Ever since that airport video landed them on the trending list, Kaleido’s popularity hadn’t let up. Riding the buzz, Cheng Qiang found Fang Juexia and told him to step up his Weibo game.
In fact, every member of Kaleido had started their Weibo accounts when they debuted. With Fang Juexia’s own popularity and support from their senior group, the group’s early reception was promising. Just when everyone thought they could ride the momentum and take off, a post suddenly popped up on an anonymous forum. The title read:
[If FJX hadn’t been kicked out of AS back then, he’d be the top of a god-tier group by now. This is karma, honestly.]
The original poster claimed to be a former trainee at AStar and laid out the story with convincing detail:
[FJX got into AS through dancing. Even putting aside his skills, that face alone was in a league of its own. He caught the eye of a higher-up (not the CEO) and they got involved for a while. Then for some reason, they had a huge public fight—he stormed out, and the next day he was out of the company. Everyone knew about it. He was just months away from debuting with Qiao Group and had already filmed teasers and recorded songs. No clue why he’d throw it all away. Now he’s debuting like some rival to Qiao? Please, don’t insult Qiao. Kaleido’s a flop in comparison.]
“Qiao” was the nickname for AStar’s seven-member boy group Qiyao (The Seven Luminaries) used by fans. As a flagship group from a major company, Qiyao was under the spotlight from day one. Their debut had gone off without a hitch, launching them to instant stardom. Qiyao had debuted a full year before Kaleido, but because of Fang Juexia’s unusual trainee history, the two groups were constantly compared—despite not starting from the same line.
[Damn, FJX must’ve messed up big time if he lost his center spot like that. Must’ve been wild.]
[Let’s be real—anyone calling Kaleido a rival to Qiao is just delusional. Qiao’s a top-tier group groomed by a legit powerhouse company, destined for the top. Kaleido’s a nobody group from a tiny agency—how dare they try to compare?]
[He really let a golden opportunity slip through his fingers. That said, he is ridiculously good-looking. Easily idol-tier visuals. If I were an investor, I’d probably keep him too. Honestly, Qiao’s current visual is just average. And that pink birthmark Fang has is such a killer—cold and alluring. Too bad he’s stuck with that boring ‘ice-cold, abstinent’ persona post-debut. What a waste.]
[I’m guessing he asked for too much money and pissed the higher-up off. Let’s be real—there’s no such thing as true love. Guys get bored fast, even if you’re a literal angel.]
[That whole group’s a mess. First a nepotism hire, now the only legit trainee gets hit with a sex scandal. Kaleido is doomed.]
[LMAO the whole thread is just casually assuming it was a male exec sleeping with FJX 😂]
[FJX really knows how to milk controversy. I guess he can ride Qiao’s coattails forever, huh? Sweet deal.]
[Can’t wait for a video to leak. There’s always a bombshell waiting.]
…
The post shot to the top of the forum and stayed pinned for two whole days. Rumors spread like wildfire across all social media platforms, and gossip accounts on Weibo were relentless in reposting and speculating.
On the third day, an audio clip of Fang Juexia singing part of Qiyao’s debut song leaked online. His voice was so distinct there was no mistaking it. The clip confirmed once and for all that he had been part of the original debut lineup, fueling the scandal even further.
Even after Xingtu (Kaleido’s agency) issued legal letters and official statements denying the rumors of a “casting couch” scandal, it was no use.
The internet made it terrifyingly easy to spread rumors. All it took was a few keystrokes. People believed whatever they wanted to believe. No one cared about the truth a newcomer tried to offer. Audiences craved messy drama and loved tying good looks to dirty secrets.
Kaleido ended up losing several endorsement deals. Some of their performances were even canceled. Many “bystanders” summed it up with one phrase:
Fang Juexia made the group—and ruined it.
He used to fear nothing. But that single sentence broke him.
Still, neither his groupmates nor the company abandoned him. And he didn’t want to give up, either. The scandal was deeply personal, and few dared ask him about it directly. But his teammates were kind—they never brought it up. They didn’t seem to care whether it was true or not. They just wanted to protect their group.
So Fang Juexia simply stayed off social media and handed his account over to the company to manage.
Funny thing was, he didn’t even have a Weibo alt. It was like he’d quit the internet entirely. He only kept in touch through texts and calls. Ling Yi often joked that his hometown didn’t have internet and called him hopelessly behind the times.
The method might’ve been clumsy, but it worked—Fang Juexia slowly came back to himself. He had a simple inner logic, a kind of single-track forward motion that didn’t care about the cost. Like a tree whose only instinct was to grow upward. Even if you trimmed its branches or cut off its limbs, as long as it kept growing toward the sky, it didn’t matter.
Still, getting Fang Juexia back on social media was no easy feat.
“Can’t we just let Xiao Wen handle it for me?”
Xiao Wen was their assistant—the one who usually took care of their logistics instead of Cheng Qiang. But he’d recently gone back to his hometown for vacation.
“Yeah, but you can’t rely on Xiao Wen forever,” Cheng Qiang replied from the other end of the call. “How about this—you just download the Weibo app again, log in, and read a few fan comments. Baby steps.” He paused, seemingly distracted. “Okay, I gotta go. Someone’s calling me.”
Click.
Fang Juexia sat cross-legged in the practice room in front of the mirror, staring at his phone for a long while. Eventually, he re-downloaded the Weibo app.
Right at that moment, the practice room door burst open. Ling Yi flew in, holding up an ice cream cone like a trophy. “Juexia!”
Fang Juexia, naturally a little slow to react, blinked just as Ling Yi caught sight of his phone screen.
“You’re going back on Weibo?!”
So much for mental preparation—before he could even process it, Fang Juexia was basically peer-pressured into logging back in, surrounded by his teammates’ excitement.
Truth be told, his heart was pounding. He hadn’t expected to still feel this nervous after all this time. He could practically see the swarm of insults from his last login, each one stinging like a wasp.
“Hey, it froze,” Ling Yi’s voice snapped him back to the present.
Jiang Miao reached over and tapped the app icon. “Probably too much cached data.”
The Weibo app reloaded, and sure enough, Jiang Miao had been right. The notification center lit up solid red—hundreds of unread comments and private messages from non-followers were flooding in.
He Ze laughed. “Xiao Wen’s only been on break for three days and your inbox already exploded. Guess your trending search really hit hard.”
“Come on, open it!” Lu Yuan was practically leaning on Fang Juexia’s shoulder, trying to get a closer look, accidentally elbowing Ling Yi in the process.
“Hey, bro, you’re smooshing your ice cream on me!”
Fang Juexia took a deep breath, holding the phone in his hand like it was something precious and fragile. Then he tapped into the comments.
[Aaaahhh Juexia gege I’m here!!! Sorry I’m late! That trending tag saved my life—I found my dream idol!]
[Saw your dance edits on Bilibili! The power you have on stage is insane! Haven’t been this into an idol in ages!]
[Why are you so good-looking?? Even your birthmark is bonus points! You must’ve been sculpted by Nuwa herself and I’m just a clump of leftover clay T^T]
[Please post a new selfie! I’m begging you, help a poor fan out!]
[I’ll take a selfie and your ID number! 😂 Your Weibo is all ads, gege—where’s the real you? We miss the daily life content!]
[Do you know how unique your voice is?? It’s been forever since I heard a clean, cool tone that isn’t greasy or fake. It’s got natural reverb and such a dreamy quality—I’m crying!! You’re a literal voice criminal. Can you please do more singing shows or livestream performances??]
[JX-gege I only found you recently ‘cause of the trending tag, but you’re so handsome I started looking you up—and now I’m hooked. Your past performances, your variety shows—what a treasure! I feel like I joined too late, sorry gege 😭]
[When are you coming back? We miss you! Our Kaleido has to shine again!]
[New Year’s coming soon. Wishing Juexia gege health, safety, and a stage that’s truly yours this year.]
That last comment struck a chord in his chest.
The comments felt endless—overflowing with praise and support, and his private inbox was filled with message after message of sincere care. These girls he’d never met were like little larks, chirping joyfully and flying toward him out of nowhere, burying him in a gentle wave of warmth.
“Let’s take a photo together!” Ling Yi suddenly said.
Fang Juexia was about to agree when he instinctively looked up, realizing someone was missing.
Jiang Miao immediately caught on to the subtle glance. He chuckled and said, “I’ve got a great shot from that last collab concert we did. Xiao Wen caught it backstage—pretty good angle. Want me to send it to you?”
A bit surprised by Jiang Miao’s attentiveness, Fang Juexia nodded.
Posting a five-member selfie right now would definitely stir up speculation, even if the truth was just that someone happened to be absent.
“You should re-download WeChat too,” He Ziyan added. “Otherwise, our captain will have to email you like it’s 2005.”
“For real!”
Under Ling Yi’s watchful eye, Fang Juexia dutifully re-downloaded all the social media apps he had deleted before, logged in, and saved the photo Jiang Miao had sent.
The picture showed the six of them backstage in matching performance outfits, doing touch-ups. Fang Juexia was the one facing the camera, while Pei Tingsong stood slightly behind him, his face in profile as a stylist adjusted his coat—he actually looked unusually well-behaved.
Fang Juexia had no idea what caption to write—this kind of thing just wasn’t his forte. So, he simply uploaded the photo without any words.
That photo became like a window flung open to spring. In no time, a rush of little larks—fans chirping and fluttering—flooded back in, burying him once again in their sweet chaos.
Cute things really do bring joy.
“Whoa, it hit ten thousand shares in just a few minutes?” Ling Yi looked genuinely shocked. “You’ve seriously become a traffic magnet now, Juexia.”
Before Fang Juexia could deny it, Lu Yuan jumped in. “You didn’t see Pei’s last Weibo post? His comments are stacked, and ours all got a boost from it too.”
He Ziyan slung an arm over Ling Yi’s shoulders. “Forget about traffic for now. You and I have a demo to record.” Then he turned to the captain. “Jiang-ge, you brought the guitar, right?”
Jiang Miao nodded, then turned to Lu Yuan. “Qiang-ge said your dance teacher’s almost here. Head up to the 10th floor to meet them.”
“Got it.” Lu Yuan stood and shook out his clothes. “Time to get to work.”
Watching everyone head off to their tasks, Fang Juexia, as usual a step behind, asked, “What about me? Am I going with Ziyan to record, or with Yuan-ge?”
But both of them politely rejected him, claiming they didn’t need him just yet.
“There actually is something you can do,” Jiang Miao said with a lazy smile that deepened the crease beneath his drooping eyes. “You need to head back to the dorm. The production team’s coming by soon to install some cameras. Just keep an eye on things.”
And just like that, Fang Juexia got assigned the most relaxed job—going home to rest.
After a shower, he changed into loungewear and tied up his slightly overgrown hair into a tiny sprout-like ponytail at the crown of his head. Back in his room, he took his vitamins, then pulled out a thick sudoku workbook. Flipping to an untouched page, he sat down at his desk and started solving puzzles with serious concentration.
By the time he had filled in three entire puzzles and was in a state of total calm, he suddenly heard the doorbell ringing.
Crap. The production team was here.
Feeling guilty for not hearing them sooner, Fang Juexia immediately put down his pencil, shuffled quickly to the door in his slippers. Whenever he did sudoku, he completely zoned out, and judging from how fast and frantic the doorbell had become, he could guess just how long they’d been pressing it.
Without even glancing at the monitor, Fang Juexia ran out of the entryway in a hurry and flung the door open, already halfway through an apology.
“Sorry for—”
But standing outside wasn’t the production team. It was Pei Tingsong, dressed in all black, with a puffer jacket and a black mask. He had one hand raised, just about to press the doorbell again.
Fang Juexia swallowed the rest of his words on the spot.
“Sorry for what?” Pei Tingsong raised an eyebrow out of habit. With one hand, he tugged off his mask and stuffed it into his pocket. “Who are you apologizing to?”
Author’s Notes – Fan Circle Glossary:
- Top: The most popular member in a group.
- Teaser: A preview video or trailer.
- C Position (C位): Short for “center.” Usually refers to the center spot in a choreographed formation. Some groups rotate their center depending on the album or performance, while others keep it fixed.
- “Insult to X” (辱X了): Internet slang meaning someone/something is far inferior to X, so comparing them is an “insult to X.”
- Positioning Against (對標): To frame someone as a rival or counterpart to another, often forcefully or for marketing/competitive comparison.
