Xiao Yang still shudders when he recalls that night. It was the night before he was set to leave for Singapore, around two in the morning. Just like usual, Xiao Yang was alone in the underground rehearsal room at the company, practicing his dance. Guo Xiaoli, his agent, had negotiated with the production company in Singapore and secured a little over two minutes of airtime for Xiao Yang’s solo performance. Xiao Yang didn’t want to disappoint Guo-jie, and especially not his fans who would be eagerly waiting for him. He hadn’t eaten dinner and still didn’t feel hungry at this hour. Whenever he got tired from dancing, he would sit on the floor for a while, check the time, and then continue practicing.
The rehearsal room was open 24 hours, but after midnight, besides Xiao Yang, there were very few people around. Nowadays, young idols no longer have to work tirelessly day and night like they did a few years ago. Xiao Yang was somewhat of an exception.
Sometimes Xiao Yang’s classmate, Yi Xuesong, would also come. He was a member of KAIser, serving as the lead dancer. Even though when he came, he often just slept with his head down in the rehearsal room, at least his presence made Xiao Yang feel less afraid.
So when Xiao Yang heard footsteps outside, he thought it was Yi Xuesong coming in. The footsteps came and went, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away. They were intermittent and seemed aimless, just wandering back and forth along the corridors of the ASE’s basement.
Xiao Yang pushed open the door and looked outside. The corridor in the distance was pitch black, with only the area near the entrance of Room 9, where Xiao Yang was, illuminated. Xiao Yang turned off the sound in his headphones and didn’t dare to fully step out of the room. He leaned against the doorway, peering back and forth.
No one in front.
No one behind.
Xiao Yang held his breath, strained his ears to listen, and refrained from making any noise. His heart raced with fear.
The footsteps seemed to have disappeared.
But a few seconds later, they reappeared.
Xiao Yang couldn’t help but want to retreat and close the door, finding a place to hide. He had always been afraid of ghosts since he was a child, afraid of the dark, and even more terrified of being alone in complete darkness. Yi Xuesong used to tease him about this during their school days. Xiao Yang would always wish to punch Yi Xuesong, and he would consider ending their friendship. But now, in this moment, he found himself silently praying that Yi Xuesong would emerge from somewhere in the next second, even if it meant mocking him for being a coward.
“Xiao Yang?” Suddenly, a voice, both extremely familiar and strange, trembled from the depths of darkness in the corridor.
Xiao Yang froze on the spot.
He genuinely thought he had seen a ghost.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
The person who approached was Tang Zhen. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, hats, masks, or any accessories. He appeared alone in the company, seemingly out of nowhere.
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Tang Zhen’s hair had grown much longer than Xiao Yang remembered, jet black and cascading down to his shoulders, making his entire face from forehead to neck appear unrealistically pale. He wore a light-colored coat with oversized sleeves, looking peculiar and slightly wrinkled. It wasn’t until Tang Zhen approached Xiao Yang that he noticed the intricate embroidery of fluttering bird feathers adorning the coat, reminiscent of stage costumes, tightly enveloping Tang Zhen’s figure.
“Did you come alone?” Xiao Yang asked.
“Yeah,” Tang Zhen replied.
“Is Senior Qi Lu not with you? Isn’t he keeping you company at home?”
Tang Zhen shook his head as he walked past Xiao Yang, resembling a ghostly figure in pure white. His voice was hoarse. “Qi Lu went home.”
Xiao Yang closed the door behind him, feeling at a loss for what to do.
“Do you want me to call Qi Lu?” Xiao Yang offered.
Again, Tang Zhen shook his head, indicating no.
Earlier, Xiao Yang had heard people in the company talk about Tang Zhen’s illness. They said he had a condition that came with severe side effects from the medication. His days were turned upside down, sometimes unable to shake off the effects of the medication during the day, leaving him in a state of unconsciousness. Other times, he would suddenly wake up at night and spend the entire night restless, unable to sleep. People with this condition were most prone to wandering and engaging in dangerous actions during the late hours of the night. Guo-jie even arranged for Tang Zhen’s life assistant, Qi Lu, to have a bed placed in the living room of Tang Zhen’s apartment. Qi Lu would monitor Tang Zhen’s movements day and night, to prevent him from running out at night or causing any trouble.
Some people also said that Tang Zhen’s illness had long been over, that he was just a lingering patient on a sickbed, a neurotic. However, a few high-level executives at ASE, as well as Guo Xiaoli, were still attached to the tremendous reputation and benefits that Tang Zhen had brought to the company. They were unwilling to let go of him and held on tightly.
Tang Zhen had become extremely thin, accentuating his slender neck and narrow shoulders, resembling a withered crane. Xiao Yang observed him up close, looking at his face that had not seen daylight for a long time beneath his hair, devoid of any signs of liveliness. His eyes were large and lifeless, bloodshot, with a hint of darkness lurking in their depths, as if he had been deprived of rest for an extended period.
Xiao Yang used to be cautious about maintaining eye contact with Tang Zhen for too long. But now, he felt like he could freely observe that face as much as he wanted because Tang Zhen seemed completely unaware of his presence.
Tang Zhen’s dark pupils were open, aimlessly peering into emptiness, as if his soul had been sucked away. He was still beautiful, but that beauty appeared tattered and unreal. His long eyelashes lifted, mechanical and rigid, like an old-fashioned doll that could open its eyes, devoid of any human emotions. His thin, upturned lips slightly parted, murmuring silently towards the rehearsal room, without making any sound, leaving Xiao Yang unaware of what he wanted to say or what he was thinking.
Xiao Yang noticed that Tang Zhen’s lips were slightly dry, with a few small cuts that seemed to be bleeding.
“Do you want some water, Tang Zhen Laoshi?” Xiao Yang said, turning around and rummaging through cabinets, frantically searching for a paper cup and pouring water.
Unreasonably, Xiao Yang thought about how he had joined ASE because of Tang Zhen.
Tang Zhen Laoshi had always preferred drinking lukewarm water, around 35 degrees Celsius. By the time Xiao Yang remembered this, it was too late. Tang Zhen had already taken the paper cup, his wrist emerging from the oversized sleeves, thin and uncharacteristically shapeless. His pale and slender hands had extremely short nails, clearly deliberately trimmed excessively, as if not doing so would cause him to harm himself.
Tang Zhen swallowed the water, his Adam’s apple moving obediently, without a trace of discontent.
His eyes, refusing to give up, continued to gaze around.
“Are you looking for something?” Xiao Yang asked him in a low voice. Tang Zhen seemed to not have heard, so Xiao Yang asked again, “Or are you looking for someone?”
“I want to find Xiao Zhou,” Tang Zhen pleaded hoarsely.
“Xiao…” Xiao Yang was taken aback.
Xiao Yang didn’t expect Tang Zhen to answer him so directly. It was like in the past when he would chase after Tang Zhen, asking him about something, and Tang Zhen would always tease him before finally telling him. But most of the time, what he told Xiao Yang was fake, just to play with him.
Find Zhou Zike?
It was past 2 a.m. now. Where could they find Zhou Zike at this hour? Xiao Yang felt sweat forming on his forehead, but against all odds, he took out his phone and immediately dialed Zhou Zike’s number.
No one answered, of course, no one answered.
“Do you have something urgent to tell him?” Xiao Yang’s voice became more cautious. He didn’t know why, but the Tang Zhen in front of him felt like a fragile vessel, not a person but a vessel. It was as if speaking too loudly would shatter this vessel, and something precious would slip away completely.
“It’s late now, Zhou Zike must be sleeping,” Xiao Yang continued. “If you have something to say, tell me, and I’ll let him know first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll ask him to come and find you.”
Tang Zhen seemed to not understand. Xiao Yang tried to persuade him again, “It’s too late now.”
Tang Zhen’s hand, holding the paper cup, trembled slightly. He lowered his head and remained quiet for a while before murmuring, repeating Xiao Yang’s words, “Too late…”
“It’s 2 a.m., everyone is sleeping,” Xiao Yang repeated once again. “Go home early, Tang Zhen Laoshi. You need to rest more.”
Tang Zhen nodded silently, his eyes still searching, as if hoping to find something in the emptiness.
Then Tang Zhen left. Xiao Yang offered to accompany him home, but Tang Zhen shook his head. Xiao Yang asked if he had money with him, but Tang Zhen had already walked away, whether he didn’t hear or didn’t want to respond. This happened at around 2 a.m. At 4 a.m., Xiao Yang took a shower and headed to the company gate to catch a ride to the airport. The entire team of KAIser, including the staff, gathered in the airport lounge, except for Zhou Zike. No one found it strange; everyone was accustomed to his independent and tardy nature.
The direct flight to Singapore would take over five hours. Exhausted from the night, Xiao Yang fell asleep as soon as he boarded the plane. When he woke up, it was already noon the next day. As he disembarked, Luo Cheng was chatting with him from behind, but suddenly stopped talking. Then, a murmuring sound surrounded him, like the rushing of the sea, flooding towards Xiao Yang.
Xiao Yang looked around and noticed that almost everyone was bowing their heads, engrossed in their phones, whispering and discussing. Even Yi Xuesong was frowning, engrossed in the news on his phone.
“Chinese artist Tang Zhen found dead in his residence this morning, suspected suicide.”
Late at night, after the end of the award ceremony, Zhou Zike took the elevator up from the parking lot and reached the first floor of the hotel. Just then, Xiao Yang walked in carrying a bag of stomach medicine. As soon as Xiao Yang saw him, he told Zhou Zike about the incident. Zhou Zike remained silent for a moment and asked why Xiao Yang didn’t say it earlier. Xiao Yang explained that he had been searching for Zhou Zike everywhere and only realized he hadn’t boarded the plane. Zhou Zike asked why Xiao Yang didn’t say anything when he saw him in the afternoon. Xiao Yang replied, “When did I see you? You arrived just before I went on stage. Do you expect me to talk to you on stage?”
Zhou Zike stared at Xiao Yang’s face, unable to speak for a while. Xiao Yang’s tone softened as he said, “Tang Zhen Laoshi is already out of danger anyway. If there’s anything you need, wait until he wakes up and ask him.”
Zhou Zike didn’t respond. After a while, Xiao Yang glanced at him and noticed Zhou Zike staring with wide eyes, suddenly laughing nervously.
“Zhou…” Xiao Yang’s words trailed off as the elevator doors opened, and someone else entered. It wasn’t their floor.
By the time the doors closed, Zhou Zike had disappeared.
