Chapter 11

Fang Juexia’s sense of time had short-circuited—and with it, his composure unraveled.

“Here.” He hastily shoved the mochi into Pei Tingsong’s hand, then forcibly wrenched his arm free and retreated to his own side of the wardrobe.

How many minutes were left? He tried to mentally rewind and calculate, but the more he tried, the more confused he got. The seconds he’d lost were like an offbeat tempo—no matter how he chased it, it wouldn’t sync back into rhythm. Eventually, he just gave up, pressing his back against the wardrobe wall and tucking in his limbs like it might somehow make him safer.

But his inner clock was broken, and he’d lost the calm and steadiness he usually relied on.

To be honest, Pei Tingsong was still confused about everything that had just happened. He squeezed the mochi in his hand, the plastic wrapping making a faint crinkling sound.

Fang Juexia’s sensory system always had a bit of a lag. His reactions were delayed—just like in the paper-passing game earlier. He’d been startled by Pei Tingsong’s sudden aggression, but aside from that, he hadn’t responded much. Now, in the silence of the wardrobe, the rustling plastic seemed to trigger something in his brain, like a long-dormant nerve finally fired up. It yanked him right back into the heat of that hypercompetitive game.

The faint crackle of the wrapper, though long delayed, suddenly roared in his reddened ears.

As if it wasn’t enough for his sense of time to fail—now even his senses were scrambled.

So Fang Juexia had meant to give him a snack. Pei Tingsong finally pieced together the intent behind the mochi.

Then just say so.

Wait—he had tried to say something at the beginning, hadn’t he? But Pei Tingsong had interrupted him.

Outside, their teammates were still goofing off in the living room, loud and chaotic.

Pei Tingsong felt a bit useless—he should’ve been out there too.

“This is how you try to shut me up…” he mumbled under his breath.

But unexpectedly, from the other side of the darkness, Fang Juexia cut in first. “Then toss it back. I’ll take it back.”

Trying to withdraw his offer, his voice sounded a little cold.

“In your dreams.” Pei Tingsong never gave back anything once it landed in his hands. He bit open the packaging, squeezed the soft mochi halfway out, and brought it to his mouth.

The moment it touched his lips, that familiar soft-chewy texture made him freeze up.

He had felt nothing unusual during the game—just the pure desire to win.

But now, it was like the mochi had shocked his lips. It triggered something… weird.

In the unseen darkness, Pei Tingsong’s Adam’s apple bobbed awkwardly. Then he swallowed the little soft thing whole and silently swore he’d never eat mochi again.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the image of that sugar-wrapper moment. The darker it was around him, the brighter the light in Fang Juexia’s eyes during that instant seemed to shine in his memory.

Darkness magnified emotions, silence sharpened the senses.

Driven by something even he couldn’t explain, Pei Tingsong just wanted to break the silence. He stretched out his numb legs and nudged Fang Juexia. “Hey.”

“Do I not even get a name?”

Fang Juexia hadn’t meant to make things difficult—it was just a neutral question. Honestly, he was already used to Pei Tingsong’s recklessness. Seniority didn’t mean much to him anyway. It was just… in that moment, everything felt strange. He couldn’t explain it—something just felt off.

Pei Tingsong choked up. He had originally wanted to ask if there was any food left, but Fang’s cold response triggered his inner gremlin again.

“How many times have you actually called me by my name?” he snapped. Trying to force Fang to pay attention to him, he leaned in closer, pressing his knee between Fang’s tightly closed legs. “Hey. Look at me.”

His voice dropped, low and pressing, adding weight to his words. His kneecap intentionally pushed harder, prying Fang’s legs apart, even stepping onto his thigh. “You’re not even really looking at me, are you?”

“I can’t see,” Fang Juexia replied flatly.

“Not my problem,” Pei said, his tone turning bratty, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. Just as he was about to make his next move—

BANG! The wardrobe door suddenly swung open.

Blinding light rushed in.

“Ta-da! Time to come out of the closet!” Ling Yi announced grandly, camera crew behind him. He hadn’t seen clearly at first, but the very next second, the scene inside the wardrobe came into focus—and it was… compromising. Especially Pei Tingsong’s leg…

Lu Yuan, standing beside Ling Yi, grinned mischievously. “Well damn, I’m proud of you two. Seems like those five minutes of alone time were very productive.”

The abrupt flood of light made both of them flinch. Fang Juexia squinted and looked down, eyes still adjusting. Pei Tingsong shielded his eyes briefly, then quickly retracted his overly bold leg.

Naturally, the whole scene had already been broadcast live to fans.

[It’s only been five minutes and I already miss you two?? LET ME SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING OMG!!]
[HAHAHA closet reveal level: 01. I can’t breathe]
[This looks exactly like a cheating bust scene?! I’m losing it!!]
[Grapevine boy, where did you put that foot?!]
[What the hell kind of position is that??? Why isn’t there a camera inside the wardrobe?! I HATE THIS]
[This feels like a raid by the vice squad LOL and Juexia looks like he’s ready to confess and accept his punishment]
[AHHH wronged! I demand wardrobe play!!]
[They’ve officially come out. I repeat: THEY’VE COME OUT.]
[Today marks the official anniversary of TingJue’s coming out!]

Pei Tingsong climbed out first, muttering, “I was dying in there.”

“We played another round while you were in hiding. Lu Yuan lost—again!” Ling Yi burst out laughing. “He had to record a hand-flip video, it’s hilarious!”

Fang Juexia finally realized the whole “camera crew’s outside” line had been a bluff. There had been no one out there at all.

His heart was beating strangely fast—not how it usually did. He chalked it up to the lack of oxygen in that tiny enclosed space.

“I’m starving,” Pei complained the moment he came out, hunting for food. “Been getting punished all night. Someone feed me.”

Ling Yi grabbed an open snack bag from the couch. “Here, try this—glutinous rice ball. Super good.” Then he tossed one over.

The little mochi arced perfectly through the air, but when it landed in Pei Tingsong’s arms, it became a hot potato. He recoiled instantly. “I don’t want that.”

He casually flung it at He Ziyan, who fumbled the catch. The mochi bounced off his arm… and, as fate would have it, landed squarely in Fang Juexia’s hands.

Seeing this, Pei Tingsong awkwardly walked away, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.

“Weren’t there half a bag of chips left?”

Fang Juexia looked down at the poor little mochi lying limp in his palm. In the end, he expressionlessly opened the bag and ate it himself.

“Is it good?” Ling Yi dragged him to the couch. “I bought that.”

It was good…
Fang Juexia pursed his lips for a moment, then let go.
He clenched the colorful plastic wrapper and stuffed it into the pocket of his loungewear. The scrunched-up packaging slowly puffed back into shape inside the fuzzy little pocket, making a faint rustling noise.

“Yeah. Tastes good.”

Once everyone had arrived, they kicked off the fan Q&A.
They could all feel it—more fans were coming in, and plenty of them didn’t quite catch the old inside jokes.
But that was a good thing. It meant they were finally being seen after two years of effort.

“Let’s answer some fan questions.” Jiang Miao glanced at the chat flying across the screen and smoothly moved the segment forward.

Ling Yi and Lu Yuan gave it full support, clapping enthusiastically.

“Yay!”

“I got one,” He Ziyan said as he snapped a screenshot. “This one’s from a fan called ‘Kaleido is my new bias’. They asked, ‘Are all of the members using your real names? Or do you guys have stage names or English names?’”

Jiang Miao exchanged a look with him and smiled.

“No one really asks that—are our names that unique?”

He Ziyan jumped right in.

“Only Ling Yi’s is unique.”

No sooner had he said that than Lu Yuan joined in without warning.
The two of them launched into an impromptu skit, shouting in perfect sync—

“Is there a one?”
Lu Yuan even yanked open Ling Yi’s jacket, pretending to search inside. Ling Yi kicked him away.
“There’s NO one! Get lost!”

Pei Tingsong nearly choked on his chips laughing.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA—”

[I can’t with this chaotic group, they’re killing me]
[Help me, “is there a 1” LMAOOOO]
[Look at 01’s face—I’m dying. Poor 01 hahahahaha]

Ling Yi started flapping his arms like an angry little chick.

“You guys are bullying me again!”

He tried to lunge at He Ziyan and Lu Yuan but was held back by Juexia and Jiang Miao.
Jiang Miao struggled to keep a straight face.

“Alright, alright. Don’t let them get to you.”

Fang Juexia suddenly chimed in with a random line:

“If you get mad, no one can sub in for you.”

[OMG Fang-laoshi is getting corny!]

He Ziyan finally stopped laughing, holding his stomach as he sat up.

“Okay, okay—serious answer. All six of us use our real names. No stage names, no English names. I guess the company never planned for us to go international?”

Lu Yuan cut in, totally exposing the truth.

“The company’s broke, how could they afford overseas plans?”

Ling Yi:

“Lucky they didn’t. We wouldn’t have made it that far anyway.”

Pei Tingsong:

“The best thing about this group is we know our limits.”

[Yuan-laoshi, you’re savage as hell!]
[The boss is watching y’all!]
[Pei Tingsong you missed the memo, you’re the one who knows your limits the least!]

[LOL the roasting never stops—what is up with this group?!]

Jiang Miao glanced at the comments. “Juexia’s? Oh right, Juexia is his real name.”

Fang Juexia nodded quickly. “Yeah, my mom gave it to me. I was born on June 26th—summer baby.”

“His name comes from classical poetry,” Jiang Miao added. “So does Xiao Pei’s, actually.”

With a chocolate stick between his lips, Xiao Pei turned to the camera. “Does my name sound nice?”

[It’s beautiful!!!]
[‘Ting’ and ‘Song’? Literally born to be a singer!]

Jiang Miao suddenly remembered something. “Wait, but didn’t Xiao Pei grow up in the States? You must have an English name, right?” He turned to look at Pei Tingsong. “I don’t think we ever asked.”

But Pei Tingsong just shook his head. “Nope. People just called me Song. It’s easy to pronounce, and Americans always found it weird when someone ditched their real name to pick a random English one. Plus, my grandpa used to say we should be proud of our roots—and our names.”

[Grandpa sounds like a boss.]

Ling Yi leaned in conspiratorially. “Psst, fun fact—Xiao Pei’s grandpa is actually a writer. He even published poetry collections.”

[Whoa! That’s so cool!]
[No wonder Xiao Pei’s so talented—his whole family’s poetic!]

Lu Yuan stared at the screen. “Someone just asked why Xiao Pei’s Chinese is so good.”

“I grew up in a bilingual environment,” Pei Tingsong explained. “I spoke Chinese with my grandpa and English with my mom. When I was little, Grandpa read Chinese books with me. He even taught me calligraphy.”

These were all things Fang Juexia hadn’t known about him. He listened quietly, thoughts surfacing in his mind. Genetics really do leave echoes—whether it manifests as flaws or as talent. He and Pei Tingsong were both living proof.

“Anyway,” Pei Tingsong said again, “I don’t have an English name. Just call me by my real one. And it’s Pei—not Fei.”

[LOL Xiao Pei giving up modeling to become a poet!]

That reference made Fang Juexia’s lips curl up into a smile. Pei Tingsong happened to think of him at the same moment—and their eyes met unexpectedly.

Pei Tingsong silently mouthed at him: What are you laughing at?

Fang Juexia raised a hand and pulled down the corners of his mouth with his thumb and index finger, resetting his expression to blank-faced.

Before Pei Tingsong could gloat, Ling Yi suddenly threw an arm around his neck from behind.
“Xiao Pei, lemme give you an English name!”

Years of stand-up comedy training kicked in—Lu Yuan got the joke instantly.
“Retract that, let me do it!” He clapped a hand over Ling Yi’s mouth.
“Pei Tingsong’s English name is Listen and Song…”

“Pei,” He Ziyan added helpfully, tossing in the surname. Then he exaggerated a foreign accent to pronounce all four tones of “Pei” like he was reading a tongue twister.