Fang Juexia suddenly froze.
Heartbeat.
That afternoon he was pulled back into the workshop, the sampler sitting on the desk—he’d given it a second glance, never imagining it would be used on himself.
The background music of Night Walk still echoed in his ears. Each “drumbeat” arranged by Pei Tingsong perfectly matched the restless heart pounding in his chest. How magical. This was his melody, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and Pei Tingsong’s lyrics, each line laced with hidden intentions.
Heartbeat and drumbeat synchronized, pulsing with vitality.
Their songs were alive, and so was their love.
For the first time, Fang Juexia felt overwhelmed and at a loss because someone took him too seriously.
As the song ended, the gathered fans applauded, rousing Fang Juexia from his emotional immersion.
Ling Yi held the mic and asked, “Was that good? Have you all been watching the drama?”
“We have!”
“Some of our members are trying their hand at acting too,” Lu Yuan chimed in. “Miao Ge and Huo Ge are both stepping into new territory.”
Jiang Miao waved his hand with a smile. He Ziyan Geng bluntly remarked, “They’re still not up to par.”
“They are!” the fans shouted.
Pei Tingsong picked up the mic, “Why does that sound like an insult?”
“Hahahaha!”
Fang Juexia also grabbed the mic, but he spoke earnestly to everyone: “This is Brother Miao’s first time participating in a film shoot. I heard the auditions had quite a few requirements, but he passed them all smoothly. Let’s give Brother Miao some applause.”
The fans obliged with enthusiastic applause.
Jiang Miao quickly clarified, “Actually, not really. Since it’s a music-related project, they needed someone who could play the guzheng.”
Lu Yuan added, “But didn’t they also need someone with a striking appearance and clean-cut charm? Sanshui is perfect for playing that kind of college guy—a pure, innocent college guy.”
“Hahahaha!”
Fang Juexia then said earnestly, “Ziyan will be joining the crew the day after tomorrow. Let’s give him some applause too.”
He Ziyan smiled, “Juexia is just a relentless applause cue machine today.”
“Hahahahaha!”
But Fang Juexia remained earnest. “It’s his first time, so we should encourage him properly. Plus, he’s starting with a big-budget urban drama.”
Pei Tingsong was also amused by his wholehearted support for his teammate. Grabbing the microphone, he teased, “Why doesn’t Brother Juexia act? With looks like yours, it’d be a waste not to.”
The fans’ enthusiasm surpassed even his own, eagerly chiming in, “Yeah!”
“We want to see Brother Juexia act!”
“That face is wasted not being in idol dramas!”
Fang Juexia was never good at handling sudden outbursts of affection. “Um… I don’t think I’m very good at it, and besides, the birthmark on my face…”
“Hold on.” Pei Tingsong cut him off before he could finish, asking instead, “Do you guys think the birthmark on Juexia’s face is pretty?”
He held the microphone out, and nearby fans shouted in unison, “It’s beautiful—”
The other members chimed in, “So beautiful.”
“Like a flower petal.”
“It’s the perfect finishing touch, okay?”
Ling Yi nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the first time I saw Juexia, holy crap, I was stunned. How could a guy be this good-looking?”
Jiang Miao chuckled. “So that’s why you insisted on sharing a dorm with Juexia.”
“Exactly.” Ling Yi made no attempt to hide it. “I’m totally a looks-obsessed guy. When I heard about the dorm assignments, I immediately told Brother Qiang—Juexia was my top pick, followed by Jiang Miao.”
Lu Yuan deliberately let out a “Hmph!” first, and He Ziyan mimicked him, “Hmph!”
Fang Juexia, unaware of the dorm assignment’s backstory, looked surprised. “You requested it? I thought it was random.”
Pei Tingsong suddenly grabbed his arm. “Hey, that’s not fair! Someone skipped the normal process. I’m requesting a dorm reassignment—even a lottery is fine.”
“Give it a rest.” He Ziyan shot back without mercy. “Don’t you remember how unlucky you are? Just stick with me, bro. I won’t let you down.”
“Hmph.”
Fang Juexia suddenly recalled the earlier mention of acting and turned to ask Pei Tingsong, “Why didn’t you pursue acting?”
“No thanks.” Pei Tingsong declined flatly. This reminded He Ziyan of a particularly hilarious incident from the past. “I’m about to dig up some old dirt.”
Ling Yi took a sip of his iced mocha, realizing what He Ziyan was about to say. He chimed in eagerly, “I know! Little Pei’s dark past!”
How did everyone know? Fang Juexia felt a bit baffled.
But then again, since everyone had avoided him in the past, they naturally wouldn’t know about his dark past.
Pei Tingsong also caught on. “Hey, guys, don’t do this. You can’t just blurt out stuff like that.”
“It’s fine. Our group lost its image ages ago anyway.” He Ziyan began explaining to the fans, “You might not know this, but Little Pei actually already has a screen debut under his belt.”
The fans were genuinely surprised. “Really?”
“What was it?”
Ling Yi blurted out, “Last year, an idol drama crew approached Brother Qiang, wanting to cast Xiao Pei in a role.”
Pei Tingsong didn’t want him to continue and tried to reach over Fang Juexia to cover Ling Yi’s mouth. But Fang Juexia wanted to hear more, so he grabbed Pei Tingsong’s hand to stop him from touching Ling Yi.
Ling Yi ducked toward the captain. “But back then, Xiao Pei had just finished battling online haters for three hundred rounds. He was in a terrible mood, and something else had probably happened too. Anyway, he was in a highly volatile state. When he got Brother Qiang’s message, he flat-out refused. Man, that’s just too classic.” He signaled to He Ziyan. “Let’s act it out. I’ll be Brother Qiang, you be Xiao Pei.”
Pei Tingsong stubbornly resisted, “I’m about to curse someone out!”
Ling Yi wiped his face, instantly channeling Cheng Qiang’s persona as he lowered his voice, “Xiao Pei, go act.”
He Ziyan scowled, “Act my ass.” He immediately clarified, “Meaning the emoji with the little horse face.”
Fans below the stage burst into laughter. “Angry Grapevine!”
Fang Juexia was utterly taken aback by this reply. He grabbed Pei Tingsong by both arms, his eyes wide with shock as he glared at him.
“I told you I was furious back then,” Pei Tingsong whispered without a mic, offering a quiet explanation.
“That’s not the point, friends. The key is—” Lu Yuan interjected, “Brother Qiang actually fulfilled Little Pei’s wish in the end.”
Jiang Miao revealed the story’s conclusion: “He dragged Xiao Pei to voice an animated movie called Fantastic Animal Kingdom. He voiced a horse.”
“Hahahahahaha!”
“We’re seeing it tonight!”
Fang Juexia burst out laughing, his grip loosening until he bent over, barely able to stay seated.
With this embarrassing secret exposed, Pei Tingsong felt both annoyed and helpless. His hand instinctively shielded Fang Juexia, afraid his delicate little flower might laugh herself into a fall.
He Ziyan summed it up: “So when it comes to acting, our little Pei is actually the senior.”
Pei Tingsong mimicked Fang Juexia’s catchphrase when they were together: “Shut up.”
Amid the relaxed atmosphere, they collaborated with their band teacher to sing “Swimming Across This Sea,” then interacted with fans watching the livestream, sharing stories about their creative process and songwriting.
Holding a grudge over having his embarrassing past exposed, Pei Tingsong launched into a confession mode, revealing that his roommate He Ziyan often got inspiration while showering, then would dash out wrapped in a towel. He Ziyan countered by saying he had criticized the initial version of Pei Tingsong’s “Night Walk” as completely incomprehensible.
“Hahahaha, mutual sabotage!”
“Ling Yi narrowly dodged the crisis.”
Time flew by. After the wheel of fortune draw and watching pre-recorded behind-the-scenes footage of the summer special with fans, the meet-and-greet was nearing its end.
Jiang Miao picked up the mic to cue the next segment. “Time flies! We only have ten minutes left. We’re about to sing the final song from Last Summer.”
“So fast! I don’t want it to end.”
“The last one already?”
“I co-wrote this song too—it’s perfect for a summer afternoon like this.” He instinctively turned to the usually quiet Fang Juexia. “Juexia, what’s this song called?”
Fang Juexia paused a beat, glancing at his cue card before lifting his head. He stretched his arms wide like a host. “Daydream!”
Fans cheered, “It’s my Daydream Treasure!”
Lu Yuan swiveled his chair, his tone light. “May everyone’s daydreams come true!”
The band members behind them began playing. Everyone sat on bar stools holding microphones and started singing. The unplugged version lost some of its psychedelic feel, sounding gentler and fresher.
“The first time I kissed you, dizziness in broad daylight, the whole universe accompanied me in my dreamwalk.” After finishing the second chorus, Fang Juexia’s handheld mic suddenly malfunctioned, cutting out sound. He looked down and tapped it with his hand, then turned his head toward Cheng Qiang, who was sitting diagonally behind him.
It was almost time for Pei Tingsong’s rap, but his attention was completely captured by Fang Juexia clapping on the microphone. Without a second thought, he shoved his own mic into Fang Juexia’s hand and took the faulty one to inspect it.
Startled by the gesture, Fang Juexia glared at him, shoved the mic back into Pei Tingsong’s hand, and whispered, “You’re about to sing.”
The rhythm had already skipped a beat when Pei Tingsong finally snapped out of it. He hurriedly grabbed the mic as several members around him stifled laughter and fans realized he’d messed up.
Unexpectedly, Pei Tingsong launched into a laid-back flow, but his lyrics diverged from the CD version, sounding more like freestyle.
Because he’d forgotten the words.
“The whole world’s about to know how I feel, why haven’t you responded? Do you think I’ve no temper? My heart stumbles over forgotten lyrics, my thoughts jumble with off-beat chaos, dreamy dreamy baby, why you make me crazy.” “
Fang Juexia, who had been holding his breath, exhaled in relief upon hearing Pei Tingsong’s seamless recovery. He couldn’t help but admire the singer’s formidable improvisational skills—even the flow was different from the original.
Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Fang Juexia turned to see Cheng Qiang handing him a new mic. Nodding, he took it and joined Pei Tingsong’s vocals: “You are my daydream, daydream.”
The cool, clear humming blended with Pei Tingsong’s deep rap, creating a richer, more layered sound. Pei Tingsong grew increasingly comfortable.
“I swear to kick my childish habits, to become one-of-a-kind for you. Summer afternoons hazy with sunlight, hormones soaring in the café. I want to turn you into a star, hide you in the palm of my hand. When skies clear then rain falls again, Baileys heals my mood. Don’t mind the gossip, three-two-one, come into my arms.”
“You are my daydream, daydream.”
As he sang, he caught a faint, almost imperceptible smile in Fang Juexia’s harmonies. A slight curve touched Pei Tingsong’s lips as he delivered the final line.
“You are the secret I’ve revealed a thousand times in my dreams.”
