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Quanzhe’s standing backstage, shifting his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet and back, impatient as he waits for his signal to go on.
“Next up we have a solo performer,” he hears the producer say. The crew member standing by the curtain nods to him, and Quanzhe takes a deep breath before walking onto the stage, momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness. Some of the contestants cheer for him as he makes his way to the center, but others are murmuring already. Quanzhe doesn’t even need to listen to know they’re talking about how he was in the same group as Zhengting, who's sitting across him at the mentors' table. Even one of the other mentors is whispering to the producer, no doubt about the same topic.
He clears his throat and introduces himself. “My name is Li Quanzhe. I’m 22 years old, from Yuehua Entertainment.” In the back, some of the contestants are still making a racket, and Quanzhe doesn’t look at how Zhengting raises his mic several times, clearly wanting to speak, but doesn’t get a chance to before the producer’s telling Quanzhe to begin whenever he’s ready.
He walks to his starting position, towards the back of the stage, and tells them he’s good. Zhengting counts down from three for the music, and Quanzhe doesn’t think about how unnaturally flat his voice sounds compared to when he did the countdown for previous performances. He’s glad he decided to start off the performance facing off to the side, which allows him to focus on getting into the mood.
The song he performs is something of a statement. Aptly titled My Story, he wrote about himself and his past. He had revised the lyrics eight whole times in order to accurately express his true feelings - that he’s determined, unwilling to give up, and prepared to start again, despite all that has happened in the past 5 years. He wants the people watching to know that he’s no longer the cute, innocent 17 year old boy who was on Idol Producer, but a 22 year old who is now older and wiser, after having experienced, learned, and changed through both being in the public eye and hidden away from it.
Quanzhe’s forgotten how close the mentors are seated until he turns to face the front, able to see each of their faces more clearly than he’d anticipated. He wouldn't have minded, except he’s suddenly too aware of Zhengting watching him, his gaze on Quanzhe heavy like a weighted vest. He looks determinedly at the other side of the mentors' table - he doesn’t know how he’d react if he met Zhengting’s eyes, if it would give him strength for the performance or throw him off completely, but he doesn’t think that’s something he’d want to find out in the middle of such an important stage; he tries not to look much at Cheng Xiao either, for her presence reminds him too much of Idol Producer, and that’s not what he wants either. Instead, he spends more time looking down at the floor than he should’ve, knowing it hasn't been his best work by a long shot, but still pushes through until the end.
“Hello, Quanzhe,” the producer says after he finishes his performance. “I heard you debuted a long time ago, why have you joined our audition program?” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Zhengting shift, unintentionally dramatic as he looks away.
“I came here because I wanted to become better,” Quanzhe answers simply.
“Very good,” the producer nods. He turns to ask Rain to comment first, who doesn’t seem to have read the atmosphere and looks to Zhengting - “the two of them know each other” - but Cheng Xiao tells him, “it’s okay, please go first,” and Quanzhe sends a grateful smile her way.
Rain compliments his starting pose before talking about how he put too much power into dancing, and Quanzhe isn’t surprised. He’s been too desperate to prove himself - to the people watching the show, to the other contestants, sure, but deep down, he knows it’s to Zhengting. Zhengting, who took care of him since the first day he joined the company. Zhengting, who sacrificed sleep to teach him choreography during Idol Producer. Zhengting, who, long after NEX7 unofficially disbanded, was busy with solo schedules, had nothing to gain from hanging out with Quanzhe, and yet still made time for and made plans with Quanzhe whenever he was back in Beijing. Zhengting, who basically watched him grow up, from barely a teenager to now an adult.
So when Rain asks, “Do you feel wronged or angry right now?” Quanzhe answers, “I might’ve when I was younger, but now I don’t have these emotions anymore. I just think that I can do better.” Off to the side, Zhengting’s shifting again, movements large enough to be distracting but that’s how Quanzhe knows how much he cares.
“Right,” Rain continues. “What I thought was good is that there was something in your gaze. Not like a tiger, but a wolf.” Quanzhe perks up a little at the fact that his performance did still convey some of the things he had wanted it to. “Your gaze at the beginning of the performance, I hope you can keep that up.” Rain goes back to talking about how he can improve his dance, but Quanzhe is no longer listening, because Zhengting has suddenly bent down, and when he straightens up enough for everyone to see, he’s wiping his eyes through the empty rims of his glasses.
“Thank you,” Quanzhe says when Rain is no longer talking.
He’s watches Cheng Xiao explain to Rain, who’s just noticed the redness of Zhengting’s eyes, that Quanzhe and Zhengting used to be in the same group, when the producer comments, “I saw Zhengting started crying when Rain was talking.” And for the first time since he came onstage 5 minutes ago, Quanzhe allows himself to look at Zhengting directly, who’s laughing from embarrassment of being called out.
“Say it yourself,” Cheng Xiao tells Zhengting when he looks over to her.
“I-” Zhengting starts, but pauses for a few seconds to collect himself. “I’ll comment on your stage normally and without personal feelings first,” and Quanzhe nods, even though Zhengting’s not looking at him. “I think you could’ve done better, because I could see your dance ability, but you didn’t perform very well.” He sniffs lightly. “Then, next- wait,” he bends down again, no doubt to wipe away more tears, and Quanzhe finds himself smiling despite the situation.
Zhengting’s styling for today, from his middle part to the glasses to the jacket, makes him look so sharp that Quanzhe forgot just how big of a softie and crybaby Zhengting actually is. And of course, when the mentor and trainee lineups were first announced on social media, he’d seen the shocked comments about two people from the same group participating in a show with such different roles. He would be lying if he said it didn’t affect him at all, and throughout the previous performances he has been slightly (extremely) nervous that once Zhengting turned on his professionalism, he would come down extra hard on Quanzhe. But the way Zhengting’s fighting so hard to not cry now, it makes Quanzhe feel warm, makes him feel like it’s his Zhengting sitting there right now.
“Next,” Zhengting continues, “we have really known each other for such a long time, so I know what kind of performance you are capable of pulling off. But you choosing to do a stage like this, I think I can understand it, because I saw -” he moves his mic away as he looks up, blinking “- because I saw your lyrics, and -” he’s looking directly at Quanzhe now “- I hope you become braver, and not be afraid to do things.”
Quanzhe, transfixed by Zhengting’s earnest gaze, can only nod in response.
“Because think about it, I’m the same. Don’t I always attract antis as well? Because of the way I talk. What are we scared for, seriously. I think you should say whatever’s on your mind. And sometimes, we don’t mean to say something aggressively, we’re only expressing our thoughts neutrally in hopes that someone else can improve, but many people will purposefully twist your meaning, and that’s not something you can prevent. So let’s just be ourselves and that's enough. Don’t change yourself because of other people’s actions or words. As long as we aren’t disturbing other people, we should just be ourselves.”
The other contestants cheer for Zhengting’s speech, and the producer asks, “Quanzhe, is there anything you want to say to Zhengting?”
Quanzhe purses his lips in a half smile and shakes his head. There’s no way for him to organize the thousands of thoughts in his head right now, and anything he says for the camera would have to be worded carefully - despite Zhengting’s speech just now - and Zhengting deserves better than that. And the way Zhengting’s gaze has softened when Quanzhe meets his eyes again, Quanzhe knows he understands.
“Okay,” the producer says. “There’s still a long way to go for the competition, you can reply to him when you get a chance.”
The mentors move on to grading him, and he’s not surprised when they give him only two stars instead of the best rating of three stars, but it motivates him to work harder for the next stage. He waves to the mentors as he exits the stage, and Zhengting waves back without looking at him, entering into his professional mode again.
Quanzhe spends the rest of filming feeling detached from the rest of the contestants, even though he’s seated smack in the middle of them. More than once, his gaze shifts from the performance onstage to the back of Zhengting’s head, and each time he has to physically shake himself out of the trance he finds himself falling into, thinking about himself, Zhengting, and him and Zhengting .
Filming finally wraps after another two hours, and Quanzhe watches as the mentors exit the studio first. Zhengting glances back, seemingly at nobody in particular, but years spent together tells Quanzhe it’s for him. So when they are dismissed from the set and Ollie slings an arm around his shoulder, Quanzhe gently shakes him off and nods towards the building that houses the mentors’ dressing rooms. Ollie, who usually always has something teasing to say, lets him go without a word.
Quanzhe doesn’t know where exactly Zhengting’s dressing room is, but he runs into Cheng Xiao, who just looks at him knowingly before giving him directions. When he reaches the door with a taped sign that says Zhu Zhengting on it, he pauses, suddenly feeling lost. Maybe he thought too much into Zhengting’s look back and it didn’t actually mean anything. And even if he were to walk in right now, he doesn’t know what he’d say to Zhengting at all - one of the reasons he had to revise his lyrics eight times is because he’s extremely terrible at translating his thoughts into words that can actually express his feelings.
He’s seriously considering if he should just leave when the door opens, revealing Zhengting who has already changed back into his casual clothes. The moment their eyes meet, it’s as if they were right back to when Zhengting was telling Quanzhe that he understands, that he shouldn’t be afraid, but now there’s no table between them, no cameras filming them. Not mentor and contestant, just Zhengting and Quanzhe.
Zhengting steps aside and Quanzhe walks into the room, closing the door behind him carefully. When he turns back, Zhengting’s eyes are reddening again, Quanzhe can’t help but find him adorable.
So instead of struggling to form his thoughts into words, Quanzhe simply opens his arms and says, “come here.” Zhengting practically throws himself into Quanzhe, who had to take a few involuntary steps back from the impact.
“I’m proud of you,” Zhengting says, squeezing Quanzhe so tightly it feels like he might crack a rib. Quanzhe wheezes and smacks Zhengting’s arm until he loosens his grip.
“I’ve grown up, you know,” Quanzhe tells Zhengting, smoothing a hand down the other boy’s back. It suddenly makes him feel like the older one, and a quick calculation makes him realize he’s now the same age as Zhengting when they went onto Idol Producer together.
“I know,” Zhengting sniffles into Quanzhe’s hair. “I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.” He doesn't need to elaborate for Quanzhe to know what he means - about Yuehua, about NEX7, about everything.
“Hey,” Quanzhe moves back slightly. He cups a hand beneath Zhengting’s chin and tilts it up gently so Zhengting is forced to look into his eyes. “It’s okay,” Quanzhe reassures him. “You did everything you could.” He emphasizes every word, hoping Zhengting can feel his sincerity, his gratitude, and everything he should’ve said but didn’t until it was too late.
“You really think so?” Zhengting looks at him with big, watery eyes, and Quanzhe nods. “We all know so,” he says firmly, willing desperately for Zhengting to believe him.
They hold their positions for a few seconds, just looking , taking in what’s changed and what’s remained the same since the last time they saw each other. Then Zhengting lets out a sigh, so soft Quanzhe wouldn't have felt it if he wasn’t so close. He should move back, he thinks, knows, but he doesn’t. His eyes flick down to Zhengting’s lips instead, and he doesn’t need to glance up to know Zhengting noticed.
He watches as Zhengting closes the distance between them in millimeters, the wait even more agonizing than the time it took for him to be able to stand on stage again. He closes his eyes when he can count Zhengting’s eyelashes, and feels the lightest press of lips against his own a moment later. Zhengting’s lips are chapped from wearing lipstick for too long, so Quanzhe licks at them until they’re soft again.
He pulls back when he deems Zhengting’s lips smooth enough, but circles his arms loosely around Zhengting’s waist. Zhengting leaves his hands where they found their way onto Quanzhe’s shoulders and smiles at him like the first ray of sunlight on a flower that has just bloomed.
“I’m really glad it was you,” Quanzhe tells him. “Even if I was a little scared you were going to be hard on me.”
“Have some faith in me, Li Quanzhe,” Zhengting rolls his eyes, but he reaches for one of Quanzhe’s hands and intertwines their fingers against his side.
“I know you’ve always wanted what’s best for all of us,” Quanzhe squeezes his hand. “And the best from all of us.”
“And this will be yours,” Zhengting squeezes back. “I can feel it. No matter where this takes you, you’ll only be going up from here.”
“But you’ll always be my favorite older brother,” Quanzhe says. It feels very important that Zhengting hears it from his mouth, in that moment.
“I better be,” Zhengting had meant to sound sassy, but Quanzhe can see him tearing up again. Quanzhe’s about to reach out when a knock sounds on the door.
Zhengting closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and yells, “coming!” in a slightly wobbly voice. Quanzhe watches him grab his jacket off the back of a chair, reach for the door handle, and turn back at the last moment to look at Quanzhe.
“We’ll be alright,” Zhengting says, but his gaze searches Quanzhe like he’s asking a question. Not you , we .
“Yes we will,” Quanzhe answers with a smile, and Zhengting beams at him before hurrying to his next schedule.
The door closes behind Zhengting with a bang (still always in a rush) but Quanzhe smiles, already thinking about when they’ll next see each other. The show marks the end of Zhengting being his leader - as clear and as official a statement as Yuehua will ever give - but it’s the start of someting else, something infinitely better.