Jiang Yu · Conversa

Jiang Yu didn't want to talk. The last beat of the encore was still vibrating in his bones. His in-ear monitors hung around his neck, and he could hear the screams of sixty thousand people outside the venue, muffled as if through a layer of water. The fluorescent lights in the dressing room were too bright, making him squint. The sweat clinging to his silver-gray slit eyebrow hadn't dried yet, and his pink hair was wet and clumped in strands, but he couldn't be bothered to wipe it. He sat down near the door, legs stretched out, back against the chair, eyes closed and head tilted back. "...I said don't touch me." An assistant came over to hand him a towel, but he didn't even lift an eyelid. The assistant placed the towel on the table next to him and retreated. The room was filled with the sounds of other members moving around—someone drinking water, someone looking for a charging cable, someone on the phone. He didn't want to deal with any of it. The door opened again. He heard footsteps and heard Shi An say, "Ge, towel." He didn't need to open his eyes to know that "Ge" wasn't directed at him. Jiang Yu opened his eyes. Song Yanxing stood in the middle of the room, taking the towel from Shi An to wipe the sweat off his neck. His semi-long black hair was slightly messy, and his soft peach-blossom eyes looked gentle under the lights as he told Shi An, "Thanks, An-an." Jiang Yu's gaze lingered on Song Yanxing for two seconds before shifting away. Pei Ye was curled up in the armchair next to him, his misty blue hair covering half his face as he stared at his phone, his eyes still red. Jiang Yu shot him a look of disdain. "Crying again." Pei Ye didn't look up. "I'm not crying. Being moved doesn't count as crying." "Whatever." He unscrewed a water bottle and took a gulp, his peripheral vision still fixed on Song Yanxing. Song Yanxing was sitting down on the sofa, legs crossed, looking relaxed as if he hadn't just spent three hours singing and dancing on stage. A staff member brought a stack of posters for him to sign; he nodded and picked up a pen. Jiang Yu set the water bottle down. The incident with that male fan was still spinning in his head. There was an interactive segment during the concert where a fan was chosen to come on stage. A man was picked, and as soon as he got up there, he hugged Song Yanxing. He held on for a long time. Jiang Yu had been standing on the right side of the stage, three steps away, his foot already moving forward before he forced himself to stop. He didn't know what he was angry about. Was he mad that the guy hugged him too tightly? Or was he mad that Song Yanxing didn't push him away? He was never angry at Song Yanxing. He was only ever angry at others. "Jiang Yu." Song Yanxing's voice suddenly cut in. Jiang Yu looked up to find Song Yanxing standing in front of him, holding a strawberry between his fingers. "Still pouting?" Jiang Yu turned his head away. "No." "It's sweet." The strawberry was held to his lips. He didn't take it with his hands. After two seconds, he opened his mouth and bit the strawberry away. It was very sweet, the juice bursting on his tongue, but he didn't want Song Yanxing to see his expression, so he kept his head down while chewing, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Song Yanxing patted his shoulder. The touch was light, the warmth of his palm transferring through the sweat-soaked performance outfit. Jiang Yu's shoulders instinctively dropped half an inch, and the back muscles that had been tense all night finally loosened a bit. "Go back early after your shower. Review session tomorrow at 2 PM." Song Yanxing left after saying that, turning to speak to Pei Ye, then Shen Yanqing, then Shi An. He didn't miss a single one. Jiang Yu watched his retreating back, then looked down at his own hands resting on his knees. There was a bruise on the knuckle of his right ring finger from accidentally hitting the edge of the stage while dancing today. He couldn't remember which song it happened during; he hadn't even noticed at the time. Shen Yanqing stood up from his spot by the window, draped his jacket over his arm, and glanced toward him. Jiang Yu glanced back. No nod, no greeting—just that one look, and that was their conversation. Shen Yanqing walked out first. Pei Ye lingered for a while. As he passed by, Jiang Yu grabbed his wrist. "If you cry that obviously next time, I'm not giving you a tissue." "You never gave me one anyway." "Right. So bring your own next time." Pei Ye laughed, that awkward expression of someone who had just finished crying being teased into a smile. He pulled up his hoodie, waved, and left. Shi An was the last one. He stood up from the corner of the sofa, put on his bag, and paused as he walked over. "Ge, your water." Jiang Yu looked down and realized he was still holding the water bottle, and the cap wasn't tight. He screwed the cap on and stood up. "...Let's go," he said. Shi An nodded and turned off the light for him. The hallway was quiet. When the elevator doors closed, he stood at the very back, his back against the cold metal wall, and closed his eyes. Song Yanxing stood at the very front. His gaze passed over the shoulders of the three people in front of him and landed on that back. Black hair, broad shoulders, a beautiful neckline. Song Yanxing didn't turn around. He didn't need to. He knew Jiang Yu was behind him. Jiang Yu tucked his chin into his collar, his pink hair covering half his face. The elevator descended, the overhead light humming.