Zhao Chenxing wasn’t planning to move, but as soon as he heard the suggestion, his body reacted faster than his mind, and he got up to switch places with Jiang Liyue. Jiang Liyue happily sat between the sofa armrest and Zhao Chenxing.
Why did Zhao Chenxing’s body move faster than his mind upon hearing such words? Probably because he was trained to do so since childhood.
In crowded public places, Jiang Liyue’s cleanliness obsession would flare up. Whenever he said this, it usually meant someone had triggered his psychological shadow.
Jiang Liyue was too pretty as a child, even prettier than the girls around him. Many parents and aunties mistook him for a little girl, a child star.
However, being too pretty wasn’t always a good thing. When they were only in the first year of middle school, Jiang Liyue and Zhao Chenxing were kidnapped.
The kidnapper had indecent intentions towards the not-yet-fully-grown Jiang Liyue.
He was an outright perverted homosexual.
Zhao Chenxing absentmindedly recalled that terrible experience and noticed a warm sensation against his leg. Looking down, he saw Jiang Liyue’s leg pressed tightly against his. Zhao Chenxing sighed deeply in his heart. He didn’t move his leg away; instead, he pressed it even closer, gently tapping Jiang Liyue’s foot like before.
Tap by tap, the rhythm was slow, a melody Zhao Chenxing often used.
He was tapping out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star Concerto.”
When they were kids, they often used this kind of code to communicate, using melodies from classic piano pieces. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star Concerto” was a favorite of Jiang Liyue’s, and Zhao Chenxing often used this rhythm.
Understanding the code, Jiang Liyue lowered his eyes, hiding the turbulent emotions within, and couldn’t help but let a slight smile tug at the corners of his lips.
He’s still so good. How could I ever let you leave my side again!
Their little foot game went unnoticed by everyone else, who were all focused on listening to Director Qian talk about the script.
Next up was room allocation, which was quite particular.
The second and third floors of the villa were their resting areas and where the game pods were placed. The rooms had varying qualities, and the program team set up the rooms to have stacking buffs in the virtual world.
The first room allocation would be based on their luck to determine if they could get the Lucky God buff or the Misfortune God buff. These buffs were passively triggered in the game, with unknown trigger conditions.
The room allocation needed to be recorded and edited, eventually serving as a bonus for premium members. After the first live broadcast, the release would be adjusted based on specific fan feedback.
Just as Director Qian was explaining the need to record the room allocation clips, Ren Sisi raised her hand.
“Director Qian, are our rooms allocated based on pairs?” Sisi looked troubled, as if there was something difficult to say, “You know, Ye Qiyuan and I aren’t a real couple. We’re on the show to promote the web drama we’re in. Sharing a room feels…”
Director Qian understood and asked, “Then…”
Sisi quickly suggested a new idea before Director Qian could continue, “Since we’re drawing lots for rooms, we could also draw lots for roommates.”
Bai Yanran looked disapproving, frowning slightly, “Would you be okay if you drew a guy as your roommate?”
“Well, if I really drew lots and ended up sharing a room with Teacher Jiang, I’d have to follow the game rules.”
Ren Sisi said such bold words, then shyly glanced at Jiang Liyue. Not seeing his expression clearly, she lowered her head, her cheeks as red as two strange lanterns.
…
Everyone knew what she was implying.
Bai Yanran rolled her eyes discreetly, shivered at the goosebumps on her skin, and ignored the comment. She directly told Director Qian, “I’m okay with changing roommates too. It’s always more convenient for girls to be together.”
Bai Runzhi looked towards his daughter, seeing her cool profile, and swallowed the words he was about to say, clenching his hands on his knees.
Director Qian, of course, didn’t fulfill Ren Sisi’s wish. After discussing with the control room, they decided to put the two girls in one room, but the game pods would still be allocated according to their respective groups.
This meant that the final enjoyment of the lucky or unlucky buffs would still be distributed based on the group. They would just swap resting places.
*
After the recording ended, Director Qian reminded them once more that tomorrow was the first live broadcast. Everyone needed to follow the script’s planned process; otherwise, if something went wrong during the live broadcast, there would be no editing to fix it.
Jiang Liyue and Zhao Chenxing entered their room, and for a moment, they were at a loss for words.
“How can we have no tacit understanding at all? My dear childhood friend,” Zhao Chenxing said, throwing himself onto a bed and staring blankly at the ceiling.
The room allocation required them to play mini-games in groups, one of which was a tacit understanding challenge.
When Zhao Chenxing first heard the game’s name, he thought they would definitely win. After all, no other group had grown up together like they had, so they should have perfect tacit understanding.
Then he was quickly proven wrong.
Games like charades were easy for Zhao Chenxing, but with Jiang Liyue, the “soulful artist,” it was like Mars colliding with Earth, and they both failed miserably.
“Isn’t it because…” We’ve been apart for five years, Jiang Liyue didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing the rest. Some things couldn’t be brought to light, like those hidden bugs that could cause a huge uproar. Jiang Liyue didn’t dare to gamble; he admitted he was scared.
Zhao Chenxing gently closed his eyes, his long, thick eyelashes trembling slightly like little fans.
Neither of them spoke, and a quiet atmosphere spread throughout the room, carrying the chill of late autumn. Outside, it had started to rain at some point, with the autumn wind mixed with raindrops tapping against the windows, creating a crisp, clear sound.
“Buzz—” Zhao Chenxing’s phone rang.
“Jiang Liyue.” Zhao Chenxing’s voice was not quite normal, somewhat dark, and then mixed with weariness, he said, “I’m hungry, I want noodles.”
Jiang Liyue didn’t respond immediately. Such conversations were common between them in the past.
Back then, they spent their summer and winter vacations together day and night. Zhao Chenxing never had a concept of meal times, eating at odd hours. He would even order Jiang Liyue around to serve him, and Jiang Liyue was happy to cook for him, watching with a smile as Zhao Chenxing ate everything and then let out a long, satisfied burp.
The phone continued to buzz. The sound was sharp and piercing in the closed room.
Jiang Liyue pressed his lips together and got up, speaking in a flat tone, “Wait a bit, I’ll go cook for you.”
After closing the door, Jiang Liyue leaned against it with his eyes closed for a moment, lost in thought. The villa’s rooms were well soundproofed, and once the door was closed, no sound from inside could be heard. After a while, Jiang Liyue got up and went to the kitchen downstairs.
The staff had already finished work and left, and the villa, which had been bustling and noisy, suddenly became cold and quiet. The kitchen was fully equipped by the staff, and the fridge was packed with ingredients.
Zhao Chenxing had a heavy taste, loving sweet and spicy flavors, but he didn’t like sweet main dishes. He preferred salty and spicy ones, with his favorite being sour and spicy beef noodles.
After taking the ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the board, Jiang Liyue supported himself on the counter with both hands, exuding the dejected air of a lost dog.
“Liyue, how come you don’t greet your seniors when you see them?”