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The humidity of Bangkok in May was a living, breathing entity, clinging to the skin like a second layer of clothing. Behind the heavy velvet curtains of the Thunder Dome, the air vibrated with the low, rhythmic thrum of twelve thousand waiting fans. It was a terrifying, exhilarating sound—the kind that settled straight into the marrow of your bones.
Backstage, however, the atmosphere was pure, unadulterated chaos.
"What do you mean, the backing track for 'Summer Lover' is corrupted?" Jiang Heng’s voice, usually a smooth, grounded baritone, cut through the frantic chatter of the audio technicians. At twenty-nine, with a frame that naturally commanded space and a stage presence that usually left audiences spellbound, he rarely showed panic. But right now, his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the tech table. "We’re on in three minutes. It’s the final song of the encore. We can’t just cut it."
"The hard drive crashed on the playback monitor," the stage manager muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "We can fix it, but it’ll take ten minutes. We don’t have ten minutes. The crowd is already chanting."
"We do it acoustic," a quiet, steady voice intervened.
Jiang Heng turned. Li Pei'en was leaning against an equipment crate, his fingers casually tuning the strings of his vintage acoustic guitar. At twenty-nine—almost thirty, a milestone they joked about constantly—Li Pei'en possessed a calm that balanced Jiang Heng’s fiery energy. He looked up through a fringe of dark hair, his dark eyes reflecting the harsh backstage fluorescent lights.
"Acoustic?" Jiang Heng repeated, a breathless half-laugh escaping him. "Pei'en, we haven't rehearsed an acoustic arrangement for the finale. The arrangement needs the full band synth."
"Then we don't do 'Summer Lover,'" Li Pei'en said simply. He stood up, adjusting the strap of his guitar over his shoulder. He stepped into Jiang Heng’s personal space, close enough that Jiang Heng could smell the faint scent of mint and the hairspray the stylists had used an hour ago. Li Pei'en offered a small, reassuring smile. "We do something else. Just me, you, and the guitar."
"What song?"
"‘È Zuò Jù’," Li Pei'en said.
Jiang Heng froze. Prank. A song they hadn’t performed together since their early days, long before they were filling arenas in Thailand. It was a song about the dizzying, terrifying uncertainty of love, hidden behind the guise of a prank. It was a song Jiang Heng knew by heart, not because they practiced it, but because for the last five years, every time he looked at Li Pei'en, the lyrics played like a cruel loop in his own mind.
I think I’m gonna start thinking about you... but I just met you. Except they hadn't just met. They had been side-by-side for a lifetime, yet Jiang Heng felt like he was constantly rediscovering him.
"We haven't rehearsed that in years," Jiang Heng whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs, and for once, it wasn’t just stage fright.
"We don't need to," Li Pei'en said, his voice dropping an octave, a soft, intimate challenge. "You know it. I know it. Trust me?"
Jiang Heng looked at his best friend—the man who held his youth, his career, and his entire, unspoken heart in the palm of his hands. He swallowed hard, the adrenaline rushing through his veins like wildfire. "Always."
"Thirty seconds to stage!" the floor manager yelled.
Li Pei'en gave Jiang Heng a quick, playful nudge with his shoulder, a familiar gesture meant to dispel the tension. "Don't forget the lyrics, old man."
"I'm younger than you by nine months, watch your mouth," Jiang Heng shot back, the familiar cracks of their protective shield falling into place.
But as they walked out into the blinding sea of stage lights, the shield began to fracture.
The roar of the Bangkok crowd was a physical wall of sound. Thousands of lightsticks glowed in a sea of synchronized color, illuminating the ocean of faces. The heat hit them instantly, thick and sweet with the scent of stage fog and sweat.
Jiang Heng stepped up to his microphone stand, his fingers wrapping around the cold metal. To his right, Li Pei'en stood a few paces back, adjusting his guitar.
"Bangkok!" Jiang Heng called out into the mic, his voice echoing through the massive arena. The crowd screamed in response, a deafening wave of love. "We had a little bit of a technical surprise for the last song tonight. So, we're going to do something a little spontaneous. A little old school. Just the two of us."
He looked back at Li Pei'en. Li Pei'en caught his eye, gave a single, sharp nod, and struck the first chord.
The crisp, bright sound of the acoustic guitar filled the stadium, cutting through the heavy air. The crowd recognized the iconic, nostalgic intro immediately, a collective gasp and a soft wave of cheers rippling through the arena.
Jiang Heng took a deep breath, the adrenaline sharpening his senses until every flashing light, every scream, and the exact vibration of Li Pei'en's guitar strings felt hyper-real. He raised the mic to his lips, his eyes locking onto Li Pei'en as he sang the opening lines.
Wo zhao bu dao hen hao de yuan yin
(I can’t find a good reason)
Qu zu dang zhe yi qie de qin mi
(To stop all this intimacy)
Zhe gan jiao tai qi yi
(It feels so strange)
Wo bao qian bu neng shuo ming
(I’m sorry, I can’t explain)
Jiang Heng’s voice was warm, a little raw from a two-hour set, but it carried an intensity that hadn't been there all night. He walked slowly toward the center of the stage, his eyes never leaving Li Pei'en. All this intimacy. He felt it every time they shared a hotel room, every time their shoulders brushed backstage. It was a strange, beautiful torture.
Li Pei'en smiled, leaning into his microphone as he strummed, taking over the next lines. His voice was softer, a beautiful, airy contrast to Jiang Heng's deep resonance.
Wo xiang xin zhe ai qing de ding yi
(I believe in the definition of love)
Qi ji hui fa sheng ye bu yi ding
(Miracles don’t surely happen)
Feng wen rou de qin xi
(The gentle wind)
Ye xu piao lai hao xiao xi
(Maybe it comes with good news)
They were moving closer now, a magnetic pull that they couldn't resist, stage blocking completely forgotten. They stood mere inches apart, sharing the center space. Jiang Heng watched the way Li Pei'en's long fingers moved effortlessly over the guitar frets. This was their element. Spontaneous, unscripted, completely in sync.
Jiang Heng leaned in, a smirk playing on his lips, entering the playful teasing phase of their usual stage dynamics. He closed the distance, his voice dropping into a teasing, intimate tone for his next solo line, leaning into Li Pei'en's space.
Yi qie xin xian you dian mao xian
(All fresh and a little adventurous)
Qing gao su wo zen me zou dao zhong dian
(Please tell me how to get to the finish line)
He tilted his head, a deliberate attempt to throw Li Pei'en off, towering over him with a grin. Tell me how to get to the finish line. It felt like a double entendre, a challenge thrown under the cover of stage lights.
Li Pei'en laughed, a breathless sound that caught in his microphone, but he didn't miss a beat. He looked up at Jiang Heng—the height difference prominent as Jiang Heng stood close—and sang his solo line right back, eyes sparkling with a mix of defiance and something softer.
Mei you ren le jie
(No one knows)
Mei you ren xiang wo he mo sheng ren de ai lian
(No one’s like me fall in love with strangers)
Then, the chorus hit. Jiang Heng took the lead, his voice soaring over the stadium, but his gaze was locked entirely on his partner.
Wo xiang wo hui kai shi xiang nian nai
(I think I’m gonna start thinking about you)
Ke shi wo gang gang cai yu jian le nai
(But I just met you)
Wo huai yi zhe qi yu zhi shi ge e zuo ju
(I doubt our encounter was a prank)
Something shifted in the air. The playful banter suddenly felt incredibly heavy. Jiang Heng's chest tightened. Li Pei'en didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice blending into the second half of the chorus with a sudden, fierce vulnerability that made the hairs on Jiang Heng's arms stand up.
Wo xiang wo yi man man xi huan nai
(I think I am slowly starting to like you)
Yin wei wo yong you ai qing de yong qi
(Because I have the courage to love)
Wo ren xing tou ru nai gei de e zuo ju
(I’m wayward into your prank)
Nai gei de e zuo ju
(The prank you gave me)
As the song cycled back, the high-adrenaline atmosphere of the concert seemed to warp. The thousands of screaming fans, the flashing lights, the cameras capturing their every move for the big screens—it all began to blur into a soft, indistinct haze. The world shrank until it was just a stage, a guitar, and the two of them.
Jiang Heng picked up his next line, his voice dropping into something deeply sincere, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of Li Pei'en's face.
Wo cai fa xian nai hen yao yan
(I just found you dazzling)
Qing rang wo zai qiao qiao nai de shuang yan
(Please let me see your eyes again)
Li Pei'en looked up, and the playful spark in his eyes was completely gone, replaced by something raw, exposed, and deeply emotional. The heat of the arena, the exhaustion of the tour, and the sheer weight of singing these specific words to his best friend seemed to catch up to him all at once.
When Li Pei'en delivered his solo line, his voice trembled just a fraction, a sudden rush of genuine emotion making his throat tight:
Mei you ren le jie
(No one knows)
Mei you ren xiang wo he mo sheng ren de ai lian
(No one’s like me fall in love with strangers)
Jiang Heng saw it—the sudden glint of unshed tears in Li Pei'en's eyes, the way his lower lip quivered slightly before he controlled it. It wasn't acting. Li Pei'en was breaking under the weight of a secret he had been carrying.
He feels it too, the realization exploded in Jiang Heng's mind like a firework. It was a sensory overload—the pounding of his own heart, the thrum of the guitar against his chest as he stepped even closer.
They reached the final, climactic chorus. They were supposed to sing it together, harmonizing their voices as they always did. They raised their mics, their eyes locked, completely open and stripped of all defenses.
Wo xiang wo hui kai shi xiang nian nai
(I think I’m gonna start thinking about you)
Ke shi wo gang gang cai yu jian le nai
(But I just met you)
Wo huai yi zhe qi yu zhi shi ge e zuo ju
(I doubt our encounter was a prank)
They were singing together, their voices filling the arena, but Jiang Heng could only hear Li Pei'en's breathing. They transitioned into the final lines of the chorus, the ultimate confession of the song.
Wo xiang wo yi man man xi huan nai
(I think I am slowly starting to like you)
Yin wei wo yong you ai qing de yong qi
(Because I have the courage to love)
Wo ren xing tou ru nai gei de e zuo ju
(I’m wayward into your prank)
The final chords of the guitar were supposed to ring out, a gentle, fading outro on the words Nai gei de e zuo ju.
But Jiang Heng couldn't let it fade. The adrenaline, the suffocating love, the fear of losing this moment of absolute honesty drove him forward. Without a second thought, completely detached from reality, Jiang Heng reached out. His large hand cupped the back of Li Pei'en's neck, his thumb wiping a bead of sweat from his jawline.
He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against Li Pei'en's.
The final chord of the guitar shrieked into a discordant, muffled scrape as Li Pei'en’s hand froze over the strings, completely interrupting the music before the final line could resolve.
Time stopped. In Jiang Heng’s mind, a heavy, silent bubble wrapped around them. He closed his eyes, pouring every ounce of his hidden longing into the press of his lips. It was warm, real, and everything he had dreamed of.
But Li Pei'en didn't move.
Jiang Heng waited for the familiar touch, waited for Li Pei'en’s lips to part, for his hand to grip his shirt. But Li Pei'en remained completely rigid. His lips were closed, tight and unyielding. His body was stiff as a board under Jiang Heng's touch.
A cold dread flooded Jiang Heng's veins, instantly washing away the adrenaline high.
Jiang Heng pulled back slowly, his heart dropping into his stomach. He looked down at Li Pei'en.
Li Pei'en’s eyes were wide, dilated with absolute shock. His face was pale beneath his stage makeup, his lips slightly parted but completely silent. He was staring at Jiang Heng as if he had just been struck by lightning, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. He didn't smile. He didn't reach out. He just stood there, paralyzed.
Then, the bubble burst.
The sound of twelve thousand people realizing what had just happened hit the stage like a sonic boom. A deafening, chaotic roar of screams, shrieks, and camera shutters shattered the silence. The arena went wild, a turbulent sea of noise that felt incredibly distant to Jiang Heng's ringing ears.
Jiang Heng’s hand dropped from Li Pei'en’s neck as if he had been burned. A profound, suffocating embarrassment washed over him. He had misread it. He had ruined everything. The emotional vulnerability in Li Pei'en's eyes wasn't love—it was just the exhaustion of the performance.
"Thank you, Bangkok," Jiang Heng forced the words out into his microphone, his voice hollow, completely detached from his body. He didn't look at Li Pei'en again. He turned on his heel and walked off the stage, his chest tight with a crushing, agonizing ache.
The backstage area was a blur of motion. Staff members were cheering, high-fiving, completely oblivious to the silent tragedy that had just occurred. To them, it was a legendary fan-service moment that would trend worldwide within minutes.
Jiang Heng ignored them all. He marched straight down the concrete corridor, his heavy boots echoing loudly, and slammed the door of their private dressing room shut.
The silence of the room was deafening compared to the arena. Jiang Heng threw his microphone onto the couch and paced the floor, his hands flying to his hair, pulling at the roots. Stupid. So incredibly stupid. How could he have been so reckless? They were a duo. They were best friends. And he had just jeopardized everything on a sudden, adrenaline-fueled whim.
The dressing room door clicked open.
Jiang Heng stiffened, turning around. Li Pei'en walked in, still holding his acoustic guitar by the neck. He closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Neither of them spoke for a long, agonizing moment.
"Heng," Li Pei'en started, his voice barely a whisper. He carefully set his guitar down on its stand, his hands visibly shaking.
"I'm sorry," Jiang Heng interrupted quickly, the words rushing out of him in a desperate bid to salvage whatever was left of their friendship. He couldn't look Li Pei'en in the eye. He looked at the floor, his voice tight with repressed emotion. "I'm so sorry, Pei'en. I don't know what came over me. The adrenaline, the song... it was just a stupid joke. A prank. Like the song says, right? An e zuo ju. I got carried away by the performance. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Please, just... forget it happened."
He was lying through his teeth, and it tore his throat to do it. But he had to protect Li Pei'en. He had to protect their bond.
"A joke?" Li Pei'en's voice wasn't soft anymore. It was sharp, cracking with a strange mix of disbelief and anger.
Jiang Heng finally looked up. Li Pei'en was staring at him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright with a sudden, fierce emotion. He walked across the room, stopping right in front of Jiang Heng, forcing Jiang Heng to look down at him.
"You think that was a joke?" Li Pei'en demanded, his chest heaving. "You kiss me like that, in front of thousands of people, and then you call it a prank?"
"What else am I supposed to say, Pei'en?!" Jiang Heng burst out, his own frustration and heartbreak boiling over. He took a step back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You didn't kiss me back! You froze up like I was a monster! You looked at me like you hated me! I get it, okay? I misread the moment. I thought—for a second, when we were singing, I thought you felt the same way. But you didn't. And that's fine. I'll take the blame, I'll handle the media, just... don't hate me."
Li Pei'en stared at him, his jaw dropping slightly. The anger seemed to drain out of him all at once, replaced by a profound, stunned realization.
"You... you think I froze because I hated it?" Li Pei'en asked, his voice suddenly small, completely stripped of its sharp edge.
Jiang Heng frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. "Didn't you?"
Li Pei'en let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. He covered his face with his hands for a second, his shoulders shaking. When he dropped his hands, he looked up at Jiang Heng with an expression of pure, unadulterated exasperation—and something so deeply tender it made Jiang Heng's breath catch.
"Jiang Heng, you are an absolute idiot," Li Pei'en whispered.
"What?"
"I've been in love with you for five years," Li Pei'en said, the confession cutting through the quiet room like a knife.
Jiang Heng froze, his brain failing to process the words. "You... what?"
"Five years," Li Pei'en repeated, taking a step closer, closing the distance Jiang Heng had created. He reached out, his smaller hands gripping the lapels of Jiang Heng's stage jacket, anchoring himself. "Every song I write, every harmony I sing with you, it's always been about you. When we were singing tonight, I got emotional because I was looking at you and thinking about how I could never tell you. And then suddenly, you're kissing me."
Li Pei'en’s grip tightened on Jiang Heng's jacket, his eyes wide and earnest. "My brain short-circuited, Heng! I didn't freeze because I hated it. I froze because I thought I was having a stroke! I thought I was dreaming, or that the heat finally made me hallucinate. I couldn't move because if I moved, I was afraid I’d wake up and you’d still just be my best friend who doesn't look at me that way."
Jiang Heng stared at him, the words sinking into his chest, melting the cold dread that had settled there. The sheer relief was so overwhelming it made his knees feel weak.
"You... you're not joking?" Jiang Heng asked, his voice incredibly vulnerable, all the bravado of the lead vocalist completely gone.
"Does it look like I'm joking?" Li Pei'en asked, a tear finally escaping and tracking down his cheek through his makeup. "I told you in the song, didn't I? Wo yong you ai qing de yong qi. I have the courage to love. I just didn't think you'd actually give me the chance."
Jiang Heng didn't answer with words.
He reached down, his large hands gripping Li Pei'en’s waist, and pulled him flush against his chest. This time, there was no stage, no adrenaline rush of a live audience, no roaring crowd to hide behind. It was just the two of them in a quiet, sterile dressing room, completely stripped of facades.
Jiang Heng leaned down and kissed him again.
This time, Li Pei'en didn't freeze.
A soft gasp escaped Li Pei'en’s lips against Jiang Heng's mouth, and then he was melting into the touch. His arms flew up around Jiang Heng's neck, his fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to erase the five years of distance between them.
The kiss was entirely different from the one on stage. The stage kiss had been a desperate plea, a chaotic burst of energy. This kiss was slow, deep, and grounded in a profound sense of relief. It tasted like sweat, the faint remnant of stage makeup, and the absolute certainty of a shared truth. Jiang Heng’s hands moved up Li Pei'en’s back, pressing him so close that he could feel the frantic, rhythmic beating of Li Pei'en's heart against his own ribs.
When they finally broke apart for air, their foreheads rested against each other. Both of them were breathing heavily, their chests rising and falling in perfect unison. Li Pei'en's eyes were closed, a soft, incredibly beautiful smile gracing his lips.
Jiang Heng wrapped his arms tighter around Li Pei'en's waist, burying his face in the crook of Li Pei'en's shoulder, a breathless laugh escaping him.
"So," Jiang Heng whispered, his voice laced with a newfound warmth. "No more hiding behind a prank?"
Li Pei'en opened his eyes, his gaze steady and filled with an absolute, unshakeable contentment. "Never. Wo xiang wo yi man man xi huan nai. Actually, scratch that—I've loved you for a long time, Jiang Heng."
Jiang Heng smiled, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of the man he loved, finally holding him where he belonged. "I know. And I'm never letting go."
Outside the dressing room, the world was spinning into a frenzy over the spontaneous acoustic finale in Bangkok. But inside, beneath the quiet hum of the air conditioner, the music had finally settled into a perfect, harmonious resolve.