Qin Weidong hadn’t forgotten about the nightmares Fang Li had in Chongsi. After the new year, he took him from Jinyang to Jianjing and visited a Taoist temple in a small town by the coast—Qingguang Temple, said to be especially spiritually potent.
The mountain path was steep and winding. Normally, Qin Weidong couldn’t bear to see Fang Li exhausted—he’d carry him at the slightest sign of fatigue. But this time, even when Fang Li had to stop several times to catch his breath on the stone steps, Qin Weidong didn’t lift him. He waited, letting Fang Li climb on his own.
When they finally arrived, it was a quiet and unassuming temple, tucked away in the mountains of a small county. To Fang Li, it didn’t seem special—there were countless temples like this scattered throughout the mountain ranges of Jin Province.
Qin Weidong went into the inner hall to speak with the head priest while Fang Li waited outside. In the temple courtyard stood an ancient ginkgo tree, centuries old. While ginkgo trees in Jinyang had long since shed their leaves, this one remained full and golden. Each gust of wind sent a flurry of golden leaves drifting to the ground.
As Fang Li waited, he saw two men walk out of the temple. The younger one said something, which immediately darkened the expression of the taller man beside him.
“Gan Cen, if you keep running your mouth like that here, I swear I’ll smack you.”
The boy protested, annoyed. “Why? Come on, brother, just ask the old Taoist for me—can we buy that tree and take it home? It’s so pretty, I wanna see it every day…”
“You talk nonsense from morning to night. Get in the car.”
The older man, clearly at his limit, dragged the younger one off.
Fang Li couldn’t help but chuckle. The kid was quite something—he even wanted to buy a sacred tree and move it home. He wandered around the courtyard a bit before sitting down to rest. A short while later, Qin Weidong came looking for him and called him inside.
He’d had a pink tourmaline bracelet blessed by the priest, who chanted a golden light incantation over it, said to calm the spirit and ward off misfortune.
Fang Li wasn’t quite a believer, but not a skeptic either. Growing up around the mines, he’d seen enough of the old customs—every mining operation started with a round of offerings.
On the drive back, he took out the bracelet. It didn’t seem especially high-grade, but Fang Li didn’t understand these things.
Luckily, this one was slim. Qin Weidong slipped it onto his wrist—light rose-colored tourmaline. Fang Li’s wrist was pale and slim, and the bracelet looked unexpectedly serene and elegant on him, with a quiet clarity that suited him perfectly.
Fang Li rotated the bracelet on his wrist just as Qin Weidong’s phone rang—work was calling again.
Once they were back in Jinyang, Fang Li’s toothache worsened to the point that it affected his eating, so Qin Weidong forced him to see a dentist. After a week of dental work, Fang Li spent the week drinking congee and clutching his cheeks, complaining the bland food was driving him mad. Pitiful as he looked, Qin Weidong said, “Good. You need to fix that bad habit anyway.”
Which drove Fang Li up the wall.
Even when they went out, Qin Weidong instructed Yang Xiaoliu to keep an eye on him—no spicy, irritating, or overly sweet foods.
It was around then that Yang Xiaoliu finally realized the truth about Fang Li and the mysterious Boss Qin. At first, he couldn’t believe it—Brother Li liked men?! That was a huge shock. But later, when he accompanied them to the dentist and saw how carefully Boss Qin looked after Fang Li—every detail—he started to understand. The closeness between them was hard to describe. It felt so natural, like something they were born with. And no matter how you looked at it, there was no space to wedge yourself in between. Yang Xiaoliu gradually came to terms with it.
In March, Fang Li’s first Cantonese album, Rose, was released early in the Hong Kong and Taiwan regions. In its first week, it shot to the top three on the sales charts. The title track, “Rose,” was especially well received. Compared to his previous single, which had felt too insubstantial, this album showcased a total of eight full-length Cantonese songs—once again proving his astonishing natural vocal talent. Fang Li’s voice, pure, crystalline, and without the need for embellishment, was described by a Taiwanese music critic in Artistic Ode magazine as “a mirror of the sky.”
Letters from Baoyi Records once again poured in like falling snow. Some die-hard fans even sent letters and gifts all the way to the mainland, to Waves Entertainment. Han Jin threw a celebration party at the company just for him. Fellow artists from the same debut year looked on with envy as Fang Li basked in glory in the Hong Kong-Taiwan scene.
And when they saw the senior executives at Waves raising their glasses to toast him, they knew: Fang Li was far from just a harmless, pretty face. There had to be a powerful force behind him.
But as to who exactly was backing Fang Li—no one knew. Likely only a handful of the company’s top brass, the ones who’d been tipped off, were in the loop.
With his surging popularity in Hong Kong and Taiwan, invitations began flooding in—variety shows, interviews, talk shows.
He had to spend a whole month in Hong Kong. Naturally, Qin Weidong wasn’t happy about it. But this was Fang Li’s career—something he loved, something that mattered to him, something he needed respect for. And every time Fang Li said words like that, they clanged around Qin Weidong’s ears like a binding curse. No matter how dark his face got, watching Fang Li packing up his luggage, he could only stew in silence.
That morning, when Yang Xiaoliu came to pick him up for the airport, he saw Boss Qin with a stormy expression, shoving Fang Li’s suitcase into the car. With a loud thud, the poor suitcase became his outlet for frustration.
Qin Weidong snapped, “That’s all?”
Fang Li jumped: “That’s it. If I need anything else, I’ll just buy it when I get there…”
Qin Weidong slammed the trunk shut and turned on his heel without another word. Even Yang Xiaoliu could tell he was pissed. He didn’t dare say anything—just glanced at Fang Li, silently asking what was going on.
Fang Li gave a helpless little smile. “He’s sulking.”
Still, he followed Qin Weidong back inside. Upstairs in the bedroom, he found him changing clothes. Fang Li walked over and hugged him from behind.
“You’re giving me attitude all the way upstairs? Aren’t you afraid I might actually leave?”
Qin Weidong buttoned his shirt in silence, his face like stone.
Fang Li deliberately dragged out his voice, teasing: “Alright then, I’m really going now. I’ll text you when I land…”
Just as he tried to let go, Qin Weidong grabbed his wrist, locking it in place.
“What are you doing?”
Qin Weidong looked down at him, his voice low and rough. “I’m upset, and your first instinct is to walk away?”
Fang Li struggled to hold back a smile. “Weren’t you the one who gave me attitude first? How old are you now… acting like you can’t be without me. I’m only going for a month or two. Aren’t you heading back to the States soon, too?”
Qin Weidong said, “When I go back to the U.S., I’ll take you with me.”
In other words, wherever he went, he wanted Fang Li to be with him.
“Oh, come on. I’m not your assistant—I can’t just follow you around the world. I promise, when I get to Hong Kong, I’ll call you every day. As soon as I wake up, I’ll call.”
Qin Weidong said, “That’s not enough.”
When Fang Li was here, he could see him, hold him. No matter how often they talked on the phone, it couldn’t compare. It was just too far. And Qin Weidong wasn’t stupid.
Fang Li added, “I’ll call you while I eat, shower—even when I go to the bathroom, I won’t hang up. Okay? You’ll hear my voice all day long…”
Even after all that, Qin Weidong still looked sullen. Fang Li swatted him on the shoulder. “We’re going to be late. Stop making a fuss. If you keep pouting like this, I won’t call. Not a single call.”
Qin Weidong narrowed his eyes dangerously. He hadn’t said a word before Fang Li gave him another light smack—this time on the head.
“Talk properly. Stop with all the unreasonable conditions. If you keep this up, I’ll be too upset to sleep on the plane.”
Qin Weidong squinted at him, then at Fang Li’s lips, which were slightly puckered. Fang Li leaned in and kissed him. “What you say matters the most to me. If you say no, I’ll be upset for days…”
After that kiss, and hearing those words—what you say matters the most—Qin Weidong took a deep breath and held back.
“Call me when you arrive.”
Fang Li smiled. “Of course. While I’m in Hong Kong, will you stay at the Qin house?”
Qin Weidong frowned slightly. “We’ll see. Probably.”
Fang Li hadn’t meant to push him to go home. It was just that these past days, Qin Weidong seemed constantly caught in the middle. Even the texts from Ye Yunshan were suffocatingly maternal. Qin Weidong could handle most things just fine, but when it came to emotions, he always seemed to lack a certain touch. It simply didn’t occur to him.
Then Fang Li said, “Woke up too early this morning. I’m sleepy. Carry me downstairs.”
Qin Weidong gave him a glance, then bent down and carried him on his back.
Yang Xiaoliu had been waiting in the car and finally saw Qin Weidong coming down with Fang Li on his back. His expression was still frosty, but he gently placed Fang Li in the car and even fastened his seatbelt.
The two kissed for a bit. Fang Li then made a hand gesture like holding a phone next to his ear. “Wait for my call.”
After landing in Hong Kong, Fang Li got a true taste of what it meant to have a packed schedule—he barely had time to sleep. The entertainment industry was the most brutally realistic barometer of fame. With his album’s rising popularity, offers from various shows poured in nonstop. With both Waves and Baoyi overseeing his schedule, Fang Li made his first appearance on a Hong Kong variety show, choosing the highly popular entertainment program, Starry Tonight.
Because the previous episode had already teased Fang Li’s upcoming appearance—touting him as the hottest rising star—the broadcast during prime time at 8 p.m. immediately topped the channel’s ratings.
Fans glued to their TVs were stunned when Fang Li appeared in a sky-blue casual suit. His delicate, refined features and rosy lips made him look like a clear ocean breeze under a sunny sky. Fans were amazed—how could someone look this good in what’s known as a “deadly” color like light blue?
Despite being briefed extensively by agents from both companies about how to handle himself on variety shows, Fang Li was still visibly nervous. When the host asked him in Cantonese how it felt to hear his songs playing in shops all over town, he answered, “It just feels a bit unreal… I still think there’s a lot of room for improvement in my singing.”
Since his public persona leaned toward the pure and sincere, his honest reply drew warm applause from the studio audience.
Hong Kong variety shows were known for pushing boundaries. One moment, they were asking if he’d visited any nightclubs; the next, they were asking whether any models had knocked on his door late at night while filming music videos, leaving their phone numbers.
Fang Li was flustered, the tips of his ears blushing red. But for some reason, the more overwhelmed he got, the more the fans screamed like they’d gone wild.
The program ended with a solo performance—Fang Li sang the title track of his album, Rose.
He had changed outfits again, wearing a spring-autumn fashion piece selected by Baoyi’s stylist from a recent runway show. A large, fiery red rose bloomed dramatically on one shoulder. His hair was dusted with silver glitter, twinkling under the stage lights. When he lifted his head, his refined face and those soulful eyes shimmered onscreen, making fans watching from home scream loud enough to lift the roof.
And the moment his voice joined the accompaniment, it was clear—this was an unfiltered, natural voice like a gift from the heavens.
“My obsession, your restraint—
Admitting every flower has its flaws.
Toward the darkness, alone and fierce—
Regret or no regret, perfect or not.
That red thread you can’t erase from your palm
Is the rose that bloomed from my heart.
Like your scent—indescribable,
Like your scent—indescribable…”
Fang Li’s Cantonese album had been written by Guan Feng, a renowned lyricist under Baoyi. Known for his poetic depictions of urban love, Guan Feng’s lyrics stirred deep emotional resonance while leaving ample space for interpretation.
Rose, the album’s Cantonese title track, stood out with its subtle portrayal of love and pain. Thanks to Fang Li’s vocal delivery, the song became a favorite among young listeners and earned a nomination for this year’s Top 10 Most-Played Songs list.
Axolotl Translations 
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