Chapter 65
The waltz’s introduction was soft and tender.
Unlike the previous song, this melody was like flowing water, with gentle piano notes trickling forth, accompanied by the delicate harmonies of a harp and violin. The music drifted through the moonlit night, merging with the autumn breeze.
It felt like a romantic, slightly melancholic story. Or perhaps, like a dream—long and wistful, with the wind lifting the edges ever so slightly.
The young man stood quietly beneath the streetlamp, eyes lowered. One hand rested behind his back as he bowed slightly.
He had taken off his hoodie, leaving only a crisp white shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the smooth, porcelain-white curves of his forearms. Because of his shyness, his brows and the corners of his eyes were slightly drawn together, which only made him appear even more striking in a way that was hard to define.
“May I invite you… to dance with me?”
Fang Huai was, indeed, a little embarrassed.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, immersing him in a hazy, slightly detached state, his thoughts unusually active. The lingering excitement of the festival fermented in his bloodstream along with the alcohol.
His footsteps felt light, as if he were walking on clouds. He did things without much reason—simply because they felt right.
An autumn night, the shimmering riverside, the sounds of waves and wind interwoven with the moonlight—it was the perfect setting for a waltz.
But he wasn’t sure if Ye Yuyuan would indulge in his “nonsense.” In Fang Huai’s mind, Ye Yuyuan was someone with strict self-discipline, almost rigid. He had never seen Ye Yuyuan do anything out of line. That was why, when he asked the question, he was actually feeling a bit uneasy.
Until his hand was taken.
As a ballroom dance, a waltz begins almost like an embrace. The two of them were incredibly close. Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze, while Fang Huai tilted his head slightly upward, just enough to meet those deep, ink-black eyes, as still and unfathomable as a cold lake.
For a moment, the wind fell silent.
Then, the air slowly stirred again. The prelude faded, leaving a brief second of quiet before the melody began.
“Focus,” Ye Yuyuan reminded in a low voice.
Fang Huai had indeed lost focus for a few seconds. He coughed lightly, forcing himself to rein in the thoughts drifting outward under the influence of alcohol. Ye Yuyuan, without another word, led him into the dance, stepping into the flowing rhythm of the music—just like stepping gently into a romantic dream.
To Fang Huai’s surprise, Ye Yuyuan danced remarkably well.
He had assumed Ye Yuyuan either didn’t know how to dance or was only vaguely familiar with it. But reality far exceeded his expectations. Ye Yuyuan’s waltz carried a restrained elegance. His movements weren’t as exaggerated and expressive as those of a professional dancer, but they were refined and effortless, perfectly balanced between control and ease.
Fang Huai’s attention sharpened instantly. A subtle sense of competitiveness sparked within him.
He shot Ye Yuyuan a smile, his brows lifting slightly, and murmured, “The tempo’s about to change.”
Ye Yuyuan’s gaze lingered on his lips for a second, momentarily distracted.
“…”
The waltz was originally an elegant social dance, but some of its movements resembled subtle flirtation.
Fang Huai and Ye Yuyuan had contrasting styles—Fang Huai’s was free-spirited and charismatic, his steps diverging from the traditional waltz, carrying a youthful flair. Ye Yuyuan, on the other hand, was composed and restrained, embodying the classic, orthodox form.
Yet, as they danced, their differing styles intertwined seamlessly, complementing rather than clashing.
As Fang Huai had predicted, the music suddenly shifted. This was an unconventional waltz—not like the commonly heard Spring Waltz or others that maintained a consistently gentle rhythm throughout.
Fang Huai was prepared. As the tempo quickened, he seized the moment, reversing their roles and pulling Ye Yuyuan into his rhythm.
Ye Yuyuan raised an eyebrow slightly.
Fang Huai, triumphant in his little mischief, flashed him a playful smile.
The dance had drained his energy, and Fang Huai was drenched in sweat. Beads of perspiration slid down his temple, and he could hear the pulse beating in his ears and the thudding of his own heart.
It wasn’t as if he had never danced with someone before.
When he first learned the waltz, he had danced with his instructor—a poised and elegant woman. Her steps were refined and mature, and back then, she had also held his hands, fingers interlocked, leading him through the dance. But somehow, that moment and this one felt entirely different.
Fang Huai couldn’t quite put into words what exactly was different, and that uncertainty left him slightly perplexed.
“I…”
The wind seemed distant, and the world around him faded into the background. The smile lingering on his lips gradually disappeared as he lifted his eyes in confusion, meeting the gaze of the person right in front of him.
Those eyes were like obsidian—cool on the surface, yet unwaveringly focused on him, half-lidded in quiet intensity.
Then, as the melody shifted, Ye Yuyuan tightened his grip, reclaiming the lead. His hand clasped Fang Huai’s firmly, guiding him back into the rhythm, never once letting go.
The tempo of the music abruptly quickened. The cello took over from the piano, its strings sliding from the lowest note to the highest in one fluid motion, vibrating with a deep, resonant tremor!
The melody shattered the quiet of the night. The tide surged. The wind turned sharp.
Pause. Pivot. Turn.
Their spins grew faster, the wind whistling past their ears as the world blurred around them.
The waltz, in many ways, was like certain emotions—tentative, probing, a push-and-pull dance of intimacy and distance, veiled in propriety, yet filled with unspoken tension.
Their palms were pressed together, and with each shift in the melody, they drew closer—so close that their breaths intertwined—only to be pulled apart at the next transition.
Fang Huai’s breath came quicker. The wind lifted strands of his hair.
Wrapped in moonlight and the glow of streetlamps, they seemed to exist in a separate, suspended world—one where only the two of them remained, the moonlight nothing more than a quiet embellishment beneath their feet.
Fang Huai stared at Ye Yuyuan, dazed. He could hear nothing but his own breath and the wind rushing around them.
There was something unusual in the air, a silent understanding between them, unspoken yet unmistakable, growing stronger with each passing second.
Emotion swelled, rising like a cresting wave.
Then, in the next movement, Ye Yuyuan pulled him close. Holding him in his embrace, he leaned down, his voice a low murmur against Fang Huai’s ear:
“Fang Huai, don’t get distracted.”
“Look at me.”
“…Only at me.”
His voice was deep and smooth, like the lowest notes of an elegant cello, whispering softly at Fang Huai’s ear, rich with an unspoken undertone of something more.
Fang Huai’s breath caught.
His eyelashes trembled, the moonlight resting quietly upon them. The river shimmered beneath the wind—suddenly turbulent.
And then, in the very next moment, the melody reached its climax—cello and piano resounding in unison, soaring into the night with a powerful, resplendent note!
Their movements froze in perfect synchrony.
Fang Huai’s chest rose and fell sharply, sweat trickling down his temple, sliding along his cheek and jawline.
In that brief silence after the peak of the music, the two of them stood beneath the streetlamp, still locked in an embrace, their breaths unsteady.
Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze, looking at Fang Huai.
His eyelashes trembled slightly, and his dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion. His lips pressed together as he held onto Fang Huai’s hand, gazing deeply into his eyes.
The wind seemed to pause. The boy’s light-colored eyes looked back at him, both serious and bewildered.
And in that fleeting moment, the emotions he had suppressed for so long suddenly collapsed like a breached dam.
He lowered his head, leaned in closer, his voice tight with restraint, “Fang Huai, I—”
A strange premonition surged through Fang Huai.
His fingertips trembled, and something unfamiliar rushed through his heart—something elusive, slipping through his grasp. The foreign sensation left him confused, and just a little afraid.
But one thing was certain: in the silence, the sound of his heartbeat was impossibly clear.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was… speeding up.
A moment later—
The sudden resumption of the cello’s melody interrupted Ye Yuyuan’s words and movement.
“……”
Fang Huai instinctively tightened his grip. The two of them had no choice but to follow the rhythm, stepping into the final movements of the waltz, though their minds were elsewhere.
The closing notes of the song faded all too quickly.
They remained in the last position of their dance, frozen for a second before—almost simultaneously—releasing each other’s hands and stepping back, creating some distance.
It was… a little awkward.
But before they could fully recover, something even more embarrassing happened.
A tide of applause suddenly erupted around them.
At some point, a crowd had gathered. The surrounding area was now packed with spectators—evidently local residents who had come to admire the moon, only to be drawn in by the music.
Girls wearing glowing headbands and holding neon light sticks were whistling, clapping, and even screaming in excitement. A few voices rang out among the noise—
“Be together! Be together!”
Someone even tossed a few coins toward them, probably thinking they were street performers.
“……”
When did all these people show up?!
“That was amazing! Handsome guys, dance one more song!” someone called out.
“Are you street performers? Do you take QR code payments?”
“Be together! Be together!” A girl waving a rainbow-colored glow stick cheered, eyes sparkling.
Fang Huai: “……”
Ye Yuyuan: “……”
The crowd wasn’t standing too close, and with Fang Huai facing away from the light, no one had recognized him yet. But he could already hear people whispering, “That guy looks kind of familiar,” and, “He’s so good-looking—wait, is this a celebrity filming a variety show?”
Fang Huai felt lightheaded.
“Let’s go,” Ye Yuyuan said decisively, grabbing Fang Huai’s hand and leading him away.
“When will you come back to perform again?” A girl called out wistfully.
“Next time, next time,” Fang Huai responded absentmindedly, waving at them earnestly. “Goodbye, get home safe, good night.”
Ye Yuyuan: “……”
“There won’t be a next time,” he muttered helplessly.
Again? Who could possibly… handle this?
*
Just like that, the Mid-Autumn Festival came to an end. After Mid-Autumn came National Day, leaving a few more days of holiday.
After the festival, Fang Huai spent a few more days at Ye Yuyuan’s place. But ever since that waltz, the atmosphere between them had felt a little… off.
Even Fang Huai himself couldn’t figure out why.
They were already extremely familiar with each other. They even joked around sometimes. Back when Fang Huai was engrossed in gaming, Ye Yuyuan had casually fed him fruit or even helped him put on socks.
But this time, as Fang Huai was holding the controller, focused on his game, Ye Yuyuan reminded him: “Socks.”
“Yeah, yeah, got it,” Fang Huai responded absentmindedly. Then, he saw Ye Yuyuan walk over with his pair of white socks, sit down naturally, and reach for his bare feet.
“……”
Fang Huai shot up from the couch like a spring.
“I got it! I’ll do it myself!” he blurted out, his voice involuntarily rising.
On the TV screen, Fang Huai’s character got KO’d by the boss in one hit and collapsed to the ground. He didn’t even notice.
Ye Yuyuan paused and looked up at him, a hint of confusion in his expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“No, I just…” Fang Huai rubbed his nose, feeling utterly baffled. “I can put on my own socks.”
He had no idea what was going on with himself. With a frustrated sigh, he slumped back down and gloomily pulled on his socks.
Then, something suddenly occurred to him.
His socks were kept in the same bag as his underwear.
So when Ye Yuyuan took out his socks… did he see his underwear too?
Fang Huai: “……”
No way, right?!
A swirl of complicated emotions filled his heart. Was he… sick or something?
This strange atmosphere lingered until the end of the holiday. Fang Huai moved back to his own place and got busy with work again—managing his album, brand endorsements, and magazine cover shoots.
Now that he wasn’t seeing Ye Yuyuan as frequently, he felt much better. Finally, he could breathe.
This had never happened before. He didn’t even understand himself anymore.
Unconsciously, he found himself avoiding Ye Yuyuan—not deliberately, just subtly. Even the thought of possibly hanging out with him on the weekend made him feel nervous days in advance.
It was around this time that Shi Feiran contacted him.
“A variety show?” Fang Huai repeated. “This weekend?”
Without hesitation, he made his decision.
“Alright, I’ll take it.”
Shi Feiran: “……”
He hadn’t even finished explaining. This variety show had a rather unique and innovative format, something completely new.
And the strangest part?
Its exclusive sponsor was Ptah.
