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Shen Wang closed his eyes and drifted into a brief dream. In it, he saw Gu Zhong at twenty years old.
At twenty, Gu Zhong had been like a cloud-lit moon on the horizon—one smile from him was enough to brighten the world.
Back then, Gu Zhong had never been stingy with his smiles, his affection, or his romance. He carried himself like a wandering poet, yet there was also something stubborn and reckless about him, like a boy who had run away from home and refused to turn back.
In the dream, Shen Wang had drunk an entire bottle of Scotch and ended up dead drunk, half-collapsed against Gu Zhong’s shoulder. At the time, Gu Zhong had been pursuing him for nearly six months already.
The private room had been packed with people. Smoke clouded the air, music pounded against the walls, and Gu Zhong kept leaning close to speak to him. Shen Wang couldn’t make out a single word.
All he remembered were Gu Zhong’s lips—so red up close, softer and far less untouchable than usual.
Gu Zhong had been born privileged, a hunter by nature.
And Shen Wang had been prey with nowhere left to run.
But alcohol had made Gu Zhong strangely lovable.
Dazed, Shen Wang had stared at the sharp line of his chin for a long while before suddenly laughing and kissing his jaw. Then, under Gu Zhong’s stunned gaze, he pushed further, slipping his tongue into his mouth as though testing boundaries on purpose. Afterward, he even patted Gu Zhong’s cheek and slurred that he wanted to sing for him.
Gu Zhong looked at him for a long moment before silently handing him a microphone.
So Shen Wang draped himself over Gu Zhong’s shoulder and, with drunkenly slurred words, sang Nonna, my love for you.
Gu Zhong couldn’t help laughing when he heard it.
When he smiled like that, he was unbearably handsome—bright-eyed and boyish, none of the usual dangerous edge left in him.
That night, they kissed. They made love. They became lovers.
In the darkness of the bedroom, Shen Wang had lain naked on the bed for the first time in his life, trembling with nerves so intense his heart nearly stopped. He had offered himself completely, vulnerable in a way he had never been before.
When Gu Zhong spread his legs and entered him, the sensation of being filled made his entire body shake.
And yet, somehow, it had also felt as though he’d finally found the missing half of his soul.
Even now, Shen Wang still remembered the look in Gu Zhong’s eyes then—gentle, restrained, unbearably tender.
He had wanted to tease him about being so sentimental, but Gu Zhong had silenced him with a kiss before he could speak.
When Shen Wang woke, it was already past midnight.
The cabin was filled with the soft sound of breathing, while outside the window stretched a familiar, endless darkness.
He wiped at the corner of his eye only to realize it was wet.
Once, he had believed love was nothing more than a chemical reaction born from whiskey, nicotine, and passion.
Only now did he gradually understand that love might actually be something else entirely.
Like a bird returning to the forest.
Like a gaze you could neither escape nor resist.
Everywhere he looked, everywhere he went, belonged to that person.
But it was too late now.
All that remained was the long night ahead, leaving him alone to endure it inch by inch.
Chapter Two
Shen Wang’s life had always swung between extremes of fortune and misfortune.
When he was young and ignorant, he had suffered terribly. But once he grew up, everything seemed to fall into place with unnatural ease.
At first, all he wanted was enough money to survive. He and a few friends from the orphanage formed a band and started performing in bars for cash.
Whether it was because of his face or his talent, he became surprisingly popular. Bar owners were always willing to hire them. The nightlife scene was chaotic and full of every kind of person, but he made decent money and lived comfortably enough.
After less than two years, his name had already spread through the local music scene. Small groups of fans started coming specifically to hear him sing. Sometimes men would approach him afterward, hoping for a hookup.
What he hadn’t expected was that one of them would turn out to be a middle-aged man.
The man always ordered a drink and sat quietly in the corner.
Every single performance, he showed up.
For half a year straight.
One day, after Shen Wang stepped offstage, the bar owner told him someone wanted to see him. He pointed toward the corner.
It was the scruffy man with the stubble-covered face.
Shen Wang immediately understood.
He walked over, dropped into the seat across from him, looked him up and down, and asked bluntly, “You need something?”
The man rolled a cigarette between his fingers. “How old are you?”
He was honestly unfortunate-looking.
Bulbous nose. Dead fish eyes. Yellow teeth.
Shen Wang frowned impatiently. “Eighteen.”
“You look younger,” the man said. “But at least you’re legal.”
The implication in his tone made Shen Wang bristle instantly. At eighteen, he was impulsive, thin-skinned, and far too quick-tempered.
He frowned harder. “Uncle, I’m not sleeping with you.”
The man blinked. “Sleeping with me?”
Shen Wang thought he was pretending to play dumb and snapped, “A hookup.”
He was just about to add There’s no way I’d ever be into you, so stop dreaming, when the older man suddenly smacked him across the head.
Shen Wang froze in shock.
The two of them immediately launched into a furious shouting match. The man might have looked terrible, but verbally he was terrifyingly sharp. He cursed Shen Wang from head to toe, calling him a brat who’d crawled straight out of the gutter. After finishing his tirade, he even grabbed Shen Wang’s freshly dyed hair and yanked it before finally pulling out a business card.
“I’m a talent scout from Chengtian. Huang Sheng,” he said. “I’ve been watching you because you’ve got potential.”
Clutching his head, Shen Wang yelled back, “Who says I even want to be a celebrity?”
Huang Sheng took a sip of his drink and cursed again. “You little bastard, don’t be so ungrateful. How much can you make singing in bars every day? You think stars worry about money? Bring your band in for an audition before Friday.”
Shen Wang stared at the card in his hand, rubbing the gold-trimmed edge with his thumb.
His first thought was that this man was completely insane.
Then he glanced at the calendar.
It was already Thursday.
Fuck.
In the end, he still brought his band to the audition.
But Chengtian only wanted him.
Everything afterward happened in a blur.
He debuted at exactly the right time, just as Mandopop was entering its golden age. His looks alone earned him a massive following of teenage girls, and with Chengtian pouring resources into him, his rise was unstoppable.
He sang heartbreak songs with such aching emotion that fans claimed he seemed born with a wound carved into his soul—melancholic, devoted, forever longing for something unattainable.
But after only two years, he grew sick of standing onstage singing tragic love songs.
With Huang Sheng’s approval, he began writing and composing for himself instead, turning toward independent hip-hop.
What Shen Wang underestimated most was his own talent.
Award nominations from major music festivals across Asia pushed him straight into superstardom.
At the time, he was only twenty-two.
A magazine once called him “the million-dollar superstar born from the slums.”
But Shen Wang never thought of himself as extraordinary.
Just lucky.
To him, life had always been about balance. Present fortune felt like compensation for the suffering of the past—and an advance payment extracted from the future.
Even praise made him uneasy.
He truly had been born melancholic.
Most people his age would have spent their days indulging themselves, squandering endless wealth and fame without restraint. But Shen Wang couldn’t stop thinking about how unpredictable life was, about when the next blade of misfortune might fall.
He had only just reached the summit—
and already, he was mourning the day he would lose it all.
