Chapter Text
“You’re going viral.”
That is the one line any desperate member of a group on the verge of disbandment would sell their soul to hear. It means a reversal of their fortunes. It means they’re one step closer to their dreams of stardom. It means maybe they’ll finally be able to pay off their 6-digit trainee debt.
But when Ren’s CEO says it to him, the first thing he thinks is ‘fuck, what have I done?’
Despite what his arrogant stage persona would suggest, Ren’s actually a pretty humble guy. He knows himself, and he knows he’s not viral material.
He’s handsome, but it’s not the kind of handsome that makes people scream ‘ORIGINAL VISUAL’ and ‘FACE CARD NEVER DECLINES’ when he walks into the room.
He’s decent in variety shows—since his debut he’s discovered that he can fit his fist into his mouth—but he’s never done anything crazy enough to be clipped and passed around.
He’s a main rapper who writes his own parts, but the fastest rap he has in a song is a very mediocre 7 syllables per second. (Look, he’s working on it. It’s not his fault that fans think the faster the rap, the better it is.)
He also knows that it’s been a year since their last comeback. 8 months and 14 days (Sam is keeping count) since they’ve last had a proper schedule. He hasn’t done the slightest thing that could possibly warrant the rampant spread of his face all over YouTube and Twitter. Or is it TikTok nowadays?
“Mr Elio, are you going to drop me?” Ren asks, gulping. He can already see his career going down the toilet. As pitiful and unfruitful as his four years in the industry has been, it still stings. He hasn’t held a music show trophy in his hands yet. He’s never been to any year-end music award shows. Worst of all, he still hasn’t received one of those potato salad and fruit jam sandwiches that people only care about because of a cute idol’s number slipped in between the bread and the cling wrap.
“Drop you?” Elio repeats, most of his face hidden behind his steeped hands and therefore unreadable. “Why would I do that?”
“It’s bad news, isn’t it?”
“See for yourself.”
Elio holds his phone out to Ren. The idol takes it, having already convinced himself that he’s about to see bullying accusations from a classmate he doesn’t even remember. Plenty of his schoolmates used to turn the other way when they saw him coming. He knew why, but emo phase 15-year-old Ren hadn’t had any fucks to give about it. He should have known his RBF would come back to bite him in the ass.
Instead, Ren finds himself looking at a fancam. There’s the dark smudge of a finger over the top of the video, another dark smudge of the back of a fan’s head, and the whole thing is shaking like it was shot on an amusement park ride. It’s terrible quality because it shouldn’t exist. Fan recordings aren’t allowed in music shows.
But he does recognise the stage. Ren from 220727 is walking around in a black jacket with gleaming silver accessories and a bandaid over his nose. It’s the X Countdown stage from their last comeback. This is the soundcheck from the pre-recording. He knows, because Ren in the fancam is singing ‘blueberry moon’ by IL instead of rehearsing his rap part in ‘Lion Heart’. And honestly, he’s doing a pretty good job of it.
Then the clip cuts to said rap part. In classic music show cinnamon topography fashion, there’s a snap zoom into Ren’s face as he begins his lines. He raises one hand to his temple in a gun gesture, four silver rings glinting on his fingers. Ren cringes when he sees his makeup— smokey eyeshadow, thick eyeliner and blood-red contacts. Why had it been so dramatic? Their vampire concept was three eras ago.
Ren taps out of the full screen video to look at the tweet. The caption is an unassuming ‘i dont go here but the DUALITY???’. He scrolls down, nearly dropping his CEO’s phone when he sees the numbers. 60K retweets, 15K quotes, 100K likes and a whopping 5M views. They don’t even have a fifth of that view count on the ‘Lion Heart’ MV. In the few seconds he stays on the numbers, they continue to grow. He’s at 62K likes now.
The comments are plagued by the usual mob promoting their faves’ fancams, but there’s a sizable amount of the genuinely curious asking who he is and what group he’s from. Their very few but very dedicated fans have replied ‘Blade of HUNTERS’ to every single person asking.
“This…” Ren returns Elio’s phone, searching for something to say. He finally settles on: “It’s from last year.”
Duh?
“So it is.” Elio hums in that inscrutable way of his.
Silence reigns for an excruciating two minutes that feels like two hours. There’s nothing but the tapping of Elio’s thumb as he looks through the quote tweets. Ren wonders how long it will take Sam to haul ass from the dorm to the company if he texts right now and begs his groupmate for some support. Not fast enough, probably. Their company can’t afford prime housing in downtown Luofu for a group that barely sold 10,000 albums during their last comeback.
Finally, Elio looks up from his phone. “This is an opportunity we should seize.”
“Of course, Mr Elio.” Ren answers, eager to please now that he’s narrowly ducked his made-up scenario of being forced to leave the group. He has absolutely no idea what he’s just agreed to.
He may be fucked. Elio, thankfully, is not one of those greedy CEOs who treat their talents like money-making machines, but the man is in no shortage of crazy ideas. If Elio asks Ren to go to Astral Entertainment and beg IL to invite Ren on his show, what can Ren say? No? Of course not.
“Head to the recording studio. You’ll record a full cover of ‘blueberry moon’, and we’ll have it mixed and uploaded by this evening.”
Oh. Ren blinks, feeling his shoulders sag in relief. A cover is manageable. It’s doable. Except—
“Mr Elio, I’ve never sung in a HUNTERS track before.” He says, rather stupidly.
“You sang just fine here.” Elio flashes his phone at Ren again and the idol winces. Something about the video makes his insides crawl with embarrassment. And he’s seen footage of him shoving his fist into his mouth. “You auditioned as a vocalist.”
He did. But that was ten years ago, long before Ren had the very humbling experience of meeting Sam. He is a decent singer, just not when he’s beside Sam. Or frankly, any of the other members. But even before Sam, all it’d taken was one sentence from him for the trainers to pounce on his ‘husky, deep voice’ and shove him down the no-return path of becoming a rapper.
Between him and himself, he’s still a little sore about it. There’s a reason he was singing ‘blueberry moon’ during the soundcheck. Like the hundreds of other 3rd and 4th gen idols active in the industry, teenage Ren had looked up to IL.
On that thought, Ren’s not actually sure why he was singing during that particular soundcheck. He hasn’t sung a single line in public after he debuted. Had the pre-recording been at 3am? The lack of sleep must have really gotten to his brain.
“Ren?” Elio is giving him a very pointed look, and Ren knows he’s already overstaying his welcome. Elio doesn’t have time to be giving pep talks. He’s probably already thinking about what calls to make to who, all the old favours he’ll pull in to get Ren and the rest of HUNTERS in front of more eyeballs and ears in the coming weeks. Ren’s overnight fame may be unplanned, but whatever they do with it can’t be. It may be the only thing standing between his group and disbandment.
As their leader, and their eldest who was made leader solely because of his age, Ren has to do whatever he can for them. He’s not the ‘dad of the group’, not in the way their fans like to shriek and squeal about, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t give a damn about them. They’re a team. His team.
“I’ll go record the cover now. Thank you, Mr Elio. I won’t let you down.” Ren bows and leaves.
—————
Things move very quickly after that. The cover is recorded and uploaded. In 24 hours, it gets 2M views. Two million would be a pittance to IL himself, numbers he could hit in a single hour even weeks after a song’s release. But to HUNTERS, two million is astronomical. Delirious from the disbelief, Ren treats his group to dinner. He doesn’t do it often—the four of them eat enough meat for forty. It burns a large hole in his wallet, but for once he doesn’t worry about it. If he works hard, he’ll soon be able to treat them to dinner every day.
Ren is invited to a couple of radio shows, even gets a guest appearance on a big reality show. A telco approaches him to sing an ad. HUNTERS goes from zero to eleven requests to perform at university festivals. But they don’t just sit on their asses and wait for the opportunities to come in. They go busking all over Luofu city and hold a café event.
A comeback was always on the cards for HUNTERS, but it’s quickly confirmed and set for the end of next month. They throw themselves into preparations for their first release in a whole year. The preorders start rolling in and the younger members cry into Sam’s shoulders (fan-designated ‘mom-of-the-group’) when they see that it’s already hit 30,000 copies. Between all the appearances and preparations, Ren gets a grand total of six hours of sleep. In a single week. But he’s not tired at all. He hasn’t felt this alive since right before his debut. It feels like a brand new start.
Ren used to be able to go to the convenience store for his banana milk without a mask. He made the mistake of trying to do that after the viral tweet. Now everywhere he goes he’s recognised as the ‘blueberry moon guy’. He says as much to Sam during a break from dance practice.
“I know IL won’t even piss in my direction, but I feel like I owe him some kind of thanks.” Ren says. “It was his song that got me here.”
“Pessimist.” Sam, ever the optimist, shoves him playfully. He’s really only three months younger than Ren, but Ren’s a December baby. Ren likes to pretend they’re the same age, at least until Sam starts being cheeky. Like now. “If we get any interviews on the music shows, you can give him another shoutout.”
“He’s not going to see it.” Ren says. He’s already done it on the first few radio shows he went to. Everyone was asking him if there was anything he wanted to say to IL. The interview question industry is plagued by non-creativity.
“Do it for the sake of doing it. We know you’re all mushy inside, but the general public doesn’t, not with that face of yours.”
“Sam you—”
“REN-GE!"
Sam is saved by their youngest running towards them, shoving his phone in Ren’s face. The second youngest comes up, mouth opening and closing rapidly like a goldfish in outer space.
“No phones during practice.” Ren nags half-heartedly. He still tries to look, but it’s hard when the screen is so close he can see the individual pixels.
“I’m sorry Ren-ge, but this is huge! IL shared your cover on his Instagram story!”
“No fucking way.” Ren grabs the phone from his junior, jabbing his thumb on the screen to keep the story frozen. Sam leans over, pressing his cheek into Ren’s neck to see, and swears.
It is IL’s instagram, with his keysmash username that’s actually an anagram of his real name ‘Dan Heng’. It is Ren’s cover, with the thumbnail of him crooning into the condenser mic. Beneath the link, IL has written a very simple but very sweet ‘great job :)’
He doesn’t even get any time to take it in. In the very next moment, the door to the practice room bangs open. HUNTERS scramble to their feet to greet the woman strolling in.
“Kafka-qianbei.” They say in unison, heads bowed.
“Oh, cuties, I already told you you don’t need to do that.” Kafka says, flapping her hand. She turns her maroon eyes (contacts) on Ren and says, very sweetly. “I’m here for you, Bladie.”
“Me?” Ren points a finger at himself. He does it with the hand still holding the phone. His thumb is still holding the story on the screen.
“You’ve already seen Dan Heng’s story! That saves me some time.” Kafka’s smile is all teeth, in both the megawatt way of a top idol and the dangerous way of a troublemaker. “He’ll send an official request to the company if you agree, but he wanted to ask informally first. Would you like to appear on ‘IL’s Elegy’?”
Ren can be forgiven for taking a long moment to process all the information that Kafka’s just hurled at him. Kafka’s on first name terms, personal name terms, with IL. He hadn’t known they were friends. It makes far more sense when he remembers that his labelmate is very close friends with IL’s labelmate, Himeko.
The two women made their debuts within days of each other, both soloists and young girls back then. It was sheer coincidence, but it hadn’t stopped the media from spinning some ludicrous tale of a bitter rivalry between them. Kafka and Himeko had both taken it in stride, playing it up for extra publicity, and it’d worked like a charm. Between SH Entertainment’s two active talents, it’s not HUNTERS that is keeping their finances afloat. But now’s hardly the time to be reminiscing about Kafka’s journey.
IL, the IL, just asked Ren to appear on ‘IL’s Elegy’. It’s the show he has on his YouTube channel. Only the biggest celebrities have been guests on it. Ren can count on both hands the amount of 4th gen idols that have been on it. Not groups, individual idols. Every episode receives millions of views, because people still tune in for IL even if they don’t care about the guest.
Ren swears he’s not an attention whore who measures the value of things by numbers, but it’s a hard habit to kick when his worth as an idol is measured by numbers. Streams. Sales. Scores.
“I’ll take that silence as a no?” Kafka sing-songs, already tapping away at her phone.
“No! I mean, yes! I want to be on it.”
“You should say ‘please’ when you’re talking to your senior, Bladie.”
“Don’t be an ass, we trained together.”
“No, then.”
“Please, Kafka-qianbei, tell IL I would love to be on his show.” Ren grinds out, very politely.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Kafka flutters her fingers at him, already halfway out of the door. On her merry way to drive someone else up the wall, no doubt. “Sent. Say hi to Dan Heng for me.”
—————
Kafka actually ends up tagging along to Astral Entertainment on the day of the shoot.
She claims that she’s there to give ‘emotional support’ to Ren, and to help him find his way since she’s been there a lot of times. Ren sees through her bullshit immediately. He’s known her longer than he’s known some of his own members, after all. Kafka just wants an excuse to go see Himeko.
Which is why Ren is disappointed but not surprised when she dumps him and his manager in the reception lobby and disappears. Infuriating woman. The least she could have done was point him in the direction of the studio.
“Hi, you must be Blade.” Ren turns to the approaching blond… teenager? He knows that the trainees are getting younger by the minute, but it’s still disturbing to actually see one for himself. “I’m Yanqing, one of IL’s assistant managers. I’m here to show you the way to the studio.”
Assistant manager? Ren blinks at the young man. He doesn’t look a day over 20. Maybe it’s the height. Ren knows he’s much taller than the average male, but Yanqing has got to be… what, 160 centimetres?
“It’s nice to meet you. And please, Ren is fine.”
Ah. ‘Blade’. When Ren was 21 and still too young to be making important life decisions, he’d thought it would be the coolest stage name ever. Sam, who’d grown up overseas and speaks English, had tried to talk him out of it. He hadn’t listened. Now he regrets it every single day. If their next comeback does well enough for it to matter, he’s definitely going to talk to Elio about changing his stage name. And there will be no more fucking around this time. He’s going to go with his name.
Ren is very familiar with the set of ‘IL’s Elegy’. He’d been too nervous to sleep last night, so instead he’d binge-watched all of the episodes and given himself a very helpful case of imposter syndrome. The guest list is star-studded, blindingly so. Oscar-nominated actress Jingliu. TV host and reality star Baiheng. Jing Yuan of Cloudknights. What the hell is Ren doing on a show like this?
He glances around, but he doesn’t see the legendary ‘Nation’s Little Brother’ turned ‘Nation’s First Love’ anywhere yet. Ren lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He’s had a whole lifetime to look up to IL, one week to get his shit together, but now that he’s actually here he’s panicking because he’s not ready to meet IL at all.
Like probably everyone else in the country, Ren first knew IL from the hit historical drama ‘Vidyadhara’ where the latter played the child version of the main character when he was just eight. That was before he debuted as a singer, so he’d still been going by his real name Dan Heng. And by some strange coincidence, his character’s name had been ‘Dan Feng’.
He’s gone on to act in so many more dramas and movies, but to this day, Ren’s own mother still calls IL ‘little Dan Feng’. Little Dan Feng, with his doe-like eyes and the heart-wrenching scene of him crying said doe-like eyes out after losing both fictional parents to an assassination, will live on in the nation’s collective consciousness forever.
Then Dan Heng turned 15 and made his debut. His first single did fairly well. It garnered polite interest from the people who still remembered him as ‘little Dan Feng from Vidyadhara’. But it wouldn’t be until a year later when he released the self-written ‘Full Moon’ that he would shoot to fame. Music chart records were broken. A lot of people remembered little Dan Feng, but now everyone was going to remember IL.
Which brings Ren back to today, approximately T-minus 30 to meeting IL. His palms are sticky with sweat. He tries to wipe them off on his pants, but it’s no use. One of the stylists notices and kindly hands him a wet tissue. He’d gotten his makeup done before coming over to Astral Entertainment, but all of the nerves has caused him to sweat everything off. He’s so sorry to his makeup artists.
“I’ll be in your care today too.”
IL doesn’t shout. He doesn’t have to. When he enters the studio, everyone shuts up and listens. The man of the moment is wearing a simple ensemble of a black beret, colourful oversized cardigan and ripped jeans, but it causes a gaffer to trip over a light stand. IL notices and makes a beeline to the poor guy. The superstar is on the other side of the room, but Ren can still hear him ask ‘are you alright?’ in the warmest, softest voice. The gaffer, a very muscular dude in his 40s who towers over IL’s not-so-humble 178 centimetres, ducks his head and flushes.
Ren can’t blame the gaffer. No one can. IL’s androgynous beauty attacks hearts of all orientations. He’s the face of every skincare and cosmetic brand under the sun. You can’t take two steps in a mall without seeing IL’s gorgeous visage plastered on some shopfront or counter. A ten-storey tall banner of him in red eyeliner for Shu Uemura runs down the facade of Stargazer Tower. But he’s also modelled for Calvin Klein and Versace Eros. Approximately six issues of Men’s Health have him on the cover. He’s the IL. He’s attractive beyond your mortal beauty standards. He already looks ethereal on camera. He looks even more ethereal in person.
And he’s heading straight for Ren.
“Good morning, IL-qianbei.” Ren greets, shooting out of the chair and standing so straight Kafka would have laughed herself into hysterics if she was there to see it. Fortunately for him, she’s still off annoying Himeko. He doesn’t think he’ll ever hear the end of her teasing if she witnesses this. “I’m Ren, I mean, Blade from HUNTERS.”
“Hi, Blade. I loved your cover.” IL says, extending his hand. Ren, with all the grace of a robot, takes it for a handshake. Shit, his palms are still clammy. The junior idol expects IL to rip his hand away and wipe it off on a designer handkerchief. But IL just looks down in surprise, before laughing gently. “Oh dear, are you nervous?”
“Yes.” Ren blurts out, because with IL’s divine beauty right in front of his face, his neurons have lost their ability to send information to one another. His brain switches to backup mode, and the words he’s been practising for the past week run together like scrambled eggs. “Thank you so much for noticing my cover and inviting me here, IL-qianbei. I know plenty of people must have said this to you, but you’re the reason I became a singer. It’s really an honour to meet you. And work with you. And please just call me Ren.”
“Oh, but this isn’t—” IL pauses, then shakes his head. He smiles, and maybe Ren’s a little insane from the nerves, but there’s something strange about it. “Nothing.”
IL releases Ren’s hand, but follows up with a pat on the shoulder. His eyes are large, warm, and olive green. It’s one of the seven great mysteries of the industry—is IL’s eye colour real or contacts? When he was Little Dan Feng he had emerald green eyes, but that was because of the role. “Let’s have fun today, alright?”
“Yes, IL-qianbei.”
“You don’t have to call me that off camera. I’m younger than you, so ‘Dan Heng’ is fine.” IL—Dan Heng—says. He continues with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t mind if you called me that on camera, but I would advise against it. Netizens get angry at the silliest things.”
Ren’s been in the industry long enough to know that most celebrities are a far cry from their sweet and charming on-camera personalities. He’s seen the ones who donate millions to charities turn right around and sneer at the less fortunate. He’s seen the ones with hundreds of adoring fansign videos talk shit about their fans because of reasons as shallow as braces and glasses. Deep down, he’d been prepared for Dan Heng to turn out to be one of those two-faced assholes. Because unlike most of them, Dan Heng actually has enough fame and success to justify some narcissism.
But Dan Heng actually knows that Ren is older? He’s acknowledging it and saying it doesn’t matter? There’s a year between them, but it’s hardly anything compared to how long he’s been a celebrity—ten whole years, sixteen if you start counting from Vidyadhara. And Dan Heng is still just 25.
“You’re too kind, Dan Heng....” Ren mutters. It still doesn’t feel right to him, so he adds quickly, “Qianbei.”
“There you go. I have to go get changed, then we’ll start.” Dan Heng nods, satisfied. It takes Ren every last shred of his self-control not to look him up and down, because what does he mean this isn’t his outfit for the shoot? “And please don’t be so nervous, I promise I don’t bite.”
And god help Ren, because Dan Heng does a little teeth-bared fingertips-curled sort of monster pose at Ren. It doesn’t quite achieve his intended effect of putting Ren at ease. Ren just wants to dolphin-scream like one of his fangirls.
—————
“Hi, I’m IL and this is IL’s Elegy!”
Dan Heng has kept the beret, but he changed into a cable-knit sweater and denim overalls. He waves into the camera with a close-lipped smile. He turns to Ren, and his dimples give Ren a punch in the gut.
“Today’s guest is someone I’m very excited to meet. Welcome to IL’s Elegy, Blade from HUNTERS. I’m sure many people are already familiar with you, but please introduce yourself.”
“Hi, I’m Blade from HUNTERS. Thank you for inviting me, IL-qianbei.”
Ren is on autopilot. His soul left his body the moment Dan Heng smiled at him.
“I have to admit, you look a lot less intimidating without the red contacts. Very boy-next-door.”
“It was the concept. Seeing it again after a year, honestly, I feel kind of embarrassed.”
“To be honest with you, I watched a few Lion Heart stages. It suits you very well.”
Dan Heng hides a smile behind his cue cards. Ren gapes at him, speechless in the face of that information. He… watched… Ren’s stages?!?!
“Your ‘blueberry moon’ cover took the internet by storm. My friends and the company staff blew up my phone sending it to me. You have very sweet vocals, but I understand that you’re the main rapper of your group?”
They delve into Ren’s idol journey. Ren confesses that he decided to become an idol after seeing ‘Full Moon’. Dan Heng must have heard that story from so many junior idols over the years, but he still smiles so brightly like it’s the first time. He sighs when Ren tells him about how he was accepted as a vocalist but pushed to become a rapper, quipping about trainers who push trainees towards what will sell instead of what the trainees really want. It’s the kind of thing only IL can say and get away with.
“I’m sorry to say this, but your trainers were onto something. Of course, your voice naturally makes you suitable for being a rapper, but your flow is really good. Do you write your own lyrics?”
“Yes. All my parts in our title tracks were written by me. I’ve written some of my own songs on the side, but I guess they’re not good enough yet. I’m hoping to get one of them on a HUNTERS album one day.”
This has Dan Heng leaning forward in interest. There’s an eager shine in his eyes, like that of a child on the first day of the Lunar New Year, already thinking about all the red packets he’ll receive. Again, Ren is struck by the fact that the veteran idol in front of him is younger.
“You write songs?”
“Yes, qianbei.”
“I would love to hear it. Can you show us a little something?”
Ren quickly flips through his mental catalogue of his songs. It makes far more sense to just show Dan Heng one of his rap tracks. He’s the main rapper, after all. But a tiny voice that sounds suspiciously like Sam’s is telling him that this is his only chance. He’s seated across from the very young man who made him dream of becoming a singer. How many more opportunities is he going to be in the same room as Dan Heng? Zero. He must have already spent his lifetime’s worth of luck to get viral enough to land this appearance on IL’s Elegy.
So Ren picks one of the only two ballads he’s written. He starts singing it straight into the lavalier, but Dan Heng stops him and calls for a PA to bring over a proper mic and a guitar for him. The song is about chasing after someone who doesn’t love you back. Ren doesn’t know what gives him the courage to do it, but he sings the whole thing while looking into Dan Heng’s eyes. Dan Heng’s smile just keeps growing wider, and he claps along to the beat. He turns to the camera after Ren finishes.
“SH Entertainment, are you watching this? Blade deserves vocal lines on a song. And his songs on an album.”
“IL-qianbei, you flatter me. This is nothing compared to all the songs you’ve written.”
“Nonsense. If you’re going to bring that up, then you should know that I know what I’m talking about. You’re a hidden gem, Ren.”
One of the PDs waves at Dan Heng, tapping on his notebook. Stage name.
“Excuse me. You’re a hidden gem, Blade.”
—————
The rest of the recording flies by in a blur, including their planned duet of ‘blueberry moon’. Ren doesn’t remember anything that happened after Dan Heng praised him and his song. He’s still stuck in the moment where he was gazing into Dan Heng’s eyes as he sang, drowning in that olive warmth. He was really there, singing one of his own songs to his hero. There was a time, four years ago, when he’d been bold enough to dream of doing something like this. He lost that dream along the way, but it’d come true after all.
“Ren.”
Ren jumps a few metres into the air when he hears Dan Heng’s voice right behind him. He whips around, shuffling a few paces back so Dan Heng doesn’t have to crane his neck as much to look up at him. The audacity of him to make IL have to look up at him. He should kneel.
“Dan Heng-qianbei.” Ren greets mechanically, again. Why the fuck doesn’t his brain work within a ten-metre vicinity of Dan Heng? He should return it to the store and get a new one. “Thank you for the shoot. Can I help you with anything?”
“Thank you for the shoot. I enjoyed myself.” Dan Heng is tugging at the edge of his sleeve, like he’s nervous too. He rubs at the back of his neck, then laughs. “There is something I wanted to speak to you about.”
Ren nods for him to continue.
“I really liked the song you performed. Does it have a name?”
“Nowhere to Run.” Ren blurts out and immediately feels stupid. It’s a working title, one he never refined because he’d had no reason to. It doesn’t even make any sense on a surface level. It makes the one with the feelings sound like someone who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. That’s not cool at all.
“Ah, from the perspective of the pursuer?” Dan Heng muses, tapping his nose with a finger. “He knows his love won’t be reciprocated and he’s already accepted that, but ultimately he’s still trapped in his own feelings.”
“...you get it?”
“Was it that hard?”
Yes. Sam and his juniors didn’t get it. The producers in SH Entertainment didn’t either.
“It’s a good song. We’ll show just a snippet of it in the show, because I hope you’ll be able to release it one day.”
“Thank you. It’s really an honour hearing this from you. You’re one of the best singer-songwriters in the industry.”
“Stop that, it’s embarrassing.” Dan Heng groans, waving his hand dismissively like there aren’t four floor-to-ceiling height bookcases in his company’s lobby dedicated to displaying all of the shiny awards he’s won. “I would love to hear more of your work, actually. If you’re okay with showing me, can I drop by SH Entertainment some time?”
“No!” Ren says immediately. Dan Heng’s brows shoot up. Ren races to correct himself. “I mean, that is, I would love to show you my work. But I couldn’t make you go all the way there. I can send you some samples, or come back to Astral Entertainment to show you. Not in the next few weeks though, I have promotions for the new album.”
“I’m just a singer, Ren.” Dan Heng laughs. “It’s not like I’m some prince you can’t order around.”
“No, I still couldn’t make you do that, qianbei.”
“If you insist, then. Can I have your phone?”
Stupefied beyond any sort of logical thinking, Ren obediently unlocks his phone and hands it over. But then again, he would have obediently handed his credit cards over if asked. He watches as Dan Heng punches in a number and hits call. The veteran idol fishes his own phone out of his pocket and flashes the incoming call screen to Ren.
“Give me a shout when you’re done with your promotions. I’ll be looking forward to the comeback, Ren.”
Dan Heng departs, leaving Ren standing alone and holding his phone away from him like a hot brick. He taps into the call records, and for some wild reason he can’t even comprehend he takes a screenshot of the unsaved number before saving it. He has IL’s number. It’s not even from a slip of paper hidden in a sandwich. Dan Heng entered it into Ren’s phone himself.
—————
Dan Heng-qianbei
Good luck for the first stage! :)
“Oh my god.” Sam snatches Ren’s phone out of his hand. He’s already across the dressing room before Ren can react, showing it to the other members. “Ren-ge really has IL-qianbei’s number. And he said good luck.”
“Give it back, Sam.” Ren warns. He’s looming behind Sam, arms folded over his chest. “While I’m asking nicely.”
“Yes, Ren-ge.” Sam hands his phone back but Ren still feels like he’s lost, somehow. He cocks an eyebrow at the younger male, who gives him the biggest shit-eating grin. Ren gives Sam the finger as he types out a reply to Dan Heng.
Ren’s episode of ‘IL’s Elegy’ was released last evening, coinciding with their comeback. The last time he looked, it was already at 1.5M views. His duet of ‘blueberry moon’ with Dan Heng went semi-viral on social media again. Their fans are losing their shit because they’ve never seen Ren like he was on the show. Awkward. Sheepish. Shy. Four years of his meticulously-crafted holier-than-thou stage persona, vanishing like smoke just because he was put in the same room as Dan Heng. He might as well wear the kidnapped-by-an-alien costume and start doing flower-face poses.
The other members have been shoving cutesy edits of him from the show in his face all morning. Their morning started at 2AM. Ren wants a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him. He wants to be edited to ‘Unholy’, not fucking ‘Kawaiikute Gomen’.
“Boys, stop fooling around.” Their manager claps his hand to get their attention. “We’re going to greet the other groups. Get ready.”
They’re no rookie group, but even with Ren’s recent skyrocketing popularity, they still don’t have a first win and are therefore one of the lowest rungs on the ladder. It also doesn’t hurt to be humble, considering they’re from a small company. The industry and its ridiculously complex diorama of hierarchies and social norms never disappoints.
HUNTERS greets groups and soloists both younger and older than them, handing out signed albums. Ren has friends from the time he was on a competition survival show (he was eliminated at #94). They clap him on the back and tease him about his newfound fame. He gets a weird vibe from some of them, but he shrugs it off. It’s a tough world out there. If he hadn’t gotten insanely lucky, he would still be struggling to make a name for himself like them.
Then they’re standing in front of a room with a name that has their knees knocking together in fear. They’ve met this senior before. Their comebacks have also overlapped twice and this is the third time. He’s also been the MC of this music show since last year. It still doesn’t make it any easier. He’s just as legendary as IL, if not more. Ren swallows and knocks on the door.
“Come in!”
The four of them hurry in, lining up in a neat row.
“One, two, three.” Ren counts and they snap into textbook-perfect 90-degree bows.
“Hello, we’re HUNTERS! Good morning, Jing Yuan-qianbei!”
“HUNTERS! Welcome.” The soloist says, beaming at them. He strides over, pulling each of them out of their bows and greeting them by name. “Why are you so formal? It’s hardly our first meeting.”
Jing Yuan is the senior of seniors. He debuted in the very same year that HUNTERS’s youngest member was born as part of Cloudknights, the boy group almost single-handedly responsible for the boom in the idol industry. Ask any of the younger idols active today, and they’ll list either IL or Cloudknights as their inspiration to become a singer. Cloudknights disbanded a few years back, most of their members scattered to the wind, but Jing Yuan is the only one who’s remained in the industry.
“Congratulations on the comeback. Demian is a great song.” Jing Yuan accepts their signed album with both hands and a nod that has them scrambling to bow back. “Oh, thank you. I was looking forward to this. It looks like we’re both up for the win tonight.”
“We wouldn’t dare, Jing Yuan-qianbei.” Ren says.
“There’s no need to be shy. The industry needs some fresh blood.” Jing Yuan pauses. Some strange glint enters his eyes then. “Blade, will you do the dance challenge for ‘Criminal’ with me? I’ll do one for ‘Demian’ too.”
“I’m sorry? I mean, I would love to.”
“What an earnest kid.” Jing Yuan guffaws, and smacks him on the shoulder. “Dan Heng was right.”
Ren’s heart stutters at the name. He waits for Jing Yuan to elaborate, but the older idol doesn’t offer anything else. Ren exhales through his teeth. Look at him, jumping at mentions of Dan Heng like a starving dog nosing the ground for scraps. Simp.
As they film the dance challenge, Jing Yuan sighs about how his age is getting to him and how he can’t keep up with all these new ‘Toktok’ things. Ren answers dryly that, at 26 years old, he’s also opening the TikTok links his juniors send him in his browser. It earns him another laugh.
Many hours later, HUNTERS gets their very first music show win with ‘Demian’. Ren swore he wouldn’t cry during his first win, but tears roll down his cheek as he accepts the trophy and thanks their parents, their CEO, the company, the staff, the fans and everyone else he can think of between sobs. His tough boy stage persona is now six feet under and feeding the maggots.
During the encore, his members cling to him, even Sam. They bury their faces in his chest and he pats their backs, cueing them to sing when their lines come up. When the cameras cut, they break the rules and hop off the stage, running to their fans. Their managers are too busy crying to stop them.
When they return to the dressing room, their staff surprise them with a cake. Ren loathes skinship with a burning passion, but just for today he accepts hugs from their managers, stylists and even more from his members. They’ve all waited four years for this moment. Just over two months ago, on the verge of disbanding, it had seemed so far out of their reach.
Ren digs his phone out of his bag. There’s a new message.
Dan Heng-qianbei
Congrats on the first win!! Well-deserved
Ren
Thank you, qianbei
This is because of ‘blueberry moon’
I owe it to you too
Dan Heng-qianbei
Don’t say that, this is your own achievement
But if you really want to thank me, remember
to get in touch after promotions are over
—————
Back in SH Entertainment, Ren doesn’t have his own studio. He borrows the studios of the few in-house producers after they leave, and works until the sun rises the next day. He makes a mental note to negotiate with Elio for one, now that they’ve gotten their first win.
“Welcome to my studio. Oh, wait there.” Dan Heng heads into the room, and returns with a pair of fluffy dinosaur slippers. “Shoes off, please. You can use these.”
The shoes must be one of his spares. They’re a little too small for Ren, and his heels stick out at the back. The two of them look down, back up at each other, and share a laugh.
Dan Heng’s studio is an introvert’s dream. It’s a small room, but very cozy. There’s a blue-grey couch right beside the door, accessorised by a tasteful collection of throw blankets and cushions. One of the walls is taken up by framed covers of all the albums IL has released over the years. His setup is pushed against the opposite wall. The desk is kept meticulously neat—a 2015 iMac in the centre, two extra monitors, an audio interface, a few speakers, a MIDI keyboard and a mic. Standard equipment, all of them worn and well-loved. Something about the fact that the richest idol in the country isn’t a raging consumerist is oddly endearing.
Ren takes a seat on the sofa, back straight and knees pressed together. Dan Heng drops into his gaming chair—the only flashy thing in the room—and reaches under his desk to open the mini bar.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Ren leans forward, eager to find out what brand of energy drink or coffee the legendary IL keeps in his studio. But it’s all…
“Tea?” Ren asks, getting out of his seat to squat in front of the mini fridge. There’s plastic bottles and cans and cartons, but it’s really all just various kinds of tea. Red tea, green tea, oolong tea, milk tea, kombucha, but nothing else. Not even plain water.
“Oh, I forgot.” Dan Heng smiles sheepishly. “You’re a coffee person, aren’t you? I’ll go steal something from Himeko.”
“No, it’s fine—” Ren starts to get up, but Dan Heng pushes him back onto the sofa.
“I insist. You’re my guest, after all. Feel free to look around while I’m gone.”
He’s gone before Ren can utter another word of protest. Ren watches as the door to the studio slides shut, head full of nothing but questions. How on earth does Dan Heng know he’s a coffee person? Did he mention that during IL’s Elegy? He must have. It wasn’t in the actual episode, but then again it’s not the kind of fun fact that makes it into final cuts.
Ren wanders over to the other side of the desk, looking at the three guitars lined up in a rack. Acoustic, electric, and bass. He recognises the acoustic guitar as the one he played during the show. Since he’s touched it before, he supposes Dan Heng wouldn’t mind him touching it again. Ren plucks it out of the rack and gives it an experimental strum. Hm. It’s a little out of tune.
That’s how Dan Heng finds Ren when he returns. Ren, absorbed in his work, doesn’t notice Dan Heng coming back in. When he’s done, he looks up and nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Sorry for startling you.” Dan Heng holds out a mug. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I’m sorry for touching your guitar without your permission.”
“It’s fine, I gave you permission to look around. Were you doing that without a tuner?”
“Uh.” Ren scratches the side of chin. “Habit?”
Dan Heng pulls out a digital tuner from one of the drawers. He clips it onto the headstock and starts plucking the strings. On all six notes, the needle remains in the middle. He looks up with wide eyes.
“You have perfect pitch?”
“Huh, I didn’t know that.”
Liar. Of course he knew. But Ren’s not about to tell IL that to his face.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Dan Heng chuckles. He sits back down, crossing one leg over the other. “I listened to all of the samples you sent over. They’re all great, and there’s a few in particular that I really liked. But before we go on, I have something to confess to you. I do have an ulterior motive for asking you over.”
Ren chokes on his coffee. He retains enough sensibility to spit it back in the mug instead of all over Dan Heng’s guitar. Also, what is with the coffee? Is it even coffee?
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I shouldn’t have said that while you were drinking.” Dan Heng takes the guitar back and dabs at Ren’s sleeves with some tissue. His touch is featherlight and—is this really the time to be thinking about that?!
“It’s alright.” Ren coughs, beating at his chest with a fist. Dan Heng wheels closer on his chair, rubbing Ren’s back with his free hand. Ren is wearing a denim jacket over a sweater, but the touch makes his toes curl in his sneakers. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him? “You were saying?”
“Wow, ‘ulterior motive’ doesn’t faze you at all?”
“You’re IL. I’m just a small-time idol who made it big because his cover of your song went viral.”
“Pause.” Dan Heng holds the tissues to Ren’s mouth, shutting him up. Ren glances down, then back up into Dan Heng’s olive green eyes. They’re too close. “No more of that talk. We’re both musicians, and therefore equals. I’m not going to release you until you agree.”
Ren nods profusely. He doesn’t agree. He can’t be compared to the likes of IL. But he’ll do anything to get some distance between Dan Heng’s hand and his lips. There are thoughts swirling in his mind, ones that would make Dan Heng’s ‘ulterior motives’ look silly in comparison.
(Because, come on. He’s IL. Whatever he wants with Ren, it can’t be anything that scandalous. There’s a ton of celebrities far more attractive than Ren who would happily climb into Dan Heng’s bed if he so much as bats a single eyelash at them. Not that Ren isn’t one of them.)
“Good.” Dan Heng gets up to toss the tissues in the trash. Behind his back, Ren lets out the biggest sigh of relief, slumping back in the sofa like he just lost all of his bones. “As I was saying, I’m hoping we can do a collab together.”
Ren shoots back upright so fast he hears his spine crack. It doesn’t help that he’s in a sound-proofed studio. The crack is loud. Dan Heng makes a poor attempt at disguising his snort behind a cough.
“Qianbei.” Ren begins slowly. “You want to do a collab. With me.”
“Yeah.”
“Why? This wouldn’t benefit you in any way. If anything, it would only benefit me.”
“I’m disappointed, Ren.” Dan Heng frowns at him, leaning his face into a hand. “Are you the kind that only thinks about benefits?”
“No, of course not.” Ren splutters, nearly spilling the coffee again when he waves his hand. He quickly sets it down. “I mean. I’m not sure why you’ve been so kind to me. Not that I’m not grateful, because I am. Very. But I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness. All I did was cover your song. You don’t have to go to such lengths for me.”
“Lengths? Hardly. You seem to know my career well. Tell me, how many collabs have I done?”
“Four.” Ren answers immediately. It’s very little, considering that Dan Heng has released close to eighty songs throughout his ten-year career.
“Oh. You really do know. I’m kind of embarrassed now.” Dan Heng turns away, hiding the lower part of his face behind his hand. Ren’s eyes immediately go to the tips of his ears because they’re red. He feels his own face grow warm.
“That part of you is kind of fun.” Ren blurts out. Dan Heng’s eyes flick to him. Ren has no choice but to press on shamelessly. “The cocky bit. You’re so nice and polite all the time, so it’s interesting to see a different side.”
“That’s just my customer service mode.” Dan Heng winks at him. Ren thanks every god in existence for being alive to witness the miracle of IL winking at him. Sure, he could search up a compilation on YouTube, but it’s different. This one's for Ren, and Ren only. “Agree to the collab and you can see the non-customer service mode.”
At that, Ren barks out a laugh. “Now you’re just twisting my arm.”
“Can’t help it.” Dan Heng shrugs. “Ren, I really do want to work with you. As you know, I don’t just collab with anyone. I’m asking you because I like your voice, and I really liked ‘Nowhere to Run’. Well, I do, but I’m hoping that’s not the type of song we’ll make. Ah. There goes my ulterior motive.”
“I’m not following.”
“Despite what you think, a collab with you does bring me some benefits. HUNTERS has the—well, this term doesn’t mean anything to us musicians—but you guys have the ‘dark concept’.” Dan Heng scrunches his nose up at the term. Ren nods in understanding. The beloved, timeless ‘dark concept’ that fans rave about is really just surface-level. It doesn’t actually say anything about the song at all. “You know the ‘concept’ I’ve always had.”
“In terms of visual concept, the fresh, innocent boy-next-door. In terms of music, a lot of ballads and pop. Some R&B. I really like ‘Cloudpiercer’, by the way.”
“Thank you, but exactly. I’ve wanted to move away from it for a while, try something new. But my company doesn’t want to let me. They’re afraid it won't be well-received. Or rather, that it won’t sell.”
“You don’t get to decide what kind of songs you want to release?” Ren gawks at him. “But you’re IL.”
“I’m still a managed talent, just like you.”
“There’s no hope for the rest of us, then.”
“Sorry to tell you the grass isn’t much greener on the other side.” Dan Heng says with a wry smile. “But we’re not here to complain about the industry. We can do that another day. What I’m saying is, a collab is the perfect excuse to try out something new. Your group is known for your rock sound, something I’m very keen to dabble in. You’re a perfect fit for me.”
“When you put it that way, I have no reason to refuse.” Ren says. “Not that I did in the first place. Any self-respecting idol would sell their soul to get a collab with you. I’m more than happy to help, even happier if I can be of use to you.”
“Wording.” Dan Heng warns, but the childlike grin is back on his face. For a moment, Ren swears he sees Little Dan Feng in that chair, with his sparkling, doe-like eyes. But that doesn’t do adult Dan Heng any justice. He still has his doe-like eyes. “That’s a yes, then?”
“Yes, Dan Heng-qianbei.” Ren says, breathless from how dizzy he feels. The fact that he’s here, in the studio of his hero, being asked to work on a song together. How is this possibly real? “Please let me collab with you.”