Chapter 2: Wild Fansite Master
The young man lowered his head, the brim of his baseball cap obscuring most of his face. Even just a blurred silhouette with indistinguishable features, he was broad-shouldered, long-legged, and well-proportioned.
Touching his throat to confirm his living state was a completely unnecessary action, yet it had become an ingrained habit.
His fingertips were blocked by the raised collar of his jacket. The neck beneath was warm, the pulse faintly throbbing, the feeling of life vivid and real.
Facing the bright floor-to-ceiling window, a hint of life entered his hazel eyes, slowly moving as he finally noticed the white jacket he was wearing, familiar yet strange. It was his clothing from three years ago, still looking quite new now.
A black SLR camera hung from his chest, rented, for the purpose of helping Luo Jiayan with his fan activities. His artistic talent was also fully displayed in photography; in the future, he would become a famous, low-key, wild fansite master for Min Zhi.
He was so dedicated and hardworking in his fan activities, yet he didn’t want Luo Jiayan to discover his efforts, pretending to be a fan to the point he almost believed it himself, leading Luo Jiayan to always assume he was a fellow fan, making it easier for him to ask for help without feeling burdened.
The memories from three years ago were all very clear, quickly sorted out. He clearly remembered everything related to Luo Jiayan.
… Including that unpleasant novel.
Pressing his throbbing temples, Xi Leng raised his eyes, sweeping across the chaotic crowd.
“Min-shen! Is Min-shen out yet?”
“Has anyone seen Min-shen?”
“Which one is Min-shen?”
“Where’s Min-shen? Why haven’t I seen him…”
It was complete chaos, the culprit being the top-tier celebrity, Min Zhi.
Xi Leng vaguely remembered that in his past life, he was also squeezed among the crowd, being led from one end of the airport to the other by Min Zhi’s staff, finally chasing down to the underground parking garage, exhausted and breathless, only catching a distant glimpse of the back of Min Zhi’s head through the car window.
He was so poor he couldn’t afford to eat, rushing from one part-time job to another, yet still tirelessly helping the object of his affection with his fan activities, like a complete idiot.
Let whoever wants to do it, do it. He wasn’t doing it anymore, anyway.
He turned and left without a second thought, his fingers reaching into his pocket to pinch the phone, turning off the vibration, not bothering to look at Luo Jiayan’s new messages.
His face was sticky and covered in half-dried sweat. The dull ache in his head hadn’t subsided, desperately needing cold water to cool down and clear his mind.
His legs still felt a sense of unreality, as if they weren’t touching the ground. To avoid being seen stumbling, he deliberately walked very slowly, arriving at the restroom one step at a time.
With a quick glance, he keenly noticed the corner of clothing that flashed past behind the wall. However, he didn’t hear the sound of the cubicle door opening or closing, and didn’t know what the person was doing behind the wall. He quietly backed out, not out of curiosity, but simply not wanting anyone else to see his current weak state, nor wanting that kind of “Are you alright?” concern.
However, the person on the other side of the wall was equally sharp. Just as he turned around, someone suddenly attacked him from behind, a strong arm wrapping around his neck, dragging him into the restroom without a word.
Alarm bells rang in Xi Leng’s mind. The man’s left hand also came up, and before covering his mouth, he first saw a ring of black letter tattoos on his slender middle finger. Shaped like a ring, but being on the middle finger added a somewhat vulgar connotation.
The man’s deep voice, accompanied by a puff of warm air, vibrated against his eardrum along his ear canal: “Following me?”
It was a question, yet the tone was exceptionally certain.
Xi Leng remained silent, understanding the cause of this unexpected event in a flash. His hand, whose strength hadn’t fully recovered, dropped back down, giving up resistance.
He estimated that even in his best condition, he wouldn’t be a match for this person, let alone in his current state of exhaustion and fatigue. It would be better to surrender directly and avoid deepening the misunderstanding.
After all, this was the chosen one of this world, the protagonist gong of the cliché novel.
His compliance seemed to surprise Min Zhi somewhat. The arm around his neck loosened slightly, revealing the man’s hesitation.
“Don’t even think about tipping anyone off. I’ve remembered you; there will be consequences.”
After muttering this low warning, Min Zhi let go and stepped back, his gaze remaining warily fixed on him.
It was rare for Min Zhi to see a man with medium-long hair in real life. Messy strands of hair scattered around the back of his neck and the sides of his face, a baseball cap on his head, seemingly intending to conceal his appearance, yet, on top of the baseball cap was a fluorescent light-up headband, with the large words “Min Zhi” strikingly eye-catching.
He was tall and slender, even if it weren’t in an empty restroom but in a vast sea of people, Min Zhi would probably have taken a second look.
He had some degree of gentlemanly conduct towards female fans—forced by his manager. But the person before him was actually a male fan? He was even being followed into the men’s restroom.
Min Zhi frowned.
However, his male fans were truly rare, let alone this kind of broad-shouldered, long-legged man with a wolf-cut hairstyle.
Xi Leng stood still, taking a moment to calm his breathing and complexion, finally turning around after a while, intending to explain that he was just an innocent passerby.
He carefully considered his words. The moment he raised his head, Min Zhi was the one who froze instead.
Even rarer than the medium-long hair was the skin so pale it was almost translucent, light blue blood vessels clearly visible, his narrow, hooked eyes captivating.
He clearly possessed the fragile and aloof aura of an artist, yet when those hazel eyes stared at someone, they resembled some kind of mysterious and dangerous beast.
Inexplicably, the preconceived notion of stalking that Min Zhi had firmly believed in was completely overturned in the instant their eyes met.
In the few seconds he let his guard down and was lost in thought, it would have been enough time for Xi Leng to sprint out, shout loudly, and publicize the top celebrity’s hiding place, letting the fervent fans flood in and block the restroom until it was watertight.
However, Xi Leng didn’t move. He was also observing Min Zhi in front of him, the 25-year-old Min Zhi from three years ago.
In reality, whether it was three years ago or three years later, he had never been this close to Min Zhi. Like all ordinary fans, he was hidden within the vast flow of people, as one of the countless people Min Zhi signed autographs for, he hadn’t, and couldn’t possibly have, left any impression on Min Zhi.
At every offline event, there were a bunch of cameras and phone lenses filming. Xi Leng was afraid that a photo of his face would be leaked, and then be discovered by his gambling-addicted father, bringing back the lingering childhood nightmare, showing up with a greedy and disgusting face.
Moreover, he wasn’t a real fan, just helping Luo Jiayan with his fan activities. Even if Min Zhi was right in front of him, he didn’t really care, always thinking only of Luo Jiayan’s happy and excited reaction after receiving a personalized autograph.
This was the first time Xi Leng had seriously looked at Min Zhi, after learning that Min Zhi was the protagonist gong of that novel. Therefore, his gaze held three parts scrutiny and seven parts curiosity.
It had to be said that Min Zhi truly possessed the natural advantages to be a protagonist.
Neat short black hair, eyes as dark as night, the whites of his eyes slightly visible, looking somewhat fierce even with a blank expression. Of course, in media reports, on Weibo’s trending topics, he mostly had a bad-tempered scowl, indifferent and aloof towards all cameras.
He had a row of silver cartilage piercings in his left ear, and a silver hoop in his earlobe, quite eye-catching and matching the long black patent leather trench coat he wore, his entire person radiating sharpness.
Xi Leng looked him over, finally landing on his closed, thin lips, pausing for a moment. He knew there was a tongue piercing hidden inside, but he’d only seen it in photos before.
After spending ten-odd seconds satisfying his meager curiosity, Xi Leng gently lowered his eyes, bypassing the radiant celebrity in front of him.
Min Zhi had been staring at him warily and immediately followed. The question “Where are you going” had just left his mouth when he saw Xi Leng stop, bend down, and turn on the faucet.
The experience of being snubbed was quite unfamiliar to Min Zhi, and the feeling of being ignored and treated like air was even rarer in his life.
He then saw his own name on the light-up headband on Xi Leng’s head and raised an eyebrow.
A fan meeting their idol up close, and this was their reaction?
Min Zhi had hoped his fans would be calmer. He had once made the classic statement “Don’t love me, there’s no future,” which was then used by his rivals to smear him. But now that this day had actually come, unexpectedly, and the other party was a male fan whom he didn’t need to feign chivalry towards, coldly ignoring him just as he’d wished.
This was good. The problem was, this man was really good-looking, with a unique and unforgettable temperament, his bare face enough to surpass most of the meticulously made-up celebrities he had encountered, making him unable to ignore him.
For some reason, he was extremely irritated.
He strode over, seeing the young man’s face wet with water in the mirror, a strand of curly black hair stuck to the bridge of his high nose, his cleansed skin like translucent white porcelain.
Xi Leng, as if no one else was present, finished washing his face, pulled out a tissue, and carefully wiped the water droplets splashed on his clothes.
Min Zhi watched his back and spoke on his own: “I misunderstood you just now.”
Although lowering himself to apologize was impossible, he could compensate in the way fans liked most. So, he took out a permanent marker from his pocket and scribbled on the back of Xi Leng’s jacket, signing his name.
“…?”
Xi Leng raised his eyes in a daze, only to see the man casually capping the marker in the mirror, the metal of his earrings flashing dazzlingly with his movements. His eyebrows were slightly raised, filled with smugness.
Xi Leng stiffly turned around, checking the back of his snow-white jacket through the mirror.
A flamboyant permanent marker signature came into view, a large black patch.
Xi Leng: “…”
His new clothes 🙂
