Chapter 71
Even after opening his eyes, Fang Huai’s heartbeat was still racing.
His diving mask and oxygen tube had been removed, carried away by the water. The flowing currents lifted his damp bangs, revealing his smooth, fair forehead and light-colored eyes. The dimmed aquarium lights reflected in them.
Fang Huai pressed a hand against the glass, staring blankly at Ye Yuyuan. His mind was overflowing with countless thoughts, his brain still caught in the endless cycle of fireworks—blazing, burning out, and then reigniting.
So this is what it means to like someone.
Every inexplicable moment from before now had an answer. Like a long journey finally reaching its destination, the glow of realization had appeared at the end of the road.
“……”
Wait.
Are they standing a little too close?
Even though there was a layer of specialized glass between them, from this angle, they seemed to be barely ten centimeters apart—
Almost as if they had just kissed.
Kissed…
Both of them averted their gazes at the same time.
Ye Yuyuan curled his index finger slightly. Fang Huai, startled, sucked in a sharp breath—only to have water rush into his nose. He immediately started coughing violently.
Ye Yuyuan snapped his head back toward him, his brows knitting in concern.
Yin Wanyue: “……”
The audience: “……”
What… did they just witness???
[The lights went out just now—what happened?!]
[I don’t care anymore, my vote today goes to Ye Yuyuan and Fang Huai!!! This is too sweet!!!]
[The iceberg ship is setting sail! My OTP is finally giving me content!]
When the lights had gone completely dark, no one—including Yin Wanyue—had seen anything. But that didn’t stop some viewers from filling in the blanks with their imagination. Of course, they knew it was unlikely, given how the show had been setting them up as ‘rivals’ from the beginning.
Still, on the live voting board, the votes for “Ye Yuyuan ? Fang Huai” and “Fang Huai ? Ye Yuyuan” quietly climbed up, surpassing the previous second-to-last pair, “Duan Yang ? Lin Huan”—finally, they were no longer dead last.
*
Twenty minutes later.
Fang Huai stood under the shower in the aquarium’s changing room, turning off the water before grabbing a towel to dry his hair.
He took a few deep breaths. His heart had finally settled.
He had to force himself to calm down—otherwise, it would be too obvious.
This is the first time I’ve ever liked someone.
I’m a complete beginner. No one is here to teach me.
I have to figure it out on my own.
Fang Huai felt a little troubled. But even as he thought that, the corners of his lips curled up involuntarily.
In this moment, everything about love felt sweet—new and enchanting, untainted by hardship or sorrow.
The newly adult young man stared at the white tiles on the floor, frowning one moment, then smiling the next. A few seconds later, he forced himself to clear his throat and put on a serious expression.
There were two other people in the changing room.
Fang Huai glanced up just in time to see the two men enter the same shower stall—before they even pulled the curtain shut, they were already sharing the same showerhead, laughing and talking—
And then, unexpectedly, one of them leaned in and kissed the other.
Fang Huai: “……???”
He froze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Then, suddenly realizing something, his ears flushed red as he hurriedly looked away.
His thoughts began to spiral again, and then—
He remembered.
Ye Yuyuan… seemed to already like someone.
For a brief moment, Fang Huai felt a pang of disappointment.
But the next moment, he was smiling again.——He’s liked them for so long but still isn’t together with them. That person probably doesn’t like Ye Yuyuan.
And fortunately, she doesn’t.
Since Ye Yuyuan is capable of liking someone, then maybe—just maybe—he could like him too.
Fang Huai thought to himself: I can try my best to be good to him, to pursue him. After all, he was still young. He had plenty of time.
With that in mind, the road ahead seemed difficult, but the future was bright.
Fang Huai touched the tip of his nose, which was still red from choking on water. As he dried his hair, he started whistling a lighthearted nocturne.
Half a minute later, a deep and mellow voice called out from outside the curtain, “Fang Huai, I left your clothes at the door… How much longer do you need?”
Fang Huai’s hand shook, and the towel slipped to the ground.
He had always thought Ye Yuyuan’s voice sounded nice. But now that he had confirmed his feelings, that niceness was amplified tenfold. Every word felt like it was tickling his heart.
“I’ll be done soon,” Fang Huai replied, trying to sound casual, but his heart was fluttering.
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a moment before sighing helplessly, “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Fang Huai’s hair was already dry, and with nothing else to do, he hesitated before finally reaching down to grab his clothes from under the curtain and put them on. The aquarium had heating, so even though it was the middle of winter outside, there was no need for a thick coat inside.
After dragging things out as long as possible, he reluctantly stepped out.
Nervous. Embarrassed.
Fang Huai met Ye Yuyuan’s gaze.
Ye Yuyuan had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, his lips pressed together slightly. His dark eyes, like polished obsidian, were both indifferent and strikingly beautiful. His aura was restrained, yet for some reason, it also felt inexplicably gentle.
He simply stood outside, waiting quietly for Fang Huai—then reached out to smooth his slightly messy bangs.
Fang Huai stared at Ye Yuyuan in a daze for a long moment, his throat tightening once again.
Oh no. He really, really liked him.
Just minutes ago, he had been thinking about his grand plans to pursue Ye Yuyuan. But now, faced with the actual person, all of that courage crumbled instantly.
Forget about passionately chasing after him—he could barely manage to string two words together without stuttering.
Ye Yuyuan looked at him and suddenly froze.
“Fang Huai, you—”
Fang Huai lowered his eyes before glancing up again. “?”
“…Never mind.” Ye Yuyuan cleared his throat and looked away.
Fang Huai bent down to tie his shoelaces. After putting on his shoes, he finally walked out with Ye Yuyuan.
Just as they reached the door, Ye Yuyuan paused, turned back, and adjusted Fang Huai’s collar.
Such a simple gesture—but the livestream chat exploded.
Fang Huai had just finished showering. The lingering steam made his eyes look extra bright, as if they were soaked in water. The tips of his wavy hair were still damp, and a faint blush warmed his nose and cheeks from the heat. At just over 1.8 meters tall, he was lean and slender, dressed casually in a linen shirt with slightly too-long pants rolled up at the cuffs. His entire demeanor was both relaxed and effortlessly handsome.
Ye Yuyuan adjusted his collar with his usual composed expression, but his gaze was undeniably soft.
[……AAAAAHHHH?! WHAT IS HAPPENING? IS THIS A PRANK?!]
[FarAway is real??!! I’m declaring today a national holiday.]
[Disgusting. Are they faking this for attention? Gay people are gross.]
[@Above, get lost. Are gay people eating your rice? It’s 9012, the Qing Dynasty has been dead for ages.]
It was just a small, somewhat ambiguous detail—not an overtly romantic gesture.
But it was enough.
Enough to rescue the FarAway CP from rock bottom in the rankings, pushing them up into the middle of the pack without a sound.
*
Ever since the date, Fang Huai had been in a peculiar state for several days in a row.
Even Duan Yang, who was usually the most oblivious to the atmosphere, noticed something was off.
That morning, when Duan Yang opened the fridge, Fang Huai casually walked over, took out the orange juice, and poured him a full glass. Then, he opened the toaster and asked, “Do you want butter?”
Duan Yang: “…No thanks.”
He stared at Fang Huai for a long moment, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Did you win the lottery?”
You look that happy.
Fang Huai: “Nope.”
He touched the tip of his nose. Was it that obvious?
It was his first time liking someone, and for the past few days, his mood had been consistently good. It felt like he had stepped into a new phase of life—everything that had once been ordinary now felt fresh and exciting.
The filming of Signal of the Heart didn’t interfere with the guests’ actual jobs. As soon as the weekend ended, Ptah seemed to have business to attend to, and Ye Yuyuan spent less and less time in the villa during the day. After a brief moment of relaxation, Fang Huai was also dragged back to work by Shi Feiran.
His debut album, Abyss Moonlight, was about to be released, but there was still plenty of work left to do—final promotional efforts, last-minute revisions, and wrap-ups.
Three days later, on the tenth day of Signal of the Heart airing, the edited episode was broadcast on television, surpassing a 1.0 rating.
And in the early hours of the next morning, on November 30th, Abyss Moonlight was officially released nationwide.
Almost everyone—from Shi Feiran to the production leads—held their breath.
No one knew how things would turn out.
This album wasn’t made to cater to the mainstream audience. From the title track to the stylistic choices, it was bold and unconventional, straying from the familiar formulas that the public was used to.
During the pre-sale, all copies had been snatched up, but most of those were bought by fans.
Fang Huai was popular now, but he was still a newcomer. He had plenty of casual followers, but not many people were willing to spend money purely for his music. The ultimate success of Abyss Moonlight depended entirely on whether the general market and audience would accept it.
Shi Feiran had a hunch that the album wouldn’t sell well at first. The first wave of listeners had to take it in, give their feedback, and let word-of-mouth spread. If the album’s quality was solid, it could slowly gain traction over time. But there were too many uncertainties in this process.
This was Fang Huai’s first solo album. It would be the industry’s first real impression of him.
If it succeeded, his future would be smooth sailing.
If it flopped, he’d be labeled a “hollow traffic idol” at best—and at worst, it could damage his career.
On the night of November 30th, Fang Huai didn’t return to the Signal House. Instead, he stayed in the recording studio.
Sitting in front of a grand piano, he pressed one note after another, listening quietly in the stillness of the night. His head was slightly bowed, back straight, his silhouette appearing lean and delicate against the vast darkness.
Yet somehow, he radiated a quiet, unshakable intensity.
In the Signal House, Yin Wanyue bowed respectfully toward the sky, praying for Abyss Moonlight to be a big hit.
At the top floor of Ptah headquarters, Ye Yuyuan silently put on his Bluetooth headset, typed out a string of code on his keyboard, and let the flowing melody pour into his ears.
When the song ended, he remained silent for a moment before dialing a number.
“Hello?” The boy’s voice was clear and casual, even carrying a hint of laughter. “Still working late?”
Ye Yuyuan responded with a faint hum.
He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against his sleeve cuff. After a brief pause, he asked in a low voice, “Are you nervous?”
Fang Huai hesitated for a moment before answering honestly: “A little.”
“Don’t be.” Ye Yuyuan lifted his gaze toward the window, his voice steady and sincere. “…You’re good enough.”
Good enough for anyone to love.
A long silence followed.
Fang Huai ran his fingers across the piano keys, then curved his eyes slightly and said, “Mm.”
Before hanging up, he hesitated but, in the end, didn’t say anything.
Fang Huai thought, since he liked Ye Yuyuan, he couldn’t afford to be a failure.
Ye Yuyuan was so outstanding—he wanted to become someone worthy of him.
The words of confession hovered on the tip of his tongue countless times, but in the end, he swallowed them back down.
*
8:00 AM the next morning.
Shi Feiran refreshed the page, his heart trembling at the sight of the number.
The sales figures were not optimistic.
The pre-orders had all sold out, but that was it. Most of the purchases came from fans, some of whom even bought four or five copies each, yet it still couldn’t hide the brutal reality—the sales were dismal.
Weibo was eerily quiet. Despite all their promotional efforts, Abyss Moonlight had barely sparked any discussion.
Negative reviews weren’t the worst thing. Haters weren’t the worst thing. The worst thing was being ignored.
No buzz. No controversy. Just silence.
Now, things were unfolding exactly as they had feared.
Since Signal of the Heart started airing, every one of Fang Huai’s Weibo posts had received massive engagement. But last night, when he posted about his album release, the response was lukewarm at best. Most of the interactions came from dedicated fans checking in and leaving reviews.
Money wasn’t an issue. They had invested heavily—placing digital album banners on every major music platform, securing prime ad slots on app homepages.
But it wasn’t working.
The digital album’s clicks and sales were just as disappointing.
At this point, it wasn’t a problem of exposure. Money wasn’t lacking—they had done everything they could to promote the album. Yet, the sales still didn’t justify the level of marketing they had poured into it.
Shi Feiran, along with the staff and executives, kept their eyes glued to the numbers, feeling an ever-growing weight in their chests.
Shi Feiran even triple-checked the system, wondering if the numbers had been tampered with or if there was some kind of mistake.
Otherwise, how could it be this bad?
But no—it was real. The audience just wasn’t buying it.
“It’s only been half a day,” Shi Feiran muttered, forcing himself to stay optimistic. “Give it a few days—it’ll get better.”
Even if the sales never picked up, winning an award later would still be a solid outcome.
The Silver Birch Awards held considerable weight in the industry.
By 12:00 PM, the chief executive slammed his keyboard in frustration and stood up, pulling a cigarette from his pocket as he walked out. Muttering to himself, he threw out a few sharp words:
“Half a day? You can tell if an EP has potential within the first three hours of release. Stop fooling yourself.”
“Reckless, just too reckless. He wouldn’t listen, and now he wants to drag me down with him?”
“I said it before—we should’ve followed my plan. Superstar Era or Stay Silent—either of those would’ve been better than this garbage Abyss Moonlight. Now look, it flopped. Ha…”
His mood was foul, and for a moment, he couldn’t hold back his frustration. Since the poor sales of Abyss Moonlight were his responsibility as well, his resentment toward Fang Huai only grew deeper.
Didn’t want to ride trends? Fine. But if you’re going to be different, at least be good. Who gave him the confidence to be this bad?
*
Meanwhile, at the Silver Birch Awards judging panel
The head judge was currently overseas, so for now, the person in charge was an elderly composer named Li Guoyang. He wore glasses thicker than the bottom of a bottle, had impressively little hair, and tiny eyes.
Several works had already been submitted for consideration.
“This one… Abyss Moonlight, released just today. Would you like to listen to it?” His assistant held a stack of albums, samples sent in by contestants. “The singer is a newcomer, but—”
Li Guoyang glanced at it disinterestedly, took the plain white album, and tossed it into the trash along with several others.
“A newcomer, huh?” He muttered, patting his round belly. “What good could come from that? The industry’s too impatient these days. Let him stew for a few more years.”
Not many people had actually bought Abyss Moonlight, but thanks to the extensive marketing, plenty of people were still watching to see how it performed.
By midday, some had already started checking the sales numbers—and quickly realized that…
It had flopped.
*
Evening – Cooking Time at the Signal House
Dinner preparations started on schedule.
Tonight’s chefs were Duan Yang and Lin Huan—two people who had nothing in common yet had drawn the same cooking assignment. The atmosphere was awkward, but since they had spent so much time together already, they managed to push through.
Meanwhile, fans in the livestream comments were still shipping various couples, making wild guesses about who was into whom after the dramatic changes on Date Night. The show’s romantic dynamics were now completely unpredictable.
Fang Huai acted completely normal all day. After returning from his company meeting, he just watched TV and chatted with Yin Wanyue, behaving as if nothing had changed.
Yin Wanyue, however, was restless.
By evening, the livestream chat began to bring up Abyss Moonlight.
[I bought it for my baby Fang Huai! Haven’t listened yet—is it good?]
[Uh… to be honest, I bought it too, but I kinda regret it… What even is this? Makes no sense. Don’t waste your money—it’s a total flop. No wonder it bombed despite all that hype. If this didn’t flop, what would?]
[Are you sure you even listened to it?! No need for debate—I study vocal music, and it’s truly amazing. It moved me to tears. Please, I beg you, at least listen to the title track past the first 30 seconds!]
[Oh wow, a paid shill showed up. That flop has been hyped for ages—even dragged CEO Ye into some fake romance drama for clout—yet it still bombed this hard. And you’re telling me they’re still buying fake engagement? Wake up. Trash is trash.]
[Isn’t this a dating show? Can we stop discussing irrelevant topics?]
Yin Wanyue scrolled through the chat for a while before getting frustrated. After instructing the staff to monitor the discussion, she shut off her phone.
At that moment, the Signal House had two active cameras:
One in the kitchen, filming Lin Huan and Duan Yang cooking; one following Yin Wanyue, capturing her reactions.
Yin Wanyue ran a hand through her hair in irritation.
Seeing the cameraman trailing her, she almost wanted to tell him to stop filming, but of course, that wasn’t an option. In the end, she just sighed and walked outside, hoping for some fresh air.
The Signal House was a spacious suburban villa with a garden and a glass conservatory.
However, the camera followed her wherever she went, making her even more annoyed.
Then, as she passed by the conservatory, she gradually slowed down.
The glass ceiling stretched high above, allowing the twilight to pour in. Despite the winter season, the flowers inside were still in full bloom. Somewhere, soft music was playing.
Someone was playing the piano.
At first, Yin Wanyue was puzzled. After thinking about it, she remembered there was indeed a grand piano in the conservatory.
The playing wasn’t particularly skilled—in fact, it was quite rigid and awkward. But after stumbling through the first few passages, the notes gradually smoothed out.
She listened for a while longer—then suddenly, her eyes widened.
It wasn’t just getting better.
As the piece continued, the strength of the composition itself began to outshine the clumsy execution. Every detail and transition was perfectly placed, pulling the listener deeper—sinking into the ocean’s depths, into a boundless dream—until, all at once, a sliver of light appeared.
Even someone without musical training could tell—this was a truly outstanding piece.
Meanwhile, in the live chat, viewers were already asking for the song’s name.
[Wait, what song is this? I didn’t like it at first, but now… I’m weirdly entranced??! I kinda want to cry.]
[+1]
A few minutes later, someone who had been silent for a long time finally typed out the song’s name.
[This song is called Abyss Moonlight.]
For a brief moment, the chat fell silent.
Then, the very next second—The entire comment section exploded.
