GSCCO Chapter 2

After ending his livestream, Yu Yi turned around and nearly tripped over the life-sized cardboard cutout in his room. His phone kept buzzing with messages—his older brother was practically ready to teleport over in frustration. Eventually, he couldn’t resist and sent a call.

“Do you know how much you’ve embarrassed your brother?!”

“Did you see today’s trending topics?”

“When Mu Huai called me, I wanted to disappear into the ground!”

“I even got you the tickets. If you don’t come back for the family dinner at the end of the month, don’t expect me to give you any more chances to get close to Mu Huai!”

“Yu Yi, can’t you be a little more sensible? Just chase someone else!”

Yu Ying was holding back a few words—like Mu Huai wasn’t a good person—all those rumors weren’t unfounded, how his little brother hasn’t seen the harshness of the world. Mu Huai was a seasoned player who’d seen plenty of naive kids like him.

But, Yu Ying thought for a moment and realized these two wouldn’t have any other chance to meet, so why waste time talking?

“Chase someone else?” The ‘naive little brother’ Yu Ying had just described himself on the other end of the phone, his words dripping with disdain: “Chase you?”

Yu Ying was taken aback, once again hurt by Yu Yi’s blunt words: “What’s wrong with chasing me?”

Yu Yi was busy moving a cardboard cutout. Looking at the 1.83-meter-tall cutout, he reluctantly acknowledged that Yu Ying had worth and softened his tone. “Nothing. You’re fine.”

Yu Ying had been speaking loudly on the phone, and his assistant had been listening intently. As soon as Yu Yi finished speaking, the assistant burst into laughter, nearly doubling over.

Yu Ying sighed helplessly, “Don’t forget the family dinner! Dad said you absolutely have to be there this year!”

Yu Yi wrinkled his nose slightly: “I don’t want to go.”

He got a headache, just by thinking about his family’s lineage. The Yu family had deep roots, with its history tracing back to the Republic of China. Every family banquet, those with blood ties would fill half a book. Involving conflicts of interest, these relatives whose faces Yu Yi might not even recognize, would engage in open and covert struggles. The family banquet was practically a battle of wits over wine glasses.

“You have to go!” Yu Ying angrily hung up the phone, forgetting to tell Yu Yi that he would also be going to the concert.

Free from Yu Ying’s nagging, Yu Yi scanned the room and fell into a dilemma.

His apartment was a small duplex one. Outside of the stream’s view, upstairs and downstairs, including the steps, were scattered with a lot of fanboy items. Yu Yi tidied up as he walked, thinking that carrying a light stick might be too conspicuous, and the flashy headband wouldn’t be easy to wear either.

Still undecided, Yu Yi checked the fan forum on Weibo to see if there were any specific requests. In the end, he just grabbed a light stick and tossed it into his backpack.

One downside of the big data era was how apps loved to act smart. Yu Yi hadn’t scrolled for long before he came across a highly popular fan-made video pairing of Mu Huai and Yu Ying, with the comments section erupting in screams:

[Mu Yu CP is giving us sugar!]

[Mu Yu is real!]

The trending topic stayed up all day, making it impossible for anyone to pretend they didn’t see it. CP fans could at least celebrate with firecrackers for a month or two. Yu Yi, annoyed, reached out to Yu Ying on his chat: “Ge, is there any possibility between you and Mu Huai?”

Yu Ying replied instantly: “Get lost.”

Yu Yi felt relieved and stopped his impulsive attempt to block his older brother.

The atmosphere on Valentine’s Day was thick with an ambiguous, sticky feeling. Everywhere you looked, you’d see couples showing affection—and overworked employees facilitating their romantic displays.

Mu Huai, the top-tier bachelor, felt he was probably just adding to the festive atmosphere. His Weibo followers had doubled today after he announced he was off the market.

The concert’s backstage was bustling with staff. Outside, some checks were underway, such as the venue itself. Everyone except the main stars was incredibly busy.

“Mu Mu, do you think the former leader will come to the concert?” The reporter who had broken through the crowd to get a pre-concert interview was already hitting a sore spot.

Mu Huai glanced over the short reporter’s head, landing on Lan Sha. He raised an eyebrow with a faint, mocking smile.

See? The platform you carefully selected is causing trouble.

Lan Sha gestured outward with her finger, signalling someone to escort the short reporter out. Taking advantage of the gap, Mu Xi secretly slipped his uncle a piece of candy to prevent Mu Huai from getting hypoglycemic from not eating.

Mu Huai slowly unwrapped the candy, letting the sweet and sour flavor fill his taste buds.

“Banana-milk flavored lollipops are all gone?” Mu Huai gently poked his nephew’s head. “These are too sour.”

Mu Xi sighed. “Uncle, it’s Valentine’s Day today. Lollipops sell out fast.”

The reporter who took over was much quicker, immediately recording this short, heartwarming interaction. Having learned from the previous experience, the remaining reporters didn’t ask many questions, and once they had enough material, they let Mu Huai go, giving him more time to rest. Mu Huai usually used this time to catch up on sleep, but tonight he couldn’t sleep—Yu Yi’s live stream ended too early yesterday, so he didn’t stay up late to watch it and went to bed early.

Mu Huai scrolled through his phone, checking the live stream platform to confirm that the streamer had indeed posted a leave notice. These simple words, “Taking leave for personal reasons,” paired with the pink background the platform had specially chosen for Valentine’s Day, left a lingering emptiness in his heart.

Mu Huai didn’t like this feeling. He clicked his tongue, his finger hovering over the uninstall button for a moment before he clicked it in a huff.

This meaningless, one-sided admiration was finally coming to an end.

A good horse doesn’t return to eat the grass it already grazed. Even a crush counts as having loved once. Mu Huai had no intention of downloading it again. In fact, the name Yu Yi might never appear before him again. Although it was regrettable, what could he do? The little streamer had fallen in love too early, and he’d already advised him—“Master Mu doesn’t chase after someone.”

Having completed this grand uninstalling app ceremony, Mu Huai belatedly realized how childish his actions were. He rubbed his temples and chuckled self-deprecatingly. The other person didn’t even know he existed. What was he doing, wallowing in self-pity like an idiot?

In the industry, Mu Huai was notoriously ruthless and decisive, with even the recycle bin said to have more feelings than him. However, an hour into the concert, the seemingly emotionless Mu Huai himself personally shattered the recycle bin rumor.

On stage, Mu Huai shone brightly, taking a short break to conserve his energy.

Mu Huai took a sip of water, accepted a lollipop, and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Fans: “Ahhhhhh!”

The big screen captured his hand peeling the lollipop wrapper—some people could even make peeling candy wrappers look sexy.

His foolish nephew wasn’t bright enough to prepare a lollipop at a time like this. Mu Huai could only bite it into a small piece, licking his teeth as he directed the cameramen to shift angles. He’d been jumping and dancing during the first half and hadn’t noticed, but now, looking for his position, he realized his former leader hadn’t let down the staff who had helped him get tickets. He secured a VIP seat in the inner section, quite close to the stage.

“Ahhhhhh!”

Word spread fast that Mu Huai was looking for his former leader, the fans’ screams grew even more deafening, each wave louder than the last. The camera diligently followed the scene, sweeping over one pleasantly surprised face after another before settling on a particular figure—or rather two—who stood out in the crowd.

Yu Ying’s outfit—a hoodie, short hair, and a tightly worn mask—combined with his striking height, made him stand out. The boy next to him had his mask hanging from his chin; his handsome, quiet features were striking, and his eyes, naturally sharp, were slightly narrowed as he looked at the stage. Those in the inner section had to crane their necks to see the big screen, and neither of them realized they were already being shown on it.

“Holy crap! It really is Yu Ying!”

“Ahhhhhhh!”

“Gege!!!!!!!!!!”

As Mu Huai’s former leader, the fans recognized Yu Ying instantly, screaming until their throats were hoarse.

Mu Huai walked towards the edge of the stage, intending to greet his leader up close. But upon hearing the fans’ screams, he casually curled his lips into a smile. The lighting technician, experienced as always, shone a path, gently illuminating Yu Ying’s area.

“Ah, long time no see.” Mu Huai spoke to Yu Ying, but his attention was unconsciously drawn to the handsome man beside him.

Looking at the audience from the stage was difficult. Mu Huai had to squint to find the person. He was caught off guard when his eyes met Yu Yi’s—one stunned, the other bewildered.

Just an hour and a half earlier, Mu Huai had visited Yu Yi’s livestream room, so there was no reason he wouldn’t recognize Yu Yi now. The small mole on Yu Yi’s lip, like a distinguishing feature, added a touch of restraint to his face.

Mu Huai was genuinely confused. Hadn’t he said he was on a date today?

Even through the layers of fans, Mu Huai could smell the hormones emanating from Yu Yi.

A staff member reminded him through his earpiece, “Mu Huai, it’s almost time.”

Tsk. Mu Huai’s gaze swept over Yu Ying and Yu Yi’s faces, noticing the little streamer’s lips curving into a smile, as if he were smiling at him.

The little streamer was even more eye-catching in person than on screen. Perhaps it was because he was wearing casual clothes, but the usually aloof and handsome Yu Yi was unusually lively today, even raising his light stick and waving it lightly, the light casting shadows over his fingers—the same figures that danced nimbly across a keyboard countless times.

Mu Huai’s heart skipped a beat.

No wonder he and the little streamer had such a tacit understanding—even their date was at his concert.

“Yu… Ying.”

The name “Yu Yi” almost slipped out, but Mu Huai emphasized the last syllable, then gave Yu Ying a nonchalant smile: “Want to come up and interact with me?”

Yu Ying was taking off his mask, his face full of helplessness. He understood the situation perfectly well and shook his head at the camera with a smile.

The staff urged Mu Huai again. Mu Huai glanced quickly at Yu Yi, then turned and walked back. He brought the microphone to his lips and whistled softly, then tapped the microphone lightly with his fingertip, unconsciously making a flirtatious gesture.

The second half of the performance was arranged to accommodate Mu Huai’s stamina, making it relatively gentler than the first half. But Mu Huai was exceptionally excited, improvising and changing his tune, his voice becoming captivating, alluring, and lingering.

Anyone with eyes could see the change in Mu Huai’s demeanor.

Yu Ying, bearing the brunt of it, felt a chill run down his spine. The lingering glances from his former colleague sent shivers down his spine. Yu Yi nudged Yu Ying with his elbow, a small movement but with great force, causing his older brother to glare angrily.

“Didn’t you say your relationship with Mu Huai was just so-so?” His younger brother’s question—delivered in a cold, mechanical voice amidst the deafening noise— and continued, “Why is he constantly giving you a wink?”

Yu Ying stared at his brother in shock, his displeasure and impatience completely extinguishing Yu Yi’s initial excitement upon entering the venue.

“Please be a rational fan.” An unprecedented sense of crisis made Yu Ying refuse to reveal any more information about Mu Huai to Yu Yi.

Mu Huai’s concert was the first to maintain a high-energy atmosphere from beginning to end, a full two and a half hours long. He was drenched in sweat when he came offstage. Makeup artists swarmed around him to wipe his sweat and touch up his makeup. Mu Huai took a sip of water, moistening his nearly hoarse throat.

As he rounded a corner, his robes billowed up, leaving his fans with a half-hearted, ambiguous look.

“Hurry up, hurry up! Let’s go back and rest after the interview!” Lan Sha kept her hands clasped together, her high heels clicking rapidly. “Oh, my darling, you did a fantastic job! Listen to me, my voice is hoarse from shouting for you! Of course, the PR stuff is a separate matter…”

A bottle of water was emptied in an instant. Mu Huai lightly wiped the water droplets from his lips with the back of his hand, his smiling eyes looking at Lan Sha through the mirror without saying a word. His brain, which had been feverish since seeing Yu Yi, had only just cooled down a bit. The lingering excitement hadn’t subsided.

Perhaps this is what fans feel when they see their idol? Except they were celebrating in the audience, while he was celebrating on stage.

While waiting for the reporters, Mu Huai got his phone. He glanced at the time and texted Yu Ying, asking him to come to the dressing room. It was a rare opportunity to run into each other, so he decided to take a photo and post it on Weibo for some promotional content.

Suddenly, a public WeChat account he’d followed popped up at the top of his screen, and Mu Huai clicked on it without thinking. It was a fortune-telling chart based on his basic WeChat registration information. He couldn’t say for sure about other aspects, but the love section was full, bright red, which pleased Mu Huai. He took a screenshot and posted it on his WeChat Moments.

Lan Sha had Mu Xi keep the reporters outside the dressing room, then turned to Mu Huai and asked, “Do you need to rest a bit more… What are you laughing about? It’s kind of creepy.”

Mu Huai laughed out loud, teasingly replying, “Lan-jie, this is the first time you’ve asked me if I want to rest.”

The surrounding staff smiled knowingly. Mu Huai casually wiped the sweat that had reappeared on his forehead with a towel. Before Lan Sha could even scold him, he lazily said, “Let’s hurry up. I’ll feel guilty for keeping my dear leader waiting too long.”

Lan Sha: “…”