Before returning to Lanzhou, Liang Chongwei took his father to the Overseas Chinese Hotel in Lucheng District for a meal.

Having come all the way to Wenzhou, even if they weren’t accustomed to it, they had to try the East Sea seafood. After trying a few bites, the two Lanzhou natives called the waiter to add a couple of beef and lamb dishes.

Shao Mingyin was also there. He wasn’t a fan of seafood either, but to avoid waste, he packed up the remaining fish, shrimp, and crab to use in noodles over the next couple of days. The three didn’t talk much during the meal, but before Liang Zhen settled the bill, Liang Chongwei mentioned something about going home for the New Year.

“Your grandfather wants to meet Shao Mingyin,” Liang Chongwei said calmly, “Come back early in February next year.”

Liang Zhen was delighted, “You said it! Don’t go back on your word!”

“I said it,” Liang Chongwei watched his son’s excited expression, a slight smile on his lips, “Come back and have New Year’s Eve dinner together.”

“But—” Liang Zhen, ready to agree, suddenly remembered something and changed his tone. “But we plan to go to Shijiazhuang in February.”

“We might not go to Shijiazhuang,” Shao Mingyin said, “Your family will certainly want to see you. You should go back once your vacation starts.”

“That won’t do,” Liang Zhen leaned in, whispering into Shao Mingyin’s ear regardless of his father’s presence, “You promised me, if the tour reaches Shijiazhuang, you’ll accompany me… no, I’ll accompany you back to your hometown.”

The waiter brought the bill at that moment. Liang Zhen, still excited, paid without even looking at it. Back home, Liang Zhen stared at the receipt, his carefree attitude from earlier gone.

“How much did we spend?” Shao Mingyin, who kept track of expenses, took the receipt from Liang Zhen. Seeing the price of the seafood made him gasp, thinking it was a good thing they packed it up.

“Oh no, just for a three-kilogram wild yellow croaker, I’ve eaten away fifty concert tickets, and I can’t even appreciate the taste of seafood.” Liang Zhen flopped onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. After starting to make money himself, he began to realize how tough life was. “Making me eat seafood is a waste of money and the fish.”

“Then write a song,” Shao Mingyin suggested jokingly, “No one’s done a rap about food. Be the first to ‘eat the crab.'”

“Not a bad idea,” Liang Zhen mused, but then shook his head, “I haven’t had time to write songs lately.”

Liang Zhen sat up, looking serious, “I need to discuss something with you. I’ve been offered a commercial performance.”

After his tour ended, a non-major brand’s event organizer messaged Liang Zhen, asking if he was interested in performing a few songs. Unlike his self-managed tours, commercial performances were straightforward—you show up, sing a few songs, and get paid. Liang Zhen was silent for a long time, unable to believe the four-figure fee they offered. The organizer even asked if it wasn’t enough and suggested they could negotiate further.

This opportunity was unexpected. Liang Zhen always thought his path was to write songs, release them, hold tours, and repeat. That’s the route most independent rappers without a label or agency took. He hadn’t realized his commercial value until now.

Of course, he had to discuss it with Shao Mingyin, who told him the decision was his. By then, Liang Zhen had saved up enough for tuition and had around seventy or eighty thousand left over, transforming from a financial burden into a family pillar. But who would turn down more money? Liang Zhen took the gig and then another when more invitations came. Initially, he thought, why not make more money? But doing so made him restless, leaving him no time to gather material for new songs. He didn’t want his current fame to be fleeting. He wanted to create new music for his next tour, not just recycle old songs.

So, starting in October, Liang Zhen declined all performance invitations and posted his last photo of the year on Weibo. In the photo, he had cut his dreadlocks and sported a buzz cut, standing in front of a wall marked with a centimeter scale. He didn’t bite his lips but slightly raised his chin, exuding a mix of confidence and defiance in his eyes. The number 191 behind him represented both his height and the start of his next tour.

With that, he temporarily bid farewell to his Weibo followers and immersed himself in new creations. He remembered Shao Mingyin’s promise—money was endless, but going to Shijiazhuang was the real goal.

Although Liang Zhen temporarily stopped posting on Weibo, he still browsed it. Actually, it was Shao Mingyin who often searched Liang Zhen’s name, looking for new fan-shot videos. They watched together, discussing how Liang Zhen could improve his stage presence and avoid singing mistakes. No matter how much Liang Zhen tried to tease him, Shao Mingyin insisted his interest was purely technical, not because he enjoyed watching his boyfriend perform.

But Liang Zhen did look great. Shao Mingyin, who had enjoyed his dreadlocks, was reluctant to see them go but ended up buying several hats for him after the haircut.

Thus, the lives of the rapper and the police officer returned to the routine of daily life, filled with simplicity, harmony, joy, and occasional silliness. For instance, one night before bed, Shao Mingyin found a video he had never seen before. He laughed through it while Liang Zhen came out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, and joined him under the covers, asking what was so funny.

Shao Mingyin handed him an earphone and asked if he knew he had ‘mom fans.’

Liang Zhen: ???

Although Liang Zhen’s fanbase wasn’t huge compared to public figures, he had a fan club and around twenty to thirty thousand followers on Weibo. He rarely interacted with his fans online, preferring to keep his independent musician persona. He told fans to focus on music and not idolize him.

But Liang Zhen’s looks couldn’t be ignored. With more performances, his female fans increased, including those who called him ‘husband’ online and at concerts. He felt awkward about this but couldn’t make a statement asking them to stop without seeming conceited.

He asked his fan club leader, Lily, what to do. Lily said that although the rap scene wasn’t mainstream, Liang Zhen’s fans were rational. If he posted a picture with Shao Mingyin, they might shift from ‘girlfriend fans’ to ‘shipper fans,’ pushing them to get married.

Liang Zhen liked this idea. He wanted to show off his relationship but never actually did, so he simply mentioned having a boyfriend when fans got too excited. Those who knew Shao Mingyin’s identity kept it a secret, respecting Liang Zhen’s decision to keep it private.

Despite having a fan club and super topics, Liang Zhen’s fans were considerate, never intruding on his private life. So it was normal for him not to know about his ‘mom fans.’

“Are mom fans… older women who could be my mother?” Liang Zhen was puzzled, “Am I that universally appealing?”

Shao Mingyin shook his head, urging Liang Zhen to watch. Liang Zhen watched the screen while Shao Mingyin observed his changing expressions. It wasn’t a commercial gig but a legitimate live house performance in Huzhou, where Liang Zhen had been a guest, singing mostly hooks. During a song, when his part ended, he stayed on stage, hyping up the crowd.

Though he was just a guest, Liang Zhen didn’t expect to find his fans among the audience. At the start of the video, a fan shouted—

“Zhen Er!!”

Liang Zhen blinked, his chin shrunk a bit, feeling somewhat startled by the volume of that shout. He couldn’t recall hearing someone call out like that during that performance.

But it wasn’t entirely Liang Zhen’s fault. The accompaniment at the live performance was particularly loud, and the fan recording the video was standing way back, so even the audience in the middle and toward the back might not have heard clearly.

Liang Zhen was always deeply engrossed in his performance, singing, dancing, occasionally even shaking hands with the front-row audience. Every time he squatted down, the voice of that mom-fan would resound again, fearing Liang Zhen would dive instead of shaking hands.

“Don’t jump! Zhen Er!!”

“Don’t jump!” the mom shouted, shaking her phone camera, “The front row is all girls!! Don’t dive! They can’t hold you! You’ll fall directly! Mom will be heartbroken if you fall!”

Luckily, Liang Zhen only shook hands and quickly stood up. The mom, whose heart had skipped a beat, let out a sigh of relief, but before she could catch her breath, Liang Zhen opened a bottle of mineral water.

“Don’t spill—” Before the mom could finish, Liang Zhen poured about half of the bottle onto himself. Such water splashing was common in the lively rap scene, but clearly, the mom didn’t think it was a good way to cool down.

“Zhen Er, why do you make mom worry so much! Ah-woo! The first wave of cold air arrived tonight! If you go out after the show and your clothes aren’t dry, you’ll catch a cold! Mom will be so worried!”

Perhaps the mom’s concern was too heartfelt. At that moment, Liang Zhen also felt the care, so he directed the remaining half of the bottle towards the audience instead of himself. When the water was all splashed out and the main stage rapper had finished, Liang Zhen introduced the next song, saying that the following song was his guest appearance, “Crossing Mountains and Rivers For You.”

Then Liang Zhen began to sing. During this song, the mom, who had been constantly reminding him to keep warm and safe, became unusually quiet, only occasionally exclaiming, “Ah-woo, Zhen Er has grown up, Zhen Er sings so beautifully.”

This special version of the song Liang Zhen had only sung once in front of his father, and for other performances, he used the online version. But after he finished singing the last chorus, the rapper standing next to him jokingly asked the audience, “Do you Sasha girls want to go back to Lanzhou with him?”

Of course, some people in the audience said they wanted to, more than one person, and when the mom heard it, her camera suddenly shook vigorously left and right, simulating shaking her head.

“No! Mom doesn’t agree!” Even though she knew no matter how loud she shouted, the people in the front wouldn’t hear her, the mom still didn’t give up. “Our Zhen Er already has someone, mom doesn’t agree for you to go back to Lanzhou with Zhen Er! Zhen Er, you’re not allowed to bring anyone back to Lanzhou except your partner Ah-woo…”

In the gradually calming “Ah-woo” sounds, the video was also coming to an end. Shao Mingyin asked Liang Zhen if he was touched, Liang Zhen shook his head and nodded again.

“This mom—” Liang Zhen quickly cleared his throat, “this fan’s emotions are really genuine. Is she also a fan of Lily’s CP?”

Shao Mingyin didn’t quite understand, so he shook his head and imitated the mom’s fan shouting Liang Zhen as “Zhen Er,” then it turned into “Zhen Erzi,” “son,” and then he touched Liang Zhen’s still somewhat spiky hair, asking him to call him “dad.” Liang Zhen happily complied, secretly resolving that next time they fooled around, he wouldn’t be satisfied with just hearing Shao Mingyin call him ge.

“Zhen Er, you good, obedient little kid.” Shao Mingyin was quite satisfied with Liang Zhen’s change in address, and he didn’t pester him again. After sleeping back in bed, he found that the area where Liang Zhen had just been twisted was red. It wasn’t because he had exerted too much force just now, but because Liang Zhen was really fair-skinned. Shao Mingyin helped him rub it, and Liang took the opportunity to snuggle into his arms.

“But I really want to show affection,” Liang Zhen buried his head in Shao Mingyin’s chest, “I really want to tell the whole world that my boyfriend is Shao Mingyin.”

Shao Mingyin touched the back of Liang Zhen’s neck. He didn’t really know how to respond, but as he touched, he suddenly thought of a corny love line.

“It’s okay,” Shao Mingyin said, “You’re my whole world.”

Just as Shao Mingyin finished speaking, he felt goosebumps on himself. He was about to shrug them off, when Liang Zhen hugged him. A twenty-year-old in love indeed, even the cheesiest lines were delightful to hear.

“You’re so good!” Liang Zhen lifted his head in Shao Mingyin’s arms, “I want to repay you, my good Shao Mingyin!” After saying that, Liang Zhen’s hand reached out to where it shouldn’t have gone. Shao Mingyin was about to say he had to work tomorrow, but Liang Zhen had already started deftly manipulating. He was so familiar with Shao Mingyin’s body, he knew how to make him comfortable better than the owner of the body. When the originally tense muscles gradually relaxed in the skilled hands and tightened again at the last moment, Shao Mingyin didn’t bother scolding Liang Zhen, letting his hormones get the better of him.

Days passed like this, one after another. Besides his studies, Liang Zhen had been continuously writing new songs, and at this pace, he could indeed start his tour by the end of January. As for Shao Mingyin, he remained the same, serving the people tirelessly at the grassroots police station, with only an occasional Sunday off. So when the rough time frame for the tour was set, and the cities were roughly chosen, Liang Zhen was still very uncertain about the specific dates because he didn’t know when Shao Mingyin would be available.

But every time he asked Shao Mingyin if he could take leave before the Lunar New Year, Shao Mingyin’s response would be vague. By that time, Liang Zhen had already joined the family group chat of the police station. He had bought a small phone with a new number, pretending to be Shao Mingyin’s music student girlfriend in Shijiazhuang, and had Zhao jie add him in. After some “whining” about wanting to spend Chinese New Year with his boyfriend in Shijiazhuang,Liang Zhen learned that although the end-of-year checks and wrap-up work in January and February were busy, it wasn’t impossible to take leave if one really wanted to. Every time, Zhao Jie manually mentioned Baogang for Liang Zhen. Baogang knew it was an alias, but he didn’t expose it, only saying that Shao Mingyin needed to submit an application before he could approve it. So, Liang Zhen kept asking Shao Mingyin what to do about the matter. Shao Mingyin also knew that procrastination wasn’t a solution, so he told Liang Zhen directly that he didn’t really want to go back.

“I don’t even have the keys,” Shao Mingyin told Liang Zhen truthfully. “Before I left, my dad got angry and threw away my photo album and the family portrait frame right in front of me. I don’t even know if the furnishings in that house have changed now.”

“Let’s go back to Lanzhou this year. Your family must miss you,” Shao Mingyin smiled. “Lanzhou feels more like home.”

“But you can’t not go back. It’s okay if you don’t go back to your hometown, but you should at least go back to sweep the tombs.”

“My dad was a military policeman. After he passed away, they were buried together in the Martyrs Cemetery,” Shao Mingyin said. “So… there’s no need to go.”

“It’s necessary,” Liang Zhen paused. “They must miss you.”

“But I…”

“Think about it again, okay?” Liang Zhen didn’t give up. “I want to schedule it for early February. If you’re willing, after the performance, we’ll stay in Shijiazhuang until the end of the Spring Festival.”

“Think about it!” Liang Zhen didn’t let Shao Mingyin speak, cuddling into his arms. After that, both of them fell silent. When Shao Mingyin turned off the lights, Liang Zhen spoke in the darkness, saying that he really wanted to go to Shijiazhuang.

“I also want to visit your parents,” he paused. “I want them to see me and to feel assured that you and I are doing well together.”

That night, Liang Zhen heard Shao Mingyin reluctantly say “okay,” but at least the trip to Shijiazhuang could be arranged. Shao Mingyin also submitted a leave application in advance to Baogang. Baogang was just about to find Shao Mingyin when he came to the office himself, so he asked him to go to the city bureau tomorrow.

“The situation is like this. Wenzhou X Academy has set up a club called… Student Police team. The city bureau wants this group of students to give a special presentation next week. The idea is to have a representative from the street police station go and give a small speech about grassroots work.”

Shao Mingyin had no experience in giving presentations to students and asked Baogang, “Me?”

“That’s right, you,” Baogang said proudly. “You’re the face of our Mushan Street Police Station, of course, it’s you.”

“Alright.” Shao Mingyin nodded and was about to leave when Baogang added, “Oh, right.”

“Oh, right. Look at my memory, I almost forgot to tell you,” Baogang slapped his forehead. “The student police team is jointly organized with the municipal bureau, so there’s a direct contact person in the municipal bureau, and it’s someone from the SWAT team. Guess who it is?”

Shao Mingyin shook his head. He didn’t know many people in the municipal bureau, and in the SWAT team, he only knew…

“It’s Ling Junqian,” Zhao Baogang revealed before Shao Mingyin could guess, “the one you partnered with on that major case.”