Chi Zhiyue’s hair brushed against Luo Ye’s cheek, tickling him. But Luo Ye was a bit stunned, paying no mind to the stray strands.

“Did you calculate this from the start?” Luo Ye asked.

The person resting on his shoulder responded with a muffled voice, “If I had started at half an hour, you definitely wouldn’t have agreed.”

“…You’re pretty clever.” Luo Ye parted his lips, unable to find words to refute him.

Compared to half an hour, seven minutes indeed felt much more reasonable.

People truly love compromises.

“Did you take a shower today? There’s a fragrance on you,” Luo Ye heard Chi Zhiyue’s voice drift from against his neck.

“That’s just the smell of laundry detergent; it’s nowhere near as fragrant as you,” Luo Ye glanced down slightly. “Every time you come to our department, those colleagues of mine debate what brand you use.”

“What about you, then?” Chi Zhiyue’s voice suddenly drew closer. “Do you think it smells nice?”

As he spoke, Luo Ye could feel faint, warm breaths brushing across his neck.

In this quiet corner, free of excess noise, every subtle movement was silently magnified.

Tickled, he shrank his neck back slightly, his fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of Chi Zhiyue’s down jacket: “It’s fine. Suits you quite well.”

“That’s good.” The grip Chi Zhiyue had around his waist tightened slightly, pulling him even closer. His voice grew muffled, and he stopped speaking.

Luo Ye didn’t say anything more either.

People constantly passed by the corner opening. The sounds of footsteps and laughter approached and receded, distinctly reaching Luo Ye’s ears.

At first, he had worried whether those people would talk about them, but as time trickled by, he gradually forgot to care, his heartbeat settling into a steady rhythm.

By the time he snapped out of it, Chi Zhiyue had already released him.

Luo Ye pulled out his phone to check the time. They had agreed on seven minutes, but they had only hugged for about three.

Before he could ask, Chi Zhiyue smoothed away the loose strands of hair falling before Luo Ye’s eyes, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he said, “Standing for too long makes the legs sore. Let’s save the rest for next time.”

Luo Ye’s eyes instantly lit up. Rolling his nearly stiff neck, he said, “Man, you’re so right. Just these few minutes made my neck ache.”

Chi Zhiyue chuckled, reaching out to adjust Luo Ye’s crooked low-cut collar, his fingertips inadvertently brushing across his Adam’s apple.

Focused entirely on his own outfit, Luo Ye hastily tidied his clothes, deliberately doing a full turn in front of Chi Zhiyue: “Is it fixed now?”

“It’s fixed,” Chi Zhiyue took Luo Ye’s hand once more. “Let’s go, we can head inside now.”

The two stepped out from the secluded corner and walked into the auditorium one after the other.

The venue was not overly large, seating approximately two thousand people. A glowstick was placed on every chair, tied with a thin string behind it.

A rectangular stage stood at the very front of the arena, with three microphones set in the center and an electronic keyboard and drum kit neatly arranged behind them.

Even before the lights came on, Luo Ye could already feel the electric tension of the stage.

Many audience members were trickling in to find their seats. Luo Ye followed Chi Zhiyue up the steps, looking all around: “Which row are we in?”

“Fourth row,” Chi Zhiyue looked back at him, offering a supportive hand. “Watch your step.”

“Got it.” Luo Ye turned sideways to let others pass, taking another step into the aisle for the fourth row.

Chi Zhiyue sat down in a seat near the middle, patting the empty seat to his left. Luo Ye quickly sat down.

Their arrival was timed to perfection. The moment Luo Ye took off his coat and laid it across his lap, the bright house lights gradually dimmed, leaving only a few frontal spotlights shining gently on the open stage.

“Thank you all for waiting! The performance is about to begin.” A brisk, upbeat voice sounded softly from backstage.

The instant the words dropped, the entire venue erupted.

Luo Ye’s heart surged with excitement as he waved his glowstick along with the crowd.

A few minutes later, the five band members took the stage one by one to a deafening roar of applause and cheers.

This was Luo Ye’s first concert in six months; that familiar rush of adrenaline and thrill swept through his entire body instantly, cheering along with the crowd.

Band musicians were straightforward by nature, especially these singers with an average age of thirty-five.

After brief introductions and a few lighthearted jokes without any drawn-out preludes, the drummer struck the first beat—crisp and powerful, instantly igniting the atmosphere.

The spotlights flared to life, sweeping across the dark arena, and the venue exploded into an even more fervent roar.

Lead singer Sister AK possessed a clear, powerful voice, her enunciation crisp, infused with vibrant drive.

Bassist Brother Hua was steady and reserved, plucking the strings to firmly anchor the rhythm of the entire song; guitarist Xiao Mai’s fingers flew across the fretboard in a display of dazzling technique, joining the chorus.

Drummer FUNK swung his sticks with precision, hitting every single beat, and finally, Ah Sa’s melodious piano drifted smoothly into the listeners’ ears.

The entire arena vibrated with the rhythm. Some screamed along, while others closed their eyes to sing in unison.

The camera panned across young, impassioned faces. No one cared about being shy on camera, pouring themselves entirely into the show, unleashing their youth and restless passion.

Phone flashlights lit up one after another, merging into a swaying sea of stars. Rising and falling in the darkness like these songs—free, stubborn, and unconstrained—they illuminated the entire arena.

“Ah—you say we are as fleeting as the wind. Scattering with a gust, emptying with a touch.”

“Yet I insist on plunging into the surging crowd, letting every heartbeat hold fearless resolve.”

At every climax, AK turned her microphone toward the audience, and the crowd immediately sang along in unison:

“Breaking through the dark toward the light!”

“This journey is a madness with no looking back—”

Whenever a song concluded, the roaring cheers intertwined with the music, reluctant to fade.

Luo Ye sang along to every track, feeling as though he had spent an hour in a KTV private room. By the end, fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

It wasn’t until the intermission lights turned on that he realized his throat was parched dry, coughing a few times.

Beside him, Chi Zhiyue stood up: “Sit here for a bit, I’ll go buy some water.”

Holding his throat, Luo Ye said raspily, “Oh, thanks.”

Chi Zhiyue returned shortly, carrying two bottles of water and two simple bento boxes in his arms. Sitting back down, he unscrewed one bottle and handed it to Luo Ye.

Tilting his head back, Luo Ye chugged more than half the bottle in one breath, letting out a satisfied ha, his voice returning to normal: “Being in the front rows is awesome! You can see and hear everything so clearly!”

Leaning against the backrest, Chi Zhiyue held the remaining bottle of water with both hands, his gaze fixed on Luo Ye from start to finish.

A few strands of Luo Ye’s hair clung to his sweat-dampened cheek, which was slightly flushed from the heat. The reflections of the stage lights danced in his lovely green eyes, his brows and eyes glowing as he spoke.

Because Chi Zhiyue hadn’t been as worked up, only singing along when the lead singer directed the mic at the crowd and quietly waving his glowstick the rest of the time, his throat felt fine.

Yet right now, his throat felt a bit itchy.

Chi Zhiyue’s gaze shifted downward, settling on Luo Ye’s hand: “You’re very happy.”

Luo Ye nodded vigorously, beaming: “Yeah! Whenever I came to concerts with my brother before, we could only snag back-row tickets. I’ve never sat this close to the front.”

“You have a younger brother?” Chi Zhiyue took a pack of tissues from his pocket, pulled out a sheet, and pressed it against Luo Ye’s cheek.

Luo Ye hummed an affirmative, taking the tissue, and glanced at Chi Zhiyue, who hadn’t broken a sweat at all.

So envious, Luo Ye muttered inwardly, continuing to wipe his sweat.

Chi Zhiyue raised an eyebrow: “So all those pictures of someone’s back on your Moments are your brother?”

“Yeah,” Luo Ye lowered his head to wipe his forehead. “He turns sixteen in a few months.”

“Oh—” Chi Zhiyue fell silent.

Luo Ye didn’t pay much mind to the silence. After wiping his face, he stuffed the trash into his pocket, snapped a few photos of the stage, and began eating his dinner.

A few minutes later, the intermission ended, and a new round of performances began.

The second half was just as roaring with energy, the waves of collective singing soaring straight to the dome.

At 8:20 PM, the three-hour performance drew to a close.

The closing track was one of the Wild Grass Band’s rare ballads—gentle yet majestic, enveloping the entire arena like an incoming tide.

As the final note faded, AK picked up the microphone: “Thank you all for completing this stage with us. We’re thrilled to have shared such a joyful experience with everyone, but every journey has its brief stops. Our train temporarily halts here for now; we look forward to seeing you all again at the Chongqing stop! Please make sure you have all your belongings before leaving. I’m AK Dian-Dian, and I love you all.”

Instantly, thunderous applause and cheers lingered without fading. The house lights gradually came on, illuminating the entire venue.

Gathering their belongings, the audience exited in an orderly fashion.

Footsteps and laughter intertwined; it seemed many people would be too thrilled to sleep tonight.

Luo Ye wanted to stand up too. The moment he lifted off the chair, his hand was caught by Chi Zhiyue: “Let them go first, then we’ll leave.”

“Ah, okay.” Luo Ye sat back down obediently, letting Chi Zhiyue hold his hand, fingertips gently stroking between his fingers.

The two sat motionless in their seats, watching the people around them gradually clear out.

Bored with nothing to do, Luo Ye pulled out his phone again to play the mini-game he had been tricked into downloading by ads. Chi Zhiyue rested his right elbow on the armrest, holding his phone to check messages.

Once the front rows were completely empty and Luo Ye finished another level to watch an ad, Chi Zhiyue’s fingers slowly stopped stroking his right hand.

“What’s wrong?” Luo Ye turned to look at Chi Zhiyue.

Chi Zhiyue sat up straight: “He’s here. We can go now.”

As he spoke, a blond, handsome guy stepped out from backstage, walked straight onto the platform, and waved in their direction: “Chi Zhiyue, just come in through the back door.”

This handsome fellow wore a Hawaiian-style floral shirt with a pair of sunglasses perched on his blond hair, his grin distinctly flashy.

Calling him a crew member seemed too casual, but if he were an actor, Luo Ye had never seen him before.

At that moment, Chi Zhiyue leaned close to his ear, answering in a voice only the two of them could hear: “He’s the bro who gave me the tickets. He should be younger than both of us; you can just call him Du Ruo.”

Luo Ye looked at Chi Zhiyue, then back at Du Ruo standing with his flamboyant posture.

Luo Ye: “…Your bro isn’t a stagehand, is he?”

Chi Zhiyue: “How did you tell?”

Luo Ye: “I’ve never seen such a flashy stagehand.”

Chi Zhiyue chuckled softly, pulling Luo Ye up as he explained leisurely, “When I said ‘sort of’ back then, it’s because he does oversee the backstage workflow, but he isn’t the actual director. He’s more like someone sent by upper management to keep an eye on them.”

Luo Ye paused, coming to an understanding: “Oh, that makes total sense now.”

He followed Chi Zhiyue into the backstage corridor, where Du Ruo had already turned in to wait for them.

Looking closer, Luo Ye realized Du Ruo had blue eyes.

Du Ruo smiled and extended his hand: “Hello, hello! I’m Du Ruo. You must be Chi Zhiyue’s crush, right? Even more handsome in person than in pictures.”

Cru… Luo Ye turned to look at Chi Zhiyue, who looked back at him with an innocent expression.

Unable to bring himself to ask, Luo Ye swallowed his words and politely shook Du Ruo’s hand: “Hello, I’m Luo Ye.”

“I know, I know. He talks about you all the time; we’re all familiar with your name,” Du Ruo tipped his chin up with a grin. “Follow me first, I’ll take you to meet AK and the rest.”

If Chi Zhiyue gave off a steady aura—the type who wouldn’t cry or make a fuss even if a nail were driven into his forehead—then Du Ruo seemed like the type to dial emergency services the second he stubbed his toe on a bedpost.

Not that he was frivolous, but it made Luo Ye deeply curious about how the two of them became friends.

For someone as pure and simple as Chi Zhiyue, wouldn’t he have been scammed multiple times by this Du Ruo?

Du Ruo walked ahead with one hand in his pocket, humming a tune and greeting staff members, while Luo Ye and Chi Zhiyue followed behind him.

Because there were many people around, Luo Ye didn’t hold hands with Chi Zhiyue, but they stayed close enough that they could hear each other even in low voices.

Looking at Du Ruo’s hair, which didn’t look bleached, Luo Ye couldn’t resist whispering to Chi Zhiyue: “Is your bro a foreigner?”

Chi Zhiyue tilted his head close to his ear, replying softly, “Half. I recall his grandmother is local.”

“Oh,” Luo Ye suddenly remembered something. “He isn’t the ‘old money’ you mentioned before, is he?”

Chi Zhiyue nodded.

Luo Ye: “…” Alright then, here comes the extravagant old money.

Remembering the three two-hundred-yuan transfers from last time, Luo Ye quickly pulled on Chi Zhiyue’s sleeve, kindly reminding him: “Don’t copy him by throwing money around recklessly, got it? We’re not like him.”

Chi Zhiyue’s eyes curved into a smile, his finger lightly tapping the back of Luo Ye’s hand: “Then what do you like me giving you? Directly setting up date locations with you?”

After this blockbuster date, Luo Ye no longer felt any repulsion toward the word “date.”

If dates were always at this standard, what more could he ask for? It was on par with baiting the waters for an angler or gifting a full set of original animation drafts to a seasoned anime fan.

If he didn’t show gratitude, what kind of man would he be?

Thus, setting aside his previous awkwardness, Luo Ye thought seriously for a few seconds: “You treated these past two times; I’ll treat next time.”

Chi Zhiyue nodded: “Sure. Where do you want to take me?”

“Where do you usually go when you’re off?” Luo Ye looked up and asked him.

“Amusement parks, the beach, or hiking,” Chi Zhiyue answered promptly.

Luo Ye was surprised, freezing for a moment before laughing: “I didn’t expect you to like those places. Sounds like school field trips for kids.”

Just as he finished speaking, Du Ruo stopped abruptly in front of a white door, turning around: “Alright, you two can stop making out now. We’re here.”

Luo Ye was utterly baffled: “? Who’s making out?”

“Sure, sure, no making out,” Du Ruo mumbled dismissively, knocking on the door. “AK, we’re coming in.”

“Okay~” came the reply from inside.

Luo Ye wanted to explain further, but once the door opened and he saw the dazzling band members from the stage standing right in front of him, the words caught in his throat.

AK stepped forward with a smile, sizing him up with a warm tone: “So you’re Xiao Chi’s boyfriend. Truly handsome.”

Xiao Mai leaned over as well, staring into Luo Ye’s eyes: “Whoa, your eyes are gorgeous. What breed are you? Cat, dog, or rabbit?”

Brother Hua stood up with a start, squeezing in beside them: “Damn, bro, you’re tall too! What line of work are you in? Not an idol, right?”

Standing face-to-face with the idols he had admired since childhood, Luo Ye was both thrilled and nervous, his heart pounding frantically. Stiff in his hands and feet, he drew a complete blank, unable to utter a single word.

Fortunately, a pair of hands gently held his arm. Luo Ye instinctively turned his head.

Leaning lightly against him, Chi Zhiyue’s gaze swept over the band members as he said leisurely, “Bombarding him with questions all at once—even I wouldn’t be able to answer, let alone him when he doesn’t know you well yet.”

Snapping out of his daze, Luo Ye quickly followed up: “Ah, right! I can answer them one by one.”

Luo Ye felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude in his heart. This rescue was top-tier.

Next time Chi Zhiyue wanted a hug, let alone seven minutes, even seventeen minutes would be plenty.

Luo Ye leaned close to Chi Zhiyue’s ear, whispering softly: “Thank you.”

Chi Zhiyue gave him a gentle smile, lightly patting his arm.

“Oh, don’t just stand at the door. Sit down and chat,” AK welcomed them in.

As Luo Ye walked inside, he instinctively glanced at Chi Zhiyue. Chi Zhiyue tipped his chin toward the sofa, murmuring, “Go ahead. I have something to discuss with Du Ruo.”

“Okay.” Without thinking much of it, Luo Ye turned and headed over to the sofa to chat with the band.

The band members weren’t aloof at all, contrary to what Luo Ye had imagined; instead, they were very warm and approachable.

While AK possessed the composed aura of a band leader on stage, she was quite lively in private. Just as she was about to sit on the armrest of the sofa, Brother Hua supported her waist: “Careful. Sitting on the edge is dangerous. Didn’t you hurt yourself falling last time? Want to take another spill?”

“I know, I won’t fall,” AK said with a grin. “Don’t I have you here?”

“You really are…” Brother Hua still kept his hand supporting her.

AK and Brother Hua were a publicly acknowledged couple who had married a few years ago; back then, congratulatory posts on their Super Topic had updated by the thousands within a single day.

Without exaggeration, if this sweet moment were posted online, Luo Ye could edit ten fan-cam videos out of it on his own.

“I heard you’ve been listening to our songs for a long time?” Xiao Mai asked, leaning in beside Luo Ye.

Luo Ye nodded: “Since middle school, I think.”

“Whoa, that really is a long time,” Xiao Mai calculated the timeline. “That was right around our debut years. Which song is your favorite?”

“Blossom upon Blossom, that was the track that pulled me into the fandom,” Luo Ye answered.

Once the conversation turned to music, Luo Ye relaxed completely, shedding his awkwardness. He answered every question fluently, recalling even the most obscure details of their lesser-known songs with crystal clarity.

Hearing Luo Ye bring up their niche tracks and the stories behind them, the band members were pleasantly surprised. Their fondness for him surged, and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

Sitting on a high stool in front of the vanity mirror, Du Ruo swayed his head as he watched the harmonious scene: “How far along are you two?”

Leaning lazily against the wall, Chi Zhiyue looked at his phone: “Hugging.”

“So you really haven’t kissed yet,” Du Ruo scoffed. “When I casually mentioned you two were making out, he got so defensive.”

“Take it slow, step by step.” Chi Zhiyue looked up, his gaze settling on Luo Ye.

Deep in cheerful conversation, Luo Ye casually gathered his loose hair back into a braid, styling it with a few stray wisps framing his face.

Suddenly remembering his main task, he scratched his chin in embarrassment and looked at AK: “Sister AK, my brother is a huge fan of yours. Could you give me an autograph?”

AK nodded generously, turning around with a smile to retrieve a brand-new album from the drawer and handing it to Luo Ye.

The album cover featured artwork Luo Ye had never seen before, signed by all five members beside it.

Luo Ye was stunned: “This is…”

Brother Hua explained from the side: “This is our new album coming out this year, with fresh signatures on it. Consider it a gift to you.”

With such a massive surprise dropping into his lap, Luo Ye stood up instantly, beaming with delight. He took the album with both hands, turning it over and over to look at it.

“Hope you like it,” AK said.

“I love it, of course I love it!” Luo Ye was thrilled out of his mind, clutching the album tightly. “I’m going to rally everyone around me to support you guys!”

“Hahaha, as long as you like it,” AK chuckled, glancing at her phone. “Hey, do you play any instruments? Let’s record a video together.”

Everyone looked at Luo Ye simultaneously. Scratching his chin self-consciously, Luo Ye said, “Actually, I know a few guitar chords. I learned a long time ago and forgot most of it now.”

“That’s easy, I can teach you. It’ll take no time,” Xiao Mai offered.

“Sure, let me see if I can pick it up,” Luo Ye nodded.

Du Ruo looked at the group tinkering with instruments, then glanced at Chi Zhiyue, who remained placid against the wall. He couldn’t resist poking his arm: “You’re not jealous?”

Chi Zhiyue glanced at him, his tone flat: “Why would I be jealous?”

“I thought you’d rush up and say, ‘I know how to play guitar too, let me teach you, let me try,'” Du Ruo mockingly imitated Chi Zhiyue’s tone.

Their vocal timbres were completely different; Du Ruo sounded more like a rooster forced to crow after being fed sleeping pills.

It made Chi Zhiyue laugh.

“How old do you think I am? I’m not that childish,” Chi Zhiyue lowered his hand, his fingers slowly rubbing his phone. “Liking is liking, admiration is admiration. Luo Ye can tell the difference, and so can I.”

“For real? So noble-minded.” Du Ruo looked at Chi Zhiyue in disbelief, trying to spot a trace of insecurity, but was thoroughly disappointed.

“Fine, I was being childish,” Du Ruo conceded.

Just then, Xiao Mai came over asking Du Ruo to shoot a video from his angle. Du Ruo handed the phone to Chi Zhiyue: “You’re filming your partner, so you’ll definitely make it look better.”

Without a word, Chi Zhiyue took the phone, walked to the spot Xiao Mai indicated, and started recording.

Luo Ye was seated in the center of the frame, wearing that sweater, cradling a guitar in his arms.

Because he was a little nervous, there wasn’t much of a smile on his face; when not smiling, Luo Ye naturally carried a cool, striking aura.

The lighting washed over his soft hair, tracing along his sharp yet gentle jawline.

The moment his fingers plucked the strings, the melody flowed out softly. The others hummed along, creating a warm, cozy atmosphere.

When the song ended, everyone gathered around the phone to watch the playback, all praising Chi Zhiyue’s camerawork.

It truly was great—not only capturing everyone, but incorporating smooth panning movements as well.

After just forty minutes together, Xiao Mai already treated Luo Ye like a close friend, patting his shoulder naturally: “Luo Ye, practice a bit more and make your debut. No joke, it’d be a waste of this face if you didn’t become an idol.”

Luo Ye stepped over, leaning his head close to Chi Zhiyue’s shoulder to watch the video, turning with a smile: “Same goes for Chi Zhiyue. His hands are so steady; it’s a waste he isn’t a videographer.”

Taking the opportunity, Chi Zhiyue took Luo Ye’s hand, his fingers gently locking into his, and leaned close to his ear to ask: “It’s almost 9:30 PM. When should we head out?”

“It’s 9:30 already?” Luo Ye nodded immediately, putting on his down jacket. “We really should get going.”

Beside them, Du Ruo scoffed: “And you claimed you weren’t jealous—holding his hand so tightly, keeping such close track of time.”

Luo Ye looked at him, bewildered: “Jealous? Who’s jealous?”

“He’s talking to himself. Let’s go,” Chi Zhiyue gave Luo Ye’s hand a squeeze, turning to nod at the band members. “Sorry for disturbing you today. We’ll take our leave first.”

They walked out of the green room. Luo Ye held the album the entire way; after getting into the car, he looked at it fondlingly several times, chattering away with Chi Zhiyue about everything that had happened today.

Chi Zhiyue responded to each point in a gentle voice.

As it happened, the car stereo played tracks by the Wild Grass Band tonight. In the hazy evening breeze, Luo Ye leaned against the headrest, feeling as though today had been an intoxicating dream.

So surreal, yet wanting so badly for it to be real.

The car pulled up to the subway station, and the two stepped out together.

Walking to the subway entrance, seeing that Chi Zhiyue showed no sign of turning back, Luo Ye tilted his head: “Are you seeing me onto the train too? No need for that.”

“Can’t I?” Chi Zhiyue said in a subdued tone.

Luo Ye looked up at the night sky. He had no idea how many hours had passed on the countdown; before long, another 24 hours would be gone.

He gently persuaded Chi Zhiyue: “It’s getting late. Don’t you have work tomorrow? Head back early and get some sleep.”

Chi Zhiyue fell silent for a few seconds, then nodded: “Alright. Call me when you get back.”

“Okay, I’ll definitely call you,” Luo Ye nodded vigorously. “Thank you so much for today.”

Chi Zhiyue turned around, walking from the subway entrance back toward his car. Just as he stepped onto the pathway, an urgent voice called out from behind.

“Chi Zhiyue!”

Chi Zhiyue turned around.

Under the starlike streetlights, a silhouette rushed through the night, throwing himself recklessly into his embrace.

The motion was so swift that before Chi Zhiyue could even react, he was met with this unexpected surge of a racing heartbeat.

In those fleeting few seconds, Luo Ye’s arms wrapped tightly around his back, burying half his face into the crook of his shoulder.

“This hug doesn’t count toward those minutes. This one is entirely of my own free will.”

__

Author’s Note:

This date was a hug; next time it’ll be the rut/heat period [praying hands].

Wolf enjoys it, Wolf is happy; Ye hugs him, Ye is happy.

——

Luo Ye: Chi Zhiyue is too pure.

Du Ruo: ?

Xu Menghua: ?

Wan Qing: ?