Chapter 80: I Won't Bully You

In a hazy daze, Tang Zhichu opened his eyes. The light was still on, and he glanced toward the coffee table. Jiang Lan was sitting on the carpet, bent over the table, scribbling and sketching.

Tang Zhichu closed his eyes again. It was a long while before he reopened them.

“Lan,” he called softly.

Jiang Lan turned around with a smile. “You’re awake?”

“Mm. What are you up to?”

She pointed at the phone propped up on the coffee table. “Watching a show.”

“What’s so good about it?”

Jiang Lan brought her phone over. “Look at the comments.”

Tang Zhichu sat up and, imitating Jiang Lan, settled beside her on the carpet. Jiang Lan had intended to unplug her earphones, but after a pause, simply handed one to Tang Zhichu. They watched together.

“Damn, Xiao Yun’s singing is so good!”

“Now the pressure’s on the male contestants. The women this season are all so impressive!”

“Honestly, Xiao Yun’s singing is on par with professional artists! So good—what’s this song called?”

“Added it to my playlist! Damn, I’m so jealous of the second male lead, but he only has eyes for Yangyang!”

“Not just him—aren’t all three guys clearly focused on Yangbao?”

“A girl group’s visual ace coming on a reality dating show—it’s a total knockout!”

“This song is ‘Good Morning, Good Morning.’ Chen Siyang sang it before. Looking forward to hearing it again!”

...

Jiang Lan was rewatching the singing scene from that night, which the production team had edited to look quite harmonious. Most of the comments praised the female contestants—Chen Siyang’s initiative to ‘accidentally’ meet up at the start, Zhou Yun choosing to sit beside Yang Jiaxing that evening, all with encouragement from the studio guests. The consensus was that the women this season were brave, cool, and exceptional.

Of course, there were a few negative voices mixed in—some saying Tang Zhichu didn’t deserve Chen Siyang, even the studio had such concerns—not out of contempt for Tang Zhichu, just a lack of faith. One was an artist, the other an ordinary person. Personality-wise, Tang Zhichu hardly seemed the bold, proactive type—he appeared timid, and compared to Yang Jiaxing, the two were polar opposites. Some were jealous of Chen Siyang’s initiative toward Tang Zhichu, declaring in the comments that if this couple worked out, they’d eat their own hat.

“Whoa, this guy knows guitar!”

“Stop shouting—he can tune the guitar by ear alone. That’s the mark of a pro!”

“Impressive! I’ve played guitar for four years and still need a tuner to get it right.”

...

“I don’t get this part—why did he interrupt Yangyang’s singing?”

“That wasn’t an interruption, what are you thinking? He was kindly helping her tune the guitar.”

“(๑°ㅁ°๑)!!! Came here from DY—is that you, Tang God?”

“Oh my god, it really is Tang God! So good-looking! I even requested him to sing once. Wasn’t he supposed to be 1.8 meters tall and weigh 300 jin? Damn!”

“Holy—this is Tang God, the champion of the DY Magic Voice Cup, the one who beat Xue Lang in the finals, who sang He Shuyuan’s ‘Prayer’ in a higher key—he’s insanely talented!”

“Wow, is that the same Xue Lang who took third place on The Voice?”

“Yep, that’s him. I thought Xue Lang would crush everyone at the Magic Voice Cup, but Tang God taught him a lesson. His version of ‘Prayer’ is legendary.”

“Damn, people told me but I didn’t believe them—now I hear the voice, it really is Tang God. So handsome, and he never even shows his face!”

...

For some reason, the comment section’s tone suddenly shifted, and a swarm of Tang God fans appeared.

Jiang Lan looked at Tang Zhichu in surprise. “You’re this amazing?”

Jiang Lan wasn’t on DY, but because of Su Qingzhuo, she knew Tang Zhichu once sang on DY. Still, the singing she’d imagined seemed quite different from this.

Tang Zhichu shook his head. “Don’t listen to them. DY probably hired some paid commenters. I’m just a nobody.”

Jiang Lan rolled her eyes. If that were true, then pushing Chen Siyang the other night wasn’t so bad after all.

The comments were full of insight that the studio guests lacked, who were still analyzing everything in earnest. But they did point out that Chen Siyang didn’t seem too keen on singing, and Tang Zhichu had stepped in to help her out—also highlighting his skill with the guitar.

In fact, everyone, from the studio to the comment section, seemed to have underestimated Tang Zhichu.

After this segment, those who’d claimed Tang Zhichu wasn’t worthy of Chen Siyang fell silent.

Tang Zhichu glanced at the coffee table. “What were you writing just now?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing—just doodling.”

Tang Zhichu started to get up, but Jiang Lan pulled him back.

“What’s so great about this show?” Tang Zhichu grumbled.

Jiang Lan not only pulled him back, but hooked her arm through his. “No leaving—watch with me!”

With no choice, Tang Zhichu stayed put.

Why did he want to leave? Because the first date was coming up.

Perhaps realizing she’d been forceful, Jiang Lan softened her tone. “Our new equipment just arrived, and there’s a trade show soon. Plus, we’re distributing QQ candy. I’ll be swamped. Will you keep me company, just for a bit?”

Tang Zhichu said nothing. Fine, he’d watch.

Still, while watching, he couldn’t help thinking—hey, you’re watching TV, why is your head resting on my shoulder?

And your arm—does it have to press so close? Is it really that big?

The feeling was strange. On screen, Tang Zhichu was on a date with Chen Siyang. In reality, he was sitting with Jiang Lan nestled against him. It was as if he were facing himself across dimensions. His heart started beating faster for no reason.

“How did you know Yangyang liked white?” Jiang Lan looked up at him.

“Uh… I guessed.”

“Liar. You even joined her fan group. Ha, they didn’t edit that out.”

“It was so long ago, I forgot.”

“Really forgot?”

“I think so.”

“Look at me and say it.”

Tang Zhichu moved his stiff neck, then lowered his gaze to meet hers.

A faint blush spread across Jiang Lan’s cheeks. Her eyes shimmered, hair falling loosely, some strands cascading over her full chest.

Tang Zhichu reached to cover the phone screen with his hand. Jiang Lan let out a little hum, but didn’t shy away from his closeness. Their breaths were soft, and slowly, they touched.

After a long while, they parted, both catching their breath.

Jiang Lan propped her phone up again, then leaned toward Tang Zhichu, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.

“Let’s watch TV. I won’t tease you anymore.”

Tang Zhichu held Jiang Lan close, squeezing her tightly.

A smile crept onto Jiang Lan’s lips as she burrowed against him.

...

For the next half month, Tang Zhichu’s days fell into a steady rhythm: up at six for a morning run and vocal practice, breakfast, then off to the gym. He worked out with the weights and joined aerobics classes, then ate lunch right there.

In the afternoon, he returned home to his old craft—diving into the copyright song and lyric libraries, searching for undiscovered melodies and words.

After a light snack at home, he’d head back to the gym, this time sticking to cardio and aerobics, avoiding the machines, then have another meal.

Evenings were for rest and recreation, a late night snack at ten, then straight to bed.

Five meals a day, two gym sessions, music composition, and vocal practice.

This routine lasted until May 26th. When Tang Zhichu looked in the mirror, he was still thin, but his physique had changed. Except for his collarbones, there were no more prominent bones—everything was evenly covered by subtle, well-proportioned muscle.