ADTCP Ch59

Vendors pushed their carts all around them, steam curling up in smoky waves as hawkers shouted nonstop. People streamed past on both sides; some who had seen them at the plaza seemed to be following behind, phones raised and cameras pointed at them.

But Zhu Wensheng couldn’t care about any of that anymore. He simply looked deeply at Tao Zhen, then pulled him into a hard embrace, as if he wanted to hold him right into his bones and swallow him whole. “Mm… okay.”

Tao Zhen, who had always been afraid of performing in front of others, had willingly stepped onto a rigged stage for those three thousand yuan, never even thinking about what would happen if he sang a wrong note and lost to the reigning champion.

Zhu Wensheng didn’t want Tao Zhen’s money.

What he wanted was Tao Zhen’s whole life.

He was holding him so tightly that Tao Zhen was almost out of breath. After letting Zhu Wensheng hug him for a good while, he felt it was enough, so he tugged on Zhu Wensheng’s hand, happily dragging him off to browse the street stalls.

These stalls were a childhood memory for Tao Zhen. Back then his family wasn’t well-off, but he still got five yuan in pocket money each day. He and Gu Xingzhou and Tong Xia would go to the stands by the school gate after classes to buy snacks. Even after his family later became wealthy, his tastes didn’t turn fancy, he still adored this junk food.

Now that he had three thousand yuan in “huge winnings” in hand, Tao Zhen splurged for once, buying from every stall he wanted together with Zhu Wensheng.

Zhu Wensheng followed behind him. He had never gone near this kind of street stall before, but now he slowed to match Tao Zhen’s pace, listening carefully as he explained.

“The fried stinky tofu here isn’t like the kind we make at home, they add bean sprouts and broth. The grandpa who used to sell at my school gate didn’t do it like this. He fried it on an iron griddle and sprinkled seasoning as it came off. The cubes were tiny, one yuan for six. Once, Xiaxia, Zihan, and I bought ten yuan’s worth and gorged ourselves by the curb. I couldn’t eat dinner and almost got a beating from my dad.”

“And grilled sausages aren’t like before either. Now there are so many choices, pure meat, spicy strip sausage, cartilage sausage… Back then we only had one kind, the plain starch sausage. Thinking about it now, the taste wasn’t that great, but we all loved it. Because it wasn’t sanitary, the teachers would always say there was dead rat meat in there and forbid us to eat it.”

“And sugar paintings! Those were a luxury back then. The grandpa selling them charged a lot, ten yuan each. We had to save two or three days of allowance, so usually Xiaxia and the others and I chipped in together. The downside was we had to decide the design by rock-paper-scissors, and I always lost…”

As Tao Zhen chattered on, Zhu Wensheng’s gaze rested steadily on him. Whenever a childhood snack came up, Zhu Wensheng would have a simple taste.

The stinky tofu was indeed as Tao Zhen described: soupy, with chopped chili and bean sprouts, neither especially good nor bad. The sausage prices weren’t what Zhu Wensheng expected: three yuan for one, five for two. As for the sugar painting stall, almost vanished these days, they circled the whole street before finally spotting a grandpa’s stand tucked in a corner.

The grandpa hurriedly greeted them, asking what design they wanted, enthusiastically recommending the twelve zodiac animals on the spinning board. Tao Zhen had tried all of them long ago, so he handed the choice over to Zhu Wensheng.

Zhu Wensheng hesitated a moment, then didn’t pick any of the zodiac signs. “Could you write two characters for me instead?” he asked.

The grandpa nodded right away, no problem.

In the end, Zhu Wensheng walked calmly through the crowd holding a sugar painting shaped into the characters of “Tao Zhen’s” name. People turned their heads, curious. Tao Zhen felt an inexplicable embarrassment; his cheeks warmed. He urged Zhu Wensheng to hurry and eat it, but although Zhu Wensheng agreed aloud, he held the candy tight in his hand.

The amber sugar glowed in the sunlight, giving off a rich sweetness. Zhu Wensheng gripped it the whole way, loath to take a bite, just nibbling like a child with a precious treasure. But the sugar gradually softened and nearly slid down the bamboo skewer onto his fingers. Not wanting to waste it, he lowered his eyes and quickly ate it up.

Once it was eaten, it was gone, only the bare bamboo skewer remained. Zhu Wensheng found himself staring at the little stick for a few seconds. Then a slender hand suddenly reached into view and tossed it into a nearby trash can for him.

The boy, with a tousled halo of golden hair and sparkling eyes, smiled with his little tiger teeth showing. “Well? Is it a bit too sweet and cloying? You probably don’t want to touch that stuff anymore. If you ever do, I’ll buy it for you again.”

Zhu Wensheng fell quiet for a few seconds; the hollow feeling in his chest slowly eased. He hooked his pinky around Tao Zhen’s, and after a long moment gave a soft “Mm.” By the time the lights came on over the city, they finally headed home. The day had been exhausting. Tao Zhen fell asleep on the couch before he could even shower, and it was Zhu Wensheng who washed him up afterward. After a full day of taut nerves, neither had touched their phones. It wasn’t until the next day, when he found himself on the trending list again, that Tao Zhen realized what happened last night still had follow-up.

By now he was a blogger with over a million followers, and with such a recognizable face, he drew attention both online and off, fans could spot him on the street. There had been fans at the challenge last night; one recorded his entire performance and uploaded it unedited. Tao Zhen had long been criticized for singing only online and, unlike Xiang Yan or Qiqi, never performing offline. People claimed he couldn’t really sing and only sounded good after tuning, that he would “die upon seeing the light.” But with this video, the rumors collapsed. A plain setting, trashy equipment, terrible environment, Tao Zhen had no in-ears at all, yet his live performance was not inferior in the least. In just one night the video shot to hundreds of thousands of views and was still climbing.

It was a pleasant surprise for Tao Zhen, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on it, he had slacked these two days on studying to change majors and had to catch up. By contrast, Zhu Wensheng paid even more attention, browsing the platforms when he had a spare moment and liking every video praising Tao Zhen.

Netizens’ eyes are like microscopes, especially CP fans. The veteran “professional shippers” in the True-Photographer CP supertopic sprang into action, sharp-eyed enough to pick Zhu Wensheng out from the video as he waited for Tao Zhen below the stage.

A stone dropped, a thousand ripples rose! Once people discovered Zhu Wensheng was on site too, the shrieking began. At first they had wondered why Tao Zhen chose the decades-old love song “I Only Care About You.” Now they finally understood. Chattering across group chats, supertopics, and video platforms, they pieced together Tao Zhen and Zhu Wensheng’s entire itinerary from the previous day, from the start of the show, to the exposed rigging, to the moment Tao Zhen excitedly stuffed the three thousand yuan into Zhu Wensheng’s arms… They squealed and shipped themselves silly while also flaming the contest organizers for bullying, and only after a long time did they calm down, then suddenly realized a new question.

[“LoseTenJinOrChangeMyName”:] Is my memory failing… can someone tell me, wasn’t our ZhenZhibang supposed to be pretty rich before? I vaguely remember someone digging up that every outfit he wore was authentic designer stuff, and even the car in his videos was a Maybach… What’s going on now? Why does he suddenly seem broke, even entering some shady street challenge with obvious rigging… He used to casually send fans red envelopes of eighty thousand!

[“AwakeRatTea”:] Damn! I noticed too and even posted about it! Not only did he do that street challenge, afterwards they went to a snack street for stall food, and I’m pretty sure they took the subway home… What’s happening, when did these two switch to “broke couple” mode?

[“PureheartedRoachSpicyHot”:] Shocking! The young master fallen from grace, is it human nature twisted or morals degenerated… Wait, did something happen to ZhenZhibang’s family?

Zhu Wensheng skimmed the posts, surprised by the girls’ keen observations. But he knew nothing had happened to Tao Zhen’s family, so he was about to exit, until, in the next second, he caught sight of his own name.

[…] Yeah, and the cameraman beside Xiao Zhen too! The first thing Xiao Zhen did with that 3,000 was shove it into his hands, and he just took it… What is this, “poverty makes a sad marriage”? The wife earning money for the husband to spend, how is that okay?

[Reply:] Obviously it’s not. Sorry-not-sorry, but even when I read novels I can’t stand a poor gong. A man who can’t make money has zero charm!! So low, okay!!!

[Another user:] Anyway… compared to that, don’t you think that crown prince who’s been sending gifts to Xiao Zhen lately is interesting? I’ve noticed, he always shows up promptly during Xiao Zhen’s streams and secretly sends gifts under a “mystery” identity. On one hand it props him up; on the other hand it spares Xiao Zhen embarrassment…

[Reply:] Girl, same braincell! And they say this crown prince is seriously handsome, neck and neck with the cameraman! But the prince is rich, so he wins in a PK, heh heh…

Zhu Wensheng: “…”

He hadn’t wanted to pay attention to these comments, but he couldn’t help it and refreshed again. He discovered that besides the “True-Photographer” ship with him, Tao Zhen now had a new CP with the crown prince, tagged #TooZhenToBeTrue.

Zhu Wensheng closed his eyes and still decided to look around.

Just like the old “True-Photographer vs. True-Doctor” war, the diehard True-Photographer fans of the “official pure love pairing” blasted these random crack ships. But the crack shippers didn’t back down. The two sides went at it fiercely, an even bigger scale than the last “True-Doctor” skirmish.

True-Photographer CP fans mocked the “TooZhenToBeTrue” fans as gold-diggers and vain, upset at others’ good fortune, willing to forsake everything for money, shipping two people who might not have even met, absurd.

The “TooZhenToBeTrue” fans mocked them right back for sour grapes, insisting their own CP was hard to ship, “rich white flower raising a poor boy, falling from grace for love” is a tired cliché, so that’s why you’re all stomping your feet here.

Round after round the quarrels went on. They didn’t quite descend into personal attacks, but the sniping was plenty passive-aggressive.
After mutual blocks and time-outs, both sides gradually cooled off. In the silence, a new round of competition began, an arms race of edits and hype to boost their own CPs.

As for the True-Photographer camp, no need to elaborate. With so much groundwork laid over time, they at least had some material, and there were real clips of the two in the same frame to cut together. For a while, the fandom buzzed, the fan editors showing off divine scissor skills.

The “Too-Zhen-to-be-True” side clearly didn’t have much material; the only thing they could really edit was a 150k-view screen recording from a stream. So they simply shifted their focus to fanart and fan comics, whether to disgust the rival CP’s fans on purpose, or because that’s just their taste. In that tag, the most common trope was always “stealing someone else’s lover.”

Different cooks, different flavors, so that one bite of “stolen spouse” came in all varieties, including (but not limited to) ancient emperor-minister forceful taking, modern ABO forced marking, and retro domineering-CEO keeping a little white flower…

The True-Photographer camp was furious, but they couldn’t think of a truly gross counter, so all they could do was write the “crown prince” in their own fics as a vicious antagonist.

Without noticing, Zhu Wensheng spent hours just looking at this stuff.

When Tao Zhen got back from the library it was already a little past eight in the evening. He’d rushed through two bites of a sandwich to save time, and now he was sleepy, tired, and hungry, only to look up and see their floor lightless. He couldn’t help wondering: did Zhu Wensheng have something today and not make it back yet?

He jingled out his keys and opened the door, only to find Zhu Wensheng sitting silently on the sofa, with dishes still warm set out before him. The pale glow of the screen blurred his cool profile, he seemed a little lost in thought.

Tao Zhen paused, unsure what had happened. He flipped on the light, walked over with a vague, uneasy feeling, set his backpack down slowly, and asked in a small voice, “What’s… wrong?”

Zhu Wensheng came back to himself, looked at Tao Zhen with a deep gaze, and after a few seconds said, “…It’s nothing. Let’s eat first.”

Sometimes Tao Zhen could be slow on the uptake, and other times he had a small-animal intuition. He could clearly feel that something in Zhu Wensheng’s state was off, not a bad mood exactly, more like… a hint of jealousy.

Tao Zhen opened his mouth. He’d spent the whole day fighting with reference books in the library and honestly couldn’t think how he’d supposedly “strayed,” so he swallowed his words, sat down, and picked up his chopsticks.

The food tasted even better than before, Zhu Wensheng must have learned a few more cooking tricks from Jiang Long. As Tao Zhen ate, his caution and doubts soon flew out of his head and he dug in happily.

After he was full, he lazed on the sofa like an old grandpa, lifting his long sleeves and stretching like a kitten with a little whine: “So stuffed…”

Zhu Wensheng was cleaning up. He glanced over and saw the blond boy curled into a small bundle on the couch. His waist was still slim and pale, but above his lower belly there was the slightest roundness. Remembering how earlier Tao Zhen had told him to feel “a piece of abs” after eating, Zhu Wensheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed. It didn’t seem like an ab to him… it seemed more like,

Two words flashed through his mind, dark thoughts sprouting, but he didn’t say them. He finished up, then came over to the sofa and slowly leaned down.

Full bellies make one drowsy; Tao Zhen’s eyes were half-closed, his head nodding. He’d left at seven in the morning and returned after eight at night, nearly ten hours studying outside, utterly exhausted. But when he saw Zhu Wensheng come over, he still forced his eyes open, slipped an arm around Zhu Wensheng’s nape, nuzzled in and smiled sweetly. “…Tell me why you’re not happy today, okay?”

Zhu Wensheng started; he hadn’t expected Tao Zhen to notice even such tiny shifts. He hesitated, then said, “I’m not mad, and I’m not unhappy. I just…”

Tao Zhen’s lashes lifted; he gave a husky little “mm,” quietly waiting for the rest.

But Zhu Wensheng fell silent. He stared at the boy for a few seconds, then simply lowered his head and scooped him up one-armed, cradling him like a baby.

His broad palm traced over Tao Zhen’s soft, pale stomach, leaving a shiver of tingling behind. Tao Zhen’s nape went numb; he reflexively curled up and tried to scoot back, but Zhu Wensheng blocked the way.

It felt so strange, as if he were entirely held and controlled in Zhu Wensheng’s arms… Tao Zhen’s thoughts drifted; his ears flushed red, and even his cheeks burned. His mind slipped to a few not-so-PG things.

A little shy, he still shut his eyes and mustered his courage, leaning in to kiss Zhu Wensheng and pick up where they hadn’t finished last time. But in the next second, the man who’d just pulled him close actually dodged his kiss. Under the white lights, his handsome profile was hazy and tempting; in his deep eyes, a tiny boy was reflected.

“Riddle me this,” Zhu Wensheng’s breath was light and hot against Tao Zhen’s neck. “If you had to choose one, do you like the poor boy, or the rich ‘crown prince’?”

Tao Zhen’s brain blue-screened.

After a while, he stammered, “I… h-how am I supposed to choose? They’re both you. Can’t I like both…”

“You can’t have both,” Zhu Wensheng pressed, as if needing an answer, his tone a touch dangerous. “Who do you really like?”

Tao Zhen couldn’t get words out; his face had gone red, the air turning suddenly hazy. Despite the interrogative tone, Zhu Wensheng’s touch was gentle; his big hand moved slowly down from the boy’s lower belly.

Tao Zhen knew what he was going to do. Remembering that scalp-tingling sensation from last time, he curled up like a little shrimp and begged at once, “N-no, don’t…”

Zhu Wensheng lifted his gaze unhurriedly and locked onto him. “Mm? Who are you telling ‘don’t’ to?”

Tao Zhen couldn’t out-argue him and gave up completely. He truly didn’t know where Zhu Wensheng had gotten all these ideas today, or what kind of “wrong medicine” he’d taken to get jealous of himself. All he could do was let his senses rise and fall under Zhu Wensheng’s hands and mouth, pleasure and sting cresting in waves. Right as he hovered on the edge, he even heard Zhu Wensheng murmur:

Who do you like more?

At the start, was it because I was poor that you agreed to be with me?

If one day the crown prince wanted to be with you, would you say yes?

***
Honestly, Tao Zhen couldn’t answer any of those right now. He fumbled to muddle through, and Zhu Wensheng didn’t keep pressing with his mouth, but his hand grew a little rougher, pausing over Tao Zhen’s thin lower belly, tracing the spot he’d struck before, and whispering, “Baby’s so wanton.”

“Likes both, one foot on two boats.”

Tao Zhen froze, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes; he squeezed them shut in shame, everything going blank. After a moment he steadied, looked up to accuse Zhu Wensheng, yet Zhu Wensheng’s expression hadn’t changed at all. He even had the leisure to lower his head to clean him up, then lick the last traces of him off his fingers.

Tao Zhen thought he was going to die of mortification.

Pouting, he tried to defend himself: “I… I’m not that wanton… You can’t call me wanton. You have to say I’m good. You’re the bad one!”

Zhu Wensheng’s breathing had gone ragged, and it wasn’t as easy for him as he looked. After a beat he hummed and drew a breath. “I’m the bad one.”

Once the first wave of shame subsided, Tao Zhen gradually calmed. He knew that this kind of thing was normal enough between couples, so he didn’t really get mad at Zhu Wensheng. Feeling “little Zhu Wensheng” also reacting, he couldn’t help blushing and whispered, “Alright, then you…”

He didn’t even need to finish; Zhu Wensheng clearly realized it himself. Before he could speak, Tao Zhen leaned in and clumsily tried to help.

It was like scratching an itch through a boot, doing nothing to douse the fire and only fanning it higher. The boy himself had no idea and even felt rather pleased with his “help.”

Zhu Wensheng held himself back, thinking helplessly that it was already past ten, and Tao Zhen had to get up at six to study at the library again…
“It’s fine,” he finally stopped Tao Zhen and rasped, “I’ll go to the bathroom first.”

With that, he got up and hurried away.

Tao Zhen stared after him, a little dazed, his clothes a bit rumpled.

…It was like this last time, too.

To this day they’d only actually “done it” once.

Could it be that Zhu Wensheng is… really “not up to it”?