ADTCP Ch25part2

Water ran down his delicate chin and soaked his thin white T-shirt; the clinging, translucent fabric revealed a glimpse of skin beneath.
Unlike Gu Xingzhou’s blatant showiness, the damp shirt just loosely outlined a waist so slim it could be spanned by a hand.

“Ugh!”

After several misplaced blasts had drenched Tao Zhen’s upper body, Tong Xia grew anxious.

“Zhenbao, move! Let me get him!”

Tao Zhen wiped his face, aggrieved. “I want to, but he’s grabbing my waist and won’t let me go.”

At that, Gu Xingzhou peeked out from behind him with a mischievous grin, begging to be smacked.

Tong Xia promptly hosed his way again, and received a sandball from behind him in return.

Stuck between the two, Tao Zhen spat out a mix of sand and seawater and finally couldn’t take it anymore. Pitifully, he held out his hands to Zhu Wensheng: “Help me!”

Zhu Wensheng’s heart gave a small tremor. He knew they were just fooling around, knew the three childhood friends were close.
Arm-in-arm jostling and playful teasing, those are things for intimates; outsiders don’t cut in.

But in that instant, he strode over in two long steps, hooked a leg to block Gu Xingzhou, shoved him back toward Tong Xia, and, with the other hand, effortlessly hoisted Tao Zhen.

“Ah!”

Tao Zhen couldn’t even remember the last time someone had carried him like that; he yelped, then reflexively looped his arms around Zhu Wensheng’s neck, nuzzling close like a skittish little animal.

“Zhu Wensheng, I’m fine, I’m fine! Put me down, I’m heavy, ”

Zhu Wensheng was succinct: “You’re not.”

A grown man, over 1.7 meters and around a hundred jin, yet Zhu Wensheng just supported his knees and hips and lifted him onto his shoulder.

Tao Zhen felt a twinge of embarrassment; the view was embarrassingly grand, like being hoisted up by your parents to see the stage as a kid. After a few seconds, the scenery won him over. He straightened, no longer trying to jump down.

“Woo-hoo, !”

The two little menaces, Tong Xia and Gu Xingzhou, rolled their eyes at his glee and called a truce, pulling Jiang Shan to team up against the pair.

But Zhu Wensheng was too quick; a slight turn avoided the water jets, and any sandballs got intercepted mid-flight. From on high, Tao Zhen remained untouched and enjoyed the intoxicating thrill of the fox borrowing the tiger’s might.

“Zhu Wensheng, you’re amazing!”

He laughed aloud, arms thrown wide, golden hair lifted by the wind to reveal handsome, spirited brows and eyes.

“Get them for me!”

Zhu Wensheng’s mouth curved despite himself. “Okay.”

He secured Tao Zhen’s knees against a fall, then scooped up two of Jiang Shan’s dropped water guns, handing one to Tao Zhen for self-defense and keeping one to attack.
Soon, Gu Xingzhou was begging for mercy under precise fire; Tong Xia, too, surrendered with a scream, leaving only Jiang Shan, struggling to shield Tong Xia.

“Awesome! Run, before they catch up!”

Somehow the sun had dipped low, setting the horizon ablaze with orange-red. Everything was bathed in warm gold; the rippling sea was a dreamlike haze.

Riding the high of victory, Tao Zhen couldn’t help laughing, threw his arms around Zhu Wensheng’s neck, and planted a hard kiss on his cheek.

A loud, smacking “mwah.”

Zhu Wensheng, steady until now, suddenly stumbled, taking two extra steps before stopping. He finally set Tao Zhen down.

They stood on a quiet stretch of sand, gentle waves washing their feet, tiny fry tickling past like bubbles.

“Zhu Wensheng, your heart’s racing,” Tao Zhen smiled, eyes crescenting. “Were you nervous from the water fight?”

The sea breeze came in pulses with the surf, ruffling Tao Zhen’s dazzling blond hair.
Zhu Wensheng lowered his gaze, brushed sand from his hand with his shirt hem, then slowly raised that hand to touch the ends of Tao Zhen’s hair.

“Yeah. Very nervous.”

Tao Zhen smiled back and
said no more, turning to the sunset.
The orange-red deepened, as if the sky might catch fire. Waves crashed on the rocks, spraying white foam. The air held a faint briny tang.

“Want to sing?” Zhu Wensheng asked suddenly.

Tao Zhen turned. He’d been about to say he hadn’t picked a sea-themed song yet, but then his eyes met the dark ones reflecting the fiery clouds,

His heart thudded wildly.

He opened his mouth and, without thinking, hummed, “Mm.”

Zhu Wensheng lowered his head and took his phone from his pocket.
The sky around them gradually darkened, yet the figure in the camera remained bright. The violent sea wind quieted, as if it too wished to listen to his song.

“Write and tell me today, what color is the sea.”
“The sea that stays with you every night, what mood is it in?”

The clear, ringing voice, each word deliberate, gentle and intimate.
Behind him, the crashing waves seemed to keep rhythm.

“I clutch my restless heart, unable to close my eyes all night.”
“Why is it that though you’re moved, you won’t come closer?”

“Listen, the sound of the sea crying.”
“Sighing over whose heart has been broken, and yet still hasn’t awakened.”

“……”

The original song was almost a “cry of grief,” a bitter love song, like a girl’s outward calm when her lover leaves, but with emotions surging like the sea within.

But Tao Zhen had chosen a different way to deliver it. His voice was bright and penetrating, deliberately slowed.

Instead of sorrowful parting, it was more like a lover in the throes of passion waking from a nightmare, imagining losing everything, patting his chest in lingering fear.

When the song ended, Zhu Wensheng pressed stop a beat late.

“When I thought of the sea, this song came to mind. Even though it doesn’t really match the joyful mood today.”

Tao Zhen slowly withdrew from the song’s emotions, a little curious as he leaned in to look. “The wind was so strong today, I was worried it wouldn’t record… Was my singing… still okay?”

Zhu Wensheng found himself gripping the phone tighter, his voice low: “Mm.”
In the camera, those brows and eyes were breathtaking; the whole song delivered in one breath, each word dropping straight into the heart.

“Very good.”

Tao Zhen let out a sigh of relief, his eyes curving with a smile: “That’s good then.”

Not far away, Gu Xingzhou and the others finally found them, yelling as they came over to start another round of chaos.

Knowing he couldn’t dodge this time, Tao Zhen quickly shoved his phone into Zhu Wensheng’s hand: “Help me upload it, just don’t let them see, or they’ll drag me off to perform!”

Zhu Wensheng accepted the phone: “Okay.”

While the others plunged back into a primitive melee, sand, water, whatever was at hand flying everywhere, Zhu Wensheng, too strong to be let into the scuffle, was conveniently left aside. He used the chance to upload the video just as Tao Zhen had asked.

The progress bar crept forward, then hit one hundred percent.

Within a minute or two, notifications from the backend flooded in like rain. Zhu Wensheng tapped into the red dots and cleared them once, only for more to pop back up.

He decided not to bother with them. Just as he was about to quit the app, a few private messages popped up. He couldn’t see the text, only what looked like images.

Zhu Wensheng’s finger hesitated.
Behind anonymity, one could never guess how cruel people could be. He’d seen those who cursed at creators online with ghost images, venting their own miserable lives…

After a couple of seconds of hesitation, he still tapped in.

At once, a gorgeously drawn chibi fanart popped up. Smooth lines, bold colors, striking likeness. The blond boy with a little fang on the left was unmistakably Tao Zhen.

And next to him… who was this figure that looked suspiciously like one of the black-clad men from Detective Conan?

【Shen Quan Pengzhang 6 Yuan: Idol! Look!! I drew new CP fanart of you and your Photographer Lord!! Since the photographer has never shown his face, I could only draw him like this, 2333】
【Shen Quan Pengzhang 6 Yuan: Oh, we even made a tag for you and the photographer hahahahaha, pity the info is so scarce! Please idol, give us some background setting!!】
【……】

This black figure… was supposed to be him?

Zhu Wensheng belatedly realized he had overstepped, forced himself to look away, exited the app, and turned off the screen.
Yet after a few moments of silence, he took out his own phone, opened the app, and searched for the tag the fan had mentioned,

#Zhenxieqing# (“Zhen & Photographer Love”).