Gu Shiyue had just seen the notification. He had only glanced at the post title and hadn’t clicked through to read it yet.
Jiang Luo clutched his phone, agonizing over it for a long time, before finally giving a vague reply: I sent it to the wrong person, Senior.
Gu Shiyue knew perfectly well that those two messages were intended for him. He asked a question he already knew the answer to: Not sent to me?
Jiang Luo answered honestly: It was for you. I didn’t send it to the wrong person; I sent the wrong thing.
It seemed Gu Shiyue hadn’t clicked on the post yet. Jiang Luo let out a sigh of relief and typed back happily: It’s nothing, not anything important.
He thought he could just brush it off with a joke, but to his surprise, Gu Shiyue replied: Send it over again.
Jiang Luo: It’s really not that important… It’s fine if you don’t look at it.
Gu Shiyue: Is it not important, or do you just not want me to see it?
Jiang Luo felt guilty under his questioning, unsure how to reply. Gu Shiyue was too clever; lying would be useless. It was better to be honest.
Jiang Luo: If I say I don’t want you to see it, can you just not look?
Gu Shiyue: No.
Jiang Luo was out of options and sent a [choosing to die] meme.
Gu Shiyue: Tell me then.
Gu Shiyue: The reason why you don’t want me to see it.
Jiang Luo: The comments section… is too inappropriate. I’m afraid you’ll be unhappy if you read it.
Gu Shiyue: Send it over.
Jiang Luo had no choice but to forward the post to him.
To view the comments, one needed to download the app. Gu Shiyue didn’t have it, so as soon as he clicked the post, the page redirected and started an automatic download. He wasn’t interested in the photos of himself in the original post; he was just curious about what in the comments section made Jiang Luo so desperate to hide it.
Gu Shiyue scrolled down through the comments and gave them a quick scan.
Jiang Luo had gone silent after sharing the post.
After Gu Shiyue finished “judging” the comments section, he exited the app. As soon as he left, the homepage refreshed automatically. Thanks to the algorithm, the feed was filled with posts related to Jiang Luo’s autograph session.
The screen was full of interaction videos from the event. Gu Shiyue clicked on one at random.
——【[/Video/] Raw footage, no filters, no BGM. The haters who were trying to stir up trouble earlier can shut up now. #LuoC #LuoCAutographSession】
Gu Shiyue scanned the comments section.
— Holy crap, his voice is so good…
— It really is super good, ahhh, I almost fainted at the scene.
— My god, such an authoritative face…
— Hahahaha, for those who said they were waiting for Luo C to be a “see-through-the-filter” disappointment, was it a slap in the face?
— He’s truly handsome, even better looking in person than in photos, and the makeup is very light and natural. You can tell his base features are amazing. Sigh, I’m going to be obsessed for a long time.
— Just a passerby here, may I ask who this cosplayer is? Any guidance?
— He’s super sincere and professional! He responded to every single sentence throughout the whole event. The experience was amazing, I’m dying, those who went know how worth it this session was, already looking forward to the next one!
— Our baby Luo is truly, truly the best [crying][crying][crying]
Someone in the comments posted Jiang Luo’s account ID. Gu Shiyue clicked on the profile to take a look.
Jiang Luo’s account on this platform only featured his cosplay photos, with almost no daily posts. Gu Shiyue scrolled down and caught a few photos of duo-cosplay.
Looking closely, he could tell the other person in the photos was Cheng Jiashu. There were quite a few such duo-photos on Jiang Luo’s page, and they were almost all taken with Cheng Jiashu.
An intimate duo-photo suddenly caught his eye. Gu Shiyue’s gaze stalled, and he squinted slightly at the photo.
Jiang Luo had tagged Cheng Jiashu in the post, whose ID was “A Fake Tree.” The post had a very high number of likes, and the comments were strangely uniform. Scrolling down, there was a long string of “TreeLuo99,” like some kind of secret code.
TreeLuo99.
Of course, Gu Shiyue understood what that meant.
Jiang Luo was quiet; Gu Shiyue was also quiet. It had been a while since the post was sent, and he hadn’t said a single word or replied to a single message. Jiang Luo even suspected that the comments section had rendered him speechless—so speechless that he had been “guilt-by-association” along with Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo didn’t want to be implicated, so he took the initiative to send a message: Senior, are you still there?
Gu Shiyue was with his uncle. He had taken advantage of a moment while his uncle was on a call to check his phone. Now, he was talking to his uncle and hadn’t replied to Jiang Luo.
After three minutes passed without a reply, Jiang Luo’s heart sank.
Was he really implicated?
Jiang Luo sent another: Senior?
Still no reply.
Jiang Luo climbed down from his bed, pacing back and forth by the bedside while clutching his phone. He typed and deleted, typed and deleted in the chat box.
Finally, he sent: Senior, why aren’t you replying to me [bitter].
Jiang Luo circled his room, cradling his phone, eyes locked on the screen, looking restless. Jiang Chen turned his head to look at him: “Brother, what’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Jiang Luo looked up. “Ah, nothing. I just overate, I’m just pacing to digest.”
Jiang Chen was skeptical but didn’t ask further: “Oh.”
“Did I disturb you?” Jiang Luo sat back on the bed. “I’ll stop moving.”
“No.”
Buzz. The phone vibrated, and Jiang Luo sat up straight with a jolt.
Gu Shiyue: I wasn’t looking at my phone just now.
Gu Shiyue: What’s wrong?
Jiang Luo: You weren’t replying, so I thought you had implicated me in your anger TvT.
Gu Shiyue: What bad thing did you do that I would implicate you?
Jiang Luo: Nothing, I didn’t do anything bad.
Jiang Luo: I was just afraid that after you read the comments section of that post, you’d be unhappy and, by extension, not like me anymore, and wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore [bitter].
Gu Shiyue: Do I look that homophobic to you, that you’re so afraid of me being unhappy?
Jiang Luo was just about to type when Gu Shiyue’s next message arrived: Or are you homophobic?
Jiang Luo stared at the screen, stunned.
Jiang Luo: I’m not, I’m not homophobic.
Gu Shiyue didn’t say anything more and just replied: Hmm.
Jiang Luo stared blankly at the phone, feeling a bit bewildered by the question. The conversation between the two didn’t continue.
Jiang Luo sat there holding his phone for a long time before clicking back into the post to look again. He hadn’t cared about netizens “shipping” him with others, so his first reaction to the comments was fear that Gu Shiyue would be upset. He hadn’t stopped to think why the comments section had suddenly veered off course, with so many people inexplicably shipping them.
He slowly scrolled down, and the comments he had previously scanned in a hurry were now clear before his eyes—
“Their interaction is truly too ambiguous…”
Seeing this comment, Jiang Luo’s ears turned red for no reason, and he felt a belated sense of embarrassment.
What is this…
Where is it ambiguous…
Jiang Luo rubbed his ears, tossed his phone onto the headboard, flipped over onto his stomach on the bed, and pulled the quilt over his head to cover his face. He cocooned himself for a while, and after a moment of silence, suddenly poked half his head out, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Jiang Chen got up to go to the bathroom and turned to see his brother wrapped in a ball on the bed. His brother had been acting weird all night; he didn’t know what was going on.
“Brother, what are you doing?” Jiang Chen walked over and asked. “Isn’t it hot wrapped up like that?”
Jiang Luo looked at him: “Xiao Chen, let me ask you a question.”
“What?”
“During the autograph session today, when that ‘Brother Gu Shiyue’ came on stage, did my state look… very strange?” He didn’t know how to ask; he couldn’t just ask “Did our interaction look a bit ambiguous?” could he?
Jiang Chen thought for a moment and said: “A little.”
“Where was it strange? Be specific.”
Jiang Chen was a blank slate, his mind as clear as glass, so naturally, he couldn’t explain it: “…I can’t really say. Isn’t that what you said, that you were startled?”
“Yeah…” Jiang Luo muttered absentmindedly, “I was startled…”
“Brother, what’s wrong with you today? You’re acting weird.”
” …I’m overthinking a bunch of nonsense.” Jiang Luo kicked off the quilt and got out of bed. “Never mind.”
For this autograph session, Jiang Luo had announced in advance that he wouldn’t accept flowers or gifts, so fans only sent letters—a huge bag full of them. Jiang Luo sorted through them, planning to read them slowly after returning home.
While sorting the letters, Jiang Luo saw a gift box in the bag. Only then did he remember he had forgotten to give this to Gu Shiyue. It was a needle-felt keychain he had made himself, meant as a belated birthday gift. There had been too much going on today, and he had forgotten.
Jiang Luo took out his phone and clicked into his chat with Gu Shiyue. Their conversation had stopped at an awkward point, which was why Jiang Luo hadn’t been able to settle his mind all night—it felt like he was left hanging in mid-air.
If it stayed this awkward, he probably wouldn’t get any sleep.
Jiang Luo wanted to break the awkwardness, so he used the excuse of forgetting the gift to send a WeChat message, chatting naturally as he usually did.
Jiang Luo: Senior, I forgot to give you your gift today =w=
It took a while for Gu Shiyue to reply: What gift?
Jiang Luo: Your belated birthday gift. It’s a little thing I made myself. I thought if you came to the convention today, I’d give it to you then, but I forgot. I can only give it to you after the holiday =w=
Gu Shiyue: I’ll come and get it.
Jiang Luo: Ah? Now??
Gu Shiyue: I’m out. I’ll pass by your place on my way back.
Gu Shiyue: I’ll be there in an hour. I’ll message you when I arrive.
During the hot pot earlier, the call Gu Shiyue received was from his uncle. His uncle was back in town with some business to handle and would be staying for a few days. Liang Siheng usually stayed in a fixed top-floor suite at a hotel when he was back for short stays, which was convenient. Gu Shiyue had been with him since dinner ended.
While waiting for Gu Shiyue, Jiang Luo was pulled into Cheng Jiashu’s room to play games. Cheng Jiashu’s room was on the same floor as Jiang Luo’s, making it easy to visit. Jiang Luo thought Gu Shiyue was an hour away, so he played a round with Cheng Jiashu.
After finishing the round, Jiang Luo went downstairs to get his laundry. While he was getting his clothes, Cheng Jiashu, lying on the bed, grew sleepy. He tossed his phone aside, closed his eyes, and fell asleep before long.
When Jiang Luo reached the laundry room, he discovered the dryer function on the machine he was using was broken; the washed clothes were still wet, forcing him to switch machines to dry them again.
Gu Shiyue arrived early. He sent Jiang Luo a message, waited a while, and when no one replied, he called directly.
Cheng Jiashu hadn’t been asleep long. Hearing the ringtone, he fumbled at the head of the bed with his eyes closed. Being muddled with sleep, he didn’t realize it wasn’t his own phone and tapped the screen randomly, answering the call.
“Hello?” Cheng Jiashu’s tone was a bit impatient, his voice raspy from just waking up.
Gu Shiyue sat in his car, silent.
“Who is this?” Cheng Jiashu frowned, his eyes still closed.
Gu Shiyue could recognize Cheng Jiashu’s voice. With an expressionless face, he spoke: “Where’s Jiang Luo?”