A warm shower is the hard reset that He Jun needs.

However as the stream beats down on him, the fact that he has just jerked off to Gao Zhihan conjured, and filling his head is a quite sullen one. 

'It’s because of the performance,' he consoles himself. 'There is no one on earth with blood flowing through their veins that will see that performance and not get turned on. Zhihan is literally a dancing aphrodisiac.'

He Jun lifts his face to the water, his hand running through his soaked hair, and once again, beyond his control, Zhihan’s words replay in his mind.

“I want you.”

“Jun ge... tell me you don’t want me.”

Arousal lands a punch to his gut, and his waist slightly curves at the pain. Galled, he slams the faucet shut and storms out of the stall. 

Afterwards, he returns to his living room, a small towel in hand that he ruffles through his damp hair. 

It is far from a spacious or lavish space. The apartment had once belonged to his professor from university, but then he had passed away two years prior. Given the impact that the older man had made in his life vis a vis starting him on this course in the entertainment industry, and encouraging him through those rough and tumble first years, he had been unable to bear seeing the house go to the state since there was no will or next of kin.

The furnishings are simple and modern, but the real charm is the spacious rooftop balcony. From there, he can see the skyline of the Guangzhou province island- Shamian. It’s breathtaking mountain backdrop and bustling, district scenery. Tonight, all of that brightness has been replaced by dark clouds, pinned with a half-moon and building lights in the distance. It is still a beautiful view in its own right, so after retrieving the buns he had warmed up in the microwave, he heads over to one of the lounge chairs and settles down to enjoy the cool night breeze.

At first, he sits quietly and eats, but then as his mind begins to grow restless, he sets his phone down before him and calls his mother.

Calling her is equivalent to calling both parents and just as expected, he barely gets a few words in with her before his father's face appears on the screen.

Their conversation is casual and lighthearted, with their family’s two-year-old cat eventually making his appearance.

“We’re changing his name to shrimp,” his mom says.

That makes He Jun laugh. “Why? because his fur is reddish?

“No. Because all he does is curl up and sleep all day! He doesn't move!”

“But he’s always been like that,” He Jun argues.

His mother scratches her head. “Well, I thought he’d adapt to us and become more active but the house is just as quiet as though he isn’t here. Except at 3 am of course which he has assigned as the time to make horrendous rackets. I’m going to give him away!”

“Don’t!” He Jun protests. “I haven’t even gotten the chance to spend any time with him.”

“Because you’re never here!”

He goes silent, and so does she. Then she begins again... softly. 

"You’re not working right now are you?”

He smiles as he takes another bite into his the bun. 

“Then why don’t you come home?”

“Mom we’ve been through this.”

“Where are you right now? It's been six months.”

He is about to respond when a WeChat message suddenly comes in. At the reprieve, he thanks the heavens and excuses himself from the call with his mother.

"I’ll call you back,” he says. “This is important.”

He ends the call and leans back into the chair. His night is once again strained. He had once thought that retreating from the world would bring him some much-needed detachment and peace, but this has not been the case thus far. 

The bun loses taste in his mouth, so he swallows the bite he has chewed up and returns the rest to the plate before him.

Then he proceeds to open up Nini’s message.

It is a video, and for a moment excitement courses through him at the suspicion of what it is of. 

He considers not opening it, but then just as he is about to turn his attention away, another message comes in.

“The latest episode. Zhihan’s injured. He wasn’t able to practice properly so he couldn't participate in his team’s performance on the stage."

He Jun opens up the video without any further hesitation, and true enough Zhihan is presented to him with a sullen face, and a few medical staff attending to his sprained ankle. He is sitting in a dance practice room, watching the other members of his crew hard at practice and you can almost see his heartbreak at being unable to join them

He Jun feels his heart go soft at Zhihan’s expression. Most of the time he oozes a dangerous sex appeal, this mask carefully crafted and unfailing in unsettling those around him. But right now, all of that has given way for his vulnerability and true disappointment.

The video cuts into the performance that follows, with the camera switching its attention between his teammates as they dance without him on stage, while he is confined to his seat as a judge.

He Jun sighs and devours the episode, and it is not till the cold from the night breeze seeps into his bones to elicit a shiver, that he realizes that he needs to return to the living room. The episode is almost over so he continues to watch it as he places his plate in the sink and then turns around to lean against the counter.

Soon it ends, and his hand tightens around the device.

His heart is beating too fast, restless within his sore chest and he cannot help but wonder at his reaction. 

How and why are things beginning to change？

Over the last two years, since they had met through their work with ‘A Depth of Three’, they had grown deeply close. Had become bosom friends even but through it all, He Jun can only remember feeling towards Zhihan, a healthy admiration for his talent and journey, and once in a while, awe at his grit and resilience when things got cumbersome in their line of work.

Afterwards, they had more than kept in touch, becoming an intricate part of each other’s lives as incredibly close friends.

Almost.

Then the incident had struck and he had shut everyone out. Especially Zhihan.

Why had he retreated so abruptly, he wonders?

At the time, his only wish was for it all to go away and the only feasible way forward seemed to be to lie as low as was possible until everyone moved on. However, it didn't seem to be the case and his avoiding Weibo wasn’t enough to shield the fact that the entire world seemingly still cooked up reasons daily to attack him in one form or another.

With a sigh, he types out a message to Nini.

"Is this a recent episode? Was this before or after the crash?"

“I have no idea,” she replies. “But I can find out for you. I have a few connections with the SDC team."

“No need,” he types and exits the chat room. What he doesn’t add to that is this.

I’ll ask him myself.

He refuses to give his brain the chance to back out as he quickly types out the message, and it is a short one that now holds the memory of breathless gasps and a jarring orgasm.

“Zhihan.”

The second the message is sent, he mutes the phone, lays it face down on the counter, and proceeds to clean up his plate.

A few minutes later, he picks the phone back up and heads over to his couch. After he is settled in, he turns the phone over for a look and his heart skips several beats.

There is a message waiting. From Zhihan.

However, he doesn’t need to open it to see what it says.

It is brief and to the point and very much like its sender. 

“Hey," it reads, and He Jun can’t help but smile. He texts back.

“Have your injuries from the crash healed?”

He holds onto the phone, awaiting a response.

A minute passes, and then another. At the three-minute mark, he notes that he is unable to recall his message which means it has been read.

He holds his breath.

At the five-minute mark, however, there is still no response so he tosses the phone aside and rises to his feet.

He is a little upset at the delay, but even admitting this is entirely too silly to him so he tries not to think about it. His automatic past time is the easel and blank canvas waiting by the sliding doors of the balcony, but just before he settles onto the stool, he realizes that his inner state is in too much turmoil to paint.

What he needs, is to be distracted externally.

So he turns around, his eyes moving across the dim but warmly lit space.

His gaze connects with the stack of scripts on the leather recliner, and a light bulb comes on over his head.

He heads towards it to settle in, and is soon flipping through the pages of the first one. 

It is about a neglected prince with a deadly vendetta against his siblings. It immediately pulls him in but then about an hour in, and he realizes where the story is going. 

The female lead, a princess in hiding from the kingdom the prince destroyed is going to use this conflict as a reason to keep them apart till the very end. He flips to the end of the script and reads its conclusion.

The princess chooses to take her own life for the sake of the ‘greater good‘ rather than choose the prince.

He Jun snaps the document shut and flings it across the room.

He has had enough of pointless angst and sadistic heroes to last a lifetime. And he is most definitely not going to play the role of yet another when he is still trying to put the pieces of his life back together from the damage the last one he had played had done. 

He turns to the waiting stack and thinks about picking up the second, but then the current angst he is dealing with does not allow him. So he heads back to retrieve his phone and pulls down his notification to meet the waiting message.

“Mn,” It reads.

Despite his previous sourness, he is once again incredibly amused. He immediately texts back with a laughing emoji.

“Mn? Alright, Si Di.”

He sends the message, but the moment after, something begins to trouble a corner of his mind that perhaps it was inappropriate. 

He can’t seem to pinpoint though what is off about the message and before he can think too deeply about it, Zhihan’s response comes in. 

“??”

He doesn’t want to pursue this line of conversation, but neither does he want to directly ask him about his sprained ankle from the recent dance show’s episode. He Jun sighs. Months ago, he would have never imagined that so much thought would go into a text exchange between himself and Zhihan.

Life is truly dumbfounding.

“How’s your foot?” A message suddenly comes in, and He Jun just stares.

He soon recovers and turns around to lower onto the couch. 

“It has healed,” he replies. “No thanks to you.”

This is a very sensitive area for both of them, so he truly wishes that they can quickly move past it.

He Jun watches the screen, and seeing that his message has been read quickly begins to decide on another one. 

However before he can come up with anything, yet another message comes in from Zhihan.

“I’m sorry.”