Song Yanxing · Conversa

The last note of the encore faded over the sixty-thousand-seat stadium, and the overwhelming screams of "ASTERISM" were cut off by heavy soundproof doors. In the corridor, five pairs of leather shoes stepped on the soft rubber mats, creating dull and hurried echoes. Walking at the very front was Jiang Yu; he ripped off his in-ear monitor, the sweat on his silver-grey broken eyebrow glinting under the cold white lights of the corridor. He looked like a fighting beast that had just been dragged back from a battlefield. "Water." Jiang Yu croaked out the word, and an assistant immediately ran up to hand him some. He twisted the cap, downed half the bottle, and poured the remaining half directly over his head, shaking his wet silver hair. "Jiang Yu, can you stop making it look like a dog taking a bath every time?" Pei Ye followed slowly from behind, his misty blue wavy hair sticking to his temples, his eyes still moist from having just cried. He wrote the encore song; halfway through singing, his eyes had reddened on stage, and he still hadn't recovered. "Mind your own business," Jiang Yu replied without looking back. Pei Ye didn't care. He walked straight to the single sofa in the corner of the lounge, curled himself into it, and took out his phone to browse the real-time trending topics of the concert. His fingers moved quickly; when he swiped to a high-definition photo of himself crying captured by a fan, he paused for two seconds, then placed the phone screen-down on his lap and stared blankly at the ceiling for a while. The lounge door was pushed open, and Shen Yanqing was the last to walk in. The back of his black shirt was soaked, clinging to his thin shoulder blades. He looked even more silent than he did on stage. He walked straight to a seat by the window and sat down, taking a sip from his thermos. He didn't look at anyone the entire time, as if the other four people in the room were just dust floating in the air. Shi An was the first to stand up from the sofa to give up his seat. He had been sitting next to the spot where Song Yanxing usually sat, his peripheral vision always keeping an eye on the door. The moment he heard footsteps, he had already stood up, picking up the towel draped over the sofa armrest and handing it over. "Brother, the towel." Song Yanxing took it and smiled at him. That smile was as warm as a lamp on a winter night, the curve at the corners of his eyes just right, making anyone who saw it feel at ease. "Thanks, An-an." As he wiped the sweat from the back of his neck, he sat down on the sofa, his long legs crossed naturally. He looked as if he had finally been released from some high-tension switch, yet he still maintained a flawless posture. Jiang Yu leaned against the vanity, his lips pressed into a line, clearly still sulking. There was a fan interaction segment during the concert where a male fan was chosen; the first thing he did after coming on stage was hug Song Yanxing. He hugged him tightly, and for quite a while. Jiang Yu was standing just two steps away at the time, and his face visibly darkened. Song Yanxing, of course, noticed. He handed the towel to a staff member, then took a strawberry from the fruit plate on the table, walked over, and held it directly to Jiang Yu's lips. "Still angry?" Jiang Yu turned his head away, not looking at him. "It's sweet." Song Yanxing's voice was low, with a hint of coaxing, but there was a very faint trace of a smile in his eyes, as if he were looking at a large dog throwing a tantrum. Jiang Yu was silent for two seconds before opening his mouth to bite the strawberry away. Song Yanxing patted him on the shoulder and turned back to the sofa. Passing Pei Ye, he placed another strawberry on the table next to Pei Ye's hand. Pei Ye didn't take it, still scrolling through his phone, but Song Yanxing knew he saw it—his curled posture in the sofa relaxed slightly. "A-Yan." Shen Yanqing looked up and met Song Yanxing's gaze. Song Yanxing didn't say anything, just tilted his chin toward him, gesturing for him to check his phone. Shen Yanqing looked down and unlocked his screen to see an unread message just sent by Song Yanxing. "In the second chorus of the third song, you changed your positioning on the fly; it worked very well. We'll review it tomorrow." Shen Yanqing stared at the message for a few seconds, then locked his screen, placed the thermos on the table, leaned back into his chair, and closed his eyes. His expression didn't change, but his shoulders dropped half an inch lower than before. Shi An sat at the very edge of the sofa, quietly watching all of this. His gaze followed the trajectory of Song Yanxing's movement in the room, like a cat observing its prey. From the timing of handing the towel, to the order of distributing strawberries, to that casual yet precise compliment to Shen Yanqing—he took it all in, silently deconstructing, analyzing, and memorizing it in his heart. For five years, he had always sat in this spot. Not too far, not too close, just enough to have a full view of everyone's expressions and actions, yet without becoming the center of the conversation. He began to wonder how he would have handled it if he had been the one hugged by that male fan on stage. The answer he came up with didn't quite satisfy him, so he decided to rewatch today's concert from beginning to end once he got back, focusing on reviewing every micro-expression the captain made on stage. "Hard work tonight, everyone." Song Yanxing's voice suddenly rang out, neither loud nor soft, landing right in the center of the room. "Go back and get some good rest. We have a review meeting at the company tomorrow at 2 PM. I've had the assistant put late-night snacks in the car; remember to eat." He stood up after speaking, and the others followed suit. Jiang Yu was the first to grab his bag, the gloom not yet fully dissipated from his face, but his pace was no longer restless. Shen Yanqing rose from his chair, picking up his coat and draping it over his arm, without any extra movement or expression. Pei Ye stuffed his phone into his hoodie pocket; as he passed Song Yanxing, he habitually brushed his shoulder against Song's arm. Shi An walked out last, turning off the lights as he went. 走廊重新安静下来。 The corridor became quiet again. The elevator leading to the parking lot went down, five shadows reflected on the silver metal doors. Song Yanxing stood at the very front, his posture tall and straight, the profile of his face appearing as warm as jade under the dim light. No one would have imagined that this man, currently smiling so gently, had whispered a sentence into that male fan's ear the moment the fan lunged into his arms on stage. No one heard what that sentence was. But when the male fan was escorted off stage by the staff, he looked dazed, his lips pale, as if all the energy of his excessive excitement had been drained away, leaving only a face full of bewildered confusion. The elevator doors opened, and Song Yanxing let the four members go first. Jiang Yu walked ahead of him, then looked back at him, as if waiting for him. Song Yanxing smiled at him, the dim lights of the parking lot reflected in his eyes, the curve of his lips still that perfect, flawless gentleness.