Pei Tingsong understood Fang Juexia’s words almost instantly.
The vast majority of people in this world spend every day searching for true love in a sea of strangers, numbed by romantic tales into believing that they too can find someone to love for the rest of their lives. Everyone thinks they have found a sweetness that will never fade, but in fact, most of it is just cheap canned goods that expire quickly. Like poisonous industrial chemicals fed to them bit by bit, the sweet illusions fade away, leaving only painful aftereffects—some lasting months, others years, and some even a lifetime.
No one can deny the existence of rational numbers, but compared to the dense irrational numbers, those sparse points are rarer than shooting stars.
He suddenly became curious, so he spoke without hesitation.
“Suppose, just suppose,” Pei Tingsong looked into Fang Juexia’s eyes and asked, “If one day you truly fall in love with someone, what would you do?”
Fang Juexia stared back in silence, his gaze flickering uncontrollably. He was stumped by the question. This question seemed to have been severed from his life plan since he was old enough to understand things. He had never considered the possibility of falling in love with someone, let alone made assumptions in advance and played them out in his mind.
“I don’t know,” he finally said truthfully. “This assumption is meaningless. Humans are a collection of complex physiological mechanisms. You can hardly control even a single nerve in your body, let alone…”
Let alone control the emotions of loving someone.
He didn’t finish the rest of his sentence. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say it to Pei Tingsong, so he swallowed it back, shrugged his shoulders, and threw the question back at him, “What about you?”
“Me?” Pei Tingsong thought for a moment, “I haven’t experienced true love, and I don’t really want to pursue it. But if it does happen…”
“I won’t run away.” He raised his eyebrows, “Even if the person I choose is irrational, it doesn’t matter. I’ll treat them as if they were rational. It sounds a bit idealistic, but I think some things can be changed by my will.”
Fang Juexia admired his courage. Such words coming from others might sound like a moth flying into a flame, but when Pei Tingsong said them, it felt different.
Fang Juexia acknowledged this. Deep down, his mother believed that person would return. But Fang Juexia didn’t believe it. “But you’ve seen it in her too. Failed love is the norm. You’ve never even seen a successful example. Aren’t you afraid of stepping into failure yourself?”
Facing Fang Juexia’s questioning, Pei Tingsong seemed relaxed, “I’m not afraid of failure, nor am I afraid of low probability and scarcity. On the contrary, I love it.”
He spoke boldly and bluntly, “I want the rarest thing.”
Fang Juexia was speechless. They were both products of failed families, but one sought freedom through indulgence, while the other meticulously avoided mistakes, holding diametrically opposed views. Their attitudes toward love were equally extreme. Yet even so, Fang Juexia couldn’t help but admit that he had been persuaded by Pei Tingsong’s words.
Pei Tingsong’s phone suddenly rang, interrupting this debate on love. He answered it, replied briefly, and hung up.
“The boss wants us to go to the company and finish the main song together.” He stood up and stretched. Fang Juexia also stood up, placed the cactus in a safe corner, picked up the spray bottle, sprayed some water, observed it, and sprayed a little more. Then he unexpectedly discovered something, his tone tinged with surprise as he muttered to himself, “Is it about to bloom?”
Pei Tingsong watched him crouching on the ground, carefully picking at the top of the cactus, and couldn’t help but laugh again.
“Fang Juexia, you’re just living in your grandfather’s shadow.”
Fang Juexia didn’t understand what he meant and turned around to look at him, still holding the small spray bottle in his hand.
“Your father was a man who regarded art as his life, and your mother risked everything for love. You claim to be a scientist, but the power of genes is formidable. You are the child of these two people.” Pei Tingsong kept his hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips. “So deep down, you’re actually a romantic too.”
“You’ll have to admit it someday.”
After saying that, he left, leaving Fang Juexia alone. He stood there for a minute, then turned around and stared at the cactus.
“Romanticist”—those five words were as distant from him as a hyperbola.
When he rushed to the company, his boss Chen Zhengyun was also there. He had already listened to Fang Juexia’s instrumental demo and praised it highly, noticing his innate sensitivity to melody. Composing is largely a matter of talent; no matter how hard one studies music theory, it’s difficult to write a catchy, standout melody.
“I’ve been nurturing you in the direction of a dance performer, thinking it was the right path. Now I see the company almost missed out on a treasure.“ Chen Zhengyun himself was once a singer-songwriter and had already transitioned into an outstanding producer before starting the company, having written many songs. He generously praised Fang Juexia’s talent, saying, ”Since it’s the main track, we still hope it doesn’t become a song where the performance outweighs the melody. It needs to be memorable, something people can remember after hearing it once.”
Another composer in the company played the revised version on the guitar.
“This is the third version. We’ve discussed it for hours, and Zi Yan came back to help us revise it.”
Pei Tingsong sat to the side, “Too many revisions can numb the ears, making it hard to tell what’s good or bad.”
“That’s why we called you over.” Chen Zhengyun started tapping him again, “What about you? How are the lyrics? Can they capture the concept of this song?”
Just as he was speaking, the door opened again, and Jiang Miao and Ling Yi walked in. “Everyone’s here.”
“I’m late.” Jiang Miao pulled up a chair and sat down. Chen Zhengyun said it was fine, “Xiao Miao, I had them bring your piano over.”
Everyone started discussing again. Fang Juexia was still recalling the melody the composer had played earlier, breaking it down into segments, even individual notes.
While the others were discussing, Fang Juexia sat down at an electronic piano and played a very simple chord, then tried to hum the composer’s melody from earlier, but he got stuck in the middle every time. He tried again and found that it was still the same.
Pei Tingsong also noticed that he was trying on his own, so he sneaked over and sat next to him. “Got any ideas?”
“I think you were right earlier,” Fang Juexia said, placing his hands on the black and white keys. “Our melody is too crowded and doesn’t flow smoothly. It’s completely unnecessary. The climax can be resolved through arrangement. An overly crowded melody easily causes confusion when listening and makes it hard to remember the melody.”
After cutting out part of the melody and humming it, the sound quality improved significantly. Pei Tingsong nodded, “But this will reduce the intensity.”
“No,” Fang Juexia said confidently. “Because what I’m playing for you now is the simplest chord. Arrangement is the soul of dance music. Melody is about quality, not quantity. A good arrangement can fully reflect the layers, rhythm, and atmosphere of a song.”
Watching him so focused, Pei Tingsong suddenly found Fang Juexia particularly attractive.
As he played, Fang Juexia suddenly recalled the piece Jiang Miao had played the previous evening during her practice session—the famous pipa piece “Ten Faced Ambush.” He had even gone out of his way to listen to it. The initial strumming was filled with a fierce, almost menacing energy, reminiscent of the grandeur of a single melody repelling thousands of troops.
A melody came to his mind, and after humming just two lines, it caught Pei Tingsong’s attention. “This is nice. The way the notes flow together gives it a Chinese feel.”
Fang Juexia smiled and played it again on the electronic piano. The others were also drawn in, and Chen Zhengyun looked at him and asked, “Did you just write this?”
He paused his hands, jotted down the sheet music, and then shared his thoughts with everyone, “We’ve been adding more and more to the melody, making it increasingly cluttered. Maybe it’s because I didn’t participate in the earlier composition process and only listened to the demo of the finished piece, so I was just a pure listener. After hearing the piano version of the composition played by the teacher just now, I realized that we had actually overloaded the melody. It’s hard to hear it in a highly complex arrangement, but when played alone on the piano, it becomes clear.”
He tried playing a section of the main melody from the composition. “A good dance track can sound great even with the simplest chords, without any electronic elements—that’s the power of melody. When I tried playing it, I realized there were many redundant parts in the piece. Cutting some of them out and adding repetitive, catchy melodies would make it much better.”
Pei Tingsong listened to the piece he played and suddenly thought of something. He said to Jiang Miao, “Miao Ge, can you play a piece on the guzheng?”
When he heard this, Fang Juexia was a little surprised. He hadn’t said anything yet, but Pei Tingsong had already understood what he was thinking, which was somewhat unbelievable.
Jiang Miao smiled and sat down at the zither, fixing his fingernails. “What should I play?”
“Just strum the strings. I’ll follow your strumming.” Fang Juexia placed his hands on the keys, waiting for Jiang Miao’s signal. He lowered his head slightly, gathered his fingertips, and flickered his wrist to strum a note, like a sudden gust of cold wind.
This was the effect Fang Juexia wanted. As he strummed the second note, the electronic piano’s tone took over the main melody, and Fang Juexia hummed the transition notes. He Ziyan quickly caught on to the style he wanted and took out a drum pad to beat out the rhythm.
The collaboration was simple and impromptu, yet surprisingly cohesive. Fang Juexia continued, “Earlier, I only provided elements without a central concept, which made it feel chaotic. But yesterday, I heard Miao Ge practicing with a pipa piece, and the initial strums and sweeps of ‘Ten-Sided Ambush’ were incredibly fierce. I wonder if we could use the concept of a warrior for this song.”
He is usually reserved, but when talking about his understanding of music and the stage, his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “It’s like the war drums and formations of ancient armies, or sword dancing—these are all rooted in musical and dance performances. We can take the warrior concept, combine it with a strong rhythmic and aggressive arrangement, and pair it with a composition that carries a sense of tragedy and belief. I believe this will effectively blend the effects we were aiming for.”
He Ziyan suddenly had an idea and used his MIDI to select an electronic sound that was very similar to the sound of swords. He said to Jiang Miao, “Try it again.”
The MIDI’s sword-like sound blended seamlessly with the zither’s strumming, like swordsmen dueling.
“Good, this concept is excellent.” “ Chen Zhengyun added, ”We can sample the sound of a real sword later and combine it with the electronic sound to create a sense of reality and illusion intertwined, which should be closer to the scene of swords flashing and blades clashing.”
Pei Tingsong suddenly had an idea. He seemed to have already envisioned the scene of a desperate battle under the Ten-Faced Ambush, so he quickly wrote a few lines of lyrics to set the tone.
A room full of people stayed up all night working on a song, not feeling the slightest bit tired. Later, Lu Yuan also arrived, and they finalized the melody. Pei Tingsong almost immediately provided the first draft of the lyrics, so they decided to move to the recording studio to record the demo with the lyrics.
When they emerged from the studio, the sky was already fully lit. The six young men collapsed onto the studio’s large sofa, heads touching, and were teased by Chen Zhengyun for resembling a litter of puppies. Fang Juexia felt fortunate; though they hadn’t debuted under a resource-rich major company, they had greater creative freedom.
“We’ll rush to finish the arrangement in the next few days, everyone practice, and aim to release the teaser next month, no, the month after next.”
“We’re finally getting a second album!” Ling Yi excitedly bit He Ziyan’s jacket, only to be slapped away by him, “You really are a Chihuahua.”
Kaleido’s popularity was growing day by day, and more and more work opportunities were coming in. However, to prepare for their second album, the company turned down many commercial activities. Aside from some variety shows and endorsements they had already signed up for, no other work was scheduled, allowing them to focus on practicing. At its core, Kaleido is a boy band. While popularity and exposure are important, the foundation of a boy band remains its songs and performances. Only by delivering a satisfactory performance can the current popularity they hold avoid becoming a fragile bubble ready to burst.
While working on the songs, they also began planning new outfits and music videos. Xingtu spent a large sum of money to hire a stage costume designer specifically to design outfits for the six members for music video shoots and promotional performances. Previously, the company was too poor to invest much in styling, but now that Kaleido is earning money, these funds must be used wisely.
Pei Tingsong, due to his daily studies, had never dyed his hair since his debut. However, the concept for this comeback is highly aggressive, which aligns perfectly with Pei Tingsong. Dyeing his hair is a powerful tool to attract attention. The planners and stylists devised numerous schemes. Since his natural hair color was too dark, they first bleached his hair and dyed it silver-white.
Dyeing hair is a tedious task. Pei Tingsong was already exhausted from going to school and practicing, and on weekends, he couldn’t even sleep in. He was woken up early to have his hair bleached, and he fell asleep several times from exhaustion. When he woke up, he felt hungry.
“You’re so tired,” the hair stylist couldn’t help but laugh.
“So tired.” Pei Tingsong saw their planning proposal and thought of something else, so he asked the hair stylist, “What hair color is Jue Xia going for this time?”
“Jue Xia? He might be dyeing his hair black this time.”
Black hair. Pei Tingsong imagined it and realized that Fang Juexia had fair skin and light-colored pupils, so his natural hair color was already a bit brownish. However, he had a strong sense of distance and a cold demeanor, so the company wanted to enhance his approachability and attract more fans, so they had been dyeing his hair a dark brown. Now switching to black hair would increase the contrast with his skin color, making him look even colder.
“When will he dye it?”
“He might do it later. Anyway, he doesn’t need to bleach it. Let’s try the colored dye first, and after you’re done, it’ll be Ling Yi’s turn.”
He had thought Fang Juexia would come today. Pei Tingsong thought for a moment and took out his phone, opening WeChat.
After practicing dance for an hour in the practice room, Fang Juexia’s phone rang. He picked it up and saw that it was a message from Pei Tingsong.
[Guide Dog: Where are you? What are you doing? I’m starving.]
What was this? Was he asking him to bring food? Fang Juexia thought for a moment and pretended not to understand.
[Nothing but pretty: Practice room, dancing, if I’m hungry, I’ll order takeout.]
After sending the message, Fang Juexia felt quite happy. He leaned his head against the wall and tapped it lightly. The little clock in his heart ticked ten times, and his phone vibrated again.
[Guide Dog: Hello, I’d like a crab roe pan-fried dumpling and a scallion oil noodle with less oil.]
He also sent a “please, please” emoji.
He didn’t know why, but he just wanted to take a walk.
“Sure, sure. No chili sauce on the pan-fried buns, right?” The owner was familiar with his preferences.
“Yes,” Fang Juexia said immediately, “I want chili sauce.”
The owner paused in his work, “Oh, you’re starting to eat spicy food now?”
“No…” Fang Juexia smiled, “It’s for the kids in the team.”
“Oh~” The owner also smiled, “You guys really get along well, like brothers.” As he spoke, he had already packed the snacks and handed them to Juexia, “Come again next time.”
“Thank you, boss.”
It was strange. Pei Tingsong had been extremely tired, but after sending the message to Fang Juexia, he suddenly felt wide awake and couldn’t sleep even with his eyes closed. He looked at himself in the mirror and began humming a song out of boredom.
“What song is that?” The hairdresser checked the fading of his hair and said casually, “It’s pretty good.”
Pei Tingsong finally realized that the song he had hummed unconsciously was the one written by Fang Juexia.
He almost gave away the song.
Just as he felt guilty, a slender white hand appeared in front of him, holding a takeout box and placing it on the table in front of him. Pei Tingsong looked up in surprise and saw Fang Juexia, fully covered except for a pair of eyes and a birthmark.
“You’re covering yourself so tightly, it’s useless.”
Just by the hand alone, I could recognize you.
It sounded reasonable. Fang Juexia turned to look at the mirror, touching the birthmark at the corner of his eye. Then he thought of something and turned back to him, “Eat quickly; it won’t taste good once it gets cold.”
“I’m starving.” He picked up a pan-fried dumpling and took a bite, asking indistinctly, “Aren’t you eating?”
“I already had breakfast.” Fang Juexia didn’t even sit down. Pei Tingsong suspected that he might have just come to deliver something and was probably about to leave.
“Eat some more.” Pei Tingsong used the excuse of managing his figure to insist that Fang Juexia eat as well. Fang Juexia couldn’t refuse him, so he sat down next to him and ate a pan-fried dumpling.
Fang Juexia ate politely, habitually licking his lips after each bite. The more Pei Tingsong observed him, the more he felt that Fang Juexia was different from many of the boys he had met, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly how.
After finishing the entire pan-fried dumpling, Fang Juexia wiped his hands clean with a paper towel. Noticing Pei Tingsong staring at him, he found it odd and asked, “Why are you looking at me?”
“Don’t touch it,” Fang Juexia said. “Dyeing your hair can be a bit harsh on your scalp. Don’t get the bleach on your hands.”
Pei Tingsong kind of liked the feeling of being taken care of by Fang Juexia. He didn’t know why, since he was usually the type of person who would do the opposite of what others told him to do.
“But my scalp really hurts,” he said.
“I know,” Fang Juexia said, lowering his head and pinching Pei Tingsong’s forearm. Pei Tingsong hadn’t expected that at all. “What are you doing?”
“This will distract you,” Fang Juexia said, pinching him again before lifting his head and smiling at him.
Pei Tingsong’s gaze shifted from his smiling eyes to his lips, which he had just lightly licked. But the other person was already engrossed in continuing the pinching game, completely oblivious to Pei Tingsong’s dazed expression.
The hairdresser was scrolling through his phone and suddenly laughed, “Hey, the last episode of your amusement park variety show is out. It’s a haunted house special.”
His voice snapped Pei Tingsong out of his thoughts and made Fang Juexia let go of his arm and turn his head to ask, “So soon? I haven’t seen it yet.”
“You’re trending on Weibo. Go check it out!”
Hearing the trailing tone and cute intonation in Fang Juexia’s voice, Pei Tingsong felt quite pleased, finding it particularly flattering. He cleared his throat and adopted the nonchalant expression of a regular on the trending list, “Is that so? How did we end up on the trending list again?”
“Yeah.” Fang Juexia showed him his phone, his face brimming with excitement, “Look.”
Pei Tingsong deliberately glanced at it briefly, only to be completely taken aback.
#Pei Tingsong’s Haunted House#
#Pei Tingsong is a Coward#
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