After finishing the second rapport game, the third task followed right on its heels.
This one was a genuine challenge: everyone had to give their partner a flower before sunset, which left them with less than an hour.
But where were they supposed to find flowers around here?
Guan Lin was only in charge of announcing the tasks—she wasn’t about to lend a hand.
“You could always fold paper flowers,” Shen Ru suggested after a moment’s thought.
“Right!” Chen Xiaohan clapped her hands, warming to the idea. “The rules don’t specify they have to be real flowers, and there are tons of tutorial videos online. We could follow along.”
Ji Yunzhang rarely jumped into these discussions, but this time he spoke up. “Jing Li knows how. He can teach us.”
“Jing Li, you can?” Shen Ru’s face lit up with delight.
Suddenly, all eyes were on Jing Li as everyone turned to him.
He glanced over at Ji Yunzhang, meeting those encouraging eyes, and felt his resolve soften.
He understood what Ji Yunzhang was getting at—he wanted Jing Li to make more friends. Folding flowers was a small thing, but it would get him interacting with the whole group.
Friendship, like love, required time together, getting to know one another, and open communication.
“Yeah, I can,” he said with a nod.
“Perfect!” Shen Ru hurried over to him. “What kinds of flowers do you know?”
“Carnations, tulips, roses, lilies.” Jing Li smiled. “How about I teach everyone roses? They’re the most fitting.”
Zhou Shi, who had two left feet when it came to crafts, fretted. “Is it hard?”
“Not at all.”
“Hold on,” Yang Yi said. “We don’t have any origami paper.”
“We do,” Yu Miyue chimed in. “I saw some at the little supermarket when I bought ingredients at noon.”
Only then did it dawn on them: the program team had planned this from the start. Why else would they have stocked origami paper?
They bought the paper and got to work. The cameraman zoomed in on Jing Li’s hands as the others crowded around him. Yu Miyue couldn’t help sighing, “Jing Li, your hands are gorgeous.”
She had a thing for nice hands. The first time she’d met Lang Yan, it was her hands that had caught her eye, prompting her to ask for her contact info—and the rest was history.
Sure enough, Lang Yan felt a twinge of jealousy. She wistfully waved her own hand in front of Yu Miyue to draw her attention back.
Yu Miyue laughed and slipped her hand into Lang Yan’s, their fingers interlocking.
Jing Li wasn’t teaching yet; he was just doing a demo for everyone to watch.
Without instruction, he folded at lightning speed. The others couldn’t follow a thing—one moment the paper was flat, the next the rose shape emerged, and then it was done.
“This looks just like the real thing,” Shen Ru said, borrowing it from Jing Li and turning it over in her hands. “A Kawasaki Rose, right?”
“Exactly.” He looked surprised. “Does Sister Shen like origami too?”
Most people with no experience couldn’t identify it so precisely.
Shen Ru passed the flower to Chen Xiaohan beside her, who wanted to examine it too. Casually, she added, “I was in a rough spot a while back, cooped up at home with nothing to do, so I killed time watching all sorts of videos.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled faintly. “I even tried learning once or twice following tutorials, but I always got stuck on the same step. Lost patience and quit.”
Jing Li thought of her glamorous days before the accident, and the isolation that followed. “All the roles you’ve played are classics—I love them. But my favorite has to be Jiang Yue. She was born into luxury, adored and pampered by everyone. Then her family fell apart, and she nearly plunged into the abyss. But she never gave up, holding fast to her ideals. In the end, she broke through and became the most successful, outstanding person in the whole drama.”
His eyes crinkled. “‘I fear no adversity—as long as my original intent remains, I will win.’ I love that line of hers.”
Shen Ru froze, staring at Jing Li.
He said nothing more, picking up another sheet of paper to begin the actual lesson.
Shen Ru lowered her gaze, lost in thought.
Jing Li had originally learned origami for the kids at special schools and orphanages, to connect with them. No one was more patient or attentive than he was.
Even Zhou Shi managed to fold one in the end. With his mission accomplished, Jing Li presented his seven finished roses—wrapped neatly—to Ji Yunzhang.
“Teacher Ji.” He offered them up like a treasure.
Ji Yunzhang took them gently, cradling them with care. “I’ll treasure them.”
The corners of Jing Li’s mouth curved up. He held out his hand. “And mine?”
Ji Yunzhang had only made one. He placed it solemnly in Jing Li’s palm, then gazed deeply into his eyes for a few seconds. “Mine didn’t turn out great.”
Jing Li held the flower, his smile reaching his eyes. “It’s perfect.”
The others exchanged their flowers too.
Task completed, they emerged from the Visitor Center. It was already dark outside, but the hour was still early—not even four o’clock. Yang Yi asked, “Does anyone want to go soak in the hot springs?”
“We’ll go,” Yu Jiayuan said, taking Shen Ru’s hand.
“We’ll go too,” Lang Yan and Yu Miyue chimed in.
Zhou Shi and Chen Xiaohan were equally keen.
Jing Li turned to Ji Yunzhang. “Want to go?”
Ji Yunzhang nodded, gazing at him. “You’ve been skiing all morning. A good soak in the hot springs will do wonders for your body.”
The Hot Spring Bathhouse lay just behind the Villa District, only a few minutes’ walk away.
Before heading over, though, everyone returned to their lodgings to grab swimsuits. The Program Team had given fair warning about the hot springs during the preview shoot, so they’d all packed accordingly.
At the bathhouse, men and women parted ways to change.
By then, the VJs had all switched off their cameras, per Guan Lin’s instructions—no filming during the soak.
The changing rooms lacked private stalls, but with everyone among their own gender, no one batted an eye.
Jing Li stood beside Ji Yunzhang. His feelings toward the man had lost their former innocence. Every sidelong glance brought a twinge of guilt, yet an urge to look anyway.
Ji Yunzhang’s build was impressive, even more so stripped of clothing.
Broad shoulders flowed into a waist and abdomen radiating power, muscles honed to perfection, arms solid and reassuring. Being held by them felt like utter safety.
Jing Li had experienced that security several times over. It was real.
His eyes drifted lower, landing on a certain spot. Silence fell over Jing Li. He jerked his gaze away, wondering just how much heaven favored this man.
Jing Li’s stare wasn’t furtive—it was bold as daylight. Ji Yunzhang changed at his leisure, slipped on a bathrobe, then turned, bending close to whisper near his ear. A low voice, rich with amusement, murmured, “Like what you see?”
Jing Li clapped hands over his ears.
That timbre was criminal!
In flustered alarm, he looked up—straight into Ji Yunzhang’s eyes, teasing yet kind. He swallowed on instinct, whipped his head aside, and said nothing.
Ji Yunzhang drank in every nuance of his reaction, answer confirmed. With a soft chuckle, he said warmly, “You should change too.”
Jing Li nodded meekly.
He shrugged off his jacket, peeled away his sweater. Down to his base-layer shirt, he caught Ji Yunzhang still watching. His fingers hovered at the buttons, paralyzed.
“Teacher Ji,” he managed, voice strained.
Ji Yunzhang murmured softly, “Hm?”
“Don’t look at me.”
“You were looking at me.” A light laugh.
Did it have to be tit for tat? Jing Li nearly yanked the buttons free. He licked his lips, voice turning soft as he clutched Ji Yunzhang’s sleeve and gave it a gentle tug. “Teacher Ji.”
Ji Yunzhang’s gaze deepened. His throat worked with restraint, an insistent itch flaring from his chest, shattering his easy poise.
He turned away. No more looking at Jing Li.
He might scare the boy otherwise.
~~~
With no VJs tagging along, the soak unfolded in easy, unhurried fashion.
The four women claimed their own pool, huddled close for heartfelt girl talk. In another, the men gathered to swap notes on whatever caught their fancy.
Yu Jiayuan and Zhou Shi, both fresh off fatherhood, dove into parenting wisdom.
Jing Li, Ji Yunzhang, Zhou Yan, and Yang Yi shared space, though only Zhou Yan and Jing Li truly conversed. Since that morning, when Zhou Yan had asked for Jing Li’s contact and received the sunrise video in return, they’d clicked.
A few exchanges revealed shared passions: gourmet eats and sweets, scenic vistas, the itch to wander.
Jing Li lounged against the pool’s edge, head cradled on folded arms, as Zhou Yan shared his dreams of music.
“Someday, I’ll take my band onstage for a ten-thousand-fan concert.” Stars seemed to swirl in Zhou Yan’s eyes, bright and blazing.
Jing Li smiled. “I’ll be there.”
Zhou Yan nodded hard. “Best seat in the house—for you.”
Jing Li’s smile widened. “Deal.”
His thoughts drifted to his friend Wen Yang. “I’ve got a buddy who lives for music too, just as gifted as you. I’ll introduce you sometime.”
Zhou Yan lit up. “I’d love that.”
Jing Li’s half-morning ski session—only one tumble—had left every muscle screaming. The soak worked miracles, leaving him refreshed, reborn.
Stepping out of the Hot Spring Bathhouse, he stretched languidly, hopped in place a few times, then beamed at Ji Yunzhang. “Teacher Ji, I’m fully revived!”
Ji Yunzhang’s lips curved into a faint smile as he reached out to readjust Jing Li’s loosened scarf. His gaze lingered on him for a moment before he suddenly asked, “Do you mind if I smoke?”
Jing Li shook his head. “Not at all.”
Ji Yunzhang then went over to his assistant Lin Li and bummed a cigarette off him.
He used the time it took to smoke that one cigarette to steady the restless thoughts that had been bubbling up ever since they’d changed in the dressing room.
The smoke mingled with his breath, forming wispy clouds of white mist. Backlit by the light, Ji Yunzhang’s face was half-hidden in shadow, leaving Jing Li unable to make out his expression. But Ji Yunzhang’s view was perfectly clear. He let his eyes roam freely over Jing Li, tracing the lines of his features and the play of emotions across his face—watching him come alive with energy, watching him light up with unrestrained joy.
His heart softened into liquid, cradling Jing Li’s name in its gentle depths.
Ji Yunzhang reflected that he had already lived thirty-two years, and this sudden flutter of the heart had come late. Yet it had arrived at precisely the right moment.
He was lucky, truly. On last year’s winter solstice, at just the right time, he had met Jing Li.
By the time the cigarette burned out, Ji Yunzhang’s mood had calmed, and his feelings for Jing Li had crystallized.
He liked him, and he had no intention of letting go.
~~~
The first three-day recording session wrapped up in no time, with the second one set to begin two days later.
Jing Li left the snow mountain with real reluctance, still thinking wistfully about the skiing.
The day before, at noon, Ji Yunzhang had taken him up to the summit on the cable car. They’d skied all the way down together, the sheer speed sending their pulses racing.
Adrenaline had surged through them, excitement thrumming right down to their fingertips.
Even now, the memory brought a rush of exhilaration.
Seeing the nostalgia on his face, Ji Yunzhang said, “You can come back and ski anytime you like. The resort stays open until the end of March.”
Jing Li looked at him. “Will you come with me?”
Ji Yunzhang’s gaze turned tender. “Together.”
Jing Li’s lips twitched upward, unable to suppress the smile blooming across his face. He didn’t even try to hide it anymore, letting his grin shine bright and open. “It’s a deal.”
Once they came down from Snow Mountain, Jing Li and Ji Yunzhang parted ways with the rest of the group and headed straight to the airport for a flight to M City.
They touched down that evening.
Le Xiaoxiao had booked them a hotel, where they planned to rest for the night.
Taking their real situation into account, Le Xiaoxiao had reserved a suite with two separate bedrooms.
After swiping the key card and stepping into the suite, Jing Li instinctively trailed after Ji Yunzhang into one of the bedrooms. A pointed cough from Le Xiaoxiao snapped him out of it. He flushed and backpedaled, darting quickly into the room next door that was his.
That night, Jing Li lay awake, insomnia gripping him tight.
He tossed and turned for ages before finally slipping out of bed and padding into the living room—only to discover that Ji Yunzhang wasn’t asleep either. He was sitting there on the sofa, absorbed in a book.
“Teacher Ji, you’re still up?” It was well past one in the morning.
Ji Yunzhang patted the seat beside him, inviting Jing Li to sit. “I’m feeling a little nervous.”
Jing Li settled down next to him, puzzled. “Nervous? Why?”
“Because tomorrow I’m meeting someone very important to you—an elder,” Ji Yunzhang replied. He closed the book and set it aside, turning to meet Jing Li’s eyes. “I want him to approve of me.”
