-2-
The cuckoo clock chimed three times.
Pei Ruye wiped the sheets briefly with a tissue, helped him get dressed again, and then untied the black silk ribbon.
Huo Ren remained in the state of a few minutes earlier.
His skin was flushed white, the corners of his eyes reddened with tear stains, sharp yet tinged with allure.
A forever lethal drug to him and to the world.
Huo Ren shielded his eyes from the sunlight, only relaxing when he regained his senses.
“A very special experience.” He conservatively rated, attempting to package his true intentions with a casual tone.
“So, can this become a regular program before going to sleep?”
Pei Ruye looked up at his serious expression, folding the black silk ribbon neatly in front of Huo Ren and placing it on the bedside table within easy reach.
“Help yourself whenever.”
Huo Ren’s breathing became unstable for a moment.
He realized he was no match for this man in this respect.
“Every time,” he confirmed, “do we have to blindfold?”
The man did not offer him more kisses, and they seemed to return to a therapeutic relationship, with boundaries well defined.
“We’ll open the gift officially after getting married.” Pei Ruye said calmly, “Having a sense of ceremony makes life enjoyable.”
Huo Ren thought about it and felt he wasn’t at a loss.
He had tasted sweetness.
“Okay.”
Breakfast was delayed by forty minutes today.
Huo Ren sat at the dining table again, neatly dressed in a white suit.
He finally made a video call across the ocean.
Though sudden, both calls connected almost simultaneously, and both parties sighed in relief upon seeing his improved appearance.
“Ren Ren, how have you been lately?”
“…Finally seeing you, we were worried you’d become reclusive for years.”
Bo Jue seemed to be in his study, his long hair tied back, with teaching materials and books beside him.
He now is a visiting professor at the Shi Du Music Academy, having found a peaceful position after recovering from a serious illness, gradually finding his way back to a normal life.
Xie Lianyun returned to being a songwriter, his background dark and messy, seeming to lead a rough life.
When he looked at Huo Ren, he subconsciously searched for the almost invisible scar on his brow bone.
“Brother Yun has lost weight?” Huo Ren adjusted the screen, reaching out as if to touch their faces.
After a long absence, Bo Jue, initially tearful, laughed at the remark.
“I told you I have indigestion…” Xie Lianyun complained, “After you guys left, I dragged Uncle Jiang to eat hotpot a few times, almost ended up with a bleeding stomach.”
They simultaneously remembered something, choosing tacitly not to continue the topic.
Jiang Shu had refused Chi Ji’s last request, as Chi Chi had been having nightmares at the time, and the doctor suggested giving him some nourishing food.
After Chi Ji disappeared, Uncle Jiang’s hair turned white overnight, and he has completely withdrawn from the entertainment industry.
They all knew the multiple constraints and inevitable end of an idol’s career, but none expected the separation of the six to be for such a reason.
Corona was merely a symbol, bound to become a part of history once its time was up; it was not possible to still be performing on stage in their fifties or sixties.
Yet, the 17th floor was supposed to exist forever.
…The 17th floor that belonged to the six of them.
“I’m much better.” Huo Ren picked a light topic, significantly diluting the intangible sadness, “I’ll be back in the country in two months, let’s get together properly.”
“By the way.” He paused for a few seconds, glancing at the man pouring coffee not far away.
“Teacher asked if I wanted to get engaged, what do you guys think…”
Bo Jue quickly nodded, “Boss Pei is a reliable person, I think it’s fine.”
Xie Lianyun tried to object, “Isn’t it a bit sudden… Marriage is the grave of life, Ren Ren…”
Pei Ruye, drinking his coffee, glanced at the camera.
Someone quickly changed their tune, “Ren Ren, it’s time for you to settle down! Whatever choice you make, your brother supports you!”
Bo Jue looked disdainfully at Xie Lianyun.
Still so cowardly.
After chatting for a few more minutes, they said goodnight and hung up.
Huo Ren thought he would feel sad upon seeing them again, but upon connecting and seeing each face, he felt only endless longing and concern.
I miss you so much.
I miss each and every one of you.
He remained perceptive, gleaning plenty of information even without Pei Ruye saying anything.
Bo Jue, too, fell seriously ill after the disbandment and is still on medication.
Brother Yun seemed to recover the quickest but actually hadn’t at all.
Mei Shengyao and Chi Ji were close, and being too young to bear the shock, he had not appeared since, as if vanished from the world.
Brother Long quietly bore the pressure and anxiety, still moving forward alone.
This was a calamity for the six, with Chi Ji not the only one deeply wounded.
Huo Ren closed his eyes for a moment to calm down before sitting back at the breakfast table.
They would meet again.
They must.
The atmosphere at breakfast was still decent.
Longing and melancholy were embraced, and the courage to move forward grew stronger.
Their conversation shifted back to the topic of engagement.
Huo Ren hadn’t fully decided yet and began to inquire about the details of getting engaged.
“No need to adhere to domestic or international customs, we can keep it simple.”
Pei Ruye, slicing toast leisurely, said, “We’ll pick a house, take the keys, and we can wait to register at the city hall when we get married.”
“The engagement ring and the wedding ring are not the same pair. If it’s not too much trouble for you…”
“I don’t want a diamond ring,” Huo Ren shook his head. “I don’t like them.”
Pei Ruye paused for a few seconds, his gaze landing on Huo Ren’s ring finger.
“Indeed,” he concealed his emotions well, “there wouldn’t be an occasion to wear it anyway.”
A few more months and they would be returning to their country.
“It’s not that I’m worried about that.” Huo Ren glanced at his own fingers, explaining simply, “Maybe it’s a residual issue, but I don’t like sharp and pointed things.”
Even though his own name contained the character for “blade.”
The man’s expression shifted, and he chuckled softly as he continued to slice the bacon.
“It seems I’ll need to put some thought into my proposal in the future.”
“Indeed,” Huo Ren smiled, “but you’ve got plenty of time for that.”
They would be returning to their home country in two months, ready to re-enter the scene and make their moves.
This year’s OSC awards were granted to outstanding individuals from other countries, but FALSE, astonishingly, made it to the nominations, their photos exuding triumph as if they were the ones who had won the crown.
Cutting off FALSE and finding leverage against Han Qu required using their celebrity status as a cover.
But if the plan was to gather all beneficial evidence and completely destroy the Han corporation and its entertainment empire from a position of strength, then Huo Ren needed to gain more and higher visibility than before.
The platform chosen by Huo Ren and Pei Ruye was the idol selection program, DIVINE, launched at the beginning of the year.
This would be the nation’s first male group idol selection reality show, fundamentally different from any previous talent show.
It could be said to be destined as the incubator for the next top boy band.
With a top-tier team, a strong lineup of guests, and… Huo Ren’s solo return.
Just the last point alone had booked numerous headlines and sparked endless debates.
And that’s exactly what was needed to make a show successful.
Years ago, Huo Ren had suggested this idea to Jiang Shu, but at the time, burdened with the responsibilities of their group, Huo Ren couldn’t step away from his idol status to become an independent planner, so the project remained in the initial drafting stage.
The competition structure didn’t need to be too complicated: open auditions, filtering, and then arranging for four mentors to oversee the selection process, culminating in the six contestants with the highest public votes forming a group in the final episode.
Four mentors, corresponding to four training categories: vocal, dance, acting, and songwriting.
Each episode’s selection would revolve around these four areas, maximally showcasing the unique charms of the young contestants.
SPF, severely damaged by Corona’s fall, still held a significant position in the industry but couldn’t compare to the prominence of Caibi and Shirakawa platforms that boasted FALSE.
In fan terms, it was “deservedly fading more each year.”
SPF was in dire need of a new generation to step up, and countless viewers were waiting for another chance to be moved.
FALSE, over the past two years, had merely copied Corona’s operational model, their group variety shows receiving lukewarm responses, and despite causing endless fan wars due to their low-age fanbase, their actual purchasing power was at best second-tier.
—Barely qualifying as the bigger fish in a tumultuous and lackluster industry.
DIVINE was, in fact, an overt strategy.
For countless trainees dreaming of standing out, this was a rare opportunity to showcase themselves, possibly joining DIVINE and becoming part of a new wave’s myth.
Believing they had the talent, spirit, and hard work, now they just needed a chance.
For the supportive Honglu Channel and SPF, this was their chance to turn the tide, not to be taken lightly.
The experience and mistakes of nurturing Corona were of referential value; they are commercial entities that must remain profitable, everyone waiting for a chance at revenge.
All resources and connections would be mobilized in a near all-in gamble.
For Huo Ren, this was the best way to get in touch with all major talent agencies.
SPF’s proficiency in producing variety shows was widely recognized, and since Han Qu’s acquisition of several entertainment companies aimed to muddle the waters further, many smaller companies lost investment and were on the brink of closure.
Han Qu had bought several companies at once but now focused mainly on supporting Caibi Media, neglecting others like Litchi Culture, which performed moderately and were essentially left to fend for themselves.
On the day the internal push for auditions began in January, twenty-seven companies of varying sizes came forward, including three neglected by Han Qu.
Most were unaware of the true reason behind Chi Ji’s death, assuming he was mentally fragile and couldn’t cope, not taking the rumors in the fan circles seriously.
After seeing the registration list, Huo Ren called Fu Mingnian.
“Your chance has arrived.”
The latter respectfully addressed him as Mr. Huo.
“Thank you, I’ll do my best.”
The selection would involve internal recommendations and open auditions, with the latter starting recordings on May 20 and June 1, broadcasting weekly to kick off real-time voting.
The selection of the permanent mentors became a new issue.
Choosing the flying mentors was easy, just a matter of adding a touch of color.
Based on the preferences of Qi Ding and many directors at SPF, they were more hopeful of seeing a reunion of the old members of Corona.
Dance, acting, composition, vocal music.
Even though Chi Ji had vanished from this world, people who still loved Corona longed to see the past glories once again.
This position was a coveted job, requiring little effort but offering great visibility, easily gaining favor and boosting popularity.
After six years of intense work, it was a fitting destiny for several members to transition into this role, guiding the new generation as predecessors.
—However, the chance of Third Young Master Long, who was fully committed to being a CEO, returning was slim.
Huo Ren, as the chief planner, hesitated for a long time.
In the end, like the other three who were asked, he chose to decline.
He and his brothers were bound to reunite someday.
But now was not the time.
A year was not enough to heal the wounds, which was also why the other brothers entrusted Huo Ren to Pei Ruye’s care.
Seeing each other now would only remind them of what was missing and their faults.
The care and purity meticulously maintained for nearly a year would be ruined by a moment of negligence.
No one could forgive or confront this fault now, and the possibility of just the four of them smiling and doing a show together did not exist.
Sometimes, Huo Ren dreamt at night of Xiao Chi waking up in a crystal coffin, slowly sitting up and looking at him, who was guarding beside, still rubbing his eyes in confusion.
His throat turned dry, watching Chi Ji for a long time without being able to utter an apology.
Unless Han was not destroyed, he had no right to be forgiven by anyone, including himself.
The dance mentor was appointed as Mei Heng, the vocal music mentor as Feng Jin, and the composition mentor as Huo Ren.
Only the last slot remained undecided.
Bringing up the show preparation during lunch today, he still felt a headache.
There were plenty of good dancers, but the variety show itself did not demand high professional skills.
It required the ability to energize the atmosphere, provoke discussions, and lead the contestants to continuously break through and grow.
Huo Ren stirred the scrambled eggs with a fork, resting his head on the side and sighed.
“Still bothered by that matter?”
“No,” Huo Ren turned his head away, “Thinking about what paint to use for the new house.”
His current separation tolerance had been extended to four hours, which was not much of an issue anymore.
—Pei Ru would accompany him back to the country as the behind-the-scenes agent, providing him with a sense of security and support by sitting next to the audience during the recording of the show.
However…
Huo Ren turned to look at him again.
The man was still pecking at the boiled egg slowly, knowing what he was thinking without looking.
“Ask me, and I’ll go.”
Huo Ren blinked, his tail wagging.
“You’re still willing to do that?”
“What thing?” The man glanced at him, peeling the eggshell, “Anyone decent at dancing in the country has some connection with XV.”
The three out of the four biggest dance studios now have XV’s investment.
If it came to dancing, no one could claim expertise in front of Pei Ruye.
The dance circle initially saw this deity switch to continuing as a rich third-generation investor and boss, feeling both envious and reluctant.
That genius had won so many awards abroad in his early years, returned to create dance groups and a series of industries, almost founding the bridge between domestic and international scenes.
Why did he have to be a rich third-generation?
Can’t he just dance without making money???
That was Pei God—
The boiled egg rolled in the dish.
Pei Ru held it between his fingers, offering it to Huo Ren’s mouth.
“Be good, and I’ll agree to it.”
Huo Ren suddenly found the act of feeding particularly indecent.
He stared at the round egg for a few seconds, eventually biting it, and licked the runny yolk clean with his tongue.
Pei Ru ate the remaining half of the egg white with a calm smile, like a hunter who was not in a rush.
He enjoyed seeing the untamable nature deep within him.
“You’re really willing to debut for me,” Huo Ren mumbled, “This sacrifice seems too great.”
“Don’t misuse the word ‘debut’.” Pei Ruye sipped his coffee and said, “I’ll do this job and leave; you should call it a special appointment.”
Huo Ren thought it over carefully and realized that made sense.
If we talk about experience in the entertainment industry, teacher is the one who truly understands its secrets.
He put down his fork, his expression becoming more serious.
“Are you really willing to wade through this mess with me?”
Pei Ru nodded slowly, his lips curving into a smile.
“An engagement gift.”
Huo Ren wanted to offer a few words of caution, say something like ‘the environment is more dangerous now’ or ‘entering the entertainment industry means facing more pressure,’ the kind of right nonsense, but then he remembered he was originally brought into this as a trainee by him.
—He hadn’t been short of warnings before signing the contract either.
He swallowed his words.
Then he was silent for a while.
“This battle won’t be easy.”
“Mm.”
“We might need to unite many entertainment companies to reverse public opinion and also be responsible for those hundred-plus trainees.”
“Mm.”
“The new house should have a red roof, white fence, and after we get married, we should also get a cat.”
Pei Ruye couldn’t help but laugh.
Huo Ren knew he was laughing at his awkward way of asking for help, thought for a moment, then went upstairs to get something.
“An engagement ring, let’s use this instead.” He took out a four-leaf clover pendant he had been keeping close to him, held the man’s right hand, and kissed his ring finger tenderly.
“Though there’s only one… but this is my favorite gift.”
Pei Ruye looked up at him, slowly shook his head, then took off a similar pendant from his neck.
Silver with a green border, the jade was bright and transparent.
Huo Ren’s gaze shifted, and upon clearly seeing that pendant, he froze.
“In fact, they are a pair.”
The man tied the pendant around his ring finger and bent down to gently kiss the four-leaf clover on the back of his hand.
At that time, he thought he was bewitched, keeping an extra pendant that just happened to match his student.
Who would have thought there would be so many twists and turns afterward.
In the blink of an eye, five years had passed.
“But when I personally polished it at that time, I just wanted to see the nineteen years old you smile more.”
The author has a message:
Ding, updating the card in advance.
Classmate Fu, please don’t f*** this up… No betrayal, no scandal, I’m counting on you!
I appreciate the fact that despite the Corona members not having a dramatic fight or something, they have still distanced themselves from each other because being together as 5 feels wrong. This is way more realistic than having everyone act like nothing happened. Death aside, any team losing any member means that the entire dynamic has changed.