Chapter 33

After wrapping up the preview episode filming, the program team sent over the upcoming recording schedule and guest profiles that evening. Ji Yunzhang printed them out in two copies and handed one to Jing Li.

Jing Li took the documents and closed the episode of Best Couple he had been watching. He settled onto the sofa and began flipping through the pages.

Romantic Journey was all about giving viewers a genuine taste of married life—no scripted scenes or fabricated personas, and everything kept under wraps until filming began.

In addition to him and Ji Yunzhang as a same-sex couple, there were two other same-sex pairs: one male couple and one female couple. The remaining two pairs were standard heterosexual couples.

Originally, the program team had planned for four couples—half same-sex, half opposite-sex. But after they publicly announced their marriage registration, and Guan Lin caught wind of An Jiaming scouting variety shows for them, she overhauled the proposal overnight and extended the invitation.

There were five filming locations in total, roughly two episodes per site, with the grand finale in Europe spanning four episodes.

All these spots had one thing in common: they were far from any cities, in places where hardly anyone would recognize them, ensuring the shoots wouldn’t cause any local headaches.

The materials from the program team were slim—just eight pages—and Jing Li finished them quickly. By then, Ji Yunzhang had wrapped up his phone call. Jing Li mentally distilled the key points and explained them aloud.

Ji Yunzhang sat down beside him and listened intently. Once Jing Li finished, he passed over a glass of warm water before speaking. “Get some early rest tonight. The flight’s at eight forty tomorrow, which means we’re up at five thirty.”

Jing Li drained the glass, set it down, and nodded.

A glance at the clock showed it was nearly ten. He rose to his feet. “I’m off to shower.” He paused at the doorway and glanced back. “I’ll crash right after—no coming downstairs.”

Ji Yunzhang murmured his acknowledgment, then added in a gentle tone, “Don’t forget to blow-dry your hair.”

Jing Li grinned. “I won’t.”

“You get some rest too.” He gave a wave, his voice light and cheerful. “Good night.”

Ji Yunzhang’s lips curved in a faint smile as he watched him go. “Good night.”

~~~

They set off the next morning before dawn, but Jing Li—having turned in early—was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Ji Yunzhang’s assistant, Lin Li, was behind the wheel. He would be flying with them to J Province. Le Xiaoxiao had commitments that day and wouldn’t join until tomorrow.

After clearing security at the airport, they still had half an hour to kill. In the VIP lounge, they ran into another of the male same-sex guest couples—pure coincidence.

“Teacher Ji, Jing Li.” The greeting came from Yang Yi, a martial arts actor who’d debuted in wuxia roles and strung together a steady stream of parts over the years, though he’d never quite caught fire.

His partner was the lead singer of an indie band, Zhou Yan, five years his junior.

Zhou Yan had a guitar slung over his back and stood by Yang Yi’s side with a blank, cool expression. He didn’t say a word, just gave a curt nod.

Yang Yi jumped in to explain. “He’s not great with people—takes him a while to warm up.”

Jing Li offered a friendly smile. “I’ve heard your stuff. ‘Ask’ is fantastic.”

Zhou Yan’s band flew well under the radar, with niche tracks across the board, and “Ask” was one of their more obscure ones. He hadn’t expected Jing Li to know it. A flush crept up his cheeks, and he mumbled, “Thanks.”

Jing Li blinked. So he wasn’t the aloof type after all.

He had that adorable gap-moe charm.

The four of them weren’t acquainted, and with no cameras rolling, there was no need to fake familiarity. They exchanged pleasantries and then retreated to their own seats without further chatter.

The wait dragged on, growing tedious. Jing Li killed time with a few rounds of mobile games before pocketing his phone and scooting closer to Ji Yunzhang to chat. He carried most of the conversation, while Ji Yunzhang simply watched him, listening with full attention.

All at once, Jing Li sensed eyes on them. He turned and locked gazes with Zhou Yan, who looked startled, like a deer in headlights, and more than a little flustered.

He promptly buried his face in Yang Yi’s shoulder.

“…” Jing Li blinked in confusion.

He touched his own face on reflex. No way, right? He poked Ji Yunzhang’s shoulder, his tone laced with existential doubt. “Teacher Ji, do I look that scary?”

Ji Yunzhang hadn’t taken his eyes off Jing Li the whole time—he’d caught the entire exchange—and now he let out a soft chuckle. “Scary? How could you be? Our little Jing Li is the best-looking one around.”

That low, velvety voice was pure ear candy.

Jing Li rubbed at his ear, even though he’d heard it plenty of times before. Whenever Ji Yunzhang called him his “little one” in that tender timbre, it sent a pleasant tingle straight to his eartips and left him bashful all the same.

Far too intimate. Far too indulgent.

He cleared his throat and refocused, tilting his chin up with a touch of smug pride. “I am pretty great-looking, aren’t I?”

Jing Li like this was utterly endearing.

Ji Yunzhang felt a sudden itch in his throat. He reached out and gave Jing Li’s cheek the lightest of pinches, letting the brush of skin soothe the unexpected urge.

As he let his hand drop back to his side, he rubbed his fingertip, savoring the memory of that fleeting touch.

Suddenly having his cheek pinched, Jing Li’s eyes flew wide open. It took him half a beat before he lifted his hand to the spot that had been pinched, then inexplicably gave it a squeeze himself.

It really was pretty pinchable?

His gaze drifted to Ji Yunzhang’s face. He wanted to test out the feel of those cheeks—his fingers twitched, eager to reach out—but how could he!

He forced his eyes away and clamped down hard on his own hand.

Ji Yunzhang noticed, though, as if he could read minds. With a smile in his voice, he asked, “Want to give it a try?” And with that, he caught Jing Li’s hand and guided it to his own face. “Go ahead.”

“!” Jing Li blinked in surprise for a second, then licked his lips. “Then… I’m pinching?”

Ji Yunzhang smiled warmly and nodded.

So Jing Li did.

Nice texture.

He snuck a glance at Ji Yunzhang—there was no displeasure on his face. Jing Li’s eyes sparkled, and he grew bold, pinching again, then once more. He was clearly getting hooked when Ji Yunzhang finally caught his hand, a mix of helplessness and amusement on his face as he stopped him.

Rationality crashed back in. Jing Li shot upright, posture perfectly prim, his apology sincere. “I was wrong, Teacher Ji.”

Ji Yunzhang let out a chuckle. “Not like that.”

He reminded him, “This is a public place.”

He nodded toward their surroundings.

Only then did Jing Li realize they had an audience.

The VIP lounge wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. To pinch his face, Ji Yunzhang had removed his mask, and they’d been recognized. Now every eye in the place was on them.

Several girls looked thrilled, faces alight with delight as they clapped hands over their mouths and bounced on their tiptoes. If it weren’t indoors, with a “Keep Quiet” sign hanging by the door, they would’ve screamed bloody murder.

Jing Li: “…”

God, what had he been doing!

The announcement over the speakers saved him.

At the boarding call, Jing Li snatched Ji Yunzhang’s hand and bolted to his feet, dragging him along. Ji Yunzhang had no choice but to hurry after him. He glanced down at their joined hands, a soft laugh lighting his eyes and crinkling the corners.

Now he was running off holding his hand.

~~~

Early that morning, #Jing Li Pinches Ji Yunzhang’s Face# and #Ji Yunzhang-Jing Li Sweet Interaction# both shot up the hot search charts. Eyeing their rapid climb toward the top, An Jiaming jumped into emergency PR mode to tamp down the buzz.

Hot searches were okay once or twice, but too many in quick succession could wear thin on people.

They didn’t crack the charts, but that did nothing to cool the netizens’ fervor.

[Airport, right? Where are they headed?]

[Filming Romantic Journey, probably. Insiders say the first episode’s about to start recording.]

[How are they this sweet! I’m passed out!]

[Sugar for breakfast—pure joy! Monday misery? Obliterated!]

[Aaaah, face-pinching! In my lifetime, I live to see Teacher Ji get pinched? For real, Teacher Ji’s totally into it!]

[Jing Li’s happiness is visible from space, lol—he’s gotta be thinking: So squishy, just two more pinches.]

[Teacher Ji pinched first, actually. Scroll down—full video’s there.]

[Watched it: Teacher Ji’s a pro, straight-up offering his cheek.]

[Suddenly dying for Romantic Journey. Need their daily life! Why no live stream? I demand 24/7 access!]

…

While the internet buzzed with delighted shipping, Jing Li and the others had left A City behind, winging their way to the first recording stop.

At ten-thirty that morning, their plane touched down at J Province Airport.

The Program Team’s van waited at the exit. It scooped up the four of them and peeled out, leaving no time for the fans who’d spotted Ji Yunzhang to react.

By the time they gave chase outside, the taillights were a distant memory.

In the van, the follow cams fired up, and official filming began.

Three hours separated the airport from the shoot site. Riding with them was the other couple: the woman, Shen Ru, had been a huge star seven or eight years back. A filming accident injured her waist; after two years’ recovery, she returned to find her fans scattered and fresh faces dominating. Like an old wave broken on the beach, the fall from grace crushed her. She quit the spotlight and married.

Her husband, Yu Jiayuan—a host two years her junior—was her childhood sweetheart. They’d dated, endured a seven-year long haul, and were solidly devoted.

A natural people person, Yu Jiayuan handled intros and greetings, then suggested a game.

They barely knew each other, after all, and stiff on-camera banter would have viewers cringing. Games spiced things up and broke the ice.

Car space was tight, seats fixed—no wandering. Options were slim. Yu Jiayuan pondered. “Flying Flower Order? Loser picks truth or dare. Sound good?”

The rules of Flying Flower Order were simple. Each round centered on a keyword, and players had to recite a line of poetry containing it. If you couldn’t, you lost.

Everyone agreed.

When he heard they were playing Flying Flower Order, Jing Li leaned in close to Ji Yunzhang’s ear, grinning as he whispered, “Teacher Ji, I’m really good at this game. I’ll carry you.”

Ji Yunzhang turned to meet his gaze, his smile evident. “Good.”

Jing Li wasn’t exaggerating. He truly excelled at it. Over the next three rounds, whenever it was his turn, he fired off answers lightning-fast, without a moment’s hesitation.

It took a profound familiarity with poetry to pull that off.

Ji Yunzhang managed admirably too, though he occasionally paused to think.

Poor Yang Yi had the worst luck. He lost the first three rounds. The first two times, he chose truth or dare’s truth option—once revealing his first impression of Zhou Yan, and once admitting when they’d last kissed. This time, he tried for truth again, but everyone stopped him.

“No way, it’s big dare this time,” Yu Jiayuan declared.

Yang Yi was an honest sort and didn’t fight it. “Alright, big dare it is.”

Yu Jiayuan knew his limits. He exchanged a glance with Shen Ru before issuing a dare that hardly qualified as big. “Give Zhou Yan a kiss.”

Yang Yi let out a relieved breath.

He murmured something quietly to Zhou Yan, who blushed and nodded. Then Yang Yi cupped Zhou Yan’s face and kissed him.

That kiss ignited the mood, turning the atmosphere electric.

In the following rounds—four, five, six—Yu Jiayuan, Shen Ru, and Zhou Yan all failed at least once. Only Ji Yunzhang and Jing Li had yet to lose.

Rounds eight and nine came and went.

Yu Jiayuan glanced back just in time to catch Jing Li quietly prompting Ji Yunzhang. “Jing Li, you can’t help Teacher Ji cheat,” he called out.

Jing Li looked utterly innocent. “But the rules don’t say anything about helping.”

It did seem that way…

Yu Jiayuan was at a loss for words.

Shen Ru asked curiously, “Jing Li, are you a Chinese literature major?”

“Nope, math.”

Everyone stared in surprise.

“Math?”

“Yeah.” Jing Li nodded.

“Then how are you so familiar with classical poetry?” Shen Ru pressed.

Jing Li explained, “Our school holds regular cultural events, including poetry competitions with cash prizes. I enter every time, and after reciting the same ones over and over, they stick.”

No one knew about his strained family ties or that he covered his own tuition and living expenses. They couldn’t grasp the effort hidden behind his casual words.

All they could say was, “A University sounds amazing. Those events must be so much fun.”

Jing Li smiled. “Yeah.”

Suddenly, a warm hand gently clasped his. The encompassing palm sent a jolt through him. He blinked, turning to find Ji Yunzhang watching him, his lowered voice tender with concern. “Are you tired?”

Jing Li had already shared his past with him, so he didn’t hide his true feelings. “Yeah, pretty tiring.” Between keeping up with studies and juggling multiple part-time jobs…

But.

“It’s way better than being at home.” Jing Li’s eyes crinkled with a smile, his tone lifting. “Back then, I had friends, and I was free to do all sorts of things I wanted.”

Like joining charity drives or hanging out with everyone. He’d met all kinds of new people and seen sights so different from his old life.

He smiled—clear-eyed and optimistic. “Looking back now, it’s a precious asset that enriched my life.”

Ji Yunzhang adored Jing Li’s upbeat, open-hearted nature. People like him were like the sun, radiating warmth and energy endlessly to those around them.

With his other hand, he gently ruffled Jing Li’s hair. “You’re amazing.”

Jing Li puffed out his chest, swelling with a touch of pride. “Mm-hm!”

He thought so too.