entertainment industry, with major award ceremonies, film festivals, and numerous year-end galas all crammed into this season. The red carpets were a riot of glamour, and photo ops revealed every conceivable pose. In the past, Kaleido had been virtually invisible during this peak season—they couldn’t even secure a simple entry ticket, let alone a performance slot.
But now it was different. Kaleido’s meteoric rise this year was unmatched, making them the undisputed spotlight of the year. Their fame was built on genuine talent and skill, ensuring longevity. Everyone wanted to befriend them for future favors. Even the film festival invited them to attend. However, Jiang Miao walked the red carpet with the production crew, while the other five entered separately.
Upon entering, they’d rehearsed a new opening line. This time, instead of the captain counting “one, two, three,” Ling Yi bellowed his name, instantly creating a hip-hop MC vibe.
“Hello everyone! We are—Jiang Miao’s five little sidekicks!”
Even their signature “K” hand gesture transformed into five extended fingers.
The audience erupted in laughter. This clip quickly spread online, trending under #CaleidoComedyBoyBand. Classic memes resurfaced, inadvertently promoting the film. What started as a niche art film saw its opening-day box office surpass 100 million yuan thanks to the involvement of popular boy band members. Even the director took to Weibo to thank the cast and audience.
As reviews gradually emerged, Jiang Miao’s debut performance received positive feedback online—likely due to the well-suited role and tragic undertones—with word-of-mouth steadily growing. Some even predicted Jiang Miao would be nominated for Best Newcomer and Best Supporting Actor.
After the film festival concluded, the focus shifted to a flurry of award ceremonies. Kelaido, riding high on two chart-topping albums within a year, dominated nearly every major music award show.
“We’re getting so many invitations lately, it’s hard to keep up. We’ll have to juggle several events,” Cheng Qiang mentioned on set after filming the music video for their winter single. “But one conflicts with the BMAs, so we’ll skip that one. The BMAs carry the most prestige—we have to attend even if we don’t win.”
At the mention of the BMAs, Ling Yi grew animated. “Please, just one win. Let us have our moment of glory.”
“It’s not that simple,” Lu Yuan sighed. “The BMA judges are notoriously picky. No idol group has ever been nominated before. Just getting a nod is like getting hit by a golden egg.”
Pei Tingsong chimed in, “Exactly. The day the nominations were announced, the hate posts about us exploded. I almost lost it and cursed someone out on Weibo.”
Fang Juexia turned to him, a thought striking him. “Didn’t you already?”
“Huh? Did I?” Pei Tingsong blinked, as if recalling something. “Oh, I’ve cursed so much I can’t remember.”
Cheng Qiang sighed. “Everyone shouldn’t be so discouraged. If we really win at the BMAs, you’ll be rolling in it.”
According to Xingtu’s plan, the mini
Cheng Qiang sighed. “Guys, you can’t get so discouraged. If you actually win at the BMAs, you’ll be set for life.”
According to Star Chart’s plan, the mini winter album Xmas&U was released on December 25th, Christmas Day—also Kaleido’s debut anniversary. Coincidentally, this year’s BMA awards ceremony was also scheduled for Christmas. To mark their BMA stage debut and deliver a special anniversary performance for fans, Kaleido remixed “Breakthrough” and “Last Summer,” while also preparing the first stage performance of their new winter album’s lead single.
Ever since Kaleido’s attendance at the BMAs was officially announced, fans flooded the official Weibo with comments. Due to overwhelming demand and Kaleido’s consistently spectacular performances, the BMAs specially extended their stage time. Consequently, they choreographed a unique intro where members appeared in pairs. He Ziyan served as DJ, collaborating with Ling Yi on the non-main track “Ice War.” Jiang Miao and Lu Yuan performed a duet dance, while Pei Tingsong joined Fang Juexia to sing the non-main track “Hunting.”
The awards ceremony was broadcast live, featuring numerous singers and groups. The opening performance was by Seven Stars, now without Liang Ruo. Fang Juexia listened backstage, feeling a pang of emotion.
“Are you cold?” Pei Tingsong took off his own coat and draped it over Fang Juexia. His performance outfit was thin—a white shirt with a hint of medieval European style, topped with a black cape.
Fang Juexia shook his head softly. “I’m a little nervous.” ”
His makeup today was distinctive, designed to match the style of The Hunt. A streak of blood was deliberately painted at the corner of his mouth, and his eyeliner was drawn with a seductive curve. Hearing such an adorable line from a face like this created a strangely endearing effect.
Pei Tingsong extended his gloved hand. “Bite it. It’ll calm your nerves.”
“You’re the vampire today, okay?” Fang Juexia was referring to Pei Tingsong’s makeup and hairstyle, but his reflex was to pull off the gloves the moment he saw them—some kind of conditioned response, he didn’t know why. But as soon as he tugged, Pei Tingsong stopped him. “Cut it out. We’re going on stage soon.”
Alright. Fang Juexia mentally let him off the hook.
Backstage time always flew by. Before they knew it, their turn had come. As the lights dimmed and the stage plunged into complete darkness, the six of them ascended via the lift platform. He Ziyan and Ling Yi positioned themselves on the far left of the stage, Jiang Miao and Lu Yuan on the far right, while Pei Tingsong and Fang Juexia stood center stage.
Music swelled as spotlights flared on the left. Ling Yi’s voice cut through the darkness, triggering deafening screams from the crowd.
Fang Juexia remained shrouded in shadow, listening to his teammates perform. Pei Tingsong gripped his wrist until crew instructions crackled through the in-ear monitors, signaling the camera cut. Only then did he release Fang Juexia and step back.
The center spotlight flared. Before the performance even began, screams rolled toward them like waves. Pei Tingsong stepped forward holding the mic. This time, his usual rapid-fire rap was absent, replaced by a deliberately slow rhythm. Paired with ceremonial music, it carried an almost yandere quality.
“Heat seeps from my fingertips, exiled across the mountain range of your spine.”
He tore open his collar. “Trembling pores cling to me, whose nerve endings run wild? Veins boil, sweet-salty lava. You say you want me, crave my release.”
His speech quickened with the beat. He arched an eyebrow. “Whose blood will mask my desire? One glance at you could rip my heart out.”
Circling his index finger, Pei Tingsong curved his lips. “Keep you high, round and round. Curves grinding, not abstract enough. How could animal instincts lie? Even the holiest should be sullied by filth.”
The music shifted. Another spotlight in the center lit up, revealing Fang Juexia cloaked in black as he launched into the hook.
“You’ll burn my blood to ashes.”
In many minds, Fang Juexia was synonymous with asceticism, his vocals ethereal and weightless. Rarely did he employ this breathy, hypnotic delivery, each trailing note seductive, like a skilled soul-stealer.
“Vanish for my kiss.”
“Exhaust yourself for me.”
“Perish within my body.”
His hands rose to his shoulders, slipping off the black cloak to reveal his full face.
“Who made you fall in love with the hunt?”
The music shifted once more, its remixed finale bridging back to He Ziyan and Ling Yi’s opening track, “Ice War.” Pei Tingsong began reciting the English monologue in his magnetic voice—lyrics from the intro of “Ice War,” reimagined in a medieval style.
“I’ll be your wicked resister.”
[I’ll be your wicked resister.]
Fang Juexia provided harmonies for Pei Tingsong with a coloratura singing technique, chanting like a psalm, ethereal as a fallen immortal—a stark contrast to his earlier seductive vocals.
“Your unbroken martyr.”
[Your unbroken martyr.]
“Your faithful warrior.”
[Your faithful warrior.]
He had been walking steadily forward, but suddenly halted, turning to face Fang Juexia as he approached. “No.”
“Ain’t your innocent younger lover.”
[No, I refuse to be your innocent young lover.]
[I’ll be your filthy, depraved master.]
Author’s Note: These two incomplete lyrics won’t be included in the author’s notes.
BTW, male singers can perform coloratura (look it up). But strictly speaking, professional vocal classifications don’t include coloratura tenors—only coloratura sopranos, with the male equivalent being falsetto tenors. Here, “coloratura” refers to the popular meaning—a type of ornate, flexible, and highly challenging vocal technique within bel canto. Many real-life male singers excel at this skill. This phrasing helps clarify the nature of the falsetto transition described in this passage.
