Chapter 82
As the year drew to a close, Fang Huai found himself busier than ever.
Two major bombshells had dropped.
The first was the massive success of Abyss Moonlight. As the Silver Birch Awards continued their nomination process, the revised lists had been released—
Fang Huai had been nominated for six awards based solely on Abyss Moonlight. It was almost unbelievable. Many people were only now realizing just how versatile Fang Huai’s musical talent was.
He had composed and arranged Frost, sung and composed for Abyss Moonlight, and even co-wrote some of its lyrics. Scanning through the main credits, his name appeared in nearly a third of them. Meanwhile, Abyss Moonlight had maintained staggering daily sales for two consecutive weeks, making it undeniably the biggest hit of the season.
Many variety shows and interview programs extended invitations to him. Since Heart’s Signal was still being filmed, Shi Feiran helped filter out the low-quality ones, leaving only a few high-profile, reputable interviews that would genuinely benefit Fang Huai.
The second major event was the open casting call for The Song of the Nameless.
After last night, half of China knew that Fang Huai had originally been cast as the film’s lead, only for the role to be opened up to auditions. Once the news spread, not only did domestic actors begin preparing—even international actors started eyeing the opportunity.
After all, what if they actually landed the role?
Some people felt regretful—Fang Huai’s only real advantage was that Director Xu had taken a liking to him. Now that the role was open for so many to see, he was practically nothing. There was a real chance he’d lose The Song of the Nameless, such a major IP, for nothing.
When the auditions started, the contrast between him and other actors would be obvious. Even if Director Xu insisted on casting him, it would be difficult to silence public opinion.
Regardless, after a brief period of relaxation, Fang Huai returned to his routine of waking up at six in the morning.
At 8 AM today, he had a scheduled appearance on a TV program—a talk show called Because of You, Music. It was a long-running, well-respected show, and being invited was a form of recognition in the industry.
The show wasn’t broadcast live, but the audience could interact via live comment threads. Before filming began, the production team had only given two cryptic keywords: “Comeback” and “Heartbeat.”
“Heartbeat” was another song from the Abyss Moonlight album, though it wasn’t as well-known as the title track, making it a bit of a mystery.
[Could it be my Yangyang??]
[They invited Duan Yang last year, but he turned it down. He never used to do variety shows. Is he really this desperate for money now? He’s going on every show—so tragic.]
[Stop guessing. If you’re guessing, it’s gotta be our boy.]
The lights in the studio went dark. The audience murmured for a while before realizing the show was about to begin. Everyone quickly quieted down.
Suddenly, the sound of rushing waves—no, a piano—echoed through the space.
The sound came from the very center of the stage, spreading outward due to the studio’s specially designed acoustics. The melody leaped and surged, and the audience erupted with excitement.
[Oh my god, I’m dead—Abyss Moonlight! It’s him!!]
[Is that Huaihuai playing the piano??]
[A live performance? This is insane.]
[I don’t think so. The playing style feels a bit different.]
Thirty seconds later, a spotlight flashed onto the center of the stage. The floor and the giant screen behind it shimmered with a starry glow, making the grand piano appear as though it were floating in an endless night sky.
At the piano sat a strikingly handsome man. His eyes were closed, lips curved in a faint, affectionate smile. His long fingers glided effortlessly over the black and white keys.
This was Feng Lang. His breakout role—the one that won him the Best Actor award at Cannes—was in a film called Sonata, where he played a down-and-out pianist. To prepare for the role, Feng Lang had spent three years learning piano.
This scene brought back memories for many in the audience—the night of the Cannes Awards, the moment when Chinese dialogue echoed through the vast darkness, sending shivers down their spines.
[So Emperor Feng and Huaihuai really are close. Even on a variety show, he looks like a doting father to his son (??)]
[Him showing up for support is legit amazing. But where’s our boy??]
[I… I’ve never been this close to someone so famous before. I can’t breathe, I’m so nervous.]
Before the lights came back on, as the piano melody enveloped the entire studio, another sound suddenly emerged—a harmonica.
A harmonica wasn’t a difficult instrument, but its tone was warm, rich, and effortlessly romantic.
The sound came from a corner of the studio.
At the same time, another spotlight lit up.
The audience erupted in surprise.
No one had expected that Fang Huai had never been backstage at all—he had been standing at the back of the audience the entire time, holding a microphone and a harmonica.
He was dressed in a linen shirt and suspenders like a medieval painter, topped with a newsboy cap. With his eyes closed, he played the harmonica, holding a prop pipe in his left hand, looking like a young and handsome detective.
As the harmonica and piano finished the intro together, Fang Huai let out a small breath, opened his eyes, and smiled.
The next second, he pulled a rose from the pocket of his shirt, gave a gentlemanly bow, and handed it to a girl beside him before raising the mic to sing the first line of Abyss Moonlight.
He sang as he made his way toward the stage, locking eyes with Feng Lang.
Fang Huai: “?”
Beside Feng Lang’s piano sat an extra microphone. With one hand still playing the melody, Feng Lang gestured for Fang Huai to take the mic and hand it to him.
Fang Huai’s expression lit up with sudden realization. He picked up the mic and, holding both mics together, took a moment between lines to quip,
“Thank you, you’re too kind. I was just thinking my voice wasn’t loud enough.”
Feng Lang: “……”
Audience: “Hahahahaha!”
This version of Abyss Moonlight was completely different from the original. Gone was the heavy, oppressive intro—it opened instead with a light, romantic atmosphere. And with Fang Huai starting off on the harmonica, he had the audience in the palm of his hand from the very beginning.
Both the production team and Feng Lang were generous, happily letting him take center stage.
As the song neared its end, Fang Huai casually tossed the microphone over to Feng Lang. Catching it, Feng Lang joined in to sing the final lyric, and the two bowed to the audience in perfect sync.
Fang Huai: “Welcome to—”
Without missing a beat, Feng Lang finished for him: “The Heart Signal special edition of Because of You, Music.”
Fang Huai blinked, momentarily frozen, before clapping along in amusement. “Right, right! Welcome, welcome.”
Audience & production crew: “Hahahahahaha!”
It felt just like the start of a comedy skit.
None of this was in the script, and Fang Huai’s brief moment of confusion was completely genuine. A young man barely past eighteen, his light amber eyes going blank for a second—like a student checking their test answers only to realize they got everything wrong.
[This is TOO cute!!! My boy!!!]
[Why do they both know how to speak in a Tianjin accent?? Am I out of the loop? Do you have to know comedy skits to watch variety shows now? 555]
[I feel guilty. I’ve been a fan of Feng Lang for eight years, and I just found out he speaks in a Tianjin accent.]
At that moment, the host finally took the stage, smoothly taking over the conversation with a smile. Feng Lang was only there to show support, and with other work lined up, he made his exit after some casual chatting.
With the focus back on Fang Huai, the interview began in earnest.
Because of You, Music was a top-tier show, with skilled hosts guiding the conversation at the perfect pace—both relaxed and engaging.
“The initial performance of Abyss Moonlight wasn’t great. How did you feel at the time?”
Fang Huai glanced at the folder in his hands and replied earnestly, “I was very sad, but I didn’t lose heart… That’s what the script says.”
The host feigned outrage. “Nonsense! Our show—” She made a show of checking her own notes, then said, deadpan, “Hmm. Doesn’t have a script.”
Audience: “Hahahahahaha!”
[It feels like our boy has gotten so much funnier lately! He’s so full of energy??! I’ve never heard him crack jokes before.]
[The power of money, probably.]
[Or maybe… the power of love…]
Fang Huai chuckled a little shyly. “I had already considered the possibility in advance, so I wasn’t too upset—just a little… um, a little embarrassed.”
To be honest, it was kind of awkward. He had originally planned that if Abyss Moonlight did well and sold great, he would go confess to Ye Yuyuan. So when the first day’s sales flopped, he just felt… really embarrassed.
That question was a bit heavy, but the next one was much lighter.
“Let’s talk about something else—just a little personal gossip,” the host coughed and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s your favorite person on Heart Signal? Come on, tell big sis in secret.”
Fang Huai stayed silent, looking at her. After a moment, he said in distress, “Sis, can you ask something else?”
The host, unable to resist the puppy-eyed younger guy, relented.
“Alright, then—how do you usually address President Ye? No hesitation, answer in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…”
“Baby.” Fang Huai answered decisively.
Actually, he didn’t call him that very often. Ye Yuyuan had originally expressed some helplessness about it, so Fang Huai only used it when he wanted to tease him. Other names in his collection included “Teacher Ye,” “Uncle Ye,” and “Boss Ye.”
Host: “Pfft—”
Audience: “Hahahahahaha!!”
Fang Huai said it so naturally that no one even thought too much about it—it just seemed like playful banter between friends.
[President Ye: ???]
[President Ye, the most pitiful man alive, hahaha. Who could survive being called ‘baby’ like that?]
[Are any of my fellow crackship sisters here? I feel like I’m shipping the wrong CP, I’m panicking.]
The conversation didn’t linger too long on the topic before moving on. The morning passed quickly, and the final question was:
“What’s one thing you’d like to say to the people who like you?”
Surprisingly, Fang Huai had answered every previous question quickly. But this time, he thought about it for a long while.
*
That night.
After a full month of live-in filming, Heart Signal was finally coming to an end. In the first half of the show, Fang Huai had been highly engaged, but in the latter half, due to work and other commitments, his participation had decreased.
Still, he felt incredibly lucky to have joined Heart Signal—to have met Feng Lang, Duan Yang, Yin Wanyue, and Lin Huan.
And beyond that, this show held special meaning for him.
Because it was here that, for the first time, he truly understood what it meant to like someone.
At the end of the show, they would announce the Final Pick list—essentially, an AI-generated analysis based on big data tracking each guest’s most heart-fluttering moment with another person.
Of course, everyone knew the show had a strong element of scripted drama. The Most Heart-Fluttering Guest didn’t necessarily mean love—it just meant that, compared to other guests, someone had a higher favorability rating toward that person.
Each participant had to say one line to their most heart-fluttering guest:
“The person who makes my heart flutter is you.”
[This line LMAO—it has the same cheesy energy as an old-school Taiwanese drama. It’s so cringy yet addictive.]
[Rubbing my hands in excitement! I’ve been investing in these ships for so long—are we finally getting results?]
[Say no more. My CP is the most stable in the world.]
Fang Huai was the last to return home. As soon as he stepped inside, he was greeted by the warm, fragrant aroma of freshly cooked food drifting in from the kitchen. Today, Yin Wanyue and Feng Lang were on cooking duty—it was their last meal together.
The moment he entered, Yin Wanyue came out holding a spatula and called out to him with a slightly wistful tone, “Cubby.”
Fang Huai: “?”
“The person who makes my heart flutter is you.” She sighed. “Too bad I can’t take you home with me.”
[Too real—Yin Wanyue is literally me.]
[Too bad I can’t take Cubby home +1. Who wouldn’t want to keep a cute puppy-like boy at home?]
[No suspense here—Yin Wanyue’s final pick was super obvious. That arrow was thick as hell the whole time.]
Meanwhile, on the other side of the house, Lin Huan walked out of her room, hugging a book. She nervously stammered at Duan Yang, who was smoking on the balcony:
“Duan Yang, you make my… uh… you make my…”
She hesitated, then quickly looked down and finished: “…heart flutter.”
Audience: “…………”
[WTF, I’m shook.]
[I thought Duan Yang was getting zero votes! Lin Huan has good taste.]
[I always thought they were kind of shippable, but too bad Duan Yang never reciprocates.]
Duan Yang clearly froze for a second—the ash from his cigarette almost dropped onto his palm. After a moment, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and nodded.
“…Thanks.”
As expected, no returned feelings. If a pick was mutual, the second person would normally follow up with the same line.
[I’m just curious—are there any mutual picks this season?]
[If there are, it’ll be whoever Cubby picks. That’ll be a mutual pick for sure.]
[LMAO true.]
Yin Wanyue, still holding her spatula, headed back to the kitchen. Fang Huai thought for a moment, then sat down on the couch.
The living room was empty. The TV was on, playing one of Feng Lang’s old movies. Ever since Fang Huai got into acting through Frost, he had been working hard to improve his skills. And Feng Lang’s performances were undeniably masterclass-level.
On the screen, the male lead Feng Lang played was confessing to the female lead.
“The person who makes my heart flutter is you.”
Then, from behind the couch, Feng Lang’s voice rang out.
“Consider me?”
At some point, he had stepped out of the kitchen, leaning against the couch, tilting his head to smile at Fang Huai.
Fang Huai: “…………”
Audience: “AAAAHHHH!!”
Fang Huai sighed helplessly. “…Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
He could tell that Feng Lang liked him—it was a fondness, a closeness like family, but it had nothing to do with romantic feelings.
“If you ever get into a fight with him, I’ll take you out to have some fun.” Feng Lang said with a mischievous smile, his voice just quiet enough to escape the cameras.
Fang Huai thought to himself, Would he and Ye Yuyuan even fight? But he still nodded seriously. “Okay.”
Then came Duan Yang.
Fang Huai hesitated. “…Are you sure it’s me?”
Duan Yang yawned lazily, looking exhausted. “Yeah.”
Fang Huai: “Thanks, thanks a lot.”
How generous of him.
To be fair, neither Feng Lang nor Duan Yang had been heavily involved in the show. Their interactions with the female guests were strictly within the bounds of friendship. And Ye Yuyuan… well, there was no need to even mention him. Considering that, maybe it wasn’t all that surprising.
Dinner time was approaching.
This would be their last meal together in the Signal House. Everyone was keenly aware that it would be difficult to gather like this again in the future. After dinner, they’d stay up late watching movies and chatting, then at sunrise, they’d leave one by one in the same order they had arrived.
Almost everyone was there—except Ye Yuyuan.
“He’s upstairs. Go find him.” Yin Wanyue said with a teasing smile.
A few others exchanged knowing glances and nodded.
Fang Huai: “…”
He suddenly felt nervous. Just thinking about having to say those words in front of the audience made him walk stiffly, his hands and feet moving in sync like a rookie actor messing up their blocking.
How did Feng Lang and the others manage to say it so naturally?
The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. A sudden idea popped into his head—did he really have to say it? What if he just slipped the message into a book and handed it to Ye Yuyuan? As long as he saw it, that should be enough, right?
Caught up in this plan, he found himself already at the study on the second floor.
The study was spacious, unlit, bathed in the amber glow of dusk.
On one side was a desk; on the other, three towering bookshelves stretching all the way to the ceiling. The ceiling itself was nearly five meters high, giving the space the feel of a small private library. The air carried the distinct scent of old books, mingling with the crisp coolness of the approaching night.
Fang Huai stood before the middle bookshelf, scanning the top row. His gaze paused on a particular title—The Selected Poems of Neruda.
“Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels that cross the sea towards no arrival.”
He murmured the line softly.
The door creaked open.
Someone stepped inside.
They moved toward the same bookshelf, and just as Fang Huai reached out to touch the book, another hand landed on top of his.
A gentle evening breeze swept through the room, sending dust motes drifting lazily in the golden twilight.
Ye Yuyuan stood there, silhouetted against the setting sun.
He had just come from work, still dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. His obsidian-like eyes held a quiet tenderness, as if he always looked at Fang Huai with a restrained, careful gaze—like he longed to pull him into an embrace but didn’t dare to.
Fang Huai turned to face him.
His nerves vanished.
Right now, all he wanted to do was kiss him.
Ye Yuyuan took the poetry collection from the shelf, paused for a moment, then handed it to him.
“Fang Huai, the one who makes my heart race is you.”
Fang Huai stared dazedly at Ye Yuyuan’s lips, took the book, and blurted out instinctively, “Me too.”
He let out a sigh of relief. Was that it? Was it over?
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
The audience: “Pfft.”
They immediately started making playful comments.
[The only mutual pick in the entire show, and it ended just like that??? So anticlimactic!]
[Petition for a grand confession! Exchange rings!]
[We literally watched this ship rise from the bottom to a mutual pick—this wasn’t easy, okay?]
Of course, it was just a show. Everyone knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop them from enjoying the ship.
The entertainment industry had its own ecosystem. A few years ago, things were better—some celebrities had publicly come out and been well received. But now, the political climate had shifted, and no one dared to come out anymore. Fanservice was acceptable, but coming out for real could be career-ending.
Once their “confession” was done, the camera cut away.
Fang Huai remained where he was, bathed in the golden dusk filtering through the gaps in the bookshelves. He flipped through the poetry collection in his hands, while Ye Yuyuan stood beside him, watching him with lowered eyes.
The collection was in English.
Halfway through, Fang Huai came across a line he didn’t understand. He ran his index finger over the words and casually asked, “Teacher Ye—”
Ye Yuyuan: “Hm?”
He looked down at the poetry book in Fang Huai’s hands. Their faces were close, separated only by the quiet air between them.
Whatever Fang Huai had meant to say vanished from his mind. He shut his eyes, tilted his head slightly, and clumsily kissed Ye Yuyuan. In a small voice, he mumbled,”I was too nervous just now.”
“Also…”
“I like you.”
Ye Yuyuan closed his eyes, deepening the kiss, his voice husky.
“Me too.”
*
After dinner, everyone gathered once again, just like at the beginning—telling ghost stories, playing board games, watching movies.
A lot had happened in the past month. When the time came to say goodbye, no one really wanted to leave. Most of them stayed up all night, and before they knew it, dawn had arrived.
As per the original order, Ye Yuyuan had been the last to arrive, so he was the first to leave.
He buttoned up his wool coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and grasped the handle of his suitcase. Before stepping out, he turned slightly and fell into a moment of silence.
Yin Wanyue and Lin Huan stood by the table, each holding a board game, looking a little down. Duan Yang and Feng Lang were on the sofa—Duan Yang was nodding off while Feng Lang waved at him with a bright smile.
Fang Huai stood by the entrance, sending him off.
Ye Yuyuan’s gaze finally landed on the young man standing there. His eyes softened, and in a low voice, he said, “I’m leaving now. Goodbye.”
The door slowly closed.
It didn’t feel like a permanent farewell—more like he was just heading out on a business trip.
[555… This suddenly feels so sad. I don’t want them to part.]
[Too bad the next season will have new guests. Sigh.]
[The atmosphere in this season was actually really nice. Previous seasons were full of drama, but this one felt more like a family. Shipping in a cozy setting feels much better, in my opinion.]
Next was Duan Yang’s turn.
From the very beginning, Duan Yang had always given off a lazy, indifferent vibe. But surprisingly, when it was time to leave, he actually seemed a little reluctant.
“Alright, I’m heading out.” He stuffed one hand into his pocket and glanced back inside.
After a brief pause, he frowned slightly. “Aren’t you guys coming to see me off?”
Everyone: “Hahaha!”
The four remaining people each stepped forward to hug Duan Yang before he finally turned and left, walking away sullenly as the door shut behind him.
Half an hour later, Feng Lang also left, followed closely by Lin Huan. When Lin Huan was leaving, her eyes were red-rimmed, and Fang Huai was genuinely worried she might burst into tears.
But what he didn’t expect was that when it was Yin Wanyue’s turn to leave, she hugged him and started crying outright, not caring whether her makeup got ruined. In the end, Fang Huai had to help her carry her suitcase all the way to the parking lot.
By the time it was Fang Huai’s turn to leave, the house was completely empty.
Everything had already been tidied up. The space was clean and orderly, yet it still felt like Duan Yang might come stumbling out yawning for a cigarette or that Yin Wanyue would rush off to work with a piece of bread in her mouth.
He wrapped his scarf tightly around himself, glanced back one last time, then pulled his suitcase behind him and closed the door.
And just like that, Season Five of Heartbeat Signal came to an end.
Fang Huai walked down the road alone, dragging his suitcase. The follow-cam stopped filming once he stepped out of the villa. Suddenly, the world fell silent. Just like on the first day, snowflakes began drifting down from the sky.
He had never liked goodbyes. The first major farewell in his life was when Fang Jianguo passed away. That was a time he least wanted to remember—a wound that had never fully healed, one that still ached faintly whenever he thought about it.
At the end of the road, someone was waiting for him. Snowflakes had settled lightly on his shoulders, his figure quiet yet gentle.
Fang Huai looked at him, and his heart surged with bittersweet emotions. It felt like all the falling snow had landed in his chest, but Ye Yuyuan—his Ye Yuyuan—was warm, was sweet.
His pace quickened. Then, in the next moment, he was running.
He didn’t care about his suitcase anymore—he only wanted to hold Ye Yuyuan tightly.
Ye Yuyuan could tell that Fang Huai was feeling low. He wrapped his arms around his boy and started leading him out of the alley.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “Huaihuai.”
Unless Fang Huai wanted him to leave.
Fang Huai didn’t say anything.
After a long while, his voice, tinged with the slightest hint of a sniffle, finally broke the silence.
“Ye Yuyuan, you have to stay with me.”
Ye Yuyuan lowered his eyes and said, “Mm.”
Fang Huai spoke again.
“Don’t leave. And if you do… tell me where you’re going. So I can find you.”
Ye Yuyuan answered seriously, “Mm.”
Fang Huai fell into another long silence before finally whispering,
“Can you…”
But the words got stuck in his throat.
In a month, there would be auditions for The Song of the Nameless. After that, the Silver Birch Awards ceremony. He had so many other things to do. He was afraid he’d be too busy to love Ye Yuyuan properly—afraid that, without realizing it, the two of them might drift apart.
This morning’s interview ended with one final question:
“What would you like to say to those who like you?”
And his answer was—
“Can you wait for me to grow up?”
