Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In his own humble opinion, Qi Rong was great at karaoke! Fucking amazing even. Not a lot of people knew that but then again not a lot of people knew of his talents, his hidden charms. 

Too many people with shitty ass taste, he'd sneered. He had long forgone his deep festering desire for validation, carving out a spiky exterior to protect his once childish wants. 

Of course, it'd still be nice to have someone take notice of his talents once in a while. But did it have to be the one-eyed freak who's dating his shit cousin?!

“Go find some other fucking loser to extort, jackass!” Qi Rong spat, his voice amplified by the empty campus lawn with nothing but rustling leaves accompanying the conversation. He didn't give a shit if it gained a few stares from passersby. It's a public space, dipshit, keep walking! “You know a lot of people, how come neither of ‘em dickheads can sing a simple tune?! It's not fucking rocket science!”

“Trust me, you were the very last resort,” Hua Cheng said, brows furrowing like talking to him was beneath his shitty existence. “It's hard to find a good singer who has a flexible schedule, but you're a jobless bum and are somewhat decent at singing. At least that’s what the upperclassman from your apartment building said.”

Xuan Ji, you backstabbing bitch! I hope that manwhore makes you lose your shit again!

Qi Rong wanted to claw at his stupid red knit vest and black dress shirt combo. For a university student in his third year, he sure as fuck dresses like an old man! He would wonder why on God's green earth his cousin would be attracted to this specimen but birds of a feather he supposed. 

“Go kill yourself, actually,” he settled on a somewhat civil reply, folding his arms. “Why don't you just take him to a concert? You know, like any sane person would?”

“Gege doesn't want me to give him anything too expensive for the time being.” Qi Rong almost barfed at the explanation. “Besides, none of his favorite artists are playing any time soon. I don’t want to just half-assed his wishes.”

“So you'd rather come to his estranged fucked-up cousin and force him to compete for a chance to perform at the stupid campus festival?” Even as the words left him, he was still dumbfounded at the idea. Why would anyone waste time and money to compete in a glorified pageant just to be an opener for some normie band at their campus music festival? 

In Hua Cheng's case, it was simply because his boyfriend, stupid fucking perfect little Xie Lian, wanted to attend a romantic concert with his equally dumbass boyfriend. This is why Qi Rong doesn't involve himself in the so-called ‘campus romance’. Life’s already shit, he doesn't need someone to take out his remaining brain cells.

“I'm forced to ask a narcissist who's somehow related to my beloved for help because I just need one person to complete this puzzle,” Hua Cheng corrected.

“Sounds like you desperately need my help.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Oh, boohoo! The great fucking Hua Cheng is reeling over the fact that he has to ask me for help! That's exactly how it is,” he stomped a foot. “You need me, so start telling me why I should even consider helping your gay crisis instead of starting on some essay.”

“Since when do you care about taking university seriously?” the other chuckled.

“Bend over and go fuck yourself over your own graphic design, asshole!”

Just as Qi Rong's feet were about to take off and leave the dumb fuck alone, he said “There's a huge prize money if you win first place.”

Qi Rong was used to wealth since he was a child, old money wealth so the prospect of a prize money shouldn't have enticed him so much but God could be a bitch sometimes, his own life was a great example. It was almost comedic, he'll admit. How he could go back to living his old lifestyle, but that required spending the money mama had saved up for him since he was little, an apology for her shit taste in men.

He's not sure he could ever part with any mementos from her (cracked mugs, stained shirts), even if it was the logical thing to do. He was never praised for his smarts anyway.

And so he was ‘broke’ with nothing but the money from auntie and uncle’s will, seeking some atonement by being nice to their little black sheep one last time before kicking the bucket. Yet, of course, it was conditional like every thing they gave; that he had to start and finish university to get the rest of it.

Fuck. Them.

So yes, he did—pathetically—turn around and gaped at the prospect of being a few extra cash richer. This caused the one-eyed freak to look extremely pleased with himself. Fucking hell.

“If you perform well to my liking, I'd even throw in a bonus,” he continued. “But the choice is yours. I don’t want to force my darling cousin-in-law.”

“That is so, so, so gross, you perverted freak of nature.”

Hua Cheng shrugged before staring at him in anticipation. It almost made Qi Rong want to reject him solely to spite him.

“If I lose then it's completely your fault!” he finally huffed out. 

“Oh, losing isn't an option. You either win and perform or I'm going to sell your limbs to pay back the registration fee.” He had that fake, psychopathic smile plastered onto his face. Too perfect to be anything but sincere. “So do your best, cousin-in-law.”

Before Qi Rong could even argue back, Hua Cheng looked at the time on his phone. “My class is gonna start soon. I'll text you at 5 PM once I'm finished so we can head to the studio for practice.”

“Wait—”

Shamelessly, the cousin-fucker walked off, not even waving goodbye or offering any further information. Qi Rong had walked into a trap like the fucking Hunger Games but whatever that series is about, surely it can't be worse than finding out his cash prize would be split evenly among the four members!

Yes, four band members; it was something he had the displeasure of knowing just as they were halfway there to the studio, Qi Rong sitting comfortably in the back of Hua Cheng's expensive ass car that he was almost jealous of, had it not been red. Seriously, what was this dude’s obsession with the color red?! Qi Rong liked green but that doesn’t mean every shit he owned had to be that specific color.

“You're fucking with me,” he said, staring at the back of the shitty driver's head as though his glare could carve a fucknormous hole into it. “Tell me you're fucking kidding!”

“I think it'd do you good to be less money-oriented— stop kicking the back of my seat, you infant! I already said that if you do a good job, I'll give you a bonus.” He scoffed, shaking his head as the lights turned red. “How can someone so smart, beautiful, and kind be related to an abomination like you?”

Not like I asked to be related to the family misfortune either, he wanted to bite back but the last time he had insulted precious Xie Lian to Hua Cheng's face, he had been severely concussed. He'd like to not die in the cyclops’ car, thank you very much, so he shut his mouth tight until Hua Cheng parked his car in front of the studio, right next to a sleek black bike and some butt-ugly vespa.

The exterior looked like any regular old building. If it weren't for the huge signage that practically yelled ‘PRACTICE STUDIO’ to his face, Qi Rong would've thought the crimson bastard brought him to be assassinated in an abandoned warehouse. 

Inside, however, was a different story.

It was like one of those professional studios for big-name, normie artists to rehearse their shitty pop songs. The kind with an actual soundproof room, and had their own microphone stands and shit. An overkill for a group of university kids who got too much time on their hands but that was completely Hua Cheng's style. Fucking new money folks.

“I'm here!” Hua Cheng swung the door open to reveal the very room Qi Rong would be forced to spend time in. Luckily, it seemed nice enough; the off-white walls contrasted nicely with the dark grey carpet flooring. The available instruments didn't look like complete shit either. There was even a decently sized black sofa he could use to nap on!

“Say, where's our guitarist?” Hua Cheng asked the two people who were already familiarizing themselves with their respective instruments; a drum and a guitar.

Qi Rong nearly replied are you blind, dumbass? when the guy he thought was holding a guitar said, “He had to answer a phone call. Again, are you absolutely sure you want me to play bass?”

“You'll do fine, Yin Yu. We’ve been at it for quite some time, you must've remembered those old skills,” Hua Cheng insisted, probably because he couldn't afford to go looking for another one. 

(It wasn't Qi Rong's fault that he couldn't play a single instrument! He just never had the time or someone to teach him, all of the tutorials on YouTube were like shit from the ass.)

“Right, we'll do introductions first then,” Hua Cheng pushed Qi Rong closer to the other two by the shoulders like an over-enthusiastic parent. He wanted to shake free from his grip but unfortunately lacked the strength to win. “This is our vocalist, Qi Rong. Don't look at him for too long, he bites.”

“I will turn your asshole sideways!” he hissed, not helping his case.

“That's no way to talk to your seniors,” a light smack on the back of Qi Rong’s head served as a warning.

The talking twig named Yin Yu set down what was apparently a bass before approaching him as though he hadn't just heard the most absurd threat. 

“It's nice to meet you, Qi Rong,” he said plainly. He looked like the average ‘I'm tired of this bullshit’ student which completely aged him. Poor dude.

“Never seen you around campus before,” Qi Rong absentmindedly said. He hadn't meant it, of course. He barely remembers the faces of his classmates, let alone a senior he’s never met.

Yin Yu started to scratch at the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with the shorter man as his mouth popped open but made no sound. Eventually, he settled on, "I’m from a different university.”

He didn't elaborate any further and though normally Qi Rong loves pushing someone's button, he was feeling rather merciful towards someone who was in the same position as him.

“Right,” he sneered, shifting his attention to the woman who was silently hitting the drumsticks together, her long black hair barely making any contrast against her all-black fit. She looked like a ghost haunting the drum set instead.

She seemed to have noticed his staring, setting down the drumsticks but not making any effort to stand up and greet him. “Ming Yi,” she simply said, her voice deep.

“Your ass stuck to that chair or what?” Qi Rong sniped, much to Yin Yu's dismay. Ming Yi, however, didn't seem to mind his abrasiveness. 

“Your voice is loud enough to be heard from here,” she replied before picking up those fucking sticks that Qi Rong wanted to beat her skull with.

To summarize, Qi Rong would be singing in a band with some loser, a bitch, and someone who has yet to show up. Not to mention that they are forced to win by their tyrant of a manager.

He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cuss at the reality of his situation just when the door behind him opened, a rather boyish voice followed, “Sorry to interrupt, has our vocalist—”

There was only one person that was a special case against Qi Rong's dog shit memory. Probably because he swore he'd chop off Lang Qianqiu's royally tiny dick off and feed it to a pack of dogs if he ever saw him again.

 Cousin, you must be fucking praying for my downfall, Qi Rong thought to himself. Your shitty luck is spreading onto me.

It would seem the sentiment was also shared by Lang Qianqiu as he visibly soured the moment Qi Rong's face registered in his tiny brain.

“Why are you here?!”

Chapter Text

Like most things, people blamed Qi Rong even when it wasn't his fault. This was no different, it's not even entirely his fault! That dickfuck Qianqiu held responsibility too!

The story goes like this:

Last year, the walking marshmallow he calls a cousin was the decorating coordinator for some useless campus event. Unsurprisingly, dollar store Mike Wazowski was his co-coordinator and the two imbeciles ganged up and roped a first-year Qi Rong into the committee because they needed more help with decorating. 

He didn't know what possessed them to trust him with anything, considering their shared distaste for him. (He had concluded they were extremely desperate for an extra pair of hands).

Surprisingly, squatting all night for an entire month in their university's shitty ass basement parking just to paint boxes wasn't the dookie part. Instead, it was the fuckers from the accommodation department who had a habit of breathing down their necks each time they requested more materials. Outsiders would think they had asked the motherfuckers to peel gold with the way they reacted.

Mind you, they were working with cardboard the entire time. FUCKING CARDBOARDS.

“Sorry guys, we have to make do with this. This is the last white paint bottle they’re willing to supply,” Qi Rong distinctively remembered Xie Lian telling the rest of the crew.

Obviously, everyone was pissed because they had at least three more cardboard penguins to paint- WHY THE FUCK WERE THEY EVEN MAKING CARDBOARD PENGUINS?!

“Gege, I could go buy us more paint,” Hua Cheng offered with a honeyed tone. 

Disgusting, Qi Rong's not even sure when they got together, they were already acting gross for so long. He rolled his eyes so hard that one of Xie Lian's old friends—Mu Deng or whatever his name was—would be proud of his technique. 

Xie Lian frowned softly, it was a look Qi Rong recognized as I’m flattered but please do not. “San Lang, I don’t want this coming from your pocket. I'll try talking to one of them about it.”

Qi Rong couldn't even be happy that his cousin was being knocked down a peg. Either one of the shitheads being reprimanded was a blow to the entire division, him included!

As if on cue, someone walked towards the random corner of the basement Xie Lian and Hua Cheng picked to slave away for months. His handsome face was covered by the mountain of cardboard boxes he was carrying.

“These are all the leftover materials from us,” he set the trash down, looking at Xie Lian with as much care as one would have for their left toenail. 

Despite Qi Rong's agreement to his sentiment, he had a grudge against anyone from that shitty accommodations department, especially someone like Lang fucking Qianqiu, a snobby business kid (why do people even study business?! If you have that much money, just open one by yourself!) who clearly had a stick so far up his ass that one of its ends must’ve hit his head. A blind guy could see that! 

Xie Lian, however, always tried to be kind to everyone but his own cousin.

“Thank you!” he beamed with gratitude, “Oh, about the paint—”

“Coordinator’s words are final. The people from finance took it out on us, you know. Says we're the ones stretching their budget…” His words trailed off. Qi Rong wouldn't have thought anything of it if the dumbass wasn't looking at him all googly-eyed.

Now, you can call him narcissistic but Qi Rong knew he wasn't a horrible sight. Sure, he had vowed to never cut his hair past his shoulders and always dyed his hair a greenish-black out of disgust from seeing a certain fuckerhead in the mirror but goddamn, did this face have power! 

All he had to do was copy his cousin's pathetic smile and everyone was on their knees, simpering like horny bunnies. Lang Qianqiu probably took note of this, shut his mouth, and thought would.

Whatever perverted plan he had hatched, however, must've taken a swan dive from the 69th floor the moment Qi Rong opened his mouth, “We're not the dumbfucks who accidentally bought the wrong type of paint, asshole.”

He almost laughed at how fast Lang Qianqiu’s brain rewired itself, lust-free. “Excuse me?”

“Qi Rong, let’s not,” Xie Lian had warned, but when has Qi Rong ever been a listener?

Details, details, blah, blah, blah. Long story short, Xie Lian and the accommodation coordinator reprimanded them both for fighting, going as far as to evaluate both of them publicly during a meeting.

Thanks so much for the support, cousin! And thank you, gracious Hua Cheng, for the opportunity of being reminded of the existence of Mister Dick and Mighty!

“Huh?!” Qi Rong's frustration settled in once his brain confirmed that, yes, he wasn't hallucinating,  “The fuck do you mean why?! I'm the vocalist, asshat!”

Lang Qianqiu had the audacity to laugh, only stopping when he realized nobody was joining in. “Seriously?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, dickwad. I happen to have a good singing voice, better than your guitar skills at least.”

“That's just unfair! You've never heard me play.”

“And you've never heard a note from me, what do you want?!”

“You little—!”

Clang!

The loud cymbal forced the two to turn their heads toward the source with frowns on their faces. Ming Yi, once again, didn't seem to give a shit. It was the only thing Qi Rong could respect her for.

“Argue on your own time when we're not forced to be here.” She looked at the tiny silver watch on her wrist, a slight crease appearing between her eyebrows. “I have to pick up my partner in two hours, so  please start practicing.”

Hua Cheng nodded at this. “Thank you, at least someone is aware of the importance—”

“Shut your mouth, Crimson Rain. This is a matter of life or death.”

What the hell is a crimson rain?! 

Again, he nodded, slowly this time. “Point taken, ok!” He clapped his hands together. “Everyone aside from our vocalist knows the particular song in mind for your audition tape so this shouldn't take too long, just once.”

“Somehow I doubt it could be that easy…” Yin Yu mumbled.

“Easy or not, we’ll try either way.”

“When's the last day to submit the audition tape again?” Lang Qianqiu walked past Qi Rong—not even bothering to shoulder-check him like a man—heading straight for the guitar stand.

“In five days,” he replied, “so it'd be nice if we could start recording the song either tomorrow or the day after.”

"Aren't you rushing him a bit?" Yin Yu asked, clearly implying Qi Rong's sudden appearance to their routine. He didn't mean to sound rude but still, it had Qi Rong’s chest convulsing on itself, irrational anger bubbling inside.

Hua Cheng shifted his head to look at Qi Rong, a knowing smile plastered onto his pale skin which didn’t help with his growing temper. “Well, he doesn't really have a choice, does he?”

Qi Rong impulsively answered with his middle finger before placing his hands into the pockets of his faded green cargo pants, “Yeah, yeah. Just give me the fucking song already.”

“You should be familiar with this one already,” he beckoned Qi Rong to look at the lyrics from his expensive ass phone.

Immediate regret settled in Qi Rong’s stomach as he looked from the screen to the giraffe, giving him a nasty side-eye. “You are the cringiest, nastiest motherfucker I've ever met, I'm not singing this shit. This song is ass .”

That might’ve been an overreaction but place yourself in Qi Rong’s shoes for one fucking second! Imagine someone paying you to sing ‘a Savior of mankind’? and ‘I'd wait 500 million hours on a park bench out on the moon’? to your COUSIN! For fuck’s sake, somebody needs to classify this as torture.

Not missing a beat, Hua Cheng pulled on his ear like he was threatening to tear it off his head, “Any other day, I'd tolerate your childish bullshit but I’m exhausted from staring at Illustrator for 4 hours straight so unless you want to become Van Gogh, stop messing around.”

Qi Rong smacked his hand away before soothing his own freed ear, ”DOES YOUR BOYFRIEND KNOW YOU'RE ABUSING SOMEONE, YOU BLACKHEARTED DOG! FINE! I'll sing your stupid fucking love song if it gets you off my dick!”

From the corner of his eyes, he could see that fucker Qianqiu eyeing the other two with a look. He must’ve been thinking about all the horrible ways this could go wrong, how Qi Rong could ruin all of their efforts in a matter of seconds.

Just show it to them, a calm voice spoke in his head as he fidgeted with the microphone stand laid in front of the chucklefucks as he stared back at Hua Cheng. Show them you're not a fucking disappointment.

Unlike Xie Lian, Qi Rong wasn't ‘naturally great’ at everything nor was he allowed the resources to help cultivate said greatness. That was fine, whatever. It just motivated him not to take anything too seriously, even if it cost him his dreams and ambitions. 

Pride was more expensive, he had learned from watching Xie Lian’s own fall from grace, how people started to give him shit the moment he dropped out of some bigshot medical school to pursue art history.

From then on, Qi Rong had vowed that he'd only do things half-heartedly. People can mock him for his shitty efforts but at least he'll have the upper hand by shouting back I know I suck, dogfuckers! This is ironic to me, an entertainment to waste my time! 

Singing was exactly that, except the sucking part.

He had been 16 when he butted in on one of Xie Lian's outings with his former two best friends, the annoyance made clear on their faces. Qi Rong had sat in the passenger seat, carelessly switching through songs from the less bitchy but always angry guy's car.

“Can you not skip the songs randomly?!” He'd snapped.

“Feng Xin, lay easy on him,” Xie Lian had admonished from the back. “He's just a kid.”

Feng Xin wanted to sulk, eyeing Xie Lian from the rear-view mirror, “But it's my playlist…”

“Well, it sucks massive balls! Who the fuck wants to sing along to trash?!” Qi Rong spat, earning a full-on glare from the driver. 

“Then just don't sing! It's not that hard!”

Qi Rong stuck his tongue at him while continuing to skip through songs until he found something decent. He settled into his seat and began humming along as he stared out the window.

He couldn't remember the song or why he even wanted to lazily sing some parts in the first place, probably to get back at Xie Lian's friends for calling him a loud brat.

What he did remember was the way everyone in the car fell silent, didn’t even tell him to shut up, and allowed him to take up space. It was also one of the few rare moments his older cousin seemed to be awed with him.

It was addicting, like a giant fuck you to everyone who had thought of him as nothing but a nuisance, someone to tolerate. Singing felt like the very few times he got to yell I fucking deserve to be here.

He ended the song with a slightly parched throat, turning around to watch how the other three stared at him as though he had grown a second head. Especially that dogfuck Qianqiu who had been glaring at the side of his head since Qi Rong sang the first note. Yeah, suck it up, Qianqiu. You’re in the presence of greatness!

“That was…” Yin Yu was the first to break the silence. “You did well.”

Qi Rong could feel his cheeks puffing up with pride with a slight heat. “Well, of course I can! This master right here is an expert at something as simple as singing!”

“Could've been more in sync with the tempo,” Ming Yi commented, which made him scowl immediately before she added, “but it's a good start for your first."

“I was fucking fantastic."

“If it suits your ego.”

Qi Rong huffed and puffed, accidentally making eye contact with Lang Qianqiu who still stared at him with bulging eyes. "What?" Qi Rong snapped at him.

"I..." He seemed to have lost his train of thought, prompting Qi Rong to ignore him as he side-eyed the big boss for his butt-ugly approval. 

“See, that wasn't so hard,” Hua Cheng said casually as though it was a sin to give Qi Rong praise for once. “Alright, as much as I hate to end things already, we can wrap things up for now but everyone needs to come back tomorrow.”

Ming Yi groaned the loudest, followed by Qi Rong and Lang Qianqiu. Decidedly, she was also the first to stand up and exit the room, waving a vague goodbye to everyone as she glued herself to her phone on the way out.

“She’s so ungrateful,” Hua Cheng laughed to himself, probably imagining some stupid inside joke.

“I should head out too. It was nice getting to know you,” Yin Yu smiled at him. It was a kind smile, yet not as kind as to make him feel all warm inside like Xie Lian's. Then again, it has been a while… 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Qi Rong replied. “I might not even be here tomorrow, too busy.”

It wasn’t completely a lie. He was already feeling an incoming headache as he imagined how the dogshit rehearsals were going to fuck up his entire routine, which included doing his assignments at the last minute.

“Oh, you will.” Hua Cheng appeared behind him, all smiley since Yin Yu and Lang Qianqiu were here, “I’ll be picking you up so don’t even think about running off.”

Qi Rong could feel his nose wrinkling, “Gross! Don’t you have anything else to do?! That simpering maiden of yours to pick up?!”

“Even if I was busy, I’ll just have Yin Yu pick you up.”

“I don’t think my Vespa would survive it,” he commented as he went off to gather his previously abandoned belongings by the sofa.

Like hell I want to ride on that ratty old thing anyway!

Ever the intuitive hardass, Hua Cheng seemed to have picked up some micro-expression from Qi Rong’s face as a shit-eating grin formed on his own features. “Well, our guitarist’s car could surely fit you in then. I’m sure he’ll be happy to give you a ride.”

This managed to burst whatever daydream Lang Qianqiu was having, face growing red with indignation. “Absolutely not!” He said, setting down the guitar gently despite his harsh tone.

“Well, fuck you too, jackass! Your car probably stinks too!” Qi Rong yelled as he stomped outside, going back in to obtain his forgotten denim messenger bag on the sofa. He could feel his head pounding as that irrational anger started to boil again. 

He glared directly at Hua Cheng, “What are you waiting for, fucker?! Drive me home!”

By the time the elevator reached his floor, Qi Rong’s anger had dissipated immensely, only allowing him to glare like an angry cat at Xuan Ji the second she opened the door. She looked so put together even in grey sweatpants and an oversized graphic tee that nobody would've suspected she spent the first year of their friendship constantly crying about her whore of an ex. 

“What?”

He threw his denim messenger bag, aiming for her gut. It’s a shame one of them regularly hits the gym and it wasn’t Qi Rong. 

Her body barely flinched from catching it right before hitting its intended target. There wasn’t even a surprised look on her face like she had expected this outburst, “It’s that thing with Hua Cheng, isn’t it?”

“You sold me out!” He marched inside her apartment without an invitation. Xuan Ji’s one-bedroom apartment was practically his second home whenever he was getting sick of the studio apartment from across.

He might as well just lock himself inside if the devil manager comes for him tomorrow. Surely that piece of shit wouldn’t dare to force himself inside of a woman’s home, right?

Xuan Ji followed him inside after closing the door behind her, watching her underclassman flop himself down on her sofa, facing downwards. An angry whine followed afterward.

“It’s not a big deal. You’re not going to die just because your cousin’s boyfriend knows you like singing to sappy indie rock,” she crouched beside his head, his bag abandoned at the front door.

Qi Rong’s eyes peeked out from the darkness, pouting at her. “It is a big deal, you bitch! He made me the fucking vocalist for a stupid band!”

There was a slight quiver in Xuan Ji’s lips, a laugh threatening to break. She managed to swallow it back down as she asked in a cracked voice, “What for?”

“Because his perfect little boyfriend wanted a romantic music festival, that’s why!” He groaned before smacking his face back down on the plush surface. “Fucking lunatic, who even goes through the trouble of organizing something like this for their stupid partner?”

“You're depressingly lonely and single.”

“We both know you'll get angry at the next thing I say.”

“...Touché.” She sighed, hitting his head with the power of a kitten. “Listen, you’re probably the last person on earth who needs an ego boost but you're good at it, singing I mean.”

Qi Roang groaned, scratching his scalp out of frustration as his head popped out from its hiding spot, “I fucking know that but that doesn’t mean I wanna be in some fuckass band with fuckass Qianqiu!”

“Who?”

“Doesn't matter, he's just some random asshole.”

“Everyone is a random asshole in your eyes, you dick.” She added, “Look, if you go through with it successfully, you could… I don’t know, get famous or something. Vocalists are cool, girls like that.”

“Is there anything but romance inside of that brain of yours?!” He snapped, twisting his head to look at her. The older girl knew him well enough to know that this insult didn't have a particular venom in it so she merely pursed her lips.

“I’m just saying that it’d do you well to make friends. How do you expect to make connections if you’re so sour?”

“M’not sour.”

“You’re literally sulking on my couch over a glorified karaoke session,” Xuan Ji folded his legs up, forcing herself a seat. “I’m just saying that there’s no harm in doing something stupid like this. It’s not like he’s paying you to be pleasant either.”

Hearing this made him sit up straight, turning his head at her with zero awareness of personal space, “You’re saying I should fuck up on purpose.”

A delicate frown formed on her face before just as quickly disappearing into an apathetic smile, “Sometimes I wonder if you’re stupid on purpose or you just are.”

“HEY!”

Eagerly, Xuan Ji pinched the right side of his cheek like it was a fat mantou, “Stupid didi, I’m saying that if you play your cards right, you could totally be famous on campus. Everyone pays attention to the vocalist, your narcissism would shoot right through the roof.”

More like my self-worth, Qi Rong fought back the self-deprecation from exiting his throat. His friendship with Xuan Ji was a weird one, he came over nearly every day to cook dinner—because she could get the more expensive ingredients—but he wasn’t exactly open with her, can’t even attempt to.

That was another thought to angst about at three in the morning. For now, he settled on giving her a toothy grin, “Aw, shucks. Ya think little old me could pull that off, jiejie?”

A light slap on his elbow came as Xuan Ji stood up from her seat, “Think whatever you want, I’m going to finish my reading. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

Blowing a raspberry at her back, Qi Rong picked himself up and glided over to the kitchen, opening the stocked fridge to scan what meal he could make tonight. He settled on something that had to do with pork and broccoli.

You could totally be famous on campus, Xuan Ji’s voice echoed back in his mind as he searched for a skillet in the many cabinets. Pah, what utter bullshit!

Who would even want to be famous on campus anyway? Turning heads as they walk by, perhaps earning an admirer or two, and receiving gifts from them. Who was that shallow of a person?

...

Qi Rong was.

Chapter Text

Passing an audition will be easy, Hua Cheng had stated earlier before starting the rehearsal, the hard part would be keeping their momentum for the next stages.

This was because the motherfucker wasn’t the one who had to cover a four-minute song five fucking times.

“And… I think that's our take!” Hua Cheng said behind the tripod holding his phone, finally ending Qi Rong's misery. He had sung the stupid love song so many times that the lyrics might as well be tattooed directly on his brain.

I hope all romance-loving people die, he thought, currently panting like a dog.

Everyone else breathed out a deep sigh of relief; Yin Yu eyed the ceiling as if asking God the purpose of life while Ming Yi let her head droop close to the snare drum. Ever the suck-up, Lang Qianqiu attempted to act like the fatigue wasn’t getting to him, but even a deaf man could hear the sound of his heavy breathing. His chest seemed to be rising and falling in sync with Qi Rong’s own breathing.

Gross.

“Oh, come on,” Hua Cheng tutted, offering an insulting smile. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Ming Yi hurled one of the drumsticks at him, representing everyone who was being sorely mistreated by the monster. 

Again, Hua Cheng’s fake-ass smile remained thick as he bent down to grab the drumstick that had sadly missed his only working eye, “I’m not paying for this if you break it.”

“I won’t either,” she said, catching the drumstick that was thrown to her reach. 

“Honestly, Ming Yi. If you’re so moody over an audition tape, how will you feel knowing you must perform the same song in nine days?”

Nine fucking WHAT?! We've only been playing for two days!

“We forgot to tell you that, huh?” Yin Yu—the only sane one as he started to gather—looked at him with concern, probably noticing how Qi Rong’s eyes had bulged out like a fish as though that could do anything.

“Yeah, just let me go in completely blind. No big deal.”

“It’ll be fine,” he sounded like he was convincing himself instead.

Before Qi Rong could retaliate with something snappy, Lang Qianqiu had invited himself into the conversation, “Just don’t botch the performance; it’s not difficult.”

‘Don’t botch the performance’ he says. ‘It’s not hard’ he says. 

Who the fuck does he think he is?

He prayed that by some fucking miracle Lang Qianqiu twists his ankle or breaks his arm. Anything to keep this mountain of a man from playing that stupid guitar to Qi Rong’s left.

“Think you can do that?” he asked snottily, his perfect nose held up high. Qi Rong wanted to punch it into bloody pieces. 

“That depends,” he tilted his head, strands of his hair falling to the front of his shoulders. “How long can you stop bitching and moaning?”

One of these days, either of them would get split in two, and at this point, he just hoped that they fail the audition before he has to spend even more time with doofus from planet idiot dick.

Six days later, on a lazy Saturday, Qi Rong rolled over to his bedside table to reach for his phone. As he unlocked it, a notification appeared.

Cousin-fucker: Get dressed, I’m picking you up at 1 

Me: huh??

Cousin-fucker: The first stage is in 3 days, don’t huh me

Me: wait we actually passed huh wha

Cousin-fucker: I did say it was easy :)

Qi Rong let his phone drop to his bed, groaning as he shut his eyes tight again.

The only good thing from this ordeal was that Hua Cheng was willing to drive Qi Rong to the studio and back to his apartment. An insanely tense and quiet ride, but it was nothing a pair of earphones and an awesome playlist couldn’t thwart.

Of course, Qi Rong should’ve known better than to expect a dog to keep his word.

Cousin-fucker: It’s only a few minutes from your apartment, can't you order a ride? Are you poor?

Me: ur dating my cousin

Me: guess.

Cousin-fucker: *You're

Me: eat shit and die

Me: im not paying money just to haul my ass over there YOU'RE the one who needs ME

Cousin-fucker: And I am not leaving a spontaneous date with gege just to drive you, just order a ride

Me: no FUCK YOU i am not going to sit here and pay a ride to some bum ass studio before competing tomorrow in some bum asss competition i didn’t want to participate in the first place so u either send the money or theres just no practice today

Cousin-fucker: I hope you get into a car crash.

Me: is that a yes or…

As expected, Hua Cheng had—begrudgingly—transferred a small amount of money, just enough to pay for the supposed taxi fare that Qi Rong should be taking. 

Then again, who said he was against the idea of walking there? 

Yes, it was most definitely a pain and he might’ve almost got run over by a bunch of idiot fucks who can't drive for shit while crossing the road, but hey! 17 yuan was 17 yuan, even if it meant walking for 5 minutes straight.

“At least it didn't rain,” he huffed, tugging the collar of his washed graphic tee that had loitered on the edge of his bed for who knows how long. As long as it doesn’t smell bad.

He pushed open the studio’s door, mentally preparing himself to be trapped in complete boredom for several hours.

“Ack! He’s here!” an unfamiliar feminine voice appeared, followed by an equally unfamiliar person standing in front of him.

She was tall for a girl, only a few centimeters shorter than Qi Rong, even with just white ballet flats on. Despite this, the short pink dress paired with a pastel teal cardigan didn’t look awkward on her, going well with her pink makeup.

He would be lying if he said that didn't intimidate him a little bit. Him and his dingy graphic tee, ripped jeans, and three-year-old sneakers.

God, he hated these Xiaohongshu primadonna bitches. 

“Hi, you must be the vocalist!” she greeted him with an overeager friendliness, taking his hand to shake. “I've been asking when Hua Cheng is going to find one. Nice to meet you!”

Taken aback by the sudden physical contact, he stared at her for a good while before looking past her head to make eye contact with a frowning Ming Yi, who had been sitting on the couch.

“And this is?” he asked.

“I’m Shi Qingxuan,” the girl in front of him replied. “Hua Cheng asked me to keep an eye on you guys for him today so technically, I’m your co-manager!”

“Cool,” he rolled his eyes, moving inside the room instead of hovering by the doorframe. 

“I’m so excited to see you guys perform with an actual vocalist, finally!” Shi Qingxuan continued to talk despite his lackluster reply, “Hua Cheng says it’s nothing to write home about, but I’ll believe him when I hear it with my own two ears. Besides, my partner—”

“You talk too much,” Ming Yi stood up from her seat, now standing beside the noisy woman who gawked at the statement.

“That’s just rude, Ming-xiong! Any other person would break up with you in a heartbeat over your rude comment.”

“Ok, then break up with me.”

“Ming-xiong!”

Qi Rong wanted to raise an eyebrow at the masculine term, but something else had intrigued him more: that this talkative, carefree girl was dating Ming Yi, someone who always looked like she was heading to a funeral. 

Even today, their outfits wildly differed, with Ming Yi wearing a black turtleneck and a black maxi skirt. Shi Qingxuan’s curled hair had also been dyed a light brown in contrast to her girlfriend’s pin-straight black hair.

He couldn’t fathom the idea of dating someone who was virtually your opposite.

“I was just being nice,” Shi Qingxuan sulked, turning her head towards Yin Yu and Lang Qianqiu who were tuning their respective instruments. “Yin-ge, tell her she is being completely mean. It’s not my fault Qi Rong is so quiet, the extrovert in me just leaped out.”

An undignified snort left Lang Qianqiu and Qi Rong almost threw a shoe at his face. Not bothering to hide his snickering, he merely commented, “Yes, our very quiet vocalist definitely needed that.”

Well, that just made him want to put on an act just to spite him… but that meant he couldn’t publicly cuss him out as usual. Eventually, he settled on giving him a glare from behind Shi Qingxuan, his nostrils flaring, which only made him snicker even more.

Meanwhile, Yin Yu didn’t seem like he wanted to get involved in a couple’s quarrel, so he smiled weakly at Shi Qingxuan, “How about we practice first?”

“Oh my god, yes ,” she quickly pulled Ming Yi by the wrist, setting her down by the drum set like a doll. It did not escape Qi Rong’s notice how Ming Yi’s touch lingered on Shi Qingxuan’s hand. “Qi Rong, do you need to warm up first? We have some time, I’m not gonna rush you guys or anything. I know tomorrow’s D-day but that’s all the more reason you guys should also relax a little. We’ll just do, like, two rounds before you guys can go home.”

“Jiejie… you are always so much nicer than that tyrant…” Lang Qianqiu muttered, causing Shi Qingxuan to laugh boisterously, waving her hand as she spouts ‘it’s nothing, it’s nothing’ a few times in between her laughs.

It was slightly humiliating repeating the strange noises Hua Cheng had forced him to do since their second practice (“Hey idiot, you have to do warmups before singing. Don’t think a strained vocal chord is going to let you run from this agreement,” he had said while showing him a video that taught him the proper technique) with a new person in the mix. Shi Qingxuan’s excited gaze as he stepped closer to the microphone did not help ease him into the familiar process.

“Worried?” Lang Qianqiu mocked, “The nice jiejie’s extroverted nature could help you again.”

“Eat shit and die,” he snapped before Lang Qianqiu began playing the first few notes of the song. 

As usual, Qi Rong zoned out during the entire performance, and the lyrics no longer sounded like actual words to his ears. By the end of it, it felt like Shi Qingxuan was clapping for a bunch of nonsense strung together in a pretty rhythm. But a compliment was still a compliment.

“You guys!” she perked up, “That was so good! I mean, it’s always been good, even with just the instrumentals, but Qi Rong… have you taken any vocal lessons before?”

“Nope,” he answered proudly into the microphone as she began to look even more amazed. 

“Absolutely none at all? Not even briefly? ” she asked again, “How did you even start and know you could sing so well?”

“Shitty karaoke nights, how about that for an answer?” 

She turned to look at Ming Yi, glee in her eyes, “Oh my god, Ming-xiong. Ming-xiong, this is so Daisy Jones coded.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he cackled. The mass-adoration Xuan Ji promised could not come soon enough.

“Qingxuan, you’re always so kind when giving feedback,” Yin Yu smiled for once.

“Much better than our so-called manager,” Lang Qianqiu sighed.

“I definitely think you’ve done great today, and I also think you guys can go home now,” she said. “There’s just one criticism I have for Qi Rong.”

Huh?

She elaborated, “I don’t have any musical talents but as an audience, I noticed that you’re too focused on singing, too focused on hitting the notes right.”

“Well, no shit. That’s what I gotta do,” he huffed.

“And I get that! It’s just that you also gotta realize this is a competition to find the best performers for the festival. You need to engage with the audience one way or another, you can’t just… zoned out and perform the song as is. There needs to be some expressions, little gestures. The audience needs to know that you feel the song too.”

Qi Rong let the words float through his blood as he carefully swallowed the various venomous insults he started to think of. Ming Yi looks like she could beat your ass harder than that dogfucker Hua Cheng.

He clutched the microphone tightly, pulling it close to his face, “I don’t give a shit what a bunch of losers think how I should feel.”