It came way too fast.
You really shouldn’t do bad things—the moment you do, you’re bound to get caught.
Fang Juexia hurriedly pulled on his pajamas, nearly buttoning them wrong. His hands trembling, he vowed silently never to buy buttoned pajamas again.
This hotel suite had no large wardrobe, the bed was solid with no space underneath, and the sofa didn’t look like it could hide anyone either.
The balcony…
No, no—the balcony was too windy and cold.
After running through his options, Fang Juexia could only push Pei Tingsong into the bathroom.
“Lock the door,” Fang Juexia whispered before trying to bolt, only to be grabbed by Pei Tingsong. “Hey, my clothes!”
“Oh right, hold on.”
His pajamas were strewn everywhere. Fang Juexia turned back, quickly gathered them up, pulled open the bathroom door, shoved them into his hands, and hurried him inside. The knocking persisted, making Fang Juexia’s heart race. He could only warn Pei Tingsong again, “Don’t make a sound.”
Whether it was guilt or something else, he felt the room held too many clues. He flung open every window.
Though the hotel room had its own air purification system, he still couldn’t shake his unease. He dug a bottle of perfume from his suitcase, sprayed it a few times, and waved his hand to disperse the scent.
“Juexia? Did you fall asleep again?”
Fang Juexia took a deep breath, slipped on his slippers, and hurried to the entrance. He forced a yawn, feigning sleepiness as he opened the door.
“My goodness, you finally answered! I thought I’d never wake you up.” “ Cheng Qiang walked straight into the room carrying his laptop. ”How are you feeling? Still not well?”
Fang Juexia shook his head guiltily, closed the door, and glanced at the locked bathroom door. “…Much better.” He took two steps forward, guiding Cheng Qiang toward the sofa. “Sit down, bro. Want some water?”
“No thanks, no thanks. I downed a whole glass when I got up,” Cheng Qiang set his laptop on the coffee table. Something seemed off, and he craned his neck, furrowing his brow. “What’s that smell in your room…”
He must have noticed. Fang Juexia nervously tugged at his pant leg.
“…It smells so nice.” Cheng Qiang sneezed after speaking. “Did you spray perfume?”
Fang Juexia exhaled in relief. “Ah… right. I thought the room smelled a bit off when I came in, like a faint smoke smell, so I sprayed some perfume.”
Cheng Qiang turned his head to survey the room. “I see what you mean. All these windows are wide open, and the balcony door’s flung open too. Won’t you get cold sleeping like this at night?” Concerned, he stood up and closed the window nearest the sofa for him.
“It’s fine, not too cold.” Fang Juexia sat down beside him, eager to wrap up the endorsement deal and get this important guest out of the way. “Brother Qiang, what endorsement were you talking about?”
“Oh right, right. Almost forgot about the urgent business.” Cheng Qiang slid his laptop screen toward him. “This sports brand wants you and Xiao Pei as endorsers.” He grew annoyed as he spoke. “That guy disappeared first thing this morning. Who can keep track of him?”
Fang Juexia cleared his throat. “No worries. Let’s discuss it first.”
Cheng Qiang sighed and continued, “Honestly, this is a last-minute fix. They originally approached a top-tier male actor, but negotiations apparently fell through. The collaboration fell through right before the new product launch. Now they urgently need to secure a new spokesperson. You two are trending hot right now, boosted by several popular variety shows. You’re in high demand. They contacted me first thing this morning—several emails I missed, then they called me.”
Fang Juexia trusted Cheng Qiang implicitly and wasn’t one to nitpick about work. “Bro, do you think it’s okay? If it works for you, I’m fine with it. You decide.”
“I think it’s great. A top-tier sports brand—their endorsers are always the hottest stars. Even though it’s just for one sub-line, it’s still excellent. They’ve never signed a boy band member before. Plus, they mentioned that if the sales performance is strong, they’ll consider having the entire group endorse next season’s new line targeting younger users.”
At the mention of the whole group endorsing, Fang Juexia grew even more satisfied. “Great, I’m in.”
“Alright.” Cheng Qiang was about to say something else when the computer beeped—an email notification. “Oh, they sent the electronic contract for us to review first. Let me take a look.”
Fang Juexia hummed in acknowledgment, glancing toward the bathroom before turning back. “Shouldn’t we check with Xiao Pei?”
Cheng Qiang studied the contract intently. “Why ask him?”
“To confirm the schedule, endorsement fee, and such.”
“Forget it. That measly endorsement fee wouldn’t even buy the Little Devil a decent watch.” Cheng Qiang looked up and launched into an impromptu impression. “Xiao Pei, there’s this job thing… wanna do it?” After asking, he turned to the other side, mimicking Pei Tingsong’s smug expression. “No way. Not happening. Not my problem.”
Fang Juexia’s phone buzzed twice in his pocket. He pulled it out to find it was Pei Tingsong himself.
[Hengzhen Style: Talking trash behind someone’s back is so uncool!]
Isn’t it true?
Just as he was about to reply, Cheng Qiang turned to look at him. Fang Juexia quickly clutched his phone, afraid of being seen. Fortunately, he wasn’t. Cheng Qiang just shook his head. “If you ask, he won’t go. I can’t even be bothered to ask him anymore. We’ll just drag him over to sign the contract when the time comes. Haven’t we always done it this way?”
Fang Juexia could almost picture Pei Tingsong’s expression when he flatly refused, and couldn’t help but curve his lips upward.
Cheng Qiang caught the smile and felt quite pleased with himself. “Whoa, not bad. I actually made you laugh today.”
Realizing his emotions were becoming increasingly obvious, Fang Juexia cleared his throat. “Nothing. I just think you’re working pretty hard, taking care of us.”
“It’s manageable. Just getting an early taste of being a dad.” Cheng Qiang finished reading the contract. “All good. No issues. Just waiting to sign. I’ll double-check some details later.”
Fang Juexia nodded obediently. “Mm.”
The endorsement was confirmed, the contract reviewed—it should be over now.
“Still tired? Sleep a bit longer if you need to. I should catch up on sleep too—these past few days have worn me out. Later I have to meet with the local TV station.” Cheng Qiang yawned. “Oh, Ling Yi and the others went hiking. They mentioned maybe hitting the shops and grabbing dinner tonight. Let them know when you’re rested and ready to join—it’s more fun together.”
Fang Juexia agreed, “I’ll rest a bit longer. My head still feels a bit dizzy.”
“Alright.” Cheng Qiang picked up his laptop and stood up, seemingly ready to leave. Fang Juexia followed closely behind him, eager to see him off. Though things had started off rocky, at least it had ended without any real trouble.
As they neared the entrance, Cheng Qiang paused, turned back, and examined Fang Juexia. He pointed at his lips. “Juexia, have you been feeling a bit overheated lately? Look how red and swollen your lips are. What happened? Shouldn’t you drink some cooling herbal tea to clear the heat?”
Fang Juexia’s ears burned. He licked his lips awkwardly and stammered an explanation. “Maybe… Yeah, that private kitchen yesterday was way too spicy. It made my mouth hurt and gave me a bit of heat. It’s fine, I’ll just drink more water later. That should fix it…”
“Right, drink plenty of water.” Cheng Qiang turned to leave, stopping just steps from the door before abruptly turning back. “Come to think of it, I’ve been drinking too much water myself.” He placed his laptop in Fang Juexia’s hands. “Can I borrow your bathroom?”
“Hey, hey, bro! No way.” Fang Juexia dashed to the bathroom door and blocked it, blinking rapidly.
Cheng Qiang frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Well…” Fang Juexia swallowed hard. “…Uh-oh, the toilet’s clogged. Can’t use it.”
He felt incredibly clever, getting better and better at making up lies.
“Is that so?” Cheng Qiang stopped in his tracks. “Alright then, I’ll head back. Luckily, I can hold it.” He took the laptop from Fang Juexia’s hands. “Remember to call the front desk for repairs.”
As he walked out, Cheng Qiang grumbled, “For such an expensive hotel, the facilities are really shoddy.”
He’d followed the rules for so many years, saving all the excitement for Pei Tingsong.
Hearing the silence, Pei Tingsong quietly opened the bathroom door a crack. Peeking out, he stepped back in to find Fang Juexia sitting dazed on the floor. “Did he leave?”
“Yeah, finally gone.” Fang Juexia sighed again.
Pei Tingsong crouched down in front of him, stroking Fang Juexia’s head like petting a cat. “How are you so smart? You actually fooled him. That’s impressive.”
Though meant as praise, Fang Juexia felt it carried a teasing undertone. He flicked Pei Tingsong’s hand away and walked into the bathroom to wash up.
He really was becoming more and more like a cat. Pei Tingsong followed right behind him, squeezing in close to brush his teeth together. Fang Juexia remained outwardly silent, brushing his own teeth in quiet concentration, though inside, his heart fluttered slightly.
Waking up in the same bed as someone you like, then washing up side by side—the scene felt so warm it seemed unreal, like something only in a romantic movie.
But Pei Tingsong was far more restless than any movie lead. One moment he complained about having only one free hand, pestering him to squeeze out face wash, the next he demanded help shaving.
It wasn’t until Fang Juexia looked at him seriously and said, “You really are childish,” that Pei Tingsong finally quieted down—and quickly so. He obediently washed his face and dried it off.
Fang Juexia recalled a question he’d once seen on Zhihu—What’s it like dating a guy younger than you?
He’d only glanced at it briefly back then, puzzled how such a mundane question appeared amidst the math-heavy homepage before swiping past.
Now, he realized he could probably answer it anonymously.
Fang Juexia’s face was fair and smooth, still dotted with droplets of water, like a figurine molded from glutinous rice. His lips looked even redder after brushing his teeth, likely from the minty sensation. Pei Tingsong stared at him for a few moments, recalling Cheng Qiang’s earlier comment in the bathroom about his lips being too red. He couldn’t resist teasing him again.
“Your lips really are so red.”
The moment he said it, Fang Juexia turned and glared at him. Though silent, his expression screamed “It’s all your fault.” After the glare, he marched straight out of the bathroom.
Pei Tingsong couldn’t suppress a smirk. He stepped out, pulled the curtains shut, then tackled Fang Juexia onto the bed. “Looks like you didn’t study math—you studied how to change your expression.”
Fang Juexia pushed him away with his hands. “What nonsense are you talking about?”
“Last night you were so obedient, doing whatever I said. Then you wake up and act like you don’t even know me. How cruel!” Those four words filled Fang Juexia’s mind, making him push even harder. But he couldn’t budge Pei Tingsong, who instead dragged him back onto the bed. The quilt was pulled up, draping over them like falling clouds, covering their heads. Sunlight filtered through the fabric and fibers, weaving a warm-toned filter.
They faced each other, foreheads pressed together. Fang Juexia’s heart pounded wildly, expecting Pei Tingsong to make a move. His eyes nearly closed instinctively, but instead he heard him whisper, “I had a dream last night.”
“A dream?” Fang Juexia looked up at him.
Pei Tingsong’s features relaxed. Though his features were distinctly aggressive, his gaze was incredibly gentle. “Yes. I dreamt I brought you back to my home to meet my grandfather. He seemed to know you were coming and even cooked dinner himself.“ Pei Tingsong pouted. ”His cooking is awful, you know. Someone who’s never known hardship—his cooking is a disaster.”
Fang Juexia wanted to laugh and say, “You’re no better,” but then he thought about it. Pei Tingsong might actually have endured a lot of hardship—he was the young master who jumped out a window, drove away from home, and got caught.
“He made you a plate of quinoa and smoked salmon salad that looked… chaotic, and a Wellington steak he’s never managed to get right. But you actually ate it with relish!”
His face wore an expression of utter disbelief, habitually adding “unbelievable” before his eyebrows furrowed and then broke into a smile, as if recounting a genuinely real event. Fang Juexia listened, utterly captivated, leaning closer until his lips were almost brushing against Pei Tingsong’s nose. “Then what?”
“Then, he really liked you. He kept repeating,” Pei Tingsong mimicked his grandfather’s mannerisms, imitating the old man’s accent, “You’re so cute. When you complimented his cooking, he was genuinely surprised, saying ‘Really?’ over and over, laughing so hard his cane slipped from his hand.”
Fang Juexia listened, utterly absorbed, smiling along as if she’d truly traveled to the place where Pei Tingsong grew up, meeting the only relative who’d ever been there for him—the old man who’d shown him the world, nourished his soul, and given him strength.
But as he laughed, his eyes began to sting. He’d heard long ago that Pei Tingsong’s grandfather had passed away—from someone else’s lips.
So they were truly from two different worlds now. He would never meet that old man, never see him clumsily bustling about the kitchen like Pei Tingsong, never witness the look on his face when he craved praise.
He could only fulfill an incomplete dream in his sleep.
“What’s wrong?” Pei Tingsong stared into Fang Juexia’s pupils. “Are you about to cry?”
“No.” Fang Juexia widened his eyes, the surface glistening with moisture like glass beads. He fought hard to hold back the tears. “I’m not.”
Pei Tingsong smiled. It was strange—this man who was so strong, sometimes even cold-hearted, could become so emotionally overwhelmed by a mere dream.
He had truly believed Fang Juexia was cold and hard, devoid of emotion or expression, indifferent to everything—including matters concerning himself—as if he were a lifeless, stubborn ice sculpture. But he couldn’t have been more wrong.
Fang Juexia wasn’t ice. He was innocent, sharp-witted, possessing the gentlest, most romantic soul in the world. To preserve and protect that tender self, he had forged such a hard outer shell.
Pei Tingsong lifted his chin and kissed Fang Juexia’s eyes. “He even told you a story—the same one he told me.”
“What stories?” Fang Juexia asked curiously.
“He took out a poetry collection he’d shown me before and gave it to you. He said he wrote it for a girl he secretly admired when he was young. He said he regretted not pursuing her for real, but instead secretly writing poems instead. Poems don’t have legs to run over and recite themselves to the person, do they? Are they just written for God to see? So his first love ended without ever beginning.” ”
Fang Juexia’s focus was a bit odd. “That poetry collection—can I see it sometime?”
Pei Tingsong chuckled. “That’s not the point, little Fang Juexia.”
Hearing the word “kid,” Fang Juexia frowned again. But he figured missing the point might just be a difference in their ways of thinking. So he asked earnestly, “Then what is the point?”
“When he told me that story before, it was to show me that you have to be brave. Only brave people can earn the most precious rewards.”
With that, he kissed Fang Juexia’s birthmark. “That little old man was absolutely right. You are my reward.”
Fang Juexia could only smile, unable to say more. Whenever moments like this arrived, he seemed to lose the ability to express himself, responding only through actions. So he wrapped his arms around Pei Tingsong, pressing his body close beneath the stifling covers.
“Now I’m a bit worried,” Pei Tingsong sighed, holding him close.
“Worried about what?” Fang Juexia was puzzled by the sudden shift in topic.
“My grandfather in heaven expressed great satisfaction with the reward I received. He even sent me a dream.” He paused, unsure if he’d used the right word. “It was a dream, right?”
Fang Juexia nodded. “Mm.” Wait, why did he nod?
Before he could figure it out, Pei Tingsong continued, “But your grandfather? He looks like someone who won’t be easily appeased. What if… what if he points a gun at me?”
Fang Juexia gave a long, drawn-out “Hmm.” “Highly unlikely. After all, he doesn’t have a gun.”
“That’s hyperbole!” Pei Tingsong sighed again. “He must think this reward is pathetic. No, wait—he probably thinks I’m punishment sent by Heaven itself.”
Fang Juexia suddenly laughed, finding the comparison spot-on. He wrapped his arms around Pei Tingsong’s neck and said, “Punishment it is. I like punishment.”
This remark was swiftly seized upon by the wordsmith Pei Tingsong. “You said it yourself. So you enjoy punishment play, huh? Pretty intense.”
“What—”
“After seeing the moon, can you still look at the sun, Brother?”
“Shut up. Don’t say another word. Shut up.”
The two of them spent hours wrestling on the bed, like any ordinary lovers in the world, trading intimate closeness for inner peace. Even lingering in bed felt delightful. When hunger struck, they ordered room service and ate while watching one of Pei Tingsong’s favorite Nordic art films.
Fang Juexia wasn’t someone who enjoyed wasting time. For over twenty years, he’d chased after every minute and second, living with relentless urgency. Yet now he felt relaxed, growing fond of this luxury of time to squander. As long as Pei Tingsong was by his side, even when he recounted tales of philosophers and their romantic escapades, Fang found it all fascinating.
Just as Pei Tingsong was recounting Schopenhauer’s bitter feud with his mother, Fang Juexia’s phone buzzed incessantly—a call from Ling Yi. They’d descended from the mountain and were heading out to explore the local street food scene, inviting Fang Juexia to join them.
“Want to come?”
Pei Tingsong stretched lazily, finishing the last cookie. “Go ahead.”
But Pei Tingsong didn’t dare return to his own room. He rummaged through Fang Juexia’s suitcase, pulling out a loose latte-colored long-sleeved shirt and baggy black sweatpants. He slipped them on. “Actually looks pretty good.”
Fang Juexia had just changed into his own clothes—a black hoodie—and turned to compliment him earnestly, “You look good.”
“What about shoes?” Pei Tingsong held out his foot. “My feet are bigger than yours.”
Fang Juexia’s eyes lit up. He clenched his left fist and tapped his right palm. “I brought a pair of slightly oversized sneakers this time. I’ve been into wearing bigger shoes lately.”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Just so I’d wear your clothes? You’re so calculating.”
Fang Juexia put on his socks with a cold expression. “You could also just wear the hotel slippers out.”
They both pulled on hats. Fang Juexia went a step further, tucking his baseball cap under his hoodie before adding a mask, his petite face nearly completely concealed. As soon as they stepped outside the hotel, they hailed a taxi and squeezed inside. They headed to the location Ling Yi had arranged, but the winding, hard-to-find streets meant they arrived after dark.
The street wasn’t long or particularly wide, crammed on both sides with stalls and storefronts. Passersby chattered in the local dialect, steam rising from food stalls, warm lights making everything look deliciously inviting.
The rendezvous with their teammates resembled a mob meeting—each person wrapped tighter than the last, exchanging strange, cryptic signals.
Lu Yuan stood with his back to He Ziyan. “Number Two, Number Two, still here?”
He Ziyan tugged at his collar. “Reporting in. Kaleidoscope Four and Kaleidoscope Six located. Over.”
Pei Tingsong slapped his hand hard across He Ziyan’s face. “What kind of stupid skit are you guys doing? ”
Lu Yuan immediately wore a terrified expression. “There’s a mole. Terminate the transaction.”
“Hahahahahaha!”
Ling Yi was a foodie. He followed online guides to find the most authentic local dishes. Though Fang Juexia couldn’t handle most of them, the bubble tea was delicious. He sampled everyone’s order and found them all surprisingly tasty.
They’d planned to enjoy a leisurely food tour, but unexpectedly got recognized by fans who spotted them. After all, seeing one handsome guy out and about was rare enough—let alone six of them. They were simply too conspicuous. The fans hesitated to approach, double-checking before daring to confirm it was indeed them.
They didn’t dare ask for autographs, only sneaking photos. At first, they snuck photos discreetly. After all, at that moment, Pei Tingsong was crouched by the roadside, sucking on the last few pearls stuck in his bubble tea like a wayward youth. Fang Juexia stood beside him, eating a slice of watermelon with headphones on to cut the spice, turning his head to chat with Ling Yi, who was munching on grilled butter beef.
They stood across the pedestrian street, hiding behind a utility pole. Unexpectedly, Pei Tingsong spotted them. His gaze turned menacing as he pointed at them. Just as the fans’ hearts leapt to their throats, he deliberately made a throat-slitting gesture with his hand.
“Bro, we messed up!” the fans pleaded across the street.
Pei Tingsong casually leaned against Fang Juexia’s leg. “One hundred thousand per photo. Transfer the money.”
But another fan blurted out, “Holy crap, you’re so cheap.”
Author’s Note: Pei Tingsong leapt to his feet: “What the fuck? Say that again!”
Fang Juexia froze, instinctively stepping in to break it up.
Ling Yi: This butter is so delicious (obsessed)
The fans posted their photos on Weibo:
@TingjueIsReal: AAAAAHHHH I’M LOSING MY MIND! I ACTUALLY RANDOMLY ENCOUNTERED THE GUYS! (Seriously random—I bumped into them at a street stall, six of them at once!) Tingjue is SO HANDSOME! MOM LOVES YOU GUYS! [Video]
Comments below:
[Oh boy, some artist living in a posh American neighborhood is extorting his struggling fans online]
[Forget it, forget it. He’s already so cheap (dog head emoji)]
[Is the scenery line’s beauty for real? He makes eating watermelon look like a fairy nibbling on a peach]
[Ahhhhhhh the grapevine top! Totally Scenery Line’s! He wore it at the airport last time—it’s his personal style!]
[Forgive me for saying, but this hat also looks like…]
[Forgive me for saying, but these pants…]
[These shoes…]
[The ocean’s full of water, but Grapevine has no wardrobe.]
