Wet puppy

“Why’d you suddenly come back…”

Xu Fengluan didn’t hear the answer,
standing and heading to the bathroom
before Liu Tingsong could respond.

She didn’t want to hear,
had no interest in caring.

No one stopped her.
Though Burning Meteor was the star,
all eyes were on Liu Tingsong now,
and with fears of Xu Fengluan losing it,
they let her leave.

With a bang,
the door shut.

Xu Fengluan leaned against the sink,
her dangling hair hiding most of her face,
but not the heavy gloom cloaking her.

Her fingers, propped on the counter,
curled slightly,
the bones beneath thin skin sharp,
each knuckle like a thorn straining to break free,
veins faintly bulging.

Yet a flicker of restraint held her back.
She couldn’t just escape like before—
this was one of the band’s rare group gigs this year,
and she didn’t want to ruin it.

Her expression stiffened,
irritation mounting.

Since late last year,
her manager had pushed for her to go solo.

Anyone could see
Burning Meteor was hot,
but Xu Fengluan’s commercial value outshone the band combined.

She’d wondered why—
with her prickly personality,
“bad temper” practically written on her face,
she should’ve been the least popular.
Yet people seemed to love a crumbling ruin.

The more she stirred trouble,
the more diehard fans she gained.
A musician forming a band
somehow ended up with “visual fans” and “personality fans.”
Why couldn’t they just listen to the music?

Her manager didn’t care,
valuing profit over loyalty.
Seeing Xu Fengluan’s fame,
she booked her solo gigs left and right.

So a perfectly good band
hadn’t performed together in half a year.
Xu Fengluan, scrambling,
squeezed in time for a rushed bar gig
to reunite them.

She exhaled heavily,
recalling the airport argument days ago.

Since it had boiled over publicly,
it meant countless private clashes had already happened.

She didn’t want to go solo,
wanted to keep the band going.

So despite her severe illness,
she dragged herself up,
even agreeing, for the first time,
to let the crew film at her home.

She didn’t like it—
this house was her private sanctuary.
Few had ever set foot here;
only her closest knew it.
The stools alone screamed
she never planned for many visitors.
And…

Xu Fengluan rubbed her temples.
The crew promised to clean up,
but she still felt uneasy,
planning to disinfect it herself later.

She had a touch of germaphobia,
picked up from her doctor grandparents,
their habits rubbing off on her,
making her fussy.

Hiding here,
her thoughts drifted,
but whenever they veered somewhere painful,
she yanked them back,
redirecting elsewhere.

Until footsteps outside
snapped her out of her self-deceptive avoidance.

It was Chu Cheng,
locking the door behind her,
whispering:
“Told them I needed the bathroom.
You okay?”

Xu Fengluan waved a hand,
signaling she was fine,
not wanting to talk.

Chu Cheng eyed her,
wanting to say something but holding back,
only saying:
“Rest a bit more.
We’ll cover outside,
say your fever’s acting up.”

Xu Fengluan nodded,
still unchanged,
no sign of easing.

Chu Cheng sighed,
knowing everyone was excited for this rare group show,
not expecting this twist.

She glanced at Xu Fengluan again,
unsure how to comfort her,
managing:
“Rest up.
I’ll head out and keep things going.”

She couldn’t linger,
fearing someone might stir trouble,
saying the Heavenly Queen came all this way for Burning Meteor,
yet half the band bailed.
With Xu Fengluan’s knack for trending,
she’d be roasted for ages.

Xu Fengluan nodded.
As Chu Cheng turned to leave,
she suddenly called:
“Wait.”

“What’s up?”
Chu Cheng looked puzzled.

Xu Fengluan paused,
then said:
“Got a cigarette?”

Chu Cheng studied her,
then pulled a pack from her pocket,
tossing it over.

—Bang.

The bathroom door shut again.

Xu Fengluan lowered her head,
staring at the cigarette pack.

When she felt restless,
she craved something to do,
but nothing taxing.
Smoking or drinking hit the spot—
no thinking,
just a way to dull the emotions.

When she first got her heart broken,
she desperately wanted to smoke,
but fearing it’d ruin her voice,
she held back.

When it got unbearable,
she chewed tobacco leaves.

Chu Cheng knew this quirk,
tossing the pack without a lighter.

The noise outside grew,
laughter bursting out over something.

The cigarette pack crumpled in her hand,
unopened for ages.

In truth,
she’d quit this stress-relief habit long ago.
Someone said it could cause oral cancer—
not that she feared death,
but losing her voice.

Xu Fengluan exhaled heavily,
tossing the pack aside,
washing her face with cold water instead.

In the live stream,
Liu Tingsong, after answering a few questions,
deftly shifted the focus back to Burning Meteor.

Zhang, though reluctant,
had enough sense to remember
the band was the star, not the guest.

She picked a few bullet-comment questions,
asking Chu Cheng and the others in turn.

Moments later,
Xu Fengluan emerged from the bathroom,
sinking back into the beanbag sofa.

Liu Tingsong glanced over,
noticing her soaked shirt collar,
frowning slightly,
then relaxing.

Zhang noticed her return,
nudging the cameraman,
smiling:
“Here’s a bullet comment for Fengluan.”

Xu Fengluan looked up instinctively,
perhaps not noticing earlier,
water had splashed into her eyes,
reddening them.
With wet hair and a messy shirt collar,
she looked frail and pitiful.

“Huh?”
Clearly not in the zone,
she sounded dazed.

The bullet comments,
previously all about Liu Tingsong,
shifted.

[I admit I was wrong for saying Fengluan was acting out—
she’s just unwell,
I’m a visual stan, I’m sorry!]

[Aahhh, cute puppy, let mommy kiss you!]

The visual fans went wild.

[Wait, anyone else notice Orange slipped away earlier?
She went to check on A-Feng, right?]

[Something’s off.
A-Feng goes to the bathroom,
Orange follows,
and A-Feng washes her face—
what happened…?]

CP fans speculated.

The screen filled with chaotic comments.

Liu Tingsong passed a tissue over,
saying softly:
“Wipe your face.”

On camera,
Xu Fengluan couldn’t refuse,
swallowing her temper,
muttering:
“Thanks.”

She wiped her face haphazardly,
tossing the tissue into the trash,
not caring if it was clean.

But then a bullet comment popped up:

[Hahaha, the Heavenly Queen’s seen it all—
Fengluan’s bitter about losing the spotlight,
so she ran to the bathroom to splash herself like that!]

Right after, another:
[Didn’t expect Fengluan to be so green tea.]

[Liu Tingsong’s sharp—
saw through the green tea act,
handing a tissue to care,
but really warning her to stop.]

More comments echoed,
a whiff of conflict brewing.

Zhang, expecting praise,
darkened,
sensing something off.
Someone seemed to be steering the narrative,
stoking fights,
but mid-live stream,
she couldn’t investigate.

She ditched the last question,
asking directly:
“Tingsong seems to care about Fengluan, huh?”

Hoping to break the snarky bullet comments.

But the room froze.

Chu Cheng, Kuang Ye, and Ji Lunan
widened their eyes,
staring over.