Chapter 5 Underground Band

Chapter 5: Underground Band

The only thought that crossed Lin Xishan's mind after watching the video was that this Pei Zhi guy wasn't actually a male model.

Then he swiped past it without hesitation.

But what did that have to do with him?

But then his finger slipped, and he accidentally tapped into Pei Zhi's personal account. Below the username was a short bio: Male, 24, lead singer of the rock band "Abyss."

As for his follower count... oh wow, he actually had forty to fifty thousand followers. His pinned post was a performance video with over a million views.

He tapped to open it.

The screen was dark, with only a single blue spotlight hitting the stage. Pei Zhi wore a black leather motorcycle jacket, his messy black hair damp with sweat, his gaze arrogant and aloof, like a wolf ready to hunt.

He gripped the standing mic, his voice sounding like it was being ripped from his throat.

Comments flew by in a dense stream:

"Pei Zhi is literally killing me!!!"

"The live shows of 'Abyss' are absolutely legendary. Anyone who hasn't seen Pei Zhi live is gonna make me sad, OK?"

"This man oozes sexual tension even when he breathes (covering face)"

Lin Xishan quietly closed the video.

Were these two seriously the same person?

An underground band lead singer with forty to fifty thousand followers on a short-video platform not only offered to take care of a college student but also said stuff like "I can only get hard for you"—how could a public figure just say that out loud?!

Lin Xishan felt his worldview was completely shaken.

He tossed his phone aside, flopped back onto the bed, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

"So," he muttered to himself, "what the hell is he after?"

"After what?"

From the next bed came Lin Jichuan's lazy voice.

Lin Xishan turned his head and saw his younger brother propped up on one elbow, looking at him.

"When did you wake up?"

"I never fell asleep." Lin Jichuan yawned. "You've been muttering to yourself for a while now. 'Pei Zhi'—who the hell is that?"

"Nothing, just some guy I don't know." Lin Xishan instinctively reached for the black card in his pocket.

"What's wrong with you?" Lin Jichuan stared into his eyes. "You've been acting weird ever since yesterday."

Lin Jichuan was cold and cutting with outsiders, but genuinely cared about his older brother—though his way of showing it always made you want to punch him.

"If," Lin Xishan chose his words carefully, "someone said they wanted to take care of you, how would you react?"

Lin Jichuan's face visibly cracked.

"Who wants to take care of you?" He shot up in shock. "You're not seriously going to agree, are you? Lin Xishan, have you forgotten you're the heir to the Lin family? Even if you need to solve that two million, you can't go becoming someone's sugar baby, right?"

"I haven't forgotten, and I haven't agreed." Lin Xishan was annoyed by his reaction. "I can handle it myself."

He shouldn't have even mentioned it.

The brothers stared at each other for a few seconds.

Lin Jichuan was the first to look away, irritably raking his hand through his hair before flopping back onto the bed. "Fine, deal with it yourself."

Lin Xishan sighed.

One Ye Jiaonan was already annoying enough, and now there was a Pei Zhi on top of that. Life was getting impossible.

Meanwhile, Pei Zhi—completely unaware that his true identity had been exposed—parked his motorcycle outside his apartment building and pushed open the door of his rented room. A wave of stuffy heat that had been trapped inside all day hit him in the face.

The room wasn't big, about twenty square meters: a bed, a wardrobe, and a guitar leaning in the corner.

Band posters were taped to the walls, and a crack in the window was patched up with tape.

He casually turned on the AC, set it to 24 degrees. The outdoor unit hummed, but the cool air hadn't kicked in yet.

He didn't bother turning on the lights and walked straight into the bathroom.

The guy in the mirror looked a bit unfamiliar.

The edge of the band-aid on the corner of his mouth was peeling up, and the bruise on his cheek had gone from purplish-black to greenish-yellow, looking even worse.

He stared at his face in the mirror, remembering how Lin Xishan had crouched down in the alley last night and brushed the stray hair from his forehead.

His fingers had been warm.

Pei Zhi turned on the faucet, bent down, and splashed cold water on his face. Water dripped down his jaw, soaking the collar of his T-shirt.

"Fuck," he muttered quietly.

After coming out of the bathroom, Pei Zhi opened the nightstand drawer, where several pill bottles were neatly lined up. He unscrewed one, shook out a pill, and washed it down with water.

It didn't help much.

These meds could only keep him from completely falling apart, but they couldn't fix the root problem.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt normal.

—Though he remembered the date of his last breakdown very clearly.

Three months ago, after a psychologist suggested he "try exposing himself to unfamiliar environments," a guy at a bar had brushed against his arm when approaching him, and Pei Zhi had thrown up on the spot.

The way that guy had looked at him was like he was eyeing some easily available delicacy.

So disgusting.

Pei Zhi walked out of the bathroom and flopped onto the bed.

He grabbed his phone. The chat with Lin Xishan still showed that bright red "Message sent, but rejected by the recipient" from the other day.

Pei Zhi stared at that line of small text, his thumb hovering over the screen for a few seconds before he finally pressed the phone to his chest.

Right now, he was like a drowning man who had suddenly touched shore. Even if it was just a piece of driftwood, even if it might be swept away the next second, he wanted to hold on for dear life.

The problem was, he didn't know how to "hold on" to someone.

He only knew how to push people away.

His phone vibrated against his chest, the vibration pressing against his ribs, making his chest feel uneasy.

Pei Zhi glanced at the caller ID—"Brother Zhou"—one of the few people he could almost call a friend, and also the bassist of his band, "The Abyss."

"Yeah."

"Shit, you're still alive?" Brother Zhou's loud voice blasted through the receiver. "Haven't replied to a single message all day. I thought you'd kicked the bucket in that dump of yours!"

"Not dead."

"Then at least shoot me a text! You still remember next week's gig, right? Boss Liu said if this one goes well, the funding for the next album is pretty much locked in. You better be ready, and don't screw it up again—"

"Got it."

"Like hell you got it! Every time you say 'got it' is when I worry the most. Anyway, how's your face? You still good to go on stage?"

Pei Zhi touched the band-aid on the corner of his mouth. "Yeah."

"Good. Boss Liu's bringing a bunch of industry people this time—I heard there's even a film scorer coming. This is a rare opportunity. If you blow this, I swear I won't be able to show my face asking anyone for favors again..."

"I said I've got it." Pei Zhi cut Zhou Yan off coldly mid-ramble.

There was a two-second pause on the other end, then Zhou Yan's voice dropped, his tone cautious and probing: "How have you been lately? You still taking your meds?"

Pei Zhi didn't answer.

"Alright, alright, I won't ask." Brother Zhou sensibly changed the subject. "So where the hell did you go yesterday? Vanished without a word—Lao Zhao and I called you like five times, and you didn't pick up."

Got my ass kicked, then got taken to a love hotel.

He obviously couldn't say that. Pei Zhi paused, planning to blow it off: "Nothing."

Zhou Yan went full mother hen on him: "Got into another fight? Pei Zhi, how many times have I told you, given your current condition—"

"Brother Zhou." Pei Zhi cut him off—he didn't have the headspace for nagging right now, his mind consumed by Lin Xishan—"If... I mean, if there was someone, and you wanted them to stay by your side, what would you do?"

The line went silent.

After about five seconds, Brother Zhou's voice came back, his tone turning weird: "You? Want someone to stay by your side? You serious? Guy or girl? Wait, you're only into guys... no, that's not the point. The point is you said 'stay by your side'? You? Pei Zhi? The guy who loses his shit the second someone touches him?"

Realizing the other man was only interested in gossiping and not getting to the actual point, Pei Zhi said flatly, "I'm hanging up."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Zhou Yan hurriedly said. "I'll tell you. If you want someone to stay, you gotta make them feel like you're worth keeping."

Worth keeping.

Pei Zhi stared at the crack in the ceiling, turning those two words over and over in his mind.

He didn't think he was worth a damn.

Actually, he thought he was a piece of dog shit that people stepped on and then wanted to scrape off their shoes.

Zhou Yan kept rambling on the other end: "And don't go straight to offering to 'support' someone or whatever—that's some rich-ass CEO novel bullshit. What normal person wouldn't run at that? You gotta—"

That hit a nerve.

Pei Zhi hung up on him immediately.

Sponsoring.

He knew how absurd that offer had been.

But what else could he do? All he knew was writing songs, fighting, taking pills, and pushing everyone away.

He didn't know how to make someone want to stay. He only understood transactions.

You give me money, I give you something. An even trade. Clean and simple.

But Lin Xishan had said no.

At the thought, Pei Zhi turned over restlessly, burying his face in the pillow.

He closed his eyes, and last night's scene flashed through his mind again.

Lin Xishan had crouched in front of him, brushing aside the hair matted to his bloody forehead. The man's fingers were steady, but his movements were gentle, as if he were handling something fragile.

It had been ages since anyone had touched him like that.

...Fuck, the feeling was coming back.

Pei Zhi closed his eyes and slid a hand under the blanket.

Lin Xishan...

He let out his name in a low, ragged whisper.