Chapter 110

On the night the Guangzhou leg concluded, Xingtu reserved a renowned local restaurant for an extravagant celebration banquet, inviting all crew members to join.

After six months of preparation, the concert finally met fans, achieving results far exceeding expectations. By the end, many backstage crew members were moved to tears. Even Cheng Qiang, who always played the role of the wise elder, felt a lump in his throat when hearing their self-introductions—as if transported back to their very first day in the industry.

“First off, congratulations on the successful launch of our EGO Tour!” Cheng Qiang stood at the center of the restaurant hall, microphone in hand, delivering a heartfelt speech.

Fang Juexia stood nearby chatting with Jiang Miao. Turning, he spotted the champagne on the table and picked it up to examine the brand. Ling Yi caught sight of it and exclaimed, “Juexia, let me see!”

Fang Juexia handed the champagne to Ling Yi. Ling Yi was thrilled. “I’ve never opened champagne before. They never let me do it.” ”

“Me neither,” Fang Juexia admitted honestly.

Pei Tingsong walked over with a glass of lemon soda for Fang Juexia. “Stay hydrated.” Glancing over, she saw Ling Yi fiddling with the champagne. “What are you doing?”

“How do you get it to pop out with a bang?” Ling Yi was puzzled.

“Just shake it a few times.” Pei Tingsong casually offered this advice, not expecting Ling Yi to shake it like mad, using every ounce of strength he had.

“Everyone has worked hard! Today, let’s all just…”

Pop!

Pei Tingsong froze for a second before bursting into laughter, crouching down and hugging Fang Juexia’s leg.

Stunned by the spray, Cheng Qiang turned to glare at Ling Yi, who was still pressing the champagne bottle against his stomach. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ling Yi awkwardly set the champagne bottle on the ground and tried to scuttle away like a little crab, but Lu Yuan and He Ziyan grabbed him and hauled him back. “Trying to run?”

“You’re pretty good, aiming straight for Brother Qiang.”

“Oh man, I didn’t expect it to spray that far…”

“Hahahaha!”

“Alright, alright! You guys have fun!” Cheng Qiang couldn’t hold back his laughter either.

Everyone ate, drank, and chatted. The entire first floor of the restaurant was filled with Star Map staff. It felt less like a celebratory banquet and more like a party—glittering lights, drinks flowing, conversations buzzing, everyone relaxing to the music. Though the atmosphere was lively, Fang Juexia naturally felt uncomfortable in such large gatherings, especially since he had other plans. When the restaurant played “Night Walk,” he leaned close to Pei Tingsong’s ear.

“Let’s slip away quietly.”

A romantic wouldn’t refuse such a perfect chance to elope.

By the time they slipped out of the restaurant, it was already half past midnight. But Guangzhou’s night wouldn’t fade until much later. The lingering heatwave, like the smoky bustle on the streets, offered no escape. The two slipped into a randomly stopped taxi, masks and hats covering their faces, leaving one revelry behind and heading toward the city’s even grander celebration.

The driver, a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, was very enthusiastic. As soon as they got in, he asked in Mandarin with a distinct Cantonese accent, “Visiting Guangzhou?”

Fang Juexia smiled and replied in Cantonese, “No, I’m from Guangzhou.” He then gave the driver an address.

The driver looked surprised, glancing at Pei Tingsong in the rearview mirror. His Mandarin shifted to Cantonese. “This handsome guy too?”

“No, he’s just taking me home.”

“Ah, I knew it! He’s so tall. I spotted you two standing by the roadside right away—both gorgeous and tall.” The driver joked, “Someone might mistake you for celebrities.”

Actually, that was pretty close to the truth.

Pei Tingsong didn’t quite catch it, so he leaned closer to ask Fang Juexia what the driver had said. Fang Juexia smiled. “He’s complimenting you on being tall and handsome—you could be a celebrity.”

“Driver, you’ve got talent as a talent scout,” Pei Tingsong quipped.

“Hahaha, really? Guangzhou is so much fun, with tons of delicious food…”

Listening to their conversation, Fang Juexia felt at ease. He gazed out the window, where neon lights reflected on the glass, flickering by like a kaleidoscope above a concert stage.

Driving through the bustling commercial district, the lights gradually dimmed. The deep darkness of night slowly reclaimed the sky. Only upon entering the old city did Fang Juexia truly feel like he was coming home.

Bidding farewell to the enthusiastic driver, they opened the door and were once again enveloped in a wave of heat.

The streets here were much quieter. Some storefronts had already pulled down their gray metal shutters, while the rest were filled with all kinds of snack shops and late-night eateries. Their red and yellow lights shone brightly, their signs glowing, like the most vibrant cells in the city after it had fallen asleep.

” Where are we?” Pei Tingsong reached for his hand but held back, settling instead for a gentle arm around his shoulders.

“My high school’s back gate.” Fang Juexia pointed toward the shade of trees behind a wall. “See over there? That’s my old school.”

“Really?” Pei Tingsong stopped and looked. “I wanna go in.” ”

Fang Juexia smiled as he gently removed Pei Tingsong’s hand from his shoulder. Turning to face him, he took two steps back. “No way. I was a good student—I wouldn’t climb walls.”

His smiling eyes were impossibly beautiful. Pei Tingsong grabbed his wrist. “You’ve already thought about climbing walls, yet you call yourself a good student?”

“Then it’s because you corrupted me.” Fang Juexia shook his wrist free from Pei Tingsong’s grip, turned his back on him, and walked ahead.

He wore a crisp, clean white T-shirt as he strolled through the old town streets steeped in Lingnan charm. The road was paved with square stone slabs, forming a giant mosaic artwork belonging to the city. Banyan trees stretched their canopies over the road, while colorful signboards and neon lights spread their glow unrestrainedly in the night. Yet they couldn’t taint Fang Juexia’s silhouette. He was always clean, always snow-white.

This time, Pei Tingsong didn’t walk beside him as usual. Instead, he lagged a few steps behind, moving slowly, his eyes fixed on Fang Juexia’s slender silhouette.

The figure before him had gradually changed—a bit shorter, thinner, like a willow branch that had been pruned. His clothes had shifted from a white T-shirt to a school uniform, yet his gait remained unchanged, each step as upright as ever.

Back then, he must have been the boy many girls dreamed of.

Pei Tingsong couldn’t help but smile, as if he himself had once been that boy, walking alongside Fang Juexia home after evening study sessions.

As they walked, the figure ahead turned back, snapping the fantasy back to reality. “Hurry up,” he urged.

“Mm.” Pei Tingsong quickened his pace, catching up to stand beside Fang Juexia.

Fang Juexia led him around one street corner, then another, finally stopping in front of a small shop. The illuminated sign above the door read: Chen Po Rice Roll Shop. The row of low-rise buildings lining the street was distinctive—two stories with a covered walkway below. Looking up, the windows upstairs were wide open, adorned with potted plants. Standing beneath them, the scent of jasmine wafted up.

“I used to come here often after school for snacks,” Fang Juexia said, pulling him inside. The shop was empty. “School always made me so hungry.”

The owner had changed. Gone was the kind old woman from Fang Juexia’s youth, replaced by a middle-aged woman—perhaps her daughter. “Come try our sweet soup,” she offered.

Fang Juexia smiled in response, went to order some food, then returned to sit beside Pei Tingsong.

Pei Tingsong looked up at him. “This building is unique.”

The shop had no air conditioning. The ceiling fan whirred, stirring the nearly stagnant, humid air into transparent swirls of heat.

Hearing his remark, Fang Juexia felt a flicker of surprise, though Pei Tingsong had always been keenly observant of the world.

“This is a Cantonese-style arcade,” Fang Juexia said, pouring him a glass of water. “Its earliest history… probably dates back to the late Qing Dynasty. It was built by Zhang Zhidong, the Viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi at the time.”

Pei Tingsong nodded, gazing through the gate at the arcades across the street. “I love this architecture—it’s a living history book. And these trees… they feel different from trees in other cities…” He searched for the right word. “So free. Like they’re stretching and growing outward with pure ease.”

“These are banyan trees, many over a hundred years old. There used to be far more than today—they were cut down to make way for high-rises.” Fang Juexia gazed outside, lost in thought. “Old Guangzhou was a city growing within a forest of banyans.”

That was an interesting way to put it. In Fang Juexia’s words, the city suddenly brimmed with vibrant green life.

The owner brought over two bowls of sweet soup, setting them on the table with a warm smile. “Have some sweet soup first.”

One bowl held sweet potato soup, the other sugarcane and water chestnut soup. They shared, taking turns. Though Pei Tingsong wasn’t fond of sweets, these soups were unexpectedly refreshingly sweet. The cool liquid soothed his overheated organs, dispelling half the summer’s heat.

Fang Juexia loved it, each sip transporting him back to his youth.

Pei Tingsong watched him, finding his eating manner endearing. Without warning, he remarked, “You must have been raised on sweet soup.”

Upon reflection, the statement held no fault. Thus, Fang Juexia offered no rebuttal.

The owner brought over two freshly made rice noodle rolls—one with shrimp, one with beef—each topped with a runny egg yolk. The translucent wrappers were as thin as cicada wings, revealing the vibrant hues of the beef and shrimp beneath, along with the golden egg yolk. Even after being placed on the table, they still trembled slightly.

“Try it. See if it’s different from the ones in Beijing.”

Pei Tingsong picked up a pair of chopsticks, but the slippery noodles kept slipping away. Using a spoon alongside the chopsticks, he finally managed a bite. The noodles were smooth yet resilient, the beef tender and succulent. The Cantonese soy sauce had a hint of sweetness, making the whole dish fresh, tender, and silky smooth—truly delicious.

“This is amazing. So much better than what I ate as a kid.”

Fang Juexia chuckled. “You spoiled little boy are easy to please—you’re already raving over eleven-yuan rice noodles.”

Pei Tingsong replied with deadpan seriousness, “Value is relative. With you sitting here eating with me, even eleven-yuan rice noodles could outshine a Michelin three-star meal.”

Everything is relative.

The rice noodles back then were delicious too, but bringing Pei Tingsong back this time made them taste even better.

Two people are so much better than one.

With their bellies full, they left the little shop. Fang Juexia led Pei Tingsong out, though he was the one who couldn’t see.

The streetlights were dim in the early morning. Worried Fang Juexia might stumble in the dim light, Pei Tingsong reached out to support him, but Fang Juexia refused.

Only walking down this old street he’d traversed countless times in his youth did he reveal certain habits—like walking close to the wall, his hand instinctively resting against it; or taking steps of nearly identical length, each stride landing with a slight scrape of his shoe against the pavement.

As they walked, he suddenly stopped, ran his fingers along the wall, and asked with a hint of confusion, “There used to be a gap here. Did they fill it in?”

Pei Tingsong suddenly felt a pang of sadness.

It turned out that the Fang Juexia of the past had memorized the way home using every sense except sight. The smells along the path, the chirping of insects in the banyan trees, the gaps in the walls, the shapes of the paving stones—which ones were loose, which ones were raised. It was these sensations that guided him home.

“May I hold your hand?” Pei Tingsong asked softly.

Fang Juexia glanced sideways at him. Though he couldn’t see clearly, he still smiled. “Yes. There’s no one around now.”

He carefully took Fang Juexia’s hand. Through the humid air, everything warped in the summer heat, time and space twisted. It felt as if, in this moment, Pei Tingsong was holding the hand of sixteen-year-old Fang Juexia—the boy who had once walked home alone in the dark, afraid.

“You’re so brave.” Pei Tingsong was never stingy with praise, especially for Fang Juexia.

Fang Juexia smiled but said nothing. Under the moonlight, they walked hand in hand down the long street, immersed in waves of cicada chirps rising and falling. As they neared home, Fang Juexia suddenly said, “I feel like it’s going to rain.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Just a hunch,” Fang Juexia replied. “My hunches are usually pretty accurate.”

So they quickened their pace, slipping through an entrance into an old, tree-shaded neighborhood. Streetlights were sparse, but Fang Juexia followed memory. Finally, he stopped beneath a massive banyan tree, its shadow darker than the night itself.

“You live up in a tree?” Pei Tingsong teased.

Fang Juexia silenced him as usual, then raised his hand to press against the bark. Following the rough grain upward, he found a hollow the size of a bowl. His slender white fingers reached inside, searching for something.

“Need help?” Pei Tingsong asked.

“Found it,” Fang Juexia exclaimed, surprise lighting up his face. “It’s still here after all these years. Ten years.”

“What is it?” Pei Tingsong leaned closer. In the moonlight, Fang Juexia opened his palm to reveal a plump, round walnut.

“You hid a walnut for ten years?”

Hearing Pei Tingsong’s incredulous tone, Fang Juexia burst out laughing. He pried open the walnut shell with a little effort, pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper from inside, and handed it to Pei Tingsong.

“I remember this was one day… after Fang Ping beat me up. I was so upset and scared, I wrote this and hid it in a tree hollow downstairs.” Fang Juexia smiled. “To keep it hidden, I even sealed it with walnut shells. Never thought it’d stay undiscovered for so long.” His tone implied, “Pretty clever of me, huh?”

Carefully unfolding the paper under moonlight, Pei Tingsong finally read the words written there.

[I must not become a bad person. I must stand on the stage and never fall.]

Through these words, Pei Tingsong suddenly saw the boy he once was.

He finally understood why Fang Juexia had suggested everyone write about their future selves at the concert’s end.

Fang Juexia tilted his face upward, his eyes shining. “The me from ten years ago—I give him to you.”

Pei Tingsong clutched the note as he pulled Fang Juexia into an embrace, kissing his forehead beneath the deep, dark tree.

“Thank you.”

Thank you for growing up so strong, so you could meet me, who was so late.

The rain came as quickly as it was foretold. Fang Juexia’s premonition had been spot on, though he hadn’t anticipated it would be this heavy. In an instant, it diluted the thick air and stirred up the earthy scent of damp soil. Pei Tingsong’s first instinct was to stash the note away. As they prepared to flee, they shared a knowing smile and ran through the darkness.

Since being with Pei Tingsong, Fang Juexia had imagined countless scenarios for bringing him home. But plans never match reality. He never imagined they’d return home looking this bedraggled.

His mother, who had already retired for the night, rose to open the door. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she looked at the two drenched children and chuckled. “What a time to choose to come home!”

Welcoming them inside, Mrs. Fang suddenly felt wide awake. She urged them to take a hot shower. Fang Juexia let Pei Tingsong go first while he grabbed a towel and slipped into the kitchen, standing beside his mother as she prepared ginger tea.

“Is Grandpa asleep?”

“Mhm. He was waiting for you to come back, watching TV until he started nodding off without going to bed. When he got the call about your celebratory banquet, he went in himself. “ Fang’s mother added ginger slices to the pot and stirred. ”If he’d known you were coming, he’d be overjoyed tomorrow morning.”

Recalling the scene on stage, Fang Juexia asked, “Did Xiao Pei tell you to go? He didn’t mention it to me.”

“Yes, he went to the hospital specifically to persuade your grandfather. At first, I was worried, but it turned out they hit it off. Xiao Pei told him you actually missed him terribly and really wanted him to be at the concert. Truth is, your grandfather wanted to go too. Neither of you could bring yourselves to ask, but Xiao Pei? He’ll say anything. After he left, your grandfather quietly told me that seeing you have such a good teammate put his mind at ease.“ After saying this, Fang’s mother added, ”I feel the same way.”

Fang Juexia wiped the water from her hair, took the towel off, and clenched it tightly in her hand.

“Actually…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Mom, he’s not just my teammate.”

Fang’s mother paused stirring the ginger tea, the swirl in the pot still spinning. She didn’t look at Fang Juexia, unexpectedly calm. “What do you mean by that?”

“I love him deeply, and he loves me too.” Fang Juexia tried to describe their relationship with the most precise words possible. “We’re lovers.”

His heart beat anxiously, his mind buzzing with voices telling him he was being rash, that he shouldn’t announce an unstable relationship to his mother. Love was fragile, and his mother knew that better than anyone.

“Actually, I saw it coming.” Fang’s mother reached into the jar, scooped out two pieces of yellow rock sugar, and dropped them into the pot. Her tone was calm. “I guessed your relationship. Xiao Pei cares too much about you to be just a friend. And the way he looks at you, the way you look at him—you can’t hide it.”

True. Affection couldn’t be concealed, especially not from a mother.

“I didn’t want to hide it from you.”

Mrs. Fang turned off the stove and looked at him. “Juexia, I never thought you were impulsive. After all, you’ve seen…” She paused, her voice catching. “You’ve seen how your mother was—throwing herself headlong into a relationship. It’s not wise.”

“This isn’t impulsive,” Fang Juexia defended his love. “It’s precisely because of everything I witnessed growing up that I resisted romance before meeting him. I even convinced myself I’d never experience true love in this lifetime.”

Hearing these words filled Fang Mama with guilt. This was the outcome she’d dreaded most, yet she couldn’t help it—her failed love and marriage had subtly shaped this child, making him taciturn and distant.

“If not for Pei Tingsong, I might never have changed.”

Fang’s mother sighed silently. “I’m not opposed to it. I just fear you’ll get hurt.” After saying this, she felt like she had become her own father all over again—standing on the opposite side out of fear for her child’s well-being. The feeling was too contradictory, too agonizing. Back then, hadn’t she too believed she had found true love? Yet she had failed, utterly and completely, left raw and bleeding. So she couldn’t help but say, “Have you considered this might be a mistake?”

Fresh from his shower, Pei Tingsong emerged from the bathroom and softly called Fang Juexia’s name. Hearing voices from the kitchen, he approached, intending to tell him it was time to bathe.

“Then I’ll make my own mistake.”

Hearing this, his footsteps halted.

Fang Juexia’s gaze was stubborn, yet every word he spoke made logical sense. “Because I’ve lived in a world of failure, I’ve always believed I couldn’t succeed either. But after meeting him, I no longer want to live that way. Even if it ends badly, even if it’s wrong, I have to try. Wait ten years, twenty years, and look back on today. At least the Fang Juexia of that time followed his heart and made a choice without hesitation.”

His eyes held tears that refused to fall.

“Even if it’s wrong, it’s still right.”

She looked at the son standing before her, as if seeing him for the first time. He felt unfamiliar, yet no longer the Fang Juexia who’d stubbornly pursued righteousness beyond what any ordinary child would.

In his face, she finally saw the reflection of her younger self.

Fang’s mother said nothing. She turned away, scooping ginger tea into a bowl with a ladle. The golden liquid rippled under the kitchen light.

“Take it out and let Xiao Pei drink it while it’s hot, lest he catch a cold. Summer colds are miserable.”

“Mom…”

“Then let’s give it a try.” Mrs. Fang solemnly placed the ginger tea into his hands, smiling through her tears.

“You’re luckier than your mother. You won’t go wrong.”