When Bian Li heard those two words, a rush of heat surged through her veins.
She liked it when her fans or the people around her called her that.
However, when He Yunxing said it, it carried an inexplicable meaning.
He Yunxing didn’t linger on the topic for long. “Are you sure your practice room can’t be used?”
Bian Li nodded, her gaze dropping to her phone screen.
Ruan Xiangyi hadn’t sent her a message urging her to return to the practice room, so it must still be under maintenance.
“The lights won’t come on. It seems like several things broke at once. I don’t know when it’ll be restored.”
After saying that, Bian Li waved her hand casually. “Senior, I won’t bother you anymore. I’ve been here for too long—I should go back.”
She had thought this was her newly discovered little haven, but it turned out someone had already claimed it.
Judging by the way He Yunxing had bumped into her head-on, he probably came here often. She decided to give him space and avoid this spot in the future.
He Yunxing held his phone in one hand, tapping on the screen with his slender fingers. When he heard her words, he glanced up. “Come use our practice room?”
He paused for a moment, as if considering how to convince her. Then he added, “There’s no one in it recently. You can practice there.”
“That’s not… that’s really not necessary.” Bian Li waved her hands awkwardly.
Even though all the practice rooms for the idol department were on the same floor, Bian Li felt it was inappropriate to cross the boundary between groups.
Managers came and went frequently, keeping an eye on the artists, but still, the offer was tempting.
Bian Li stepped back slightly and waved again. “Senior, I’m really leaving now.”
When she turned the corner and re-entered the corridor, Da Xiong was crouched outside their darkened practice room.
She quickened her pace and approached, glancing inside as she passed. It was still pitch black, and the maintenance staff were working under dim emergency lights.
“No way, still not fixed?”
Ruan Xiangyi put her phone down, exiting the game she’d been playing, and glanced at the time. Hearing Bian Li’s question, she shook her head. “Fell into a pit? It’s just one floor, yet you were gone for half an hour.”
“I ran into someone and chatted for a bit.” Bian Li crouched down beside Da Xiong and poked him. “Big Bear, what now?”
“You’ve pretty much finished preparing the dance already. It doesn’t look like this will get fixed anytime soon,” Da Xiong said, his voice calm as he reported the issue to upper management. He then posted a complaint on his WeChat Moments.
Although Yi Qian was a large company, its focus was clearly on the entertainment department. With only a handful of idols on the roster compared to numerous trainees, it was evident that the idol department didn’t receive the same level of investment.
Ace, being the company’s first idol group, was initially a gamble, yet their unexpected popularity proved a point. Still, the one-floor setup for idols demonstrated its limitations, especially at times like this.
Bian Li saw Da Xiong’s post on Moments and quickly liked it, letting out a soft sigh.
“Honestly, we’re almost done. But with just a few days left until the MV shoot, this delay is such a hassle.”
It felt like sprinting toward the finish line, only to find the road blocked at the very last moment.
Da Xiong suddenly received a call. After responding a few times, he hung up and stood, his expression tinged with surprise.
“The company says they’re moving you to a new practice room. They’ve been preparing it for a while, but since the lights broke today, they figured they’d tell you now. You can move in right away.”
Bian Li’s eyes widened, and even Ruan Xiangyi and Ying Xuelai turned their attention to Da Xiong, their curiosity piqued.
“Really? Is it bigger? Does it have floor-to-ceiling windows?” Bian Li’s gloom instantly lifted as she practically pounced forward, full of anticipation.
She didn’t have many requirements for the practice room, but the lack of windows and the closed-off space in their current one often dampened their moods during long hours of practice.
“Yes to both,” Da Xiong replied, grinning. “I might even be able to have dinner with Brother Li in the future.”
“What do you mean?” Ruan Xiangyi raised an eyebrow.
“Your new practice room is at the opposite end of the corridor, right next to Ace’s room.” Da Xiong pointed down the hall. “Work hard, girls. My dream of getting a small city-center apartment this year depends on you.”
Ruan Xiangyi: “…”
—
The MV shoot went smoothly. Yi Qian had hired a team they frequently collaborated with, ensuring a high-quality production.
Even the costume team, mostly young designers, brought a bold and innovative style that appealed to their target audience. Gemini’s fanbase consisted largely of twenty-somethings, and working with youthful teams helped capture the current trends.
The shoot lasted three days, with the company handling the promotional work. All Gemini had to do now was shuttle between the dormitory and the company until the album’s release and their first stage performance.
Such a simple life made Bian Li feel as though she had returned to the days before her debut. No jam-packed schedules, no endless shoots—just immersing herself in singing and dancing, letting all the complicated thoughts drift away.
After moving to the new practice room, she found herself enjoying the high-altitude view, something that felt refreshing compared to the enclosed space they used to have.
However, the return to her regular routine also brought a certain kind of tension. The days drew closer to her comeback, but so did her physical test and midterm exam, coinciding perfectly in timing.
The day before her return to school, Da Xiong gave her half a day off to prepare for the school exam. She knew the paparazzi would dig out all her grades and post them online. Even if Bian Li herself didn’t care, she needed to uphold her image—for her sisters and her fans.
Spending the entire afternoon in the dormitory left Bian Li with a heavy head and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.
Feeling too dizzy from cramming information into her brain, she finally gave up and decided to start a food broadcast instead. After days of intermittent fasting and the pressure of exams, she thought it was about time to unwind.
Luckily, she still had some unopened jars of cookies—fan gifts she had yet to touch.
The content of her eating show was set, but the connection wasn’t cooperating.
Bian Li set up the camera, but the status bar kept spinning endlessly, stuck in buffering mode.
With both of her roommates out, she tried fixing the router herself. But after fiddling with several wires, she only made things worse. Frustrated, she placed her hopes on her neighbor.
[Fei Fei Eats Pears]: Uh… Brother Ning, are you in the dorm? If not, just ignore this message T^T
Surprisingly, the reply came almost instantly.
[Handsome from the start]: Yes, yes, yes!
He’s actually here! Bian Li was overjoyed and quickly asked for help.
[Fei Fei Eats Pears]: Amazing! My network is down. Can you come take a look?
[Handsome from the start]: Sure thing. Wait for me. I’ll check in with my superior and head over.
[Fei Fei Eats Pears]: Ten thousand hearts for you!!
—
In the study room at the other end, Ning Xuechu rested his hand on the table, interrupting He Yunxing mid-sentence.
“Boss, I need to step out for a bit. I’ll be right back.”
“What are you doing?” He Yunxing asked lazily, spinning the pen in his hand before leaning back in his chair, an amused expression on his face.
“Fei Fei messaged me on WeChat saying her network is broken. I’m just going to help her fix it. It won’t take long.” Ning Xuechu tried to explain quickly.
He Yunxing raised a brow, his tone deliberate. “You have her WeChat?”
Ning Xuechu rolled his eyes inwardly. “Boss, we all have it. You’re missing the point entirely.”
He Yunxing tapped his fingers idly on the table, his expression unreadable. “All of you?”
“Yes, me and Second Brother. Can I go now?” Ning Xuechu stood halfway before He Yunxing suddenly pressed him back into the chair.
“Forget it,” He Yunxing said coolly, picking up the pen again and tapping it on the paper in front of them. “If we’re working on a love song, iambic tetrameter would be a better choice for the flow. Rewrite the lyrics using that structure.”
Ning Xuechu gaped. “You want me to rewrite everything?”
He Yunxing nodded, calm as ever. “Get started.”
A look of despair crossed Ning Xuechu’s face. “But… the broken network…”
“Oh, that.” He Yunxing’s tone was casual, almost amused. “No need to worry. I’ll handle it for you.”
Ning Xuechu: “…”
—
Bian Li waited for a while before hearing the doorbell.
She hurried over in her slippers, opening the door halfway, only to freeze when she saw who it was.
“Senior? Why is it you?” Her voice came out awkward as she scratched her head in embarrassment.
Still, she stepped aside and invited him in.
He Yunxing nodded slightly and explained briefly, “Ning Xuechu is busy, so I came instead.”
“Is that so.” Bian Li glanced at the shoe cabinet near the entrance. “Senior, please just come in directly. We don’t have men’s slippers here.”
He Yunxing lowered his gaze and nodded, stepping inside before gently closing the door behind him.
The router issue was resolved surprisingly fast. In less than a minute, He Yunxing, half-crouched with his long legs folded gracefully, fiddled with the wires using his slender hands.
“All done. Try it now,” he said in a low, unhurried tone.
Bian Li immediately turned on her phone. Sure enough, the connection was restored, and web pages started loading seamlessly.
“Wow, amazing! I’ve been struggling with it for ages.”
He Yunxing’s eyes casually swept over the room. “Are you here alone?”
“Yeah, the sisters are still at the company,” Bian Li replied, flipping through a pile of things on the table.
Her figure, poised and graceful, was highlighted in this moment. Her profile was delicate and captivating, with thick, curled eyelashes that resembled tiny umbrellas casting shadows over her cheeks.
Suddenly, she straightened and pulled out a bright red tin adorned with adorable little bears.
She handed it to him, her tone enthusiastic, as if presenting a treasure. “I haven’t thanked you properly yet. These are cookies—please take them, senior.”
He Yunxing glanced at the tin of bear-shaped cookies, a hint of amusement flickering in his expression.
“If you really want to thank me,” he said, his voice deep and calm, “find another way.”
He stretched out a hand. “Give me your phone.”
Bian Li blinked, confused, but obediently handed it over. She watched as his fingers moved swiftly across the screen, the motion fluid and practiced.
After a while, He Yunxing raised the phone slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“If the network breaks again,” he said, his tone carrying a quiet certainty, “come to me.”
