Pei Tingsong never imagined he could one day have a new family.
In truth, he never fantasized about coming out to Fang Juexia’s family—it seemed impossible, given Fang Juexia’s reserved nature and the unique circumstances of his household. What he hadn’t anticipated was that Fang Juexia would lay it all out on the table the very first day he brought him home, without even intending to tell him.
Throughout the entire coming-out process, Fang Juexia bravely shielded Pei Tingsong, acting like a true older brother. He took all the motivation and responsibility upon himself, as if he were the dominant one in their relationship.
But Pei Tingsong knew the truth: he was the one who had pursued Fang Juexia first. Yet to shield his family from blame, Fang Juexia chose to play the role of the bad older brother who led the youngest team member astray.
Perhaps even then, Fang Juexia had braced for the worst when he laid everything bare.
So he pretended ignorance, returning alone to Fang Juexia’s room. That night, clutching Fang Juexia’s back, sleep eluded him.
Only then did he realize how terrifying it could be to possess the most wonderful person in the world. He, who had never feared anything, suddenly felt an overwhelming dread of losing him.
On the night they left Guangzhou for Shanghai to attend the next concert, Pei Tingsong discovered a letter while packing. It was from Fang’s mother, secretly tucked inside the inner pocket of his jacket.
[Tingsong, Juexia told me about you two. I suspect he didn’t discuss it with you first. Also, because of his grandfather’s health issues, I advised him not to tell his grandfather just yet. I’ll gradually guide Grandpa. He’s getting older and might not accept things that clash with his beliefs all at once. I hope you understand.
Truthfully, I had already sensed something about your feelings for each other. I know Juexia well—he’s a boy who values efficiency and results. Human energy is limited, so he often skips expressions and communication, living in his own world. He also isn’t one to show weakness; even when hurt or frustrated, he internalizes all his emotions.
But when I went to Beijing, spending those days together, I could see it. Though he tried to hold back, the moment you appeared, his gaze would immediately land on you. He’d revolve around you, and when he looked at you, his eyes would smile—so gentle. A person’s eyes can’t lie.
I know you care deeply for him too. Everything you’ve done for him, and all your sacrifices for our family—I see it all. But I’m sure you understand—I’m someone who’s suffered deeply. Seeing my own child walk the same path as me still fills me with dread. I know it might seem unreasonable for me to make this request of you. But my one wish in this life is for Juexia to be different from me. I don’t want him to taste this kind of pain again.
So if it’s possible, I hope you two can love each other for a long, long time.
I know the word “mother” feels foreign to you, perhaps even repellent, so I wouldn’t lightly say, “Please treat me as your mother.” But in my heart, you are already family.
Take care of yourself. Come back when you have time. I’ll have soup simmering for you.
Pei Tingsong would forever remember the feeling after reading that letter.
Two weeks later, Fang Mama received a lengthy reply. Reading the final line, she couldn’t help but smile warmly.
[Mom, I promise you—I’ll give him a spring that never fades.]
After touring ten cities nationwide over two months, the Kaleido tour finally concluded in Hangzhou. They’d witnessed distinct summers in each city.
The tour had been exhausting, so after returning to Beijing, the company gave them a few days off with no schedule. Whenever he had a chance to slack off, Pei Tingsong would drag Fang Juexia to his apartment. Though the dorm was nice, it couldn’t compare to the convenience of having a space just for the two of them.
Previously, the apartment had been empty with only him living there. Now, with Fang Juexia around, he constantly wanted to buy things he liked and furnish the place with new furniture. Gradually, this small space began to feel more and more like a home. They read books and watched movies inside, curled up together for long afternoon naps, and woke up feeling groggy together.
“Finished yet?” Pei Tingsong leaned against the new sofa, fiddling with the internet TV. “Did that variety show with Ling Yi’s cameo update?”
“It updated yesterday.” Fang Juexia closed the refrigerator door.
Unable to find the program right away, Pei Tingsong followed him into the kitchen.
“Be careful when you’re cutting things.” He braced himself against the counter, watching Fang Juexia bend over cutting fruit with such intense focus it looked like he was tackling some monumental task.
So when Fang Juexia wasn’t looking, Pei Tingsong snatched a piece of his sliced red dragon fruit and popped it into his mouth.
But Fang Juexia didn’t even lift his head before calling him out. “No sneaking bites.”
“I didn’t,” Pei Tingsong denied immediately.
Fang Juexia lifted his head, pinching his chin and pulling it down. “You’re lying through your teeth. Your tongue is all red.”
But no sooner had the words left his mouth than Fang Juexia’s waist was suddenly encircled. The distance between them closed instantly as Pei Tingsong’s kiss, carrying a hint of sweetness, invaded his lips. After a brief entanglement of tongues, he pulled back, grinning like a child who’d pulled off a mischievous prank.
“What did I eat?”
“You ate me~”
“…Pei Tingsong, see how sharp this knife in my hand is?”
“My bad, my bad.” Pei Tingsong chuckled as he took the fruit knife from Fang Juexia’s hand and put it away. Then he scooped up his treasure, setting him on the kitchen island before leaning in to wrap his arms around his waist. “Knives aren’t for playing with. Play with me instead.”
“What’s so fun about you?” Fang Juexia pretended to pinch his neck fiercely, but couldn’t suppress his laughter. Finally, he rested both hands on either side of his neck, gazing up at him with those beautiful eyes. Their depths were clear as melting snowwater, shimmering with warmth.
Pei Tingsong suddenly recalled the letter from Fang’s mother and thought of how Fang Juexia had looked at him. His heart softened instantly. He leaned in and kissed him lightly, their lips meeting and lingering for two seconds before parting.
But the moment he pulled away, Fang Juexia pressed his lips back against his. His hands cupped the back of Pei Tingsong’s head, his tongue tentatively probing inside. Eyes closed, Fang Juexia felt the intimate touch of lips and tongue in the darkness, felt the smooth curve of Pei Tingsong’s teeth.
Moist and crimson, like tropical fruit—and like their kiss.
Pei Tingsong possessed an innate, mischievous animalistic streak. When kissing, he’d instinctively nibble at his lips. Each time he bit down, Fang Juexia would emit a soft sound—like a gentle reprimand, yet also a tantalizing encouragement.
“Mmm…”
His hands cupped Fang Juexia’s nape, laying him back onto the kitchen island countertop. His lips and teeth moved downward, biting open the first button of his pajama top.
But what was meant to happen didn’t unfold smoothly.
Pei Tingsong’s phone rang. Without even glancing at it, he silenced the alert. Yet it rang again shortly after.
“Answer it.” Fang Juexia propped himself up on his elbows, panting lightly. “It might be urgent.”
“Fine.” Pei Tingsong sighed heavily, pulled out his phone, and saw “Qiang Ge” on the screen before answering. “Hello, Qiang Ge.”
Suddenly free, Fang Juexia sat on the island counter, dangling his legs. He reached for a fully bloomed lisianthus from the vase on the countertop and gently brushed its petals against Pei Tingsong’s neck.
“What? A secret account?” Pei Tingsong’s tone shifted abruptly, filled with disbelief. “How is that possible?”
Secret account?
Fang Juexia’s hand froze, the flower pressed against his neck.
Could it be that Pei Tingsong’s secret account had been exposed?
Not even he had seen it.
This thought sparked sudden curiosity in Fang Juexia, who usually had little interest in gossip. He kicked off his slippers, crossed his long legs, pulled his phone from his pocket, opened Weibo, searched the keywords [Pei Tingsong’s Secret Account], and clicked on the top trending result.
[@GossipDriedUp: Netizens allegedly uncovered Pei Tingsong’s secret account. The tone is pretty angry youth—ranting about everything under the sun, even air. It’s quite Pei Tingsong. But several shared photos seem to hint at romance. Could another scandal be brewing?]
Fang Juexia felt a pang of guilt, so he clicked straight into the screenshots. The account ID was “Platonic Spiritual Love.” The first image was a screenshot of lyrics from an English rap song about a girl. Another photo showed a close-up of a ring, accompanied only by three emojis: a boy, a girl, and a ring between them.
This can’t be right.
Pei Tingsong hung up the call at that moment, too furious to even speak to Fang Juexia. He immediately opened Weibo.
“This fake account must be someone else’s forgery,” Fang Juexia said obediently, resting his chin on Pei Tingsong’s shoulder. Angry though he was, Pei Tingsong’s first instinct was to turn his head and kiss Fang Juexia before focusing on his phone. “Of course I’m furious. Who would make such a low-quality fake account for me?”
Watching Pei Tingsong’s fingers fly across the keyboard, Fang Juexia couldn’t help but laugh. He kissed his ear. “Don’t get mad at them.”
[@KaleidoPeiTingsong: WTF? @PlatonicSpiritualLove—this tacky fake account has nothing to do with me. And now you want to fabricate some unnamed girlfriend for me? Send the appearance fee to Xingtu immediately, thanks. Also, since I’m being magnanimous, let me educate you: the notion that “Platonic love equals ‘spiritual love’” is a definition proposed by 15th-century Italian philosopher Marsilio Ficino—his own secondary interpretation. In reality, anyone who’s read The Symposium or knows a bit about Greek philosophers’ daily lives understands that Platonic love discusses emotions between men. (Come argue if you dare—arguing is what Schopenhauer talked about). The ID says “Platonic love,” but the post describes a crush on a young girl. The contradiction needs to make basic logical sense.
Also, I use my main account to insult people—otherwise, who’d I be insulting? That’d be so lame.
“Tsk tsk.” Fang Juexia rested his chin on Pei Tingsong’s shoulder, glanced at his phone screen, then tilted his head to look at him. “Posting this on Weibo will get you trending again.”
Not only that—it might even land you on Tiger’s Scandal Log.
“So be it.”
Seeing his pouty expression, Fang Juexia poked his cheek with hisfinger. “I’ve never even seen your secondary account. It can’t really be exposed, right?” Thinking about the content posted by that fake secondary account earlier, Fang Juexia suddenly wanted to ask Pei Tingsong if his secondary account had anything about him. But in the end, he didn’t ask. Because he didn’t know if he hoped there was, or hoped there wasn’t.
“Absolutely impossible,” Pei Tingsong declared with certainty.
Really? Yet Fang Juexia couldn’t shake an uneasy premonition.
“So trashy.” Even after posting a rebuttal on Weibo, Pei Tingsong still muttered angrily, “Anyone reading this would think this is my actual level.”
What kind of twisted logic was that?
Fang Juexia blurted out, “You’re so cute.”
Being called cute by Fang Juexia always felt awkward. Pei Tingsong turned around and tickled him. “Who do you think is cute? Say who’s cute…”
“Stop it, you tickle me! Pei Tingsong!” Fang Juexia, terrified of tickles, slid off the countertop. Pei Tingsong chased him into the living room and pinned him down on the sofa.
Fang Juexia was left breathless and flustered from the struggle, panting lightly as he pushed against Pei Tingsong’s arms. “Get off me, you’re so heavy.”
“It’s not like this is the first time I’ve pinned you down. Now you suddenly think I’m too heavy?”
“…Shut up.”
So Pei Tingsong actually shut up—and at the same time, he silenced Fang Juexia. The early autumn air carried a hint of dryness, and their skin grew damp from the friction of their close contact.
“I like this new sofa,” Pei Tingsong murmured, his breath warm against Fang Juexia’s ear. Heat surged through his pulsing arteries as he was flipped over and pinned down. “You look beautiful lying on it.”
His lips parted, breath and saliva spilling out. The deep gray sofa stained with dark moisture, like raindrops hitting concrete.
Beneath Pei Tingsong, he returned to that summer night thunderstorm.
Stifling, damp, sticky—the air churned with the earthy sweetness of mud.
Finally, exhausted beyond movement, Fang Juexia curled up in Pei Tingsong’s embrace, dazed, muttering, “We haven’t eaten the fruit yet.”
“I’m full. Fruit doesn’t interest me anymore,” Pei Tingsong declared unabashedly, earning him a swift elbow to the ribs from Fang Juexia.
“Teacher Fang, you can’t always punish your students like this.”
“This doesn’t count.” Fang Juexia grabbed his wrist and gave it a gentle nibble. “This does.” After that, he kissed him again, his voice tinged with a rare hint of petulance. “I’m hungry. I want noodles.”
“Sounds good. I bought some instant soup base—perfect for flavoring noodles.” Pei Tingsong rose from the sofa but headed not to the kitchen, instead going to the bathroom. He filled the bathtub with hot water before returning to pick up the reluctant Fang Juexia.
“What are you doing?”
“Targeted delivery.”
After settling his delicate flower’s bath time, Pei Tingsong headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Soaking in the tub, Fang Juexia recalled Pei Tingsong’s recent Weibo post and stretched his arm to reach for his phone.
Sure enough, the hashtag #PeiTingsongRespondsToSecondAccount had already trended. Clicking in revealed a flurry of discussions.
[@BEbemei: Hahahaha, feisty little Pei is here to bust the fakes!]
[@OhOhAhAhWhatDidYouSay: Clicked in with a casual curiosity, only to get lectured to the face. What a ride.]
[@RobotHimself: But his last line—taste it, savor it—doesn’t it imply, “I do have a secondary account, but I’m not that tacky, and I don’t use it to insult people”?]
[@Didn’tStudyToday Replies to @RobotHimself: I think you hit the nail on the head.]
That’s exactly right, though it’ll probably take a while to dig up the proof. Just as Fang Juexia was about to click on the next Weibo post, his phone suddenly vibrated several times in quick succession—it was a WeChat group.
Fang Juexia exited Weibo and opened WeChat, only to find it was their six-person group chat.
[Dash Account: Oh no oh no oh no]
[Your Fire Brother: What mess did you get into this time?]
[Dash Original: How did you know!!!]
[Dash Original: Didn’t I have a variety show this season? They caught me playing with my phone while eating on camera. Even though the screenshot was blurry, they somehow tracked down my Weibo alt account! Waaahhhhhhh]
Weird, are they all targeting secondary accounts today?
Fang Juexia replied, “If your secondary account doesn’t have anything suspicious, you should be fine.”
There was a pause on the other end, as if pondering something. After a moment, Ling Yi sent another message.
[Dash Account: My secondary Weibo account doesn’t have anything weird… If I really had to say something… ]
[Dash Account: I followed Xiao Pei’s secondary account… ]
What??
Fang Juexia shot upright in the bathtub.
[Dash Account: Actually, I unfollowed them super fast just now, but someone already took a screenshot… ]
He even sent an emoji of someone banging their head on the floor in apology.
[Your Fire Bro: 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱!]
[Your Fire Bro: @Kaleido’s Only Big Boss, Youngest Brother, keep smiling and survive.]
