Underground parking lot

As promised, Xu Fengluan truly stopped looking at Liu Tingsong.

It wasn’t that she listened, but the shoot had moved outdoors.

Fans, somehow tipped off, gathered outside early. They could be avoided inside the studio, but once outside, there was no stopping them. They were allowed to follow, kept at a distance by a barrier at the filming site.

In such circumstances, Xu Fengluan couldn’t tag along. Her half-day assistant stint ended reluctantly. Back at the hotel, she played with San Jin for a bit before remembering the sheet music from last night.

Luckily, she wasn’t too exhausted last night. In her lingering excitement, she’d cleaned the messy floor and gathered the scattered pages onto the desk. Otherwise, the cleaner would’ve mistaken them for scribbles and tossed them.

But…

Xu Fengluan sat on the bed, holding the pages, her eyes tracing the pencil marks blurred by water.

It hadn’t rained last night—the dampness came from someone else.

She stifled a laugh, pressing her palm to her lips, sparing the absent someone’s dignity.

The Maine Coon, oblivious, leapt onto the bed—not as light as it seemed—and sprawled by her leg, sniffing curiously, either at the papers or Liu Tingsong’s scent.

Usually indulgent with the cat, Xu Fengluan pushed its head away.

San Jin, unimpressed, wasn’t one for obedience. It meowed indignantly, trying to inch closer.

Xu Fengluan, straight-faced, said seriously, “This isn’t for kittens to sniff.”

“Meow!” San Jin didn’t care—the more she blocked, the more curious it got, swiping with a big paw.

Xu Fengluan grabbed its paw, pinching it, saying, “Sniffing like that will embarrass her.”

“Meow.”

The cat didn’t understand, only knowing the more humans forbade something, the more it wanted it. One paw caught, it reached with the other, eyes fixed on the sheet music.

Something struck Xu Fengluan. She grabbed her phone, snapped photos of the cat and papers, and sent them to Liu Tingsong with the caption: [San Jin misses Mommy.]

She said nothing else, trusting Liu Tingsong would get it. The teasing in the dressing room was now returned in kind.

Her mood lifted, the frustration of not following fading. She pressed down the cat’s head, about to grab the papers, and moved them further away.

“Meow!” San Jin, inches away, yowled in protest.

Xu Fengluan scooped it up, grinning, “Told you, this isn’t for kittens. Come, stepmom’s getting you a treat.”

Hearing a familiar word, the Maine Coon’s ears twitched, forgetting the papers, retracting its paws, and letting Xu Fengluan carry it out.

Soon, contented purring filled the air.

—

A familiar notification chimed. Mo Dai, up all night working, reacted sluggishly, wondering if exhaustion caused hallucinations. How else could she hear Burning Meteor’s video update alert?

After Xu Fengluan’s cover, the other three posted videos too. Normally, it’d be seven or eight days before another, so why now…

Mo Dai pulled the blanket over her head. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

*Sleep, sleep, you’re hallucinating. You’re not far from collapsing.*

But despite her heavy eyelids, she couldn’t sleep.

After agonizing for half a day, she shot up. Even if it’s a hallucination, she had to check!

Grabbing her phone, her eyes widened as the screen lit up.

It wasn’t a hallucination!

Excited yet regretful, she clicked the video, only to see darkness. If not for floating comments, she’d think her phone glitched.

What was this blackness?

Did Xu Fengluan post by mistake?

As Mo Dai puzzled, ocean waves sounded from the speaker, followed by Xu Fengluan’s humming—no lyrics, just soft notes with the waves.

As a diehard Burning Meteor fan, Mo Dai easily recognized this wasn’t their usual style. Their past songs were brooding protests, struggles against cages. This tune was fresh, evoking morning mist, a youth’s eager steps toward a crush, nervous yet hopeful.

The fifteen-second video looped, faceless but evocative.

Mo Dai fell silent. It wasn’t dislike—the tune was great—but it stirred complex feelings, like watching a cool Doberman don a pink princess dress and dance for a mate. Understanding, yet emotionally tangled.

Then, her friend from their last shopping trip spammed messages.

[Main vocalist posted again!!!]

[I’m starting to get Xu Fengluan. That cover? Looped it for a week! So swoon-worthy, she’s too good!]

[I think she’s in love. Last time, people claimed she was, but no solid proof. I dug for half a day, nearly…]

[She’s so real, though—covering love songs, composing herself. Bet we’ll see an announcement soon. Comments are asking if she’ll drop a song and announce on the same day. Band folks are wild.]

Messages poured in. Normally, Mo Dai would be thrilled, but now she was speechless, unsure how to respond.

[Oh, her caption mentioned a new song preview. Is it dropping soon? Didn’t she and Liu Tingsong’s collab need lyrics? Maybe together…]

[So cool, new songs right after I stan!]

Mo Dai’s eyes lit up.

Right! New songs!

Love’s fine—love’s great—it means new songs!

Half-dazed, she replied briefly, clutching her phone, drifting off to the looping hum.

—

Meanwhile, Burning Meteor’s group call lit up.

Chu Cheng, gleeful, teased, “Yo, when are we dropping a new song?”

“No one told me. Got a secret group without me?”

Kuang Ye mumbled, “I don’t know. I’m not in it.”

Ji Lunan, laughing, echoed, “I don’t know either. Maybe A-Feng’s got her own group, isolating us.”

Xu Fengluan stayed quiet, steering into an underground parking spot, pulling the handbrake, shutting off the engine, and snapping a photo for someone who hadn’t replied, all in one smooth motion, no trace of evasion.

Chu Cheng wouldn’t let her off, saying, “That song’s so sweet, I don’t need sugar in my milk today.”

“No surprise from someone in love. Finally, our band won’t look like we’re glaring at fans like enemies. Hey, didn’t we have those bubble guns? Next gig, let’s get one—pink bubbles everywhere.”

Ji Lunan chimed in, “Sounds good. Bring Zhao Zhao to play.”

Kuang Ye, reserved, said, “I think she’d like it.”

Chu Cheng: …

Somehow, despite three teasing one, she felt ganged up on.

Xu Fengluan finally spoke, “Was driving, couldn’t talk.”

She added, “Wrote it a few days ago, thought it was good, so I posted.”

Even close as they were, Chu Cheng and the others understood Xu Fengluan’s joy, but she explained, “Mixing up the style sometimes isn’t bad. What do you think?”

Chu Cheng laughed, calling her out, “Oh, ‘mixing up the style,’ huh?”

“I recall when A-Jin suggested lighter love songs for the market, someone’s face turned coal-black.”

She sped up, shouting, “Kuang Ye, don’t speak! Your face was darker than A-Feng’s, like you’d jump out a window if forced to sing love songs.”

Xu Fengluan and Kuang Ye, who’d once firmly refused: …

Ji Lunan, grinning, added, “Thought I’d never sing a love song. Regretted it for days.”

Pinching her voice, she yelled, “So great, love brains! Our love songs are saved!”

Xu Fengluan, Kuang Ye: …

Kuang Ye had nothing to say. Xu Fengluan spoke, sidestepping the teasing, “Since no objections, we’ll rehearse when I’m back.”

“Tch, love’s changed you. Even writing faster,” Chu Cheng went full sarcasm.

Ji Lunan piled on, “So eager? Announcing in a few days?”

Xu Fengluan, who’d seen the comments earlier: …

Hesitant, she said, “No… probably not.”

She had no qualms about it. Coming out to her family was a non-issue—no one could control her, let alone fans. They weren’t idols with dating bans. Fans were open-minded; unless it was scandalous, they’d bless it.

If they knew her partner was Liu Tingsong, they’d likely say Xu Fengluan scored big, urging her to treat their “sister-in-law” well and not let her slip away.

The real issue was Liu Tingsong’s side.

But announcing didn’t matter much. Xu Fengluan wasn’t hung up on it. Five years ago, when they started dating, she’d prepared for this. Back then, the gap was wider—a rising star and her ordinary college girlfriend, vulnerable to malicious gossip. They’d avoided mentioning it, letting it fade. Without Chu Cheng’s nudge, she wouldn’t have thought of it.

“I’ll ask her later, see what she thinks,” Xu Fengluan said.

Chu Cheng and the others, knowing it was tricky, didn’t press, shifting gears. “Where were you driving to?”

They’d meant to chat in the group, but Xu Fengluan was driving, so they called.

“Picking her up for dinner,” Xu Fengluan said briefly, a smile in her voice.

The trio fell silent. Called a love brain, she was reveling in it.

Someone approached, opening the car door.

Xu Fengluan lowered her phone, asking, “Done?”

It was Liu Tingsong.

She nodded, explaining, “Too many fans. I didn’t want them waiting for nothing, so I greeted them.”

Xu Fengluan understood.

Liu Tingsong added, “Li Zi and the others left. We’ll go once the crowd thins.”

“Cool,” Xu Fengluan agreed, about to mention the band call when Liu Tingsong asked, “What’d you send me today?”

She hadn’t missed it—just didn’t know how to reply, saving it for now.

Thinking of the papers, Xu Fengluan’s eyes twinkled, but she played it straight, “Yeah, the kitten missed you.”

Liu Tingsong laughed, exasperated, pinching her face. She meant to scold, but it softened to, “Why’re you so bad?”

“Bad thing.”

Xu Fengluan grinned cheekily, nuzzling her hand, turning the pinch into a caress.

“Bad dog.”

Liu Tingsong was helpless. Seeing through her mischief, she couldn’t bear to scold, cradling her face like their fat cat, shaking her head as punishment.

“No next time,” she tried asserting her last shred of authority.

But Xu Fengluan played rogue, her white hair still in Liu Tingsong’s hands, blinking innocently, “Not sure I can control that. Maybe you try harder next time?”

Liu Tingsong meant one thing; Xu Fengluan twisted it to another, knowing she’d understand.

Furious, Liu Tingsong removed her glasses, tossing them aside, climbing from the passenger seat onto Xu Fengluan’s lap, grabbing her face to bite her lip. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

“Dare you again?”

No bite marks, yet she acted threatening.

Xu Fengluan chuckled, hooking her waist, pulling her closer, whispering, “You can try controlling it now.”

Liu Tingsong grabbed her collar, ready to bite again, but Xu Fengluan pried her lips open first.

“Mmph…” she mumbled, unable to resist, when the phone, tossed aside, chimed with a robotic female voice.

[Kuang Ye left the group call]

[Ji Lunan left the group call]

[Chu Cheng left the group call]

Liu Tingsong froze. Xu Fengluan blinked, genuinely innocent, “I was gonna tell you, but you were busy punishing me…”

She drawled, eyes scanning Liu Tingsong on her lap, adding, “I forgot.”

“No worries, though,” she grinned, “Now there’s really no one, sister.”

The dressing room teasing was fully repaid.

Liu Tingsong’s ears burned, unable to continue. She grabbed Xu Fengluan’s phone, demanding, “Unlock.”

She had to see the group chat.

Xu Fengluan, experienced in teasing, hesitated, suggesting she not look, but Liu Tingsong was firm. She unlocked it.

As expected, Chu Cheng and the others had spammed 99+ messages.

Chu Cheng: [Bad dog~~ Bad thing~~ So bad~~]

Ji Lunan: [Dare you again~~ Kitten misses you~~]

Even Kuang Ye joined: [No next time, okay~~]

[Bad dog~~ Bad thing~~ So bad~~]

[Dare you again~~ Kitten misses you~~]

[No next time, okay~~]

The trio copy-pasted relentlessly, filling the screen with their earlier words and tildes.

“Xu Fengluan!”

Now truly mad, she shouted her full name.

Xu Fengluan laughed, pressing her neck before she could fume, kissing her lips, resuming the interrupted kiss. Liu Tingsong, unyielding, bit hard, but Xu Fengluan’s hand slipped under her hem, unbuttoning.

“Try it, hm?”

“See if you can control it this time.”

Speechless, Liu Tingsong felt her loosened shirt breached, hands cupping curves.

“Don’t bite, sister, it hurts,” Xu Fengluan hissed, whining, though her actions were far bolder.

“Up a bit, it’s tight,” she said, patting her leg.

Furious yet helpless, Liu Tingsong clung to her neck, propping herself up.

“Bad dog.” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Suppressed gasps echoed in the cramped car, unanswered, only met with louder wet sounds.