“Let’s go.” After Lin Anjin waved goodbye, Ren Bai asked, “Should we go home first or head straight to the concert?” Walking beside Lin, he tried to figure his mood. He’d been surprised when Lin suddenly mentioned having dinner with Yu Shiqing only to say it was a joke, then say something random to Jiang Yu. Ren felt confused and decided not to overthink it.
“Oh, we should go home first. Yu needs to change clothes.” Seeing Jiang Yu still standing, watching Yu, Ren couldn’t help asking, “Jiang Yu, is there something on Yu’s face?”
Jiang snapped out of his thoughts. Ren pushed further: “Earlier, Lin said something about being bothered. What was that about?” Jiang’s brow furrowed before he masked it. He didn’t plan to waste time on gossip. “Don’t know.” He said, lips tight, glancing at Yu before heading toward the car.
Ren, surprised, asked Yu in the car, “You don’t know either?”
Yu replied, calm: “No.”
Ren shrugged: “Alright.” He was genuinely curious about when Lin and Jiang grew close enough for private talk. But since Yu didn’t explain, Ren dropped it and focused on the concert.
They reached home in silence. Once upstairs, Yu asked softly, “What are you thinking?”
Jiang relaxed his tense jaw. “Nothing. You just got off the plane. Want to rest?”
“No.”
The elevator opened, and they walked toward the front door. Yu suppressed his thoughts and said, “You change. I’ll wait in the living room.”
Yu had ordered a custom outfit for the concert, delivered to their home earlier. Yu went to the bedroom to change. He emerged in a tailored black three-piece suit, though worn casually: the vest’s buttons undone, jacket draped over his forearm, tights undone at the tie’s end wrapped loosely around his hand.
Yu paused in the living room, tying his tie. Jiang watched him, admiring his broad shoulders, slim waist, and long legs. Under the white shirt, defined arm muscles and a hint of abs through the vest were visible no wonder omegas loved him. Yu’s expression was cool, jaw set.
He looked at Jiang. “Let’s go.”
Jiang came back to the coffee table, sipped water, then said: “Are you really going out like that?”
Yu: “What?”
Yu motioned to the loose tie and undone vest. He pressed, “Please wear it properly.”
Jiang examined himself: “Is it not right?”
Yu pointed: “The tie.”
Jiang tightened it, then said, “Done.”
But Yu focused on the wrinkled collar. He put down his cup, stepped forward, and fixed it. Jiang moved to help, but Yu stopped him. He re-did the tie, pinned it, smoothed the vest, and retrieved the jacket from around Jiang’s arm.
Jiang offered, “Let me—”
Yu’s voice was cold and sharp: “Turn around.”
Jiang complied. Yu buttoned the jacket, his fingers brushing Jiang’s throat at the tie knot, recalling the last time Jiang was sensitive when hormones flared during his oestrus. Jiang stood still as Yu finished.
Almost mechanically, Yu stepped back, grabbed his water, and returned.
“Done.” Yu’s expression hidden by the cup. Jiang straightened cuffs and followed him to the door.
Downstairs, Ren and Meng Chen were waiting. Meng exclaimed, “Yu looks so handsome!” Realizing he shouldn’t leave Jiang out, he added, “Jiang looks handsome too.” Yu merely glanced and entered the car with quiet dignity. Jiang replied: “Thanks.”
On the way, Ren opened his phone to the trending news Du Han’s name popped up again. He groaned: “Not him again.” But he tapped news read “love affair exposed” with a picture of Du Han and Qiu Chang together. The gossip ignited a frenzy.
Meng chimed in: “They’re going for the long game.” Ren scoffed they were just teasing the public to keep attention on Dawn. He opened the article, saw Jiang uninterested. Since they had a concert tonight, he scrolled lightly then closed it.
They had late lunch, then arrived backstage. Jiang and Yu parted. Yu headed to the front stage, Jiang stayed in the green room. The audience began arriving, and Yu returned.
Yu had already changed into his performance outfit. He found Jiang and asked, “Ready?”
Jiang seemed surprised: “I’m going on now?”
Yu: “No. Our duet is the last song. I’ve changed the order.”
Jiang asked: “What should I do?”
Yu took a breath: “After the show starts, I won’t have time. You can go front with Ren or stay here to rest.”
Jiang nodded.
Before going onstage, Meng Chen checked in: “Are you okay, Yu?” Yu nodded and returned. He reassured Jiang: “Once you’re onstage, don’t be nervous. Just follow your usual pace.”
Jiang replied confidently: “I won’t be nervous.”
Yu paused, unsettled by that reply. “Not nervous at all?”
Jiang turned it back: “Are you nervous?”
Yu stayed silent, then whispered: “Do you think I am?”
Jiang smiled: “No.”
Yu’s tension eased. Mer shortly called for Yu to go stage. Yu gave a final nod: “I’m on my way.”
Jiang walked out with Yu. Yu went on stage. Ren moved to audience seats. Only Jiang remained in the green room. In the front row, he waved and cheered. Meng Chen remained backstage to support him.
Finally, the last song began. The lights dimmed. Jiang sat on a piano stool on a raised platform shrouded in mist. A cello began playing deeply. A shaft of light illuminated him; fog cascaded like waterfalls.
On stage, Jiang was the lone fixture of light. The screen slowly revealed his image in the mist his legs, the cello cradled in his arms, fingers on the strings with elegance under the pristine white shirt, diamond cufflinks glinting.
He played with intense focus calm and precise lip movement.
As the stage lights brightened from right to left, a second beam illuminated Yu, standing on the opposite edge in a white suit. A platform rose between them, cutting through the mist, guiding Yu closer to Jiang.
Jiang looked up at Yu across the distance. The screen split their faces side-by-side. They locked eyes and smiled.
The audience erupted in screams and applause the grand finale had begun.
