For a moment, Fang Juexia felt for the first time that they were similar.
This was strange, because in terms of both appearance and inner logic, they were like two arrows pointing in opposite directions, yet they resonated with each other in some subtle way.
Facing Pei Tingsong’s counterquestion, Fang Juexia nodded. In truth, he knew he didn’t need to explain further, but he still wanted to speak.
“Yes. Perhaps everyone has a different definition of social relationships. Perhaps in many people’s eyes, harmonious social relationships mean complete harmony in communication and interaction, with no arguments or friction. In fact, such social relationships are most likely a false harmony created by both parties. People are inevitably different, no matter how similar they may be or how close their relationship is. There will always be conflicting viewpoints.”
Pei Tingsong was a bit surprised. He had only intended to use his rhetoric to defuse the disagreement, but he didn’t expect Fang Juexia to be able to present his logic so quickly and coherently. He couldn’t help but think that perhaps Fang Juexia wasn’t as socially awkward as everyone imagined.
He had simply made careful choices and managed his social relationships.
Fang Juexia continued, “Being able to stick to one’s own views and confidently engage in ideological collisions with another person, we each express our own opinions and defend the truths we believe in. But at the end, we don’t develop barriers because of intense debates; instead, we understand each other better. This is what I consider healthy social interaction.”
“To put it simply, it’s like a math problem. You have your solution, and I have mine, but we both aim for the correct answer. Math teachers encourage students to try multiple solutions. The world needs diverse voices and diverse people. I won’t conform to your solution out of fear of damaging our friendship. I’ll present my method and discuss it with you. Having that confidence only proves how deep our bond is, doesn’t it?”
After saying this, Fang Juexia smiled, “So this way of interacting doesn’t mean we’re not getting along. We’re just sticking to our own ways and respecting each other’s self-expression.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Pei Tingsong clapped his hands. Fang Juexia turned his head to look at him, and saw that Pei Tingsong was holding a stuffed animal in his right hand and giving him a thumbs-up.
Fang Juexia quickly turned his head back, a smile curving his lips.
The editor-in-chief listened to the rest of the interview, nodding continuously. The thoughts of these two young men had already surpassed his concept of idols, but after hearing what they said, he couldn’t help but wonder, why should he assume that idols couldn’t say such things?
Just as Fang Juexia said, this world needs different interpretations, and the issue of idols also needs different interpretations.
These young people who shine on stage are not confined to a single mold.
The host nodded repeatedly. If not for professional ethics, she would have exclaimed in admiration, but she restrained herself. “That’s very well said. I’ve gained a lot from today’s interview, and that’s the meaning of my work.”
“Thank you.” After answering that question, Fang Juexia picked up the water cup on the table and took a sip. When he put the cup back, he noticed that Pei Tingsong’s cup was tilted, so he quietly aligned both cups on the same level. He seemed to have returned to being that aloof young idol once again.
Watching his series of actions, Pei Tingsong found it amusing. She rubbed the head of the small dinosaur in her hand, finding it increasingly amusing, and eventually laughed to herself.
The host flipped through the cue cards and continued, “The previous questions were quite deep. Let’s keep our final topic lighthearted. We used many flowers and plants during today’s shoot, and our filming location resembled a botanical garden. So let’s ask a more interesting question: if you had to choose a plant to represent each other, which one would you choose?”
Fang Juexia asked, “You mean the plant that most resembles him? Not one you’d choose for yourself?”
“Right, a plant you think resembles the other person or can represent them.”
He glanced at Pei Tingsong, who tilted her head to look at him. A plant quickly popped into Fang Juexia’s mind. “Hmm… Although Pei Tingsong has a nickname, ‘grapevine.’” He couldn’t help but laugh as he said it.
The host was a bit confused. “Grapevine?”
Fang Juexia suppressed a laugh, “Because the first letters of Pei Tingsong’s name are pts, and when you type it into the input method, it suggests words like grapevine, so everyone calls him that.”
Pei Tingsong immediately turned to the camera, “See? We know everything you guys say. Don’t say bad things about me, or I’ll follow the internet cable to unplug your home’s internet cable.”
His teasing made Fang Juexia want to laugh even more, but he remembered the question he hadn’t answered, so he tried to be serious, “Well, if we’re choosing a representative plant, I think he’s more like a cactus.”
Pei Tingsong heard this and used the long tail of his small dinosaur pillow to swat him. Fang Juexia immediately pointed at Pei Tingsong, “Just like this, it’s very similar, right?”
The host laughed, “So Juexia thinks Ting Song is like a cactus, with lots of prickly spines that are hard to handle?”
Fang Juexia ignored Pei Tingsong’s tail attack and nodded, “Yeah.”
“You’re just saying ‘yeah’?” Pei Tingsong pretended to be fierce, but his voice was soft.
“But,” Fang Juexia grabbed the dinosaur’s small tail, her expression sincere and serious, “cacti may look like they have many hard spines on the outside, but in fact, they are very soft on the inside. Can you imagine that their water content is 85% to 90%? Because of their harsh growing environment, they are constantly absorbing and storing water. They are plants that are very serious about surviving.”
Upon hearing this, Pei Tingsong paused, forgetting to pull back the doll’s tail.
“That’s very similar.” Fang Juexia let go of his hand and smiled at the camera.
“That’s very meaningful,” the host smiled at Pei Tingsong, “So, Ting Song, what kind of plant do you think Jue Xia is like?”
Pei Tingsong leaned back against the sofa and began pulling at the spikes on the dinosaur’s back. “I used to think he was more like a cherry blossom or something, you know,” he turned his head to look at Fang Juexia and placed both hands on either side of his face in an exaggerated manner, “this face is very handsome, right?”
Fang Juexia felt a bit embarrassed, let go of the dinosaur’s tail, and tilted his head away.
The host nodded, unable to hide the smile on his face, “There is a bit of that feeling.”
“But now I don’t think so anymore.” Pei Tingsong started messing with the little dinosaur’s tail again, “I think it’s a white anemone.”
Fang Juexia was curious about such a specific description, “Why?”
Pei Tingsong flicked the tail at him one last time, raising his eyebrows, “I’m not telling you.”
Fang Juexia nodded, then clapped slowly. Pei Tingsong found it amusing and joined in the applause, then switched to clapping his hands. “Alright, last question, done!”
“Thank you all for your hard work.” Fang Juexia stood up and bowed to the staff.
The interview ended, and they changed out of their sponsor’s clothes and prepared to leave.
In the changing room, Fang Juexia took off his sweater, and sparks crackled. He remembered something, reached into the pocket of his shirt, took out the note with the poem written on it, hesitated for a moment, didn’t look at it again, folded the paper, and put it into the pocket of his down jacket.
After leaving the filming location, they headed straight to the company. On the way, Cheng Qiang praised their performance highly, making Fang Juexia feel embarrassed, so he stopped talking and listened quietly as Pei Tingsong and Cheng Qiang chatted, occasionally chiming in.
“If sales pick up this time, your fashion resources will open up.” Cheng Qiang’s face was filled with a smile. “Yesterday, Xiao Miao and Ling Yi’s variety show ratings also skyrocketed. Lu Yuan landed the dance variety show he’d always wanted, and Zi Yan was invited to collaborate. They’re still in talks. Everyone is gradually getting on the right track.”
“Qiangzi’s motherly heart has finally been rewarded,” Pei Tingsong joked with a smile. “Except for the two of us, everything is going smoothly.”
Fang Juexia also laughed along, but Cheng Qiang said, “The two of you? Don’t mention it. All the resources coming in now are for the two of you. There are a lot of them, and they all require you to appear together.”
The two exchanged glances, then felt awkward because of their tacit understanding and looked away. Although they seemed much closer when shooting the magazine, outside of that context, they still couldn’t interact as naturally as ordinary teammates.
Pei Tingsong’s childish nature came out again, “I won’t do anything that isn’t hip-hop.”
“There’s nothing hip-hop-related for now.” Cheng Qiang turned the steering wheel. “We’ve gone through everything, and there’s nothing particularly good. We can wait a bit longer. When you get back, take a look yourselves. If you’re going to do it, it should be something that suits you and has good program quality and a solid team. Otherwise, you’ll work hard and not get the corresponding reward, which would be a waste.”
Cheng Qiang was a good agent who genuinely cared about his artists, and Fang Juexia had always known that. In truth, he didn’t have high expectations for variety shows or reality TV. He wasn’t particularly fond of them, and his quiet personality wasn’t suited for the kind of self-generated jokes and humor reality shows required. Plus, he disliked the exaggerated, attention-grabbing tactics common in reality TV.
But he also knew that variety shows were an indispensable part of maintaining exposure and increasing popularity.
Cheng Qiang focused on driving and didn’t speak anymore. Fang Juexia took out his phone to check his unread messages and suddenly remembered the last question from the interview earlier, so he opened the web page and searched for “Yáng Jí Gěng.”
Wasn’t that the white flower that Pei Tingsong held during the filming?
Once he made the connection, the unusual emotions from the filming resurfaced.
Pei Tingsong had just put on his headphones when his phone vibrated. He opened it to find a message from Fang Juexia, who never initiated contact with him.
[Useless except for being beautiful: Why an oriental poppy?]
Still so persistent.
Pei Tingsong couldn’t help but curve his lips into a smile. Even though he was sitting next to Fang Juexia, he insisted on turning his body away from him to type. The tall, lanky figure of over 1.8 meters was hunched over in the backseat, looking both odd and amusing.
Fang Juexia also found it puzzling, but he was almost used to Pei Tingsong’s confusing behavior. He looked out the window at the night view as usual, his internal clock ticking away. After 4 minutes and 50 seconds, his phone vibrated.
[kaleido Pei Tingsong: [cactus emoji]]
Pfft.
Why did he wait so long just to send this?
But not long after, another message popped up in the chat window.
[kaleido Pei Tingsong: The bellflower actually has another name, called prairie gentian, and its original habitat is limestone. Don’t you think that’s amazing? It looks like a delicate and fragile flower, but in fact it has the courage of a dragon and grows among rocks.”]
After saying that, he sent a small dinosaur emoji.
Gentian.
A flower blooming among rocks.
The top of the chat window showed “typing,” but it disappeared after a moment, then “typing” appeared again.
Fang Juexia couldn’t help but stare at the changing text until the chat box popped up with new content again.
[kaleido Pei Tingsong: Anyway, it’s kind of like you.]
[kaleido Pei Tingsong: If you don’t think it’s like you, then forget it. I was just talking nonsense.]
“We’re here!” Cheng Qiang reversed the car. “Put on your clothes before getting out, hurry up.” He glanced at the rearview mirror. “Hey? You two didn’t sleep?”
Fang Juexia’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted. He clutched his phone tightly. “No…”
“Then hurry up and get out. We’re waiting for you.”
Under Cheng Qiang’s urging, Fang Juexia quickly put on his coat, opened the car door, and got out.
Seeing his swift movements, Pei Tingsong felt a bit uneasy inside.
He glanced at the message he had sent, stuffed his phone into his pocket, closed the car door with a sour expression, and lagged behind the others, muttering to Cheng Qiang, “What’s the rush? Are we trying to deliver triplets?”
Upon returning to the company, they were immediately summoned to join the other members in the first round of demo song selection for the new album. As soon as everyone gathered, the atmosphere became chaotic. Ling Yi pulled Fang Juexia over to give him some snacks he had just bought.
But his mind was still in the car, where he was holding his phone, staring at the message Pei Tingsong had sent him.
Yáng Jí Gěng.
He couldn’t quite pinpoint his current emotions. Perhaps it was because in his memory, Pei Tingsong had always faced him with a hostile attitude, so he subconsciously avoided him.
But now he was actually starting to praise him. No doubt about it, that should count as praise.
This made Fang Juexia feel very uncomfortable. Pei Tingsong was completely unpredictable, leaving him unable to find a way to deal with him.
But a faint sense of joy rose within him. Fang Juexia wasn’t someone who desperately sought praise from others. On the contrary, external evaluations of him rarely influenced his self-assessment. He was very clear about who he was and what he wanted to do. His inner world was stable and self-contained.
So when his mood was affected by Pei Tingsong’s simple words, Fang Juexia found it hard to believe.
“Everyone here?” Chen Zheng Yun sat down. “Let’s begin.”
The first round of submitted songs included the demo provided by He Ziyan and the songs purchased by the company, which were initially screened. Selecting songs for an album requires considering various factors: compatibility with the album’s concept, diversity and consistency of style, and the balance between dance tracks and ballads, among others.
Fang Juexia hesitated. He had a ballad he had composed himself, but he wasn’t sure if it fit the concept of the new album. After all, this was his first attempt at composing, unlike his strengths in singing and dancing, where he had full confidence. Since the demo was released, he had been carrying a USB drive with him, intending to discuss it privately with the boss or composer and seek their advice. However, he hadn’t anticipated that so many additional schedules would be added later. The plan was disrupted, and before he knew it, they had already started selecting songs.
The meeting lasted three hours. Although it was tiring for the members, who had been juggling their schedules, to gather together, everyone was enjoying themselves for the sake of the new album. This was their first album where they had fully invested themselves in the production process, making it particularly meaningful.
Pei Tingsong caught up on sleep during breaks from the magazine shoot and was still relatively alert during the meeting. He glanced at Fang Juexia and noticed he was spacing out, which was unusual, as Fang Juexia was usually the most focused.
Strange.
The more unusual it was, the more he wanted to observe it.
The boss listened to a few tracks. “These are all good. The second and third demos don’t have much in terms of composition, and the arrangements probably can’t be salvaged either. Let’s pass on those for now and put the others on hold for the second round. We’ll also promote the non-main tracks properly, so don’t worry. Xiao Cheng, anything else?”
“There’s one more track for the first selection.”
“What style?”
“R&B ballad.” Cheng Qiang said, “This composer is pretty talented; he’s written a few hit OSTs.”
Fang Juexia noticed that Pei Tingsong’s fingers seemed to be clutching a small square metal object. He leaned forward, a clear signal of action.
“If this album focuses on electronic and dance music, the ballad section should be limited to one or two songs. Not too many.”
Fang Juexia clenched his fist and withdrew his hand.
Pei Tingsong keenly noticed this action. He twirled the pen in his hand, his gaze still fixed on Fang Juexia.
The meeting didn’t end until 1:00 a.m., and everyone’s energy was at its limit. They boarded the shuttle bus back to the dormitory to rest. Ling Yi, who was usually the most energetic, asked a couple of questions about what happened during the magazine shoot and then fell asleep. Since Fang Juexia and Pei Tingsong started their CP business, the two even sat next to each other on the shuttle bus to ensure they appeared together in their daily live streams.
Finally arriving at the dormitory, Cheng Qiang woke up the sleeping members one by one, like waking up a litter of puppies—though there was a wolf cub mixed in among them.
“…We’re here?”
“So fast~”
“My neck hurts from sleeping…”
“Where am I? Where is this place…”
There were only two bathrooms in the shared accommodation, which was inconvenient. Fang Juexia hurriedly took a shower and, upon exiting, found Pei Tingsong sitting alone in the living room.
Is he going to take a shower?
Fang Juexia thought about it but ultimately didn’t ask. He took a towel to dry his hair and prepared to return to his room. But as soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, a palm pressed against the door. Fang Juexia turned around and realized that Pei Tingsong had already wrapped his arms around him from behind.
“What’s wrong?” he asked calmly.
Pei Tingsong extended his right hand, holding a USB drive that swayed in front of his eyes. “You left something behind.”
Fang Juexia’s expression changed slightly. He muttered a quick “thank you” and reached out to grab it, but Pei Tingsong was faster, pulling the USB drive back into his palm and smiling. “Want it? Beg me.”
They had already crossed the safety distance.
Fang Juexia, with his hair still wet, looked up at him. The familiar expression reappeared. “I don’t want it. You can keep it.”
Sure enough, Pei Tingsong was still that troublemaker. He had overthought it, deceived by his smooth talk during the interview.
Pei Tingsong suddenly became excited, because this was the first time Fang Juexia had shown a vulnerable side in front of him. He was putting on a brave front, speaking out of anger.
“What are you afraid of?” Pei Tingsong curved his lips, deliberately lowering his voice. “It’s just a song, isn’t it?” As he spoke, the scent of shower gel filled the air, a clean, fresh fragrance.
Fang Juexia furrowed her brows. “How did you know?”
“It’s not hard to guess. You’ve been holding onto it during the meeting, hesitating for so long.” Pei Tingsong continued to speculate, “It’s not just a demo; I think it’s probably a ballad.”
Fang Juexia felt both annoyed and amused. Every time he lacked confidence, he ended up relying on him. What kind of karmic connection was this? As expected, he couldn’t handle Pei Tingsong.
As the two stood facing each other, Ling Yi’s voice came from the master bathroom, “Juexia! I forgot my pajama bottoms. They’re on my bed. Could you get them for me?”
“It’s just something I wrote on a whim. If you want to listen, go ahead, but give it back after you’re done.” Fang Juexia turned and opened the door, refusing to continue arguing with him. After all, Pei Tingsong was just going to listen and mock him a few times—there wasn’t much to lose.
With a loud bang, Pei Tingsong was shut out. He had thought that Fang Juexia would just say a few kind words and he would give it back immediately, but things didn’t turn out that way. Staring at the door, Pei Tingsong was confused by his sudden setback.
This was indeed a very hard branch.
This was not a bellflower, but a genuine prairie gentian.
No, it was a glacier gentian.
After repeatedly hitting a wall, Pei Tingsong still did not give up his confidence in continuing to confront him, but instead wanted to figure out what kind of temperament Fang Juexia actually had.
His curiosity grew as their relationship drew closer.
After helping Ling Yi, Fang Juexia sat down at his desk and opened his Sudoku book, completing two puzzles in a row. However, his mood did not calm down as quickly as he had imagined. Fang Juexia rarely found himself unable to analyze his own emotions, but he did not know what he was angry about or why he could not calm down after such a long time.
He realized that he had changed. It was like a steady state that had been disrupted, with entropy constantly increasing and beginning to trend toward randomness. Fang Juexia didn’t like this. He didn’t like randomness; he liked the stable version of himself.
He pondered the reasons, eliminating them one by one, until only one remained—he had mistakenly believed that the ice between him and Pei Tingsong had been broken, but that was not the case.
Lost in thought, the tip of his pen bled ink into the space where he should have been filling in numbers. The black ink spread along the fibers until the WeChat notification sound rang out.
[kaleido Pei Tingsong: Share video.]
Fang Juexia found it strange and clicked to open it, only to find himself participating in an outdoor shoot during the day. However, it was clearly recorded on a phone, not from an official filming angle.
In the video, he was lying quietly on the snow for a close-up shot. When Lin Mo called “OK” and moved the camera away, he immediately sat up and shook the snow off his head. Snowflakes fell from his fluffy hair. In the video, his nose was red, and he was holding his hands in front of him to warm them, smiling brightly.
Fang Juexia seemed to hear a sound from the speaker, but it wasn’t very clear, so he moved closer to his ear.
“You’re frozen, aren’t you?”
It was Pei Tingsong’s voice, very soft, his mutterings while secretly filming.
“Smiling like that.”
A beam of white light quietly pierced the darkness, and his chest opened a small crack, revealing the lively heart inside.
On the other side of the wall, Pei Tingsong lay in bed tossing and turning, waiting and waiting, until even his favorite book became boring. Then he received a message.
[Useless except for being pretty: Please give me advice after listening.]
He couldn’t help but laugh out loud and silently repeated the seven words sent by this little ice cube.
How could this person be so blunt? He could even imagine the expression on Fang Juexia’s face when he typed those words.
Just as he was about to reply, another message came from the other end.
[Useless except for being pretty: Don’t take any more secret photos of me.]
[kaleido Pei Tingsong: [Cactus emoji] ]
