Chapter 64
On this Mid-Autumn night, the moon cast its gentle glow upon the earth. The autumn evening was imbued with a warm, golden hue.
Nan City, being a riverside city, was always bustling on nights like this. The riverbanks would be packed with people, but the sight of moonlight shimmering on the water like silver scales was indeed breathtaking. The atmosphere was peaceful, and in past years, fireworks would occasionally light up the sky.
After having dinner at home, Fang Huai and Ye Yuyuan set out for the riverbank around 8:30 PM to admire the moon.
Fang Huai seemed genuinely excited.
For the past couple of days, he had been asking Ye Yuyuan, “What do people usually do when they admire the moon? Does everyone gather together?”
He had grown up with Fang Jianguo, a man who had no sense of ceremony. On Mid-Autumn Festival, Fang Jianguo preferred to drink alone, so for as long as Fang Huai could remember, every Mid-Autumn Festival had been just another ordinary night. By 8 or 9 PM, he was already in bed.
But this was completely outside Ye Yuyuan’s realm of expertise.
“Yes,” after a long pause, Ye Yuyuan finally replied. “They… go to the riverbank to admire the moon. And eat mooncakes.”
That was the extent of his knowledge.
So, on this Mid-Autumn night, they followed the crowd and headed to the river to enjoy the moon.
Wealth and power had their advantages—if Ye Yuyuan wanted to admire the moon by the river, he didn’t need to squeeze through the crowds like most people. Let alone his personal yacht, there were plenty of people eager to arrange something with just a word from him.
At 9 PM, Fang Huai stood on the deck, gazing into the distance. The night breeze ruffled his bangs, and the soft moonlight reflected in his pale-colored eyes.
The river shimmered with moonlight, mirroring the boundless night sky. The riverbanks were bustling with people—children running around with lanterns, their excited shouts filling the air, while a distant, indistinct melody drifted over the water. It was the kind of scene that naturally put one’s heart at ease.
“What are you thinking about?”
Ye Yuyuan set a plate down beside Fang Huai and looked out at the view with him.
Fang Huai’s gaze was lowered slightly, his expression inexplicably tired yet gentle, as if lost in memories from long ago. It took him a long time before he finally smiled and replied,
“I was thinking about Fang Jianguo… my grandfather.”
The word ‘grandfather’ felt foreign to him. He had always called him by his name—Fang Jianguo had insisted on it.
Fang Jianguo’s death had been a major turning point in Fang Huai’s life. From that day on, everything changed drastically. The pain of that loss spread across the years that followed. There was even a time when he deliberately forced himself not to think about it.
Losing the pillar of his life, he was cast out of the familiar and thrown into an unfamiliar world, stumbling forward with great difficulty.
Now, at last, he could look back—at the path he had taken since that day.
—It wasn’t too bad after all.
He was doing what he loved. He had met wonderful friends. Every experience that started with bitterness had, in the end, turned out to be sweet.
Tonight’s moon was full, not a single cloud in sight. Its silver glow poured over the world, and under that light, it felt as if everything once lost had quietly returned.
Ye Yuyuan stood quietly beside him, waiting.
He seemed to be exceptionally skilled at waiting—standing there in silence, blending into the night. The city lights and moonlight intertwined over the river’s surface, yet he showed no signs of impatience. In Fang Huai’s memory, Ye Yuyuan had always been like this—waiting without a word, for an outcome that might never come.
“Ye Yuyuan.”
Fang Huai turned to him, and for a fleeting moment, a dull ache pulsed in his chest—so brief he barely had time to process it.
“Hm?” The man, almost swallowed by the night, lifted his gaze toward him.
“Uh, we should…” Fang Huai rubbed his nose, then earnestly suggested, eager to break the inexplicable atmosphere that had just settled over them. “Eat some mooncakes.”
Ye Yuyuan looked at him and gave a small nod.
They sat down on the deck, a table spread with mooncakes, other pastries, and a jug of green plum wine. Fang Huai poured a cup for Ye Yuyuan, then, as if from nowhere, produced a bottle of Red Star Erguotou (Chinese White Wine). Pouring himself a glass, he raised it toward the moon before spilling it into the river.
A toast to his only family.
Fang Huai thought to himself that, even in the afterlife, Fang Jianguo was probably still the same unruly, stubborn old man—the mischievous child at heart. When he was alive, Fang Huai had been there to keep an eye on him. Without him, who knew how Fang Jianguo was faring over there?
…Hopefully, someone would look after him.
“Ye Yuyuan,” Fang Huai suddenly remembered something and asked without much thought, “Do you have any family?”
Ye Yuyuan was focused on cutting a mooncake into neat portions—his expression absurdly serious, as if he were performing some precise experiment. His slender, well-defined fingers gripped the silver knife with practiced ease.
At Fang Huai’s question, his hand paused briefly. A moment later, he replied calmly, “No.”
“That’s okay, I don’t have any family either.” Fang Huai, worried that Ye Yuyuan might be upset, immediately tried to comfort him. “I used to, but then… he got cancer, and—”
Ye Yuyuan looked at him, momentarily at a loss for words. The deep black of his eyes softened under the moonlight.
To Ye Yuyuan, not having family had never felt like a particularly sad thing. But Fang Huai—worried that he would be upset—was willing to peel back a wound that hadn’t yet fully healed, just to make him feel a little better.
And then, in the next breath, Fang Huai added—
“But you’ll have new family in the future.”
Vaguely aware that Ye Yuyuan disliked discussing marriage, Fang Huai thought quickly and substituted the words new family instead of a wife and kids.
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
His grip on the knife suddenly tightened, slicing a mooncake cleanly in half with a sharp thud.
“What about you?”
Ye Yuyuan’s expression remained neutral, any hint of displeasure carefully concealed.
He looked at Fang Huai, his gaze calm, and asked in an almost casual tone, “Do you plan to get married in the future?”
But the hand gripping the knife handle tightened slightly, his knuckles turning a bit pale.
Ye Yuyuan didn’t understand why Fang Huai occasionally brought up the topic of marriage. Did he genuinely hope that Ye Yuyuan would get married? Or was it simply because he had a strong longing for marriage himself?
This was a thought he couldn’t afford to dwell on. Ye Yuyuan forced his mind to a stop.
“I don’t think I will,” Fang Huai said, somewhat blankly. “No girl would be interested in me.”
“Uh—” He quickly realized how that sounded and clarified, “Of course, some people like me, but they only like… a part of me.”
They liked the version of him that shone under stage lights, the one that dazzled in front of cameras.
They probably had no idea that he had once carried bricks for a living, that he had seen the very bottom of society. He had lived through it all. It wasn’t that Fang Huai felt deeply insecure about this—he just objectively believed that someone like him wouldn’t meet the expectations of most women today.
Ye Yuyuan let out a quiet hum.
He lowered his gaze, looking at his own fingers.
So, if a girl did truly love all of Fang Huai, he would agree to marry her without hesitation?
For a moment, jealousy surged so fiercely inside Ye Yuyuan that he almost couldn’t suppress it.
He stared silently at the shimmering river, then after a long pause, he asked lightly,
“So as long as they truly like you… anyone would be fine?”
Fang Huai tilted his head back, gazing at the vast night sky and the moon. His mind felt sluggish. He thought for a long time before hesitantly nodding.
“If…”
“What if it was someone of the same sex?”
Ye Yuyuan suddenly lifted his gaze to him.
Those deep black eyes looked different from before—sharper, more intense, even a bit aggressive. The restrained edge he had always hidden from Fang Huai was now laid bare.
Fang Huai froze.
His thoughts slowed even further, struggling to process Ye Yuyuan’s words. He tried to piece together the context—if…
The same sex?
At this moment, any other adult would have immediately picked up on the underlying implication in Ye Yuyuan’s question. It was barely veiled—his meaning laid out so plainly.
Ye Yuyuan’s face remained as indifferent as ever, but his palms were cold, a thin layer of sweat forming over them.
“Uh…” Fang Huai rubbed his nose. “The same sex…”
He was a little confused. Was there really a difference between same-sex and opposite-sex relationships? In his mind, he didn’t even have the concept of “homosexuality”—it was only after joining the Frost production team that he learned people who liked the same sex were a minority in this world.
Fang Huai naturally assumed that his future partner would be a woman, but to him, liking men or women wasn’t fundamentally different.
“Forget it. Pretend I never asked.”
For the first time, Ye Yuyuan interrupted him.
He had overestimated his own courage. He wasn’t ready to hear that answer yet—more than that, he was afraid that Fang Huai might notice something.
Ye Yuyuan lowered his eyes. It was a long time before he opened them again, his usual calm demeanor restored.
“Let’s talk about something else,” he said.
Fang Huai was stunned for a moment, then nodded.
They changed the subject, eating mooncakes and drinking.
Fang Huai didn’t have a strong tolerance for alcohol. Ye Yuyuan had intended to stop him from drinking too much, but to his surprise, after just two sips, Fang Huai was already getting tipsy. A faint blush spread over his nose and cheeks, and his light-colored eyes gleamed.
With one hand holding the small wine cup, he tapped his other hand lightly on the table, keeping rhythm as he sang. His clear voice drifted into the night, carried far away by the wind.
The cruise ship had already completed a round trip and was now making a brief stop near the shore. This was a port area, with no other moon-gazing crowds around. Half-closing his eyes, Fang Huai peered down for a while before suddenly coming up with an idea.
“Let’s go for a walk?”
“Mm.” Ye Yuyuan looked at him and nodded.
Fang Huai’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, made even more active by the alcohol. One moment he was thinking about Fang Jianguo and Lin Shuheng, the next he was picturing himself in a white suit, walking into a church with a faceless bride, and then, suddenly, he was thinking about his album.
“I don’t want to dance,” he mumbled, starting to repeat himself. “They want me to dance, but it’s only because my songs aren’t good enough yet.”
“But I—”
He hiccuped lightly, then fell into a daze, completely forgetting what he was about to say.
At that moment, he looked unbelievably endearing.
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
“What was I trying to say?” His naturally tousled hair caught the moonlight as he stopped in his tracks, frowning and struggling with himself. “I can’t remember.”
They had reached the riverbank now—a wide, open space. Not far away, the river shimmered under the lights and moonlight, while on the other side, mountains loomed. The crisp mountain breeze carried the sound of insects chirping through the night.
“Dance,” Ye Yuyuan reminded him with a faint smile in his eyes. “You said you didn’t want to dance.”
“Right.” Fang Huai suddenly understood. “I don’t want to dance… but actually, I do like dancing.”
In some ways, music and dance were interconnected. He deeply appreciated dance as a form of expression, but at the same time, he felt that the emphasis on dance in his albums was just a cover for his music not being good enough yet. That was why he didn’t want to dance.
It was a contradiction. Fang Huai struggled to sort out his thoughts.
“I—”
As he took a step forward, out of nowhere, the prelude of a waltz began to play.
It came from the cruise ship’s speakers, gradually amplifying, spreading to other devices. Even Ye Yuyuan’s phone speaker started playing the same song. The sound of the piano intertwined with the cello, filling the entire space.
Fang Huai: “…”
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
From his Bluetooth earpiece, an AI voice chimed in—it had been so quiet lately that they had almost forgotten it existed.
“Hello. Now playing music for you. Happy Mid-Autumn Festival.”
Fang Huai stood still for a moment, tilting his head to listen as the elegant yet lively melody of piano and cello intertwined. Then, suddenly, he looked ahead.
By the riverside, there was a scarecrow, not standing upright but slumped softly against the railing.
“I want to…”
“Hmm?”
Fang Huai did something completely unexpected.
He took two steps forward, wrapped his arms around the scarecrow, and with his first step landing perfectly on the beat of the waltz, he began to dance.
Under the lone glow of a streetlamp, with the shimmering river beside him, he stood in the center of that small pool of light and waltzed with the scarecrow in his arms.
Fang Huai was so incredibly young.
Barely eighteen, his life had only just begun. The young always had certain privileges—their whims, their boundless imagination—making everything they did seem natural, even possessing a magnetic vitality that made it impossible to look away.
Every step he took matched the rhythm flawlessly, his movements romantic and graceful, exuding the effortless charm unique to youth. During the finals of Stellar Light, the song Childish had included waltz elements, and just for that one detail, Fang Huai had taken the time to learn everything he could about waltz.
Of course, he wasn’t as skilled as a professional dancer, but he had a unique kind of allure.
Keeping in perfect time with the music, he danced with the scarecrow, elegant and striking, like a little prince from the Middle Ages. The moonlight gently traced the contours of his face, bringing out an infinitely vivid, captivating glow. His light amber eyes sparkled under the light.
Ye Yuyuan simply watched him in silence.
At that moment, Fang Huai was practically glowing. He probably had no idea just how…
Irresistibly breathtaking he was.
The song was short, and soon, the dance came to an end. Fang Huai held onto the scarecrow, reached up to remove an imaginary top hat from his head, and with a playful flourish, gave Ye Yuyuan a gentleman’s bow.
“Thank you, thank you,” he said, deliberately feigning modesty.
Ye Yuyuan gazed at him intently, unable to suppress the slight curve at the corners of his lips.
After his bow, Fang Huai placed the scarecrow aside. As his rationality returned, he flashed Ye Yuyuan a slightly sheepish smile.
“Alright, let’s—”
Ye Yuyuan barely had time to respond before the intro to another waltz began.
Standing beneath the streetlamp, bathed in moonlight, Fang Huai gave him another gentleman’s bow.
“Um…”
“May I invite you,” Fang Huai coughed lightly, a bit embarrassed, “to dance with me?”
