Chapter 92

　A sudden fastball struck Fang Juexia’s heart.

He never imagined Pei Tingsong’s freestyle would end with such a line—so bold, so direct, yet so veiled.

His heart felt stuffed to the brim, caffeine beginning to stir.

　No matter what, it seemed he couldn’t escape Pei Tingsong’s grasp.

The café’s music salon ended at 5:30 PM. Kaleido returned upstairs, waiting for fans to depart under staff guidance. Several tall boys pressed against the windowpanes, waving to departing fans. Ling Yi even opened the window, calling out, “Be careful on your way home.” It felt less like they were idols and more like ordinary friends inviting guests over to sing, chat, and relax.

　It wasn’t until nightfall that they finally departed. Cheng Qiang kept his promise, taking the six youngsters to an expensive Japanese yakiniku restaurant for grilled meat.

“Wow, Brother Qiang is splurging today!”

“Awesome! I’m going to eat tons of wagyu beef!”

　They settled into the private room reserved long ago—a long table flanked by seven tatami mats. Jiang Miao, Lu Yuan, and He Ziyan sat in one row, while Pei Tingsong, Fang Juexia, and Ling Yi sat opposite them. Xiao Wen took the farthest seat at the end. Cheng Qiang grabbed a cushion and plopped down near the entrance. “This throne is reserved for me. You guys order. The boss was supposed to join us, but he had to attend a meeting for your senior brother at the last minute. He’ll probably be late. We’ll just celebrate among ourselves for now.”

“Bro Qiang, I’ll save you money.” With that, Ling Yi grabbed the menu and started ordering like he hadn’t eaten meat in centuries, making Cheng Qiang’s eyes widen in astonishment.

　“Order some drinks too,” Lu Yuan called out. “I haven’t had a drink in ages. I’m craving it.”

“Order, order, order! Today’s a happy day. Everyone should have some.”

The dishes slowly arrived. Cheng Qiang poured himself a glass of wine and filled glasses for all six of them. “Come on, come on. It’s been a long time since we all gathered for a meal. Let’s have a toast first.”

　Fang Juexia’s drinking tolerance worried Pei Tingsong, so he avoided pouring him anything strong. Instead, he gave him a glass of strawberry wine—seemingly low-alcohol, which should be fine. Knowing Fang didn’t trust himself much, Pei also avoided the stronger drinks.

“This is delicious,” Fang Juexia murmured to Pei Tingsong after the toast, holding his small glass.

　Pei Tingsong picked up a pan-fried dumpling for him. “Don’t drink too much. You won’t have room for food later.”

　Cheng Qiang tapped the table with emotion. “This past half-year, we’ve really been through a lot. But things gradually got better and better. So, hard work definitely pays off.”

“Right!” Xiao Wen chimed in enthusiastically.

Lu Yuan added, “It’s not just hard work, though.”

He Ziyan chuckled, “We’re also handsome!”

　“Hahahaha, shameless!” Ling Yi laughed while eating meat.

Cheng Qiang steered the conversation back. “Today’s celebration banquet may be small, just our own people. But we have many reasons to celebrate. First, our ‘Last Summer’ is this month’s top seller! Applause!”

Everyone put down their chopsticks and joined in the applause.

　Fang Juexia was a beat behind, “Number one?”

Pei Tingsong chuckled, “Your internet’s still down.”

“The second piece of good news, which you’ve probably already heard—congratulations to Kaleido for the BMA nominations! I checked the list—four nominations. That’s already broken the record for boy bands!”

　“Wow!” This news clearly thrilled Kaleido even more than the previous one. Though it was just a nomination, for an idol boy band, it was an enormous affirmation.

Especially for these boys who loved music.

“Oh my god, does that mean we get to attend the awards ceremony at the end of the year?”

　“So exciting! I’m starting my acceptance speech right now.”

“You better remember this, kid: first thing you thank is your manager.” Cheng Qiang pointed at himself.

Jiang Miao poured Cheng Qiang another glass of wine, deliberately steering the conversation back on track. “Bro Qiang, what’s the third thing?”

　“The third thing is—” Cheng Qiang clapped his hands toward the doorway, sitting upright on the tatami mat with a look of complete control. But with seven people waiting with him, the atmosphere suddenly turned awkward.

“Huh?” Cheng Qiang stood up and opened the door. “Why didn’t you hear my signal?”

　“Oh, oh, oh, sorry.” The waiter entered from outside, carrying an exquisitely decorated cake.

“The third piece of good news is that it’s Juexia’s birthday!” Cheng Qiang sat back down. “Although the clock hasn’t struck midnight yet, Ling Yi and Lu Yuan have other plans tomorrow night, and I have to go with them. We won’t all be together tomorrow night, so let’s celebrate together today.”

　As soon as he finished, Ling Yi clapped his hands and led everyone in singing “Happy Birthday.” Pei Tingsong took a birthday hat from the waiter and placed it on Fang Juexia’s head, where it sat like a miniature crown.

Fang Juexia hadn’t expected this at all. Lately, he’d been completely absorbed in his new album, promotions, and various events, and had completely forgotten about his own birthday.

It turned out everyone else remembered.

　“Happy birthday in advance, Juexia!”

Ling Yi quickly seized the moment: “Your birthday gift is already on your nightstand!”

　Lu Yuan nodded in agreement, “Me too. I prepared mine ahead of time as well.”

“Thank you.” Fang Juexia’s usually composed face softened with a hint of joy. Not one for expressing himself easily, he poured himself another glass of pink strawberry wine, toasted everyone, and kept repeating his thanks.

　They ate and chatted, moving from personal lives to entertainment gossip, thoroughly enjoying the juicy tales. One moment it was about two stars falling for each other on set, the next about power struggles within major companies.

Jiang Miao, ever the worrier, used tongs to grill meat for everyone. Once they’d eaten their fill, he ordered another round. Later, they started playing drinking games with rock-paper-scissors.

After finishing the meat, Cheng Qiang was feeling the effects, his face flushed bright red. He launched into a belated but heartfelt speech, expressing concern for each person in turn. Finally, he took his swaying glass and clinked it against Fang Juexia’s, saying like an old father: “Juexia, remember this: whatever happens, lean on us, okay? Don’t shoulder everything alone. It’s too painful.”

　After several rounds of strawberry wine, Fang Juexia felt a bit lightheaded too. He nodded, his mind spinning even more. “Mm…”

“Yeah, Juexia,” He Ziyan chimed in. “Though we’re not exactly the most reliable bunch ourselves…”

Ling Yi cut in first: “Who says? I’m reliable.”

　Jiang Miao smiled at him. “But we are your teammates. So if you ever face a tough time, you can lean on each and every one of us.”

Pei Tingsong nodded in agreement, leaning his head against Fang Juexia’s shoulder. “Exactly.”

　Fang Juexia, leaning against him, toppled sideways, spilling the half-full glass of strawberry wine he was holding all over Ling Yi.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

He Ziyan craned his neck. “He seems drunk…”

Lu Yuan frowned. “That was way too fast.”

　Pei Tingsong hurriedly pulled Fang Juexia upright. Glancing at the table, he saw Fang had drained nearly two-thirds of the strawberry wine. “Seriously, how could you drink that fast?”

Fang Juexia was already grinning like an idiot. “The barbecue… kinda salty… This… sweet.”

　This was bad.

Pei Tingsong instantly recalled that night at the hotel when Shang Sirui had organized a drinking session. Just thinking about it now made his wrists throb.

Fang Juexia turned into a child whenever he drank—saying and doing anything. Pei had to find a way to get him out of there before he said something he’d regret tomorrow.

　“Qiang, your phone.” Jiang Miao grabbed Cheng Qiang’s arm.

“Oh, right, my phone.” Cheng Qiang sat up straight and picked up his phone. Seeing it was Chen Zhengyun, he happily answered, “Boss, we’re still here. Almost done eating.”

“Ah, you booked it? Alright, alright. I’ll bring them over right now.”

　After hanging up, Cheng Qiang popped another vinegar-pickled peanut into his mouth. “So, the boss just wrapped up his meeting and booked you guys a deluxe KTV room. Your senior brother is going too. Let’s all hang out together. No heading back to the dorm tonight.”

“Yay! I get to hang out with Sān Sān!”

“Finally, I get to join in this time!”

　Fang Juexia was still groggy, but the mention of KTV got him excited. “Singing? We’re going to sing?” His tongue felt thick, his words muffled like a child’s. “I… I can sing.”

“We know you can sing.” Pei Tingsong steadied him. “Are you dizzy? Feeling okay?”

　Fang Juexia wanted to say no, but he shook his head. Then he felt dizzy again, so he wasn’t sure if he was dizzy or not. He just grunted twice.

What does grunting mean? Pei Tingsong was at a loss, torn between laughter and exasperation.

“Let’s go.”

　After tidying up, they called a car and prepared to head downstairs. Pei Tingsong supported Fang Juexia the entire way, as if guiding a tiny white snake that hadn’t grown legs yet. Each step was unsteady and shaky.

　“Qiang, he’s way too drunk. Even if we get him there, it’ll be rough. He might feel even worse soon.”

Cheng Qiang was pretty tipsy himself, running his fingers through his freshly trimmed buzz cut. “Really? Oh, well then… then…”

Pei Tingsong wrapped an arm around Fang Juexia, letting him lean against him. “I’ll take him back.”

　Jiang Miao asked him, “Then you’re not going either?”

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather myself.” Pei Tingsong casually made up an excuse. Little did he know that the drunk Fang Juexia overheard it. “Under the weather? Where does it hurt? Let me see… burp.”

　When drunk, his voice turned high-pitched and childlike. He pressed himself against Pei Tingsong without restraint, clinging to his arm like a clingy kitten.

“Give it a rest, you little terror.” Pei Tingsong tugged at him, feeling the cabinet door sway precariously.

　“You’re so mean.” Fang Juexia suddenly pouted, his face flushed with hurt. “You don’t like…”

Pei Tingsong immediately covered his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

I like you. I really, really like you.

Pei Tingsong held his breath for the battered cabinet door.

　Ling Yidu, standing nearby, was slightly startled. “So this is what Juexia turns into when he’s drunk…”

Lu Yuan snorted. “You’re drunk and kissing people? How great is that?”

The pre-ordered car arrived late. Cheng Qiang slurred a few words to Pei Tingsong before climbing in. Pei Tingsong half-supported Fang Juexia as he nodded, the dazed fellow in his arms stretching out his arms to wave goodbye obediently. Soon their own car arrived. Pei Tingsong struggled to pull Fang Juexia inside. The entire ride, Fang Juexia babbled incoherently, alternately feeling nauseous and demanding to be held.

　Fortunately, the taxi driver was a middle-aged man who neither recognized nor questioned their identities.

　Taking care of a drunk person was exhausting. Pei Tingsong finally managed to drag him home with great effort. Only the two of them remained in the dorm. Fang Juexia sat on the small stool by the entrance, complaining of dizziness. Pei Tingsong crouched down, took off his canvas shoes, and placed them neatly. Whenever Fang Juexia got drunk, their roles seemed to switch. Pei Tingsong became the older brother, while Fang Juexia turned into the childish younger sibling.

He occasionally enjoyed this reversal.

“I’m tired. I want to sleep,” Fang Juexia rubbed his eyes.

“Sleep now?”

“I want to sleep!”

　“Fine, fine.” Pei Tingsong couldn’t argue with him, knowing this guy’s stubbornness when drunk. He simply picked him up horizontally, carried him into the room, and laid him on his bed—always immaculately made, not a single wrinkle in sight.

　“Time for bed, our little Juexia is going to sleep.” While soothing him, he tucked the covers around Fang Juexia. “I’ll go wet a towel to wipe your face.”

“Don’t go.” Fang Juexia enunciated each word deliberately, his grip tightening on Pei Tingsong’s arm with sudden strength. “Don’t leave. I like you. Stay with me.”

　Pei Tingsong froze beside the bed.

Fang Juexia’s face flushed crimson, his hands burning hot. He smiled foolishly, yet beautifully. “I want… I want…”

　Pei Tingsong bent over, reaching to touch his forehead. “Want what?”

“You!” His eyes shone brightly in the bedside lamp, like stars. He obediently pulled back the covers and tugged Pei Tingsong onto the bed. “Sleep with me, okay?”

　Having received such an invitation, Pei Tingsong felt refusing would make him seem like a saint.

“Well… if I make your bed dirty,” he lay down facing Fang Juexia, rubbing his cheek, “would you mind?”

　Fang Juexia kissed his lips, then let out a childish little burp, his logic as straightforward as it was peculiar.

“You’ve already messed me up, and I… I didn’t blame you either.”