Chapter 31 – My Mom Would Definitely Like You

After Zhuang Lin left, Guan Lan found out that Chen Jin had been home last night.

He felt like he would never be able to face Chen Jin again and began seriously considering the possibility of silencing him.

Chen Jin: “I really didn’t hear anything, hahahahahahaha…”

Guan Lan, embarrassed and indignant: “If you know there was something, then you must have heard it!”

Chen Jin: “Weren’t you guys halfway through it in the living room before you went into the room? After you went into the bedroom, I really didn’t hear anything!”

Guan Lan was on the verge of a heart attack: “So you were home the entire time?”

Chen Jin: “I was at the building materials market all day yesterday, completely exhausted. I’ve been sleeping in my room the whole time. When I woke up and saw you two playing the piano and chatting so sweetly, I didn’t want to interrupt. Who knew you’d suddenly start hugging each other? It scared me too, you know.”

Guan Lan buried his face deeply in his arms, feeling like he never wanted to lift it again.

Chen Jin: “Oh my god, why are you so shy? Eating, drinking, and romance are natural human desires. It’s your own home, you can do whatever you want with whoever you want. What does it matter if I know? You’d probably call and tell me about it afterward anyway.”

Guan Lan: “Telling you is one thing, but having you see it is completely different!”

Chen Jin: “That’s true. Now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes, I think Zhuang Lin is totally acceptable. Daddy can finally rest easy and entrust you to him.”

Guan Lan looked up at him: “What do you mean by ‘totally acceptable’? What exactly did you see?”

Chen Jin: “Ew~ You’re such a pervert. What do you think I’m talking about? Size?”

…Who’s the real pervert here?!

Chen Jin: “Don’t get too hung up on size. It’s all about the right key for the right lock. Just because it’s 18 centimeters doesn’t mean it’s better than 16 centimeters. The most important thing is that it feels good for you.”

Guan Lan, in agony: “Please just shut up.”

Chen Jin: “So, does it feel good?”

Guan Lan: “I’ve only used this one key, I don’t know what ‘feels good’ means!”

Chen Jin: “Hahahaha, want to borrow mine and try it out?”

Guan Lan: “Get out of here!”

Banter like this is all about who has the thicker skin. Guan Lan was completely flustered at the moment; otherwise, he would’ve realized that if he just toughened up and retorted with something like, “Sure, let me try yours,” Chen Jin would’ve been left speechless.

Chen Jin: “Let’s get serious.”

Chen Jin: “What are you planning to do about this? I mean, I think it’s fine if you guys just have some casual fun now and then, but given your weird moral standards, you’re probably tearing your worldview apart right now, aren’t you?”

Guan Lan: “What else can I do… Dating won’t kill me. At worst, we’ll just break up.”

Chen Jin: “So you’re finally willing to give him a title?”

Guan Lan: “What do you mean ‘give him a title’—when I think about it now, I feel like him liking me might just be something I made up in my head. He’s never actually confirmed it. Maybe I’ve been deluding myself this whole time.”

Chen Jin knew he was starting to retreat into his shell again.

Chen Jin: “Touch your conscience before you speak, okay? I’m starting to think you’re a bit of a natural-born scum.”

Guan Lan: “Alright, I get it. I’ll take responsibility properly.”

Chen Jin remembered what Zhuang Lin had said that morning—”I don’t want him to be with me out of some strange sense of moral obligation. I don’t want him to feel even the slightest bit of resentment.”

From the looks of it, Guan Lan wasn’t unwilling, but there was still a bit of resentment.

Chen Jin thought that these artistic types, with their demands for pure love and spiritual-physical unity, were just insufferably pretentious.

Although comedians and rich second-generation heirs weren’t much better.

——————————————————————————————————

At this time, “A Night of Roses” was just being released. The song exploded in popularity as soon as it hit the market, and the music video of five youthful girls in candy-colored dresses singing and dancing was everywhere. Tianlong’s marketing and planning department came up with a “brilliant idea”—they wanted to gather five male artists from the company, dress them in three-piece suits, and shoot a male version of the “A Night of Roses” MV.

When the planning director proposed this idea during the marketing meeting, Guan Lan thought he needed to take his medication. When Yang Peiqing actually liked the idea and started seriously planning the casting, Guan Lan wanted to call Chen Jin and ask if he had forgotten to take his pills. Finally, when Yang Peining approved the plan, Guan Lan thought maybe he was the one who needed the medication.

Zhuang Lin, who was currently on a hot streak and about to release his debut album, was naturally one of the five.

Guan Lan: “He’ll never agree to this. When it comes to music, he has his own standards and style.”

Yang Peiqing’s assistant raised her phone: “Zhuang Lin has already agreed.”

Guan Lan: “…”

Yang Peiqing: “Why does Director Guan look down on his own song? Popular doesn’t mean vulgar. This song isn’t lowbrow. Besides, Zhuang Lin’s image isn’t some untouchable, aloof flower. And this dance is lively and youthful, not some seductive routine—the X-Dream members are still kids, we can’t have minors acting all flirty. That would be crossing the line—this won’t damage Zhuang Lin’s image, nor will it hurt the other artists.”

Guan Lan: “…Alright, I’ll go take my meds.”

Yang Peiqing didn’t get the joke: “Are you sick?”

Hmm, it seems humor isn’t something that can be transmitted through sexual activity.

Guan Lan went to check out the MV filming set, and one look was enough to make him want to gouge his eyes out.

Out of the five, only Yang Yuze was actually 18, so the awkwardness wasn’t as glaring. The others, with Zhuang Lin being the youngest, were all in their late twenties or thirties. Watching them wiggle their hips and act cute made Guan Lan feel like he needed to double his medication.

Guan Lan: “…Why did you agree to do this?”

Zhuang Lin: “The song is so cute. It must have been written by a very cute person.”

…Guan Lan felt like he couldn’t breathe and didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

Zhuang Lin: “I’ll come find you after this. You’ll be in the office this afternoon, right?”

Guan Lan: “Don’t look for me during work hours!”

Zhuang Lin looked at him in surprise: “Can’t I talk to you about the album? Or are you inviting me to come to your place after work to discuss it? I’m not opposed, but are you sure you can handle two days in a row?”

Guan Lan turned and walked out: “3 PM. If you’re late, I’m not waiting.”

After leaving, he touched his burning cheeks with the back of his hand and cursed himself: Damn it, I really might be a middle school girl.

Regardless, this was just a small episode. The real task at hand for Guan Lan was Zhuang Lin’s album.

As a top-tier, overseas-educated, singer-songwriter, it would be unacceptable if Zhuang Lin’s album didn’t include songs he wrote himself.

So, the top priority now was to polish a few good songs for him. That’s what they were supposed to be doing last night—or rather, that’s what they were supposed to be doing before certain unexpected events interrupted them.

Now, the two of them picked up where they left off, continuing the discussion that had been cut short.

Guan Lan: “I think we can do two versions of this song. Let’s write a Cantonese version. Can you sing in Cantonese?”

Zhuang Lin: “You can write Cantonese songs?”

Guan Lan: “I can’t. You’re the one who speaks Cantonese. You write it.”

Zhuang Lin: “I can’t write it either.”

He said it very matter-of-factly.

Zhuang Lin: “I grew up in Beijing until I was 10, then went abroad for college. I didn’t spend much time in Guangzhou, and everyone at school spoke Mandarin. I can speak and sing it, but compared to real locals, I’m way behind.”

Guan Lan: “You grew up in Beijing? I didn’t know that.”

Zhuang Lin, pitifully: “You don’t care about me at all.”

Guan Lan actually felt a little guilty.

Zhuang Lin pulled out his ID card: “Here, look. I’m a Beijing resident. It’s worth a lot these days. Marrying me would be a great deal.”

Guan Lan also pulled out his ID: “I’m a Beijing resident too.”

Zhuang Lin: “Now we’ve exchanged ID cards. That counts as a kind of relationship, right?”

Guan Lan: “That counts as a relationship?”

Zhuang Lin, confidently: “Public figures’ ID cards are very private. You can’t just show them to anyone. For example, now I know you haven’t lied about your age.”

Guan Lan: “…Why would I lie about my age?”

Zhuang Lin: “Mutual honesty about personal information is the foundation of a healthy relationship. The next step is to disclose our financial status and bank accounts. Want to take a look? I don’t have many accounts.”

Guan Lan: “…How did we get here? Who said anything about building a healthy relationship?”

Zhuang Lin: “So you want an unhealthy relationship? Should we start with some office play?”

…Guan Lan forcefully changed the subject: “Since you grew up in Beijing, why did you move to Guangzhou later?”

Zhuang Lin: “My parents divorced. I stayed with my mom. She’s really driven—she’s run restaurants, clothing stores, beauty salons, you name it—now she’s running an online store.”

Guan Lan, surprised: “I thought… I always assumed you came from a super wealthy family.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. Anyone who heard that someone graduated from a world-class arts school would immediately think, “His family must be loaded.”

Zhuang Lin: “My dad is super rich, but we don’t really talk anymore. My mom’s also pretty well-off. Don’t look down on running an online store.”

Guan Lan: “Your mom is really impressive. Most people wouldn’t have the guts to spend so much money sending their kids to study art.”

Zhuang Lin: “Yeah, my mom would definitely like you.”

What do you mean “yeah”? That’s not what I was talking about!

Zhuang Lin: “Your turn. Tell me about your family.”

Guan Lan: “…My mom would definitely like you too.”

Young, handsome, cheerful, and with a Beijing residency—Zhuang Lin was the living embodiment of his mom’s ideal daughter-in-law.

…Though probably not of this gender.