Idol Chapter 153 Part 1

-1-

Hearing these words, Huo Ren felt as if all the oxygen in his body had turned into mercury.

He almost used all his strength to control himself from making any sound, pulling away from Mei Shengyao while his heart pounded wildly, and it took several seconds to catch his breath again.

“Yao Yao,” he looked at this younger brother with unprecedented seriousness and solemnity, “I didn’t hear a word of what you just said, and I won’t remember it.”

“Don’t discuss this matter with anyone, in any setting, using any hints,” Huo Ren held his brother’s shoulders tightly, suppressing all emotions to convey the message, “Until the curtain falls, until the final note is set, this can only be entrusted to you alone.”

Telling one person, whether out of years of affection or a sense of duty, would inevitably lead to telling more and more people.

The more people who know, the more variables and instability.

Long Jia had just stabilized in the waves, Bo Jue and Xie Lianyun were both quietly searching for clues.

Han Qu didn’t die, so they must not visit Chi Ji or leave any exploitable traces.

—Once Chi Ji awakens and speaks the truth, with Corona’s influence, it’s enough to reignite the explosion of the event, something the Han family does not wish to see.

The time for the six to reunite is far from now.

At this moment, Huo Ren’s brain seemed to be crossed by countless scorching currents, burning even his throat dry and painful.

His rationality still faithfully controlled all actions.

Mei Shengyao looked at him steadily, then suddenly rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled slightly, “Brother, why so serious.”

“It’s just a little nightingale that flew into our home, I’ll take good care of it.”

Huo Ren, at this moment, dared not touch more of his emotions and rationality, stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

Mei Shengyao hugged back his shoulders, gently patting with his palm.

“We all know why you came back,” he said softly, “Brother, keep moving forward.”

“The five of us are always behind you.”

“Brother, continue to move forward, don’t look back because you’re worried about us.”

Huo Ren rubbed the young man’s soft hair vigorously, and when he let go, his voice was somewhat hoarse.

“Your new hair looks nice.”

Mei Shengyao showed a melancholic smile and nodded after a moment.

If only Brother Chi could see it as well.

They roughly adjusted their state and returned to the camera, casually chatting with the people around for a bit, then dispersed subtly.

One of the dinner’s organizers finally arrived late, first making a speech before the program started, and then relaxedly drinking and watching the performance with two models.

Han Qu these years is increasingly satisfied, his belly has grown a lot.

He was originally somewhat sinister, and in the past two years, his neck and wrists were strung with more Buddhist beads and amber, reportedly even becoming a named disciple of a certain sect master.

Relying on FALSE’s top position in the entertainment industry nowadays, having achieved a crown nomination in just a few years, anyone in this circle would have to respectfully smile and call him President Han.

When Huo Ren returned to Pei Ruye’s side, his first reaction was to tell him that news.

Then he forcibly held back, gulping down a whole glass of champagne.

The man gently patted his back, saying softly, “Be careful not to choke.”

But he had already choked.

Huo Ren drank too hastily, the liquor swirling in his throat for a couple of rounds before burning down his chest as it flowed down.

He coughed a few times, looked up at Pei Ruye again, then hurriedly averted his gaze.

“No need to say,” the man said warmly, “Keeping some secrets isn’t betrayal.”

Huo Ren paused for a few seconds, forced to take a deep breath again.

This man really saw through him too clearly.

Annoyingly sensual.

A whirl of emotions like ecstatic confusion, caution, anxiety, and more were still swirling in his heart when Han Qu came over to toast.

On stage, third and fourth-tier stars were singing and dancing, with people whispering conversations below, and not many were watching seriously.

“Mr. Huo,” Han Qu said with concern, “Are you catching a cold? There was heavy rain recently, so be careful not to catch a cold.”

Huo Ren restrained his instinctive reaction by coughing, and when he looked up again, his expression had turned to a tired smile.

“It’s President Han,” he said slowly, “I just returned to the country, not quite used to it yet, thank you for your concern.”

Pei Ruye also nodded in greeting, giving Han Qu face.

Han Qu didn’t know how much these two knew about that suicide, but guessed that everything was probably stable.

This rare meeting was an opportunity to probe and confirm some details.

“That incident before,” he showed a look of regret, hands clasped politely, “was really a pity.”

“Corona was truly a top male group, even I feel envious and admiring of my own company, and we’ve even fought in public opinion wars with you.”

“No matter what…” Han Qu sighed with a sense of reminiscence, “Take care of yourself.”

“The person jumped off the building himself, and all those documents and files were burned to ashes, not a single fingerprint was found at the scene.”

Ms. Tian had already been placed in a friend’s newspaper office as a miscellaneous worker, and after a couple of years when the buzz died down, she would be sent abroad.

When Han Qu heard of Chi Ji’s death, he was actually surprised, feeling an unreal sense of winning a jackpot.

Was the psyche of this flamboyantly sexy sissy so fragile that a single provocation was too much to bear?

Are depression patients really this weak?

Han Qu had initially planned to gradually escalate the pressure, releasing some harsh material to test the other’s endurance, hoping for a severe illness resulting in hospitalization at best.

—Now, with FALSE crushing several competitors and advancing strongly, he really had to thank that spirit in heaven.

From the end of the funeral to the end of 2017, he had been watching the reaction from everyone at SPF.

People were talking more about depression, not associating it with Caibi at all.

It was indeed a windfall.

At this moment, Huo Ren’s mind had just settled, and his speech became even more composed and calm, manipulating words without any psychological pressure.

Chi Ji was still alive.

Yao Yao was keeping him hidden, completely out of sight.

When he looked at Han Qu again, the remnants of hatred and disgust in his eyes were concealed, making him appear like a useless celebrity.

“I didn’t take good care of Xiao Chi.” Huo Ren showed a pained expression, laying emotions and clues before Han Qu to make him lower his guard, “I should be blamed for this. It’s only right that so many people online are cursing me…”

He rambled on about past events, his redundant repetitive statements subtly lowering his status, making himself seem more incompetent and foolish.

Before Huo Ren could finish, Han Qu’s eyes revealed an understanding look, listening to those memories somewhat perfunctorily, occasionally nodding in understanding.

“You should rest,” Pei Ruye suggested he stop, gracefully continuing with a veiled compliment, “President Han is now a successor in the circle. You should socialize more with him when you have the chance, instead of dwelling on the past.”

Without waiting for Huo Ren to respond, the man turned to Han Qu, extending a rare polite and humble handshake, “This year we also owe it to President Han’s care… In a few more years, you’ll probably be able to open doors in both circles.”

“But as the sole heir, why push yourself so hard?” Pei Ruye sighed softly, “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Han Qu remained somewhat cautious, but couldn’t help feeling flattered by the praise.

“It’s also strict home training,” he responded to the flattery unwittingly, rounding off the conversation politely while not forgetting to praise himself, “You have to make some achievements.”

After a round of toasts, Han Qu returned to his seat, and a trusted aide mysteriously leaned in.

“President Han, how are things?”

Han Qu snorted, letting a little internet celebrity giggle and refill his drink on the side.

“Having had little contact before, I thought he was some tough guy.”

He scoffed, relaxing a lot in his seat.

“…Just that.”

***

At half past midnight, in the practice room.

Han Yang practiced until his legs felt like they were filled with lead, then lay back on the floor and rolled a couple of times, before holding the back of his head and yelling.

Ouch, hit my head.

He noticed someone watching him and got up to look in that direction.

“Is that you?”

“Do you practice this late every day?” the youth asked.

Realizing his sprawled position was unseemly, Han Yang rolled half a circle to sit up more gracefully, comparing their heights as he stood.

Geez, so much shorter.

“Aren’t you from the A-class… Why haven’t you gone back so late?”

Fu Mingnian glanced at the video still playing on loop, speaking unhurriedly, “Just finished practicing, I usually need extra physical training.”

As they talked, Han Yang finally noticed the equipment bag the other was holding.

“I see…” Not knowing what else to say, he ended awkwardly, “Then I’ll keep practicing.”

Fu Mingnian remembered the three years he spent at SPF, raising his eyes to ask, “Are you afraid of being eliminated?”

“Not really, I want to see how much I can improve—plus, I’ve grabbed a spot for the face-to-face audition.” Han Yang stretched out his arm, making a large heart shape, “I love what I do, that’s just my personality.”

“I’ll join you.”

“Eh? No, no need!”

“Effort isn’t just accumulated over time.” Fu Mingnian stood beside him, indicating for him to watch the movements in the mirror, “You need to identify the core issue first, then solve it.”

Han Yang, being coached in dancing by a high school student three or four years younger, felt awkward like a middle schooler.

“It’s not that you can’t remember the moves, it’s that you get confused when the rhythm speeds up,” the youth guided, “Let’s start from the beginning.”

“…Aren’t you tired this late?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Fu Mingnian was still focused on the mirror, “I’ve bought your sketchbook.”

I’ve also been following your Weibo for years, helping out is the least I can do.

“!!!”

On Tuesday morning, as usual, the trainees went to their respective classes for practice, following the tutor’s instructions to catch up on a series of basic skills, when they suddenly heard continuous cheers coming from the next classroom.

—The mentors had come for inspection again.

Due to filming requirements, the mentors would personally teach each of the four classes, but usually, their visits were brief and infrequent.

First, because their high status meant they didn’t need to do such things, and second, because people at their level were so busy that being able to eat on time was an achievement; time was a more precious resource than money.

But this time, two mentors came at once.

And they visited every class.

The younger trainees watched Pei Ruye and Huo Ren walk by the window side by side, struggling to resist the urge to run over for autographs.

Brother Ren!! Brother Ren, when I was in junior high, I skipped lunch to save money for your albums!!!

Mr. Huo—I’ve been a fan of Corona for six years and a fan of Cold Blade for eight years—Mr. Huo, when will you release new songs—

It’s Boss Pei, really Boss Pei!! Will Boss Pei dance today? I really want to see it, really want to see!!