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By the time Wang Yibo made it back to Changsha that night, he’d cycled through the entire gamut of emotions from fury to disbelief to frustration to resignation. His whole body hurt. That injury he’d gotten from falling off the DDR machine a few months ago had gotten exacerbated again and the only good thing was that at least Street Dance of China was done now so he wouldn’t have to dance on that ankle anytime soon.
He still didn’t know what happened. Just that he’d been making that seventh turn, keeping at a steady speed. That there were other racers behind him as he braked. He had the closest position to the inner side of the bend—no other racer should be able to cut in front of him, but then he heard the engine roar, felt the heat grazing against his right leg as another racer slid under and against him, and then both bodies were spinning out of control, gravity dragging them down. And all Wang Yibo could do was let go, try to get thrown free from his motorcycle the way you were supposed to when you crashed to prevent worser injuries.
When he stumbled upright, he saw it was Hu Tongming—his biggest opponent this race. Wang Yibo had lost second place to him during the placement race so that the other racer got the preferred starting position. Wang Yibo’s main goal this race was to make his own personal record and take second place from Hu Tongming. And he had been doing it. By the last few rounds on the track, Wang Yibo was consistently ahead of Hu Tongming, sure that as long as he stayed the course, didn’t repeat his mistake from last year, he had secured second place and could challenge Li Zhong for first.
The two of them fell, Wang Yibo forcibly dragged into Hu Tongming’s orbit.
Hu Tongming got back up and sped away.
Wang Yibo’s motorcycle wouldn’t start again.
And that was the end of it.
No matter how someone else’s mistake had cost Wang Yibo the race, no matter how angry his team was, how upset his fans were, the association ruled it an accident and the results would stand. The race that Wang Yibo had been so looking forward to was finished.
At least Xiao Zhan was also filming in Changsha today and would be home when Wang Yibo arrived. All he wanted to do now was hold his boyfriend and sleep for a week.
He knew Xiao Zhan had seen the footage. He’d been texting Wang Yibo that morning, cheering him on and reminding him to wear the newest good luck charm that Xiao Zhan had gotten him. After everything was over, when he finally had time to check his phone, Wang Yibo had gotten a voice message from Xiao Zhan saying nothing more than that he was glad Wang Yibo was safe.
So Wang Yibo thought Xiao Zhan might have cooked dinner for him, would probably be waiting for him to come home, maybe fuss over him, draw a bath for him, and then give him a little pep talk.
He didn’t expect to open his apartment door to the sound of Xiao Zhan yelling.
“That was completely unfair! Surnamed Hu had the balls to step on stage after that and say he’s the winner?” Wang Yibo could hear him shouting all the way from the entranceway. “I know, right, Ayi? And the association dares to say they’re playing fair? I don’t know anything about motorcycles! I don’t even ride a bike! But the way that team was cheering? How can they say it wasn’t deliberate if they’re that happy about it?”
Wang Yibo pulled off his shoes and walked into the living room to find Xiao Zhan gesturing with one hand, phone pressed to his ear with the other. He was wearing a giant yellow sweater and pajama pants and had apparently been pacing back and forth in Wang Yibo’s living room in his house slippers.
“What proper athlete would be proud of a victory they didn’t deserve—ah, Ayi, Yibo’s home.” Xiao Zhan froze when he saw Wang Yibo. “En, do you want to talk to him?” he said.
“Are you...are you trash talking Hu Tongming with my mom?” Wang Yibo said incredulously.
Xiao Zhan nodded, not a trace of embarrassment on his face. “Not just him—his whole team and the association too! Ah, here you go, Ayi,” he said, handing his cell phone over.
“Mom?” Wang Yibo said, taking it as he dropped his duffel bag to the floor and put her on speakerphone. “Why are you trash talking with Zhan-ge?”
“Aiyah, that’s not what it was,” his mother said.
“Didn’t you tell me not to think too much like what? Five hours ago?” Wang Yibo said, lowering himself onto the couch and stretching out his sore legs. He’d called his parents after the accident, of course, once things had been sorted out a little more and he had the time to sit, reassuring them that he was all right. His mother had given him the comfort talk—the “it completely wasn’t his fault and of course he was frustrated but there would still be next year,” so on and so forth.
“Yes, but that awards ceremony was a farce,” his mother said, unapologetically. “I take it back.”
“A total farce,” Xiao Zhan ageed loudly from where he’d opened up Wang Yibo’s duffel and was taking out his dirty laundry. “Anyone with eyes can see! Right, Ayi?”
“Zhanzhan’s right,” his mother said. “That Surnamed Hu sure has guts—”
“Mom!” Wang Yibo said, a little stunned to hear her swear like this.
“—and that association too! They’re just jealous that my son is famous and talented—”
“And handsome!” Xiao Zhan added.
“And handsome,” his mother said. “If they’re so jealous they need to cheat, they should spend the time practicing more! What does that say of their skill if our family’s Yibo only practiced two days and can still win without cheating?”
“That’s right!” Xiao Zhan chimed in like a little parrot. “How long did Surnamed Hu practice? He’s not a busy superstar, but he still can’t do as well as Yibo without cheating!” he said loudly as he picked up Wang Yibo’s dirty laundry and brought it to the bathroom.
“The association decided it was an accident,” Wang Yibo said. “They happen. It’s possible he just wasn’t thinking when he made the curve or miscalculated or something,” he said.
“Then there should have been a rematch!” Xiao Zhan called from the bathroom where Wang Yibo could hear him starting up the washing machine.
“Right, a rematch!” his mother echoed.
It made Wang Yibo actually want to laugh a little to hear these two talk like this. He had never heard Xiao Zhan be so rude as to call someone “Surnamed”—even when he’d been at his most upset last Spring, he’d yelled about antis in general but not like this. And Wang Yibo’s mother was a well brought up classy woman who he was pretty sure he’d never even heard gossip before much less trash talk a person. They were clearly terrible influences on each other.
Last year, thanks to how popular The Untamed immediately became upon broadcasting, the show started releasing an insane amount of bts footage of them. Wang Yibo hadn’t even realized they were being filmed for at least 70% of the time and clearly Xiao Zhan hadn’t either or, given how thin his face was, he would have been far too shy to flirt as much as he had. Well, Wang Yibo’s parents were supportive of his career. Xiao Zhan’s parents were supportive of his career. Within the second week of broadcast, Xiao Zhan was calling him in a (well-disguised) panic of how they were supposed to explain it to their parents because his parents were starting to ask very embarrassing and very specific questions about Wang Yibo.
Wang Yibo was pretty sure they were the first couple in Chinese history to be outed by their own behind-the-scenes footage. The two of them had ended up telling both families they were dating, and that they weren’t stupid or (that) young, and they knew the risks but wanted to try anyway and they would appreciate it if they were supportive.
And well, a year later, things had worked out well enough that apparently Xiao Zhan and his mom had no problems calling each other to rant.
“Right, Ayi? One of those races is so fast anyway, why couldn’t they just do a rematch?” Xiao Zhan said.
“That’s not the way the competition works,” Wang Yibo said, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “We’re not even allowed to switch bikes—we have to use the same ones the entire time. Yin Zheng-ge only had a few minutes to ride the placement round because his was malfunctioning earlier.”
“Then next year, see if I don’t take a hammer to Surnamed Hu’s bike and see if he can fix it in time for the competition,” Xiao Zhan said.
“That’s right, Zhanzhan!” his mother said.
“Mom, don’t encourage him. You think a headline saying “China’s Biggest Star Sabotages Motorcycle Race” is a good idea?” Wang Yibo said, cracking a grin for the first time that day.
“Well apparently it wouldn’t be against the rules,” Xiao Zhan said, completely unapologetic. “You haven’t eaten yet, right? I cooked earlier—I’ll heat it up.”
“Yibo, ah, you really chose a good one with Zhanzhan,” his mother said, sounding satisfied.
Wang Yibo smiled. “I know.”
He heard her sigh. “I’ll leave you two alone now, but when you have some free time, bring Zhanzhan to visit again,” she said. “We didn’t get to see you for the Mid-Autumn Festival.”
“All right,” Wang Yibo said.
“And don’t make Zhanzhan do all the cooking and cleaning,” his mom began to lecture. “You should take care of him more. Be more considerate.”
“It’s okay, Ayi, Yibo had a hard day,” Xiao Zhan called from the kitchen.
“Don’t spoil him, Zhanzhan,” his mother scolded. “All right. Sleep well and don’t overwork yourself,” she said. “And call more often. I feel like I talk to Zhanzhan more than I talk to you.”
“All right, mom. Bye,” Wang Yibo said, lowkey wondering exactly how often Xiao Zhan talked to his mother, and hung up.
Wang Yibo turned to see Xiao Zhan setting out food on the new dining table he’d bought for Xiao Zhan’s birthday. “You like the table?” he asked.
Xiao Zhan nodded. “Yes, but how are you so calm about this?” he said, apparently not finished ranting yet. “Aren’t you mad? You were super mad—I saw you kick the dirt.”
The way Xiao Zhan talked only made Wang Yibo want to laugh more. “Not mad anymore now that I’m home,” he said, going to hug Xiao Zhan around the waist as he set the table.
“Liar, you’re still super mad,” Xiao Zhan said. “ I’m still super mad.”
“Mad enough to call my mom and yell with her?” Wang Yibo said.
“She understands me.” Xiao Zhan sniffed and handed him a pair of chopsticks. “Eat,” he said. “I know you probably didn’t eat all day.”
Wang Yibo sat and did as ordered. Xiao Zhan really was an excellent cook when he had time to do it and all the dishes were sour, not too spicy, with lots of fresh vegetables which was the hardest thing to come by eating hefan on set. Xiao Zhan had even made a light bittermelon and chicken soup—the type that was supposed to build up your health.
“What did the doctor say?” Xiao Zhan asked as they ate.
“Twisted my ankle a little—that one I sprained last time, but I shouldn’t have to dance for awhile so it should be fine,” Wang Yibo said.
Xiao Zhan sighed. “Does it hurt a lot?”
Wang Yibo shrugged. “Not more than last time,” he said.
Xiao Zhan still looked worried though as he ladled two bowls of soup for them. “Is there anything you can do to appeal it?” he asked.
Wang Yibo shook his head. “No point,” he said. “It’s already been decided. If I try to argue more, it’ll just damage my own reputation.”
He’d already had a talk with his manager over this. He’d been angry right after the race. He’d entered that bend perfectly. Anyone around him would have to brake significantly earlier if they wanted to make the innermost curve on his right, but any sane racer would choose to make a wider turn to ensure they could control their bike. But Hu Tongming apparently wasn’t sane and had gone for it anyway, crashing as a result and taking Wang Yibo down with him. He was reasonably sure that any racer would have reacted like him—throwing his hands up, stalking off the field, unable to believe he couldn’t finish the race because of someone else’s mistake—but it wasn’t a good look for someone as high-profile as him.
And so he’d had to take to Weibo and post, asking his fans to stand down and that he would leave the results in the hands of the association. Whatever other people did, no matter how unfair, Wang Yibo had to be the gracious one, the mature one.
“It’s so unfair,” Xiao Zhan muttered, biting into a daikon angrily. “You should have gotten second place! First Street Dance and now this…”
“Yang Kai won Street Dance in the end,” Wang Yibo said.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t fair for most of it,” Xiao Zhan said, gesturing with his spoon. “I mean at least that was a reality show so everyone knew it was going to be scripted, but this race? It’s just a sport—not entertainment! It should be fair! Ah, I’m getting mad just thinking about it! I want to call Ayi again!”
Wang Yibo snorted. “Really, the things you and my mom bond over…”
Xiao Zhan gave him a matter-of-fact look. “Ayi and I care about you the most so why wouldn’t we?” he said.
Wang Yibo smiled and stirred his soup, blowing on it. “Maybe I should quit,” he said and sighed, stretching out and looking across the table at Xiao Zhan.
“Quit what?” Xiao Zhan said.
“Racing,” Wang Yibo said with a shrug. “Dancing. I don’t know, all of it? I’m not being judged on actual skill anyway.”
The thing was, he knew a lot of these pro racers didn’t like him—didn’t like him or Yin Zheng, seen as celebrities with a hobby. Yin Zheng was at least older and had been doing this for a lot longer than he had. Wang Yibo was a young celebrity entering this world so naturally fans came out for him, cameras followed him around, and a lot of these guys thought of him as an intruder—someone who was taking attention away from them even as he brought more attention to the race track. It made them more jealous that Wang Yibo was young and talented and could make times faster than most of these guys who practiced all year to improve their skills.
He knew all this—he just didn’t know they’d be willing to cheer that he lost, cheer for an accident whether or not it had been deliberate.
“All right,” Xiao Zhan said.
Wang Yibo looked over at him. “All right?”
Xiao Zhan nodded. “Quit,” he said. “They’ll be the ones to lose out and it’ll serve them right. No one even knew what that stupid motorcycle race was before you joined. Didn’t they say tickets are selling for 50 times the price they used to because of you?”
“Yin Zheng-ge is famous too,” Wang Yibo said.
“So he can also quit—he sounded super mad too,” Xiao Zhan said. “And now all the new fans know how dishonorable the other racers are, the judges are, everyone!”
Whenever Xiao Zhan got mad and it wasn’t directed at Wang Yibo, he couldn’t help thinking how cute Xiao Zhan looked the way he got all animated, baring his teeth, eyes flashing.
“I hope their reputation gets completely destroyed if you quit,” Xiao Zhan said vindictively.
Wang Yibo laughed. “You really would go yell at the head of the association for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Right now,” Xiao Zhan agreed.
“You’d get in trouble with your manager,” Wang Yibo said.
“I’ll make an anonymous phone call,” Xiao Zhan said. “I’ll put my lawyers on it. Sue them until they take it seriously.”
Wang Yibo grinned because they were familiar words. Back when things were going badly for Xiao Zhan, Wang Yibo felt completely helpless too. He couldn’t track down every one of those antis, couldn’t take to social media to defend Xiao Zhan without making the situation worse, couldn’t do anything but wrap Xiao Zhan in his arms, wanting to protect him from everything and having no power to do so. Words like these had been all Wang Yibo could give him too back then.
“You’re so good to me, Zhan-ge,” Wang Yibo said, smiling at him.
“Who would I be good to if not you,” Xiao Zhan answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re the worst. We’ll quit and go back to your parents’ house. Ayi’s so good at cooking and she can take us in.”
Wang Yibo laughed. “Don’t say that to my mom, she’ll kill me for giving you the idea.”
“Ayi would definitely take us in,” Xiao Zhan protested.
Wang Yibo took a deep breath and let it out, looking across the table at Xiao Zhan who was wearing that fluffy yellow sweater and pajama, and still had one hand cupping his bowl, the other waving a spoon indignantly. He looked soft and sweet and like he would not hesitate to fight China’s entire Automobile and Motorcycle Sports Federation for Wang Yibo.
The people making these decisions—the associations, the sponsors, the producers and directors—didn’t care. It was exhausting having to go up against these giants day after day, having to face the torrent of antis who would celebrate his failures every day. Wang Yibo refused to let them win. It was the same reason Xiao Zhan never left the industry even when everything had been at their worst—if he quit, they won. Those people who wanted to see them torn down, trampled in the dust shouldn’t be allowed to get what they wanted—not from Xiao Zhan and not from him.
He knew, looking across the table, that Xiao Zhan also understood. Neither of them would ever quit. They’d have to be forced off the stage before they did.
But just for tonight, Wang Yibo was tired and wanted to pretend that he could walk away from it all. That he could really take Xiao Zhan and go home to Luoyang and watch Xiao Zhan and his mom chat as they cooked together, and they’d live in a world that was fair and just and free.
“Thanks, Zhan-ge,” Wang Yibo said.
Later, after they’d worked out all the frustrations of the day in bed, Xiao Zhan lay half dozing, half humming some song the way he did when he was in a good mood.
“Twinkle twinkle bright and sparkling like your body~”
It was Xiao Zhan’s favorite Stefanie Sun song, “Kepler,” again. Wang Yibo had barely listened to her growing up, preferring artists like Jay Chou and Bruce Liang, and never heard of this particular song at all until he met Xiao Zhan. Now, he’d heard it so many times, he could recite the lyrics verbatim.
“Hidden amongst the many lone stars but I can still find you~”
“You’re with me now—you’re not lonely anymore,” Wang Yibo said, flipping onto his side and pulling the covers up over Xiao Zhan’s bare shoulders before slipping a hand back under to loop around his waist. “Why do you still like this song so much?”
Back when they were filming, when he’d heard this was Xiao Zhan’s favorite song, Wang Yibo had secretly downloaded it onto his phone, playing it a dozen times as he wondered if this was how Xiao Zhan saw himself, a lonely little star.
Xiao Zhan grinned at him, a little mischievous, and changed the last line of lyrics again the way he liked to do. “Because you are still my lonely star~” he sang.
“I’m not lonely either, I have you,” Wang Yibo said, smiling at him.
“Gross,” Xiao Zhan said but he was grinning.
“You’re the one singing the sappy love song,” Wang Yibo pointed out.
“It’s a good song,” Xiao Zhan said. “What do you want me to sing then? We’re two non-lonely stars? Two binary stars?”
“What’s a binary star?” Wang Yibo asked.
“It’s a type of system where two stars just orbit each other,” Xiao Zhan said, curling in closer and wiggling until both his hands were free and he could gesture with his index fingers. “They’re in the classic two-body problem where they’re only affected by each other’s gravitational forces, and guess what?”
“What?” Wang Yibo played along.
“It’s also called a Kepler problem.” He beamed at Wang Yibo, clearly proud of himself.
“God, you truly are a nerd,” Wang Yibo said, rolling his eyes.
“Rude,” Xiao Zhan said, hitting Wang Yibo in the chest. “You don’t think it’s really romantic? Stefanie Sun is a genius.”
“I’m just impressed you’re not embarrassed listening to yourself,” Wang Yibo teased.
Xiao Zhan glared at him. “Who’s the one who was still singing Bruce Liang at me when we already got together? What ‘I could neither make you stay nor be like him and give you a promising future’? Who’s this other him?”
“It’s my favorite song,” Wang Yibo said and grinned wider. “I want to give you all my favorite things.”
“And you say I’m the cheesy one,” Xiao Zhan said indignantly. Even though the room was dark, Wang Yibo could feel the heat from Xiao Zhan’s face and Wang Yibo laughed as he leaned forward to kiss him.
“Because you’re my favorite thing,” Wang Yibo continued after a kiss.
Xiao Zhan groaned, shoving a hand over his mouth. “Wang Yibo, can you shut up!” It seemed he’d reached his limit and gone shy again.
“My sparkling little star,” Wang Yibo said, pulling his hand away to kiss him again.
“Are you a demon?” Xiao Zhan buried his face into Wang Yibo’s shoulder.
“No, I’m the other star in your system,” Wang Yibo said, laughing when Xiao Zhan groaned even louder.
“All right, I lost, Wang-laoshi,” Xiao Zhan said. “You won. Go to sleep.”
“I’m gonna orbit you forever.”
“Shhh…” Xiao Zhan shushed him, pushing his hand back over Wang Yibo’s mouth.
Wang Yibo grinned, pressing a kiss to that hand before tucking it back under the covers and shutting his eyes.
Come dawn, he’d pick himself back up. He’d go to film Day Day Up as usual, do a quick promo video for Zhang Yixing as promised, deal with whatever else was in his schedule for the day. He might feel better, he might feel worse. But he, unlike many others, had found someone to circle this track with him. And as long as there were still things he wanted to do, he wouldn’t give up.