Fang Juexia withdrew his hand, suppressing the urge to let the corners of his mouth turn up.
As the new teammates joined the game, the two of them parted ways—one returning to the red team’s side, the other heading to the blue team’s, separated by the host.
As Ling Yi took the stage, Fang Juexia approached He Ziyan. He Ziyan looked up and extended his hand; the two clapped palms together. Fang Juexia sat down, lowering his gaze to his own hand. The palm was reddened, a lingering sting from the balloon’s explosion. He flipped his hand over to examine the back, which was also slightly reddened.
The marks left by Pei Tingsong’s grip.
The lingering tremor in his pores hadn’t fully faded yet, much like the unabated screams from the audience below. Though his eyes had been blindfolded just moments ago, Fang Juexia felt as if he could see clearly. He could vividly picture Pei Tingsong’s form, pressing down on him, stifling his struggles.
He couldn’t focus on the rest of the competition. It seemed entertaining—everyone was laughing—until the host announced the games were over and Team Blue had won. Only then did Fang Juexia realize Ling Yi had already popped the captain’s balloon. He stood up with the crowd. Ling Yi, his blindfold removed, sprinted over and hugged him and He Ziyan.
“We won!”
“That’s amazing—I didn’t even get to play.”
Fang Juexia returned Ling Yi’s hug, patting his back. “Well done, well done.”
The losing team faced punishment, and even Pei Tingsong—who’d managed to win one round—wasn’t exempt. Past experience had taught them Pei Tingsong’s luck was notoriously bad. Fearing he might draw some bizarre punishment, his teammates preemptively selected one at random. The result was relatively normal: he had to do push-ups while singing his part from “Breaking the Array” for one and a half minutes.
Fang Juexia glanced to his left. Pei Tingsong still had his arm in a cast—doing push-ups would be awkward.
“Should we let Xiao Pei skip it?” The host remained concerned about his injured hand.
Pei Tingsong followed his teammates. “It’s fine. I work out regularly.”
He Ziyan suggested, “We’re worried you might collapse under the weight. How about sit-ups instead? It’d be easier.”
With the punishment changed, Pei Tingsong needed someone to hold his feet down. Fans below the stage chanted Fang Juexia’s name, and the host couldn’t refuse. “Then Jue Xia will assist?”
Fang Juexia nodded, walked over to Pei Tingsong who was already lying flat with his legs bent, and held his ankle. He glanced at his immobilized left hand and couldn’t help whispering, “Be careful.”
This single phrase ignited another wave of frenzy among the fans below. Though it was just an ordinary expression of concern, they read so much more into it.
Pei Tingsong gave an OK sign, then wrapped his arms around the back of his neck. Only after the host called out “Punishment begins!” did he start performing sit-ups.
Thanks to his consistent workout routine, Pei Tingsong executed them effortlessly. Earlier, to participate in the stage game, he’d shed his oversized avocado-green hoodie, wearing only a white undershirt underneath. Now, with each curl-up, the fabric inched upward slightly. From Fang Juexia’s perspective, Pei Tingsong’s abs were undeniably visible.
Unlike his usual appearance, the abdominal muscles engaged during sit-ups pulsed with life. Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, they alternated between relaxation and tension, pulsing with an indescribable rhythm. The indentation of his V-line dipped into the waistband of his jeans, continuing downward…
Fang Juexia tried to avert his gaze, unsure why he felt so guilty. The lingering heat from the blindfold game was stubbornly persistent, refusing to fade.
As a rapper, Pei Tingsong’s breath control was always steady. Even while doing sit-ups, his flow remained impeccable, though his breathing was slightly heavier than usual. The sound of his gasps mingled with his inhalations, carrying an inexplicable sensuality.
“Alright! Time’s up!”
Finally over. Fang Juexia had never felt a minute and a half drag on so painfully, like a dull knife grinding against his heart. He released his grip and rose from in front of Pei Tingsong, who also stood up, leaning against him. “So tired.”
The guy took the chance to blow a breath into his ear, sending shivers down Fang Juexia’s spine.
He absolutely did that on purpose.
The game segment concluded for now. The host chatted with them about the concepts behind their new album, the creative process, and the challenges they faced along the way. They even played behind-the-scenes footage of the boys shooting the music video without eating or sleeping.
One moment they were showcasing powerful performances on camera, the next, all six boys were leaning against the wall, fast asleep, heads touching haphazardly. When the cameraman asked Fang Juexia how many hours he hadn’t slept, Fang Juexia first mumbled “24” in a daze, then shook his head and said, “No, 25.” Still clad in classical dance attire with his hair pulled into a high ponytail, he squinted and chuckled sheepishly at his slip-up.
Fans watching this scene couldn’t help but feel immense affection for the boys of K-Tuan. The video concluded with their silhouettes riding six horses across a desert park.
In the background, Jiang Miao’s voice echoed, “We’re about to make our comeback. Quick, make a wish, Ling Yi.”
Ling Yi shouted, “I hope this album breaks even! Don’t let our boss lose money again!”
The other members burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha, that’s way too down-to-earth.”
“Then let’s earn a little extra so the boss can take us to the Maldives!”
“Pfft, no taste.”
“You’re the one with no taste, you little Pei!”
In the video, they ride forward on their horses—a scene that should be cool—but suddenly, Lu Yuan’s horse turns around and heads in the opposite direction. Everyone bursts into laughter. The video ended just like that.
The group’s behind-the-scenes clips were always joyful, and this one was no exception. They never seemed to show any signs of exhaustion on camera. Fang Juexia, for instance, would even feel embarrassed if he accidentally let his fatigue show.
Idols are in the business of radiating light and warmth, and they consistently live by that principle.
But the fans watching couldn’t help but tear up when they saw the members huddled together asleep against the wall, and when Ling Yi shared his simple, heartfelt wish at the end.
As the video concluded, Chen Mo reflected, “Xiao Ka’s comeback faced many challenges this time, but thankfully we overcame them. What I’ve always admired about boy bands is this: life throws storms and hardships our way, and we often have to grit our teeth and push through—mostly alone. But no matter how tough it gets, you at least have each other. That’s the most precious thing.”
Another host lightened the mood: “This suddenly got so sentimental, I’ve got tears welling up.”
Lu Yuan immediately nodded in agreement, “Me too. I was just wondering how to discreetly wipe my tears without looking pathetic.”
Ling Yi called him out: “Pfft, you were sniffling just now.”
The fans below couldn’t hold back and burst into laughter.
Fang Juexia was still lost in the video’s ending when he suddenly asked, “So, did we earn enough money this time to go to the Maldives?”
“Hahahahaha, what’s up with this guy!”
“Hahahaha, what a persistent group.”
Halfway through the recording, the host led everyone into a new game segment. “The next game is a real classic.”
Kaledo lined up in their official positions along the long table. The side facing the audience featured six screens, currently blank but already sparking wild guesses from the crowd below.
Chen Mo smiled. “That’s right—it’s time for our ‘Who’s the Mole’ segment! First, the rules: At the start, each member of Little K will draw a card. Some will be moles, others innocents. The mole’s card differs from everyone else’s, while the innocent’s card is blank—nothing written on it. Players take turns describing their cards. After each round, you vote for who you think is the blank card or the mole. The team wins by eliminating all the blank cards or moles.”
Pei Tingsong asked, “Is there one mole and one blank card every round?”
“Not necessarily,” the host replied. “Sometimes there’s one, but there might be rounds with only innocents, or only moles.”
The members nodded in unison, and the game commenced.
“Alright, you may now check your cards. Be careful not to let others see them.” “ the host reminded the audience below. ”Everyone, please stay quiet and don’t disturb our little cards.”
The six members carefully picked up the cards on the table, moving cautiously. At the same time, the screens facing the audience in front of their tables displayed their cards.
He Ziyan — Watch horror movies
Lu Yuan — Watch horror movies
Jiang Miao — Watching horror movies
Ling Yi — Haunted house exploration
Fang Juexia — Watching horror movies
Pei Tingsong — Blank card
The members started cheering as they confirmed their cards.
“Wow~”
“Thrilling.”
“Pretty thrilling.”
Fang Juexia scanned his card, his mind racing for adjectives. Only Pei Tingsong, holding the blank card, could do nothing but feign insight and adopt a knowing expression as his brothers declared excitement.
Fans below the stage covered their mouths, giggling quietly. After the members finished checking, the host pointed to He Ziyan’s seat. “Starting with Zi Yan.”
He Ziyan propped half his body on the table. “Hmm… This is an activity that really tests your mental fortitude.”
Next was Lu Yuan. “I don’t think it’s suitable for kids.”
Fans below the stage burst into laughter.
Jiang Miao continued describing, “The Japanese ones are pretty famous.”
The host interjected, “This whole thing is starting to feel… off.”
“Hahahahaha, adult content!”
Japanese? Ling Yi was confused, but then remembered how famous Japanese haunted houses were. He boldly described his part, “Anyway, I don’t like them. I don’t think I can handle it.”
“Hahahaha you can’t handle it!”
Pei Tingsong was utterly baffled. What on earth were they talking about? One moment it was inappropriate for minors, the next Japan’s most famous, and then suddenly “can’t handle it.”
“Just describe it! Don’t take digs at your teammates.”
With no clues, he could only start from the first person mentioned. He recalled Lu Yuan mentioning mental fortitude, which led him to think of Fang Juexia—the most resilient among them—and threw the question back.
Pei Tingsong forced himself to stay calm, cleared his throat, and took a gamble. “Brother Juexia would find this easier.”
Truthfully, he had no idea what they were doing. His mind was now filled with nothing but trashy thoughts.
“Oh~” The host nodded. “Then you may begin voting now.”
He Ziyan and Lu Yuan both pointed at Jiang Miao. Ling Yi pointed at Pei Tingsong. Fang Juexia hesitated, unsure whom to choose. Remembering how Pei Tingsong had dragged him into this, he found it suspicious and pointed at Pei Tingsong.
As a blank slate, Pei Tingsong pointed at Jiang Miao to protect himself.
The team leader defended himself, “Japanese ones are just really famous.”
Lu Yuan held the microphone and said, “European and American ones are also pretty…”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
He Ziyan shrugged. “Anyway, domestic ones suck.”
Fang Juexia wore an ambiguous smile.
Pei Tingsong suspected they were talking dirty, but he had no proof.
