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Chapter Text

Xiao Zhan thought he looked okay— passable if he dared say, not bad as he had expected. Qing-jie said he was gorgeous, but Xiao Zhan elected to ignore her input because he was doing her a favor and for that, she was rightfully biased.

Xiao Zhan was not given the time to admire the whole outfit before he was ushered outside the makeshift dressing room, but he had noticed several lingering stares that settled on him. Someone even tripped when he accidentally made eye contact with them, though he quickly dismissed the idea that it must have been because of him. That sounded way too conceited. It was too much. Maybe they're sharing the same unfortunate fate. That was why they had trouble keeping their balance. Yes, that could be it. That should be it.

In the end, Xiao Zhan didn't find out the real reason since Qing-jie had urged him to move, all thoughts vanishing into thin air when the need to steady himself from the uncalled slight nudge overpowered everything. He gave Qing-jie a brief glare for her troubles, who at least had the decency to look apologetic, and then they're walking again to God knows where, mindful not to bump with anybody who had been shuffling around the place.

(The man, in fact, was not wearing killer pumps, but Xiao Zhan wanted to believe that he was, just so he could comfort himself with the knowledge that he was not the only one whose feet were about to fall off today.

Xiao Zhan should have dashed out of this place while he still had the chance. Now, it was too late for that.)

Despite Qing-jie's assurance that he was perfect for this, that he'd be able to fool anyone because 'You're stunning, Zhanzhan, I'm so envious of you', she clearly failed to take into consideration just how shitty her superior was— the same superior who had been screaming at them ever since he caught sight of them. Xiao Zhan could feel the weight of people's stare on them, and this time, he was certain that it had nothing to do with his… everything.

Xiao Zhan longingly stared at the chair that a staff had vacated. Would they notice him if he sneaked off to rest for a bit?

A long, disappointed, and frankly, exaggerated sigh pulled him out of his musings. Right, they were still in trouble. No resting.

"Am I asking for too much?" It was a rhetorical question. Xiao Zhan still wanted to reply, but Qing-jie had a firm hold on his wrist. Like a leash. It's understandable, Xiao Zhan was tempted to bite once the hold loosened. "Just a little bit of skin. A sliver! Other models are practically wearing a bikini! Being gorgeous was not enough!"

Oh, so the superior thought he looked gorgeous too. The urge to rip his itchy wig off and chuck it to the superior's screaming face subsided even for just a bit. Xiao Zhan, ever so generous, had decided to give him another five minutes to continue throwing his tantrum. After that, he was not so sure anymore. He hoped the extended time was enough to tire his vocal chords out.

Also, didn't Qing-jie say earlier that they're late? If getting screamed at was the only schedule, Xiao Zhan would have had taken his time with every step. That could perhaps save him from a couple of blisters he was sure he now had.

Xiao Zhan loved Qing-jie, but she owed him something big after this stunt. Maybe free Hotpot for a whole month.

"You. You're a model, aren't you? Isn't this unprofessional of you?" The superior continued, turning to finally acknowledge him. Xiao Zhan stepped forward, masking his grimace with a small smile when the ground beneath him felt uneven. He was thankful that Qing-jie had yet to release her hold on him, keeping him from falling over, but not thankful enough to heed her hissed request.

"Zhanzhan, let me handle this."

Xiao Zhan had been generous to her superior by mentally giving him ample time to blow his fuse, but hearing him say that he was unprofessional was the tipping point. It was not the first time that Xiao Zhan had heard of it, but it was never aimed at him. That was not how his clients or colleagues had described him with.

He was doing his best here. He had yet to collapse, couldn't anyone see it?

"Sir, with all due respect—"

"I'm sure we still have time to get you changed. You'll agree, right? I could even raise your pay today! You're very slim. What's there to hide? At least show us your belly button, or cleavage. Lose your jacket too, will you?"

Behind him, Qing-jie whispered, "He doesn't have the authority to raise the salary." As if Xiao Zhan would be swayed by the idea of a couple of bills.

Xiao Zhan took a deep breath to calm himself down. Inner peace. He needed it.

The rational part of his brain knew that Qing-jie's superior was right, that he was too covered up for a race model, that he was wearing way too many clothes but the problem was, he was not really one. He was a graphic designer who had probably designed a couple of logos for one of the racers here, but he was not a race model. No matter how frustrating it was to hear her superior say that he was the pickiest model they had ever worked with, Xiao Zhan couldn't just blurt the truth out because well, favors. He agreed to do this.

And by agreeing, he had accepted to be a newbie race model Zhan-er, temporarily setting graphic designer Xiao Zhan aside for the whole day.

This was not how he envisioned his free time on Sunday to go. Cracking a rotten egg first thing in the morning should have been enough of a warning for him that his day would not proceed well. Had he known this, Xiao Zhan would have left Qing-jie on read when she suddenly asked if she could drop by on his place.

(It's a lie. Xiao Zhan could never ignore anyone, even if they annoyed him. And he adored Qing-jie, so he was bound to answer her messages. Still, Xiao Zhan liked to think that he had an option. That maybe in an alternative universe, he was still enjoying his breakfast peacefully, rotten egg free, blisters free.)

(Xiao Zhan had always been like this— thinking and believing in some things that most probably weren’t necessarily true, but could help him feel at ease. One way to put it was that he liked to live in a lie, but Xiao Zhan would like to call it his self-care method. It worked most of the time.)

Xiao Zhan had no qualms about showing his body, but he couldn't just do what was demanded of him for valid reasons. He didn't have cleavage, obviously, and he couldn't show his belly button because he refused to shave any of his body hair on an extremely short notice. He had a long, detailed ritual before shaving, and he couldn't skip a step or two just because he was under time pressure.

When Qing-jie showed up at his place a little after he was done bathing, despite him agreeing to the visit, he was not expecting it to be a desperate plea for help. She was on the verge of crying, alternating between cursing her superior for passing the responsibility onto her and pleading him to substitute for that person who took the advance payment and disappeared into thin air. Xiao Zhan had to calm her down first, and only when she had stopped speaking a hundred words per minute had it finally registered to him.

Understandably, his first answer was a firm no. Predictably, his second answer was a hesitant yes. How could he even reason after Qing-jie had said that their friends were either out of town for work, or simply not in the area? How could he even reject her if Qing-jie had already said that he was the only one who could help her? Qing-jie who had always been reliable, and had never asked for favors until today?

"You said she's gorgeous. Isn't it enough? She's prettier than most of the girls here." Qing-jie tried once more, tugging him back down. Xiao Zhan had to give it to her— it was what she had been saying every time she was allowed to talk, sounding nowhere near as frustrated as he knew she really was.

But her superior was one stubborn asshole. If Qing-jie would allow him, Xiao Zhan would remind him that it was his model who ran away from them on the day of the race, and it was Qing-jie who had to find a replacement in her stead. It was also him who agreed when Qing-jie informed him that Zhan-er was on the conservative side, so necessary changes in the original outfit should be made.

Xiao Zhan was reminded of why he chose to open his own design studio only after working under a company for a year. He hated the ranks, hated the way some people had been taking advantage of their positions, hated people exactly like Qing-jie's superior.

"It's not enough!" Her superior bellowed, drawing more attention to them. A few even stop by to openly stare because whatever they ought to do was probably less interesting than the scene they were causing.

His need to playfully chuck his wig off was quickly becoming a not so playful thought. Xiao Zhan's feet were killing him, he had been standing for so long, he was not allowed to sit down and they were getting yelled at in front of everyone. Xiao Zhan was normally a calm guy, the mature one out of their small circle, but a guy had his limits too.

Xiao Zhan looked down to inspect his outfit instead, leaving the matters on Qing-jie's hands as he muted the ongoing verbal punches. If he listened more, he'd surely snap and they were all going to regret it.

It felt like a mistake to stand his ground about not shaving, because Qing-jie had thrust a pair of thigh-high 4-inch boots at him, which did its job in effectively hiding his leg hair. When Xiao Zhan asked for some flats since he was already so tall, or anything whose heel didn't look like it could be used as a weapon to stab someone to death, Qing-jie only shook her head, but not without saying that there were some low heeled ankle boots.

Xiao Zhan had gritted his teeth as he zipped up the boots. It was with a heavy implication when she said those words, but Xiao Zhan refused to admit anything. Rituals were rituals; every step on his list was added because it was absolutely necessary.

Right now though— as he towered over everyone else, as he stumbled like he was only given his feet last night and he'd just been learning how to walk— in the grand scheme of things, was his ritual worth all of this?

Xiao Zhan released a sigh. He forced himself to move on before he could be tempted to fetch a razor so he could shave his leg hair in the nearest available space in record time.

Today was a day of many firsts, because Xiao Zhan had never worn so much leather in his life. Aside from his boots, his short, fitted dress—god, it already felt weird saying that— and crop jacket had been leather too. The dress stopped short a few inches under his ass—weirdly enough, it didn't feel uncomfortable— and the only skin that was showing was the gap between the boots and his dress, which was just the size of his palm. (Yes, Xiao Zhan had personally measured it.)

The leather dress was cute, and the fit on him was just right. If Xiao Zhan didn't know better, then he'd suspect that it was made with his measurements. The upper part of the dress, just above the chest area, was sheer, and its collar, which could pass as a proper choker, was sat snugly on his collarbones. The dress highlighted the curves he was vaguely aware that he had but never thought much about it until today, and, if he were to quote Qing-jie, his ass looked 'phat', whatever the word meant.

Xiao Zhan had an idea of what it meant. He was just not ready to dwell on it.

Overall, the dress could have worked fine on its own, but since it was fitted, the fact that his chest was abnormally flat wouldn't go unnoticed. Qing-jie had only taken one look at him before she disappeared for a bit and came back with the jacket. Xiao Zhan didn't even want to question why someone who was supposedly in charge of administrative works knew where all the good stuff was.

Xiao Zhan wasn't certain how long he zoned out for. One moment, he was still weighing if it was better if he had worn that high waist skinny jeans outfit instead, and then the pressure on his wrist was lifted, the noises rushing back in, his awareness of his surroundings kicking in.

A dramatic gasp from Qing-jie. Xiao Zhan couldn't suppress his sigh even if he tried. He hoped that Qing-jie had not gotten herself fired while he was floating somewhere else.

"I asked." Xiao Zhan almost gave himself a whiplash when he craned to follow the source of the foreign voice. His eyes landed on a racer, face as expressionless as his tone, standing a few feet behind them. Their eyes met for a second, or maybe Xiao Zhan had just hallucinated that. "What's wrong?"

This racer clearly had some authority or power over Qing-jie's superior because when the vile man had given them a brief glare for God knows what, the racer only needed to tsk disapprovingly to reduce him into a stuttering mess.

Xiao Zhan hated power dynamics but he could make an exception this time.

"Ah, Wang-laoshi, it was not worthy of your concern." Qing-jie's superior winced, probably realizing that it was not the correct thing to say, so he hurried to continue, "Just some minor disagreements between us and the model here. Why don't you go back to our tent and prepare for your race?"

Wang-laoshi, as it turned out, was one of the racers under Qing-jie's management. He remembered Qing-jie saying that he was assigned to be with Tracer85 which she had admitted to being a fan of. However, he never recalled her saying the racer's full name. Xiao Zhan wished it wasn't this Wang-laoshi.

"Wang-laoshi? Do you need anything more?"

Sick of looking at the man's entirely too fake, accommodating, mawkish smile, Xiao Zhan decided to look at Wang-laoshi for the rest of the conversation. He was… nice to look at. Fortunately for Xiao Zhan and his neck, Wang-laoshi had closed the short distance between them so he was now standing only a couple of steps ahead of them, his body slightly angled to face the superior.

He had a nice side profile, his brain supplied unhelpfully.

Xiao Zhan clearly needed to rein his thoughts in. What the hell?

"I could hear you through my earphones. That's how loud you are. It's distracting." There was, in fact, the right speaker jammed in his ear, while the left one was dangled on his shoulder. He had broad shoulders. Very broad. Which was, again, not the point. Earphones in 2020? Respect. "If this was nothing, why do you need to shout at them?"

Oh, he was reprimanding the superior. That was so sexy of him. Again, not the point. Xiao Zhan felt the tension leave his shoulders, almost sagging against Qing-jie in relief. He chanced a glance to check the superior's expression, suppressing a cheer when he looked promptly chastised.

"What was the problem here?" Wang-laoshi repeated, in that same neutral tone of his but this time, Xiao Zhan could sense the underlying warning. He turned to look at him again, noting the slight furrow in his brows, the purse of his lips.

Yup, definitely a warning.

Forget his words earlier. Tracer85 better be Wang-laoshi.

Qing-jie's superior muttered something under his breath. Wang-laoshi just looked undeterred—truly an icon. Eventually, the superior caved in, indignance bleeding through his words. "This contracted model here refused to wear the right clothes. She's being unprofessional. I am just trying to convince her."

Look at this fucker, Xiao Zhan thought, bristling visibly. Was he really going to get called unprofessional twice today? Was that one time not enough?

Xiao Zhan was so caught up with his extensive list of curses, both in Chinese and Korean, that he failed to notice Wang-laoshi regarding him briefly.

"We got approval from you." Qing-jie said, for the nth time today. This time, when she continued, she directed it to Wang-laoshi, ignoring the way her superior's eyes had squinted in warning. Wise choice. "We already told him beforehand that the only model available was Xiao Z—" Xiao Zhan discreetly elbowed her, "Zhan-er. Zhan-er was not our usual model, she's on the conservative side. We had to change her wardrobe and he agreed."

"He agreed." Wang-laoshi echoed. Xiao Zhan had to commend him for still delivering with the shortest sentence possible. There was a plethora of underlying meaning that came with those two words. He hoped that the superior was smart enough to catch at least a quarter of it.

Qing-jie nodded vigorously. "Yes. He said it was fine. But then, he changed his mind when he saw Zhan-er. He said she was not sexy enough."

"She wasn't!" The man interjected, voice entirely too loud. Wang-laoshi had this pinched expression on his face, which couldn't mean anything good. "I mean, look at her. Who even wears that much? She's basically covered up! I have never seen any model like her. Sure, she's gorgeous but she needs to be sexy too. Am I not right?"

Xiao Zhan was not prepared for those intense eyes to suddenly focus on him. They were… a lot to take in. The man had seriously managed to continue his bullshit with these eyes trained on him? He really had some nerve.

"Gorgeous." Wang-laoshi said, without any preamble. Xiao Zhan, honest to God, felt himself flush from the top of his wig to his broken tiptoes. This man was too much, he had decided. Xiao Zhan couldn't handle him. Abort the second wish, let Tracer85 be someone else.

Wang-laoshi eventually broke eye contact, only for him to rake his eyes over his figure. When his assessment was done— Xiao Zhan was positive that he died and resurrected in the middle of that very thorough once over, he faced Qing-jie's superior, allowing him a window to gather his senses back because that was an experience.

Again, what was happening? Xiao Zhan would make sure to Baidu the hell out of this Wang-laoshi. He was a force to be reckoned with. Xiao Zhan was certain that there was an article published somewhere, detailing what you're supposed to do and expect when meeting him. There had to be some pointers for everyone.

"Gorgeous and sexy. I can't see any problems here."

Xiao Zhan sucked in a sharp breath. Did he really just—

"Wang-laoshi,"

"The race will start soon. We have wasted enough time on this." Wang-laoshi said firmly, not allowing any room for arguments. He paused, and when he continued, it was for Xiao Zhan, his words lilted strangely, losing its previous hostility. "You can come with me."

Then, without waiting for a response, he proceeded to walk away, leaving Xiao Zhan to stare dumbly at his retreating back and, pink ears? Pink ears. Pink? Had it always been pink? Why did things stop from making any sense here?

Qing-jie's superior—honestly, fuck him— blocked Xiao Zhan's view to glare menacingly at them, a vein on his temple threatening to pop off. Typical. He would now exact his revenge at them for the humiliation that he faced, now that their savior was gone. He had watched way too many dramas. This was a predictable move.

"Wang-laoshi was waiting for you." A burly man suddenly appeared beside them, just before Xiao Zhan could test just how deadly his heels were. If it was an effective weapon.

The tension dropped immediately. Qing-jie took this opportunity to sidestep and help him get moving, and as if he could hear his thoughts, glared at him too. True enough, now free from the huge barrier— not that Xiao Zhan couldn't easily look over the man's balding head, after all, his boots had given him an unnecessary boost— they could confirm that Wang-laoshi had stopped too to wait for them, his ears still notably pink.

This day was already a mess, and his job hadn't even started yet. Xiao Zhan would demand to be compensated for a month of hotpot and coffee after this. He believed that he deserved it.

*

Wang-laoshi was Tracer85. He didn't need to Baidu this one, Qing-jie had cheerfully supplied it to him on their way to Wang-laoshi's tent, which was apparently, also their intended destination.

When they arrived, the staff had only raised an eyebrow at him, but fortunately didn't say anything as they herded Wang-laoshi to the side, probably to discuss some racing stuff. Unfortunately, Qing-jie couldn’t stick around for long because she needed to process some documents, and Xiao Zhan didn't absolutely beg her to stay because he was a grown man who could handle things just fine on his own.

(She had, however, promised to be back before the actual race begins, after Xiao Zhan had stared imploringly at her. It was not begging, he didn't say please or anything, and he would never admit that he was seconds away from doing just that.)

Unsure on whether he was allowed to sit on the unoccupied bench at the far end of the tent, Xiao Zhan had just resigned himself to leaning his weight on the corner, the tentpole digging into his back uncomfortably. He was well aware that he looked like he was something— his head slightly thrown back and the front part of his right boot was lifted off the ground so he was only balanced by its heel and his left foot.

He looked like he was posing in front of everyone, though in reality, he simply wanted to relieve some pressure on his probably pulverized toes. Also, in this position, Xiao Zhan was saved from accidentally making eye contact with anyone.

He could sense some lingering presence and eyes settling on him, presumably wondering what he was doing in a place clearly restricted for authorized personnel. If Xiao Zhan could make himself smaller then he would have already done that but he simply couldn’t. He was a 1.83m male in a leather dress with 4-inch heels to boot; he was bound to get noticed either way.

Wang-laoshi brought him here and they just had to accept that.

“Hey.”

Xiao Zhan inhaled sharply, startled at the unexpected voice. When he shifted his focus away from the huge Monster logo on the ceiling of the tent, he found Wang-laoshi standing right before him, his face unreadable though his ears were still pink. Xiao Zhan wanted to call him Pink Ear-laoshi, but he immediately thought against it. What if it was a deformity and Xiao Zhan was unconsciously making fun of it by giving him a nickname?

Nevermind the fact that he found it quite endearing.

“What are you doing?”

Xiao Zhan blinked. Oh. Oh. He stood up properly, wincing when the pressure on his right toes was back. Wang-laoshi had said nothing, though he looked mildly concerned as he waited for him to find his footing. Or at least that was what he could read with the way he was frowning now. Maybe he was just annoyed at him.

“Sorry, my feet hurt.”

Wang-laoshi’s eyebrow twitched. He was probably not expecting that. “I see.”

“Yeah.”

Silence ensued. Xiao Zhan noticed a staff as he hovered behind Wang-laoshi, but the intervention that he desperately needed fell through when he only shook his head before exiting the tent.

“Do you want to sit?”

“Oh god, yes.” Xiao Zhan didn't moan his agreement at the offer. Nope. He absolutely did not do anything of that sort. Embarrassed at how his words had left his lips, Xiao Zhan cleared his throat and added, in a much softer and calmer voice, “Please. I’ve been wanting to sit since earlier.”

Wang-laoshi nodded. He didn't ask for him to elaborate, just offered his arm to him, which Xiao Zhan gratefully clung onto as they began to walk the short distance to the bench, his reservations about casual touches thrown out of the window, because finally. Finally.

Wang-laoshi's arm was firm. He could feel it through his racing suit. Up close, Xiao Zhan had a clear view of his pink ear, and a scar on his lobule. It must have had hurt a lot, Xiao Zhan thought. The skin where a piercing should be in was broken. He suppressed a shiver after he imagined the blood. He was also guessing that a lot of blood was involved.

They arrived too soon— not that Xiao Zhan wanted to prolong the walking part. Xiao Zhan was honestly expecting Wang-laoshi to sit somewhere else, so he was pleasantly surprised when the racer sat back down beside him after making sure that he was seated properly. Xiao Zhan had smiled at him, not trusting himself to talk lest he embarrass himself once more, but Wang-laoshi had just ducked his head down, putting his earphones back on as if he had seen nothing.

Xiao Zhan shrugged. He was not expecting anything anyway. He had already done so much for him. If he wanted to see him smile back, he could always just Baidu it later.

Now sitting like what he’d been dreaming of all those times that he had stared longingly at any sitting space, Xiao Zhan had forgotten just how short his dress was, that with every tiny move, he was certain that he would flash his underpants for anyone to see. He tried to pull the dress down, cover as much skin as possible, but it was a futile attempt. The dress was simply too short. It rode up a few inches, and it put more pale skin on display.

(Qing-jie's superior would foam in the mouth if he'd see him like this, like what he had been demanding.)

It made him feel uncomfortable. Xiao Zhan could just remove his jacket and cover his legs but he didn't want to risk exposing his boobs, or the lack thereof. The only solution that he could think of was to cross his legs, though, in order to do so, he needed to be quick.

Xiao Zhan waited for the most opportune moment. Like a ninja. Or a spy on a mission. He waited until he was certain that everyone was busy doing something, that no one was looking at him, and then he immediately lifted his right leg and crossed it over the other. Xiao Zhan surveyed the area after he was done. The coast was still clear, not a soul was interested in his quest. It was deemed a success, and he was now able to breathe properly, sitting in a mix of legs crossed and princess sit to accommodate his long legs.

Suddenly, a pained sound reached his ears. Alerted, Xiao Zhan turned to find its source, his eyes landing on Wang-laoshi’s rigid posture. He thought he saw his eyes flicker down to look at his slanted legs, but it had happened in a blink of an eye that he had no way of ever confirming this.

“Are you okay?” Xiao Zhan asked politely, staring at the redness that had now reached the racer’s neck. Was he perhaps allergic? Was that why he was pink in some areas? Was it still safe for him to race later? “Are you hurt somewhere else too?”

“No.” The racer replied, voice rougher than what he remembered it being earlier, though he didn’t manage to continue what he wanted to say because another staff member had approached him. Xiao Zhan caught onto the pointed look from the staff so he obediently faced the other way, letting his mind drift about safer territory, his beloved daughter—Jianguo, instead.

(“Did they know each other? Did he bring his girlfriend for the first time?” A mechanic whispered to another idle staff.

Tracer85 was in his usual element, lost in the music on his earphones. Only this time, his manspreading had reduced its width as a courtesy to the tanned beauty with mile-long legs who was sitting beside him. They made quite a sight. The mechanic had been watching them since they entered the tent earlier—just when they were about to send someone to look for the racer because he’d been gone for so long, and how he assisted her to sit even though the bench wasn’t that far off.

“If that was his secret girlfriend, then good thing he was already done with the interviews, or else the media would have a field day if they spotted her.”

“No, not his girlfriend.” His friend confidently answered, seemingly pleased with the fact. “She’s just a race model. I passed by them earlier when Chen-ge was scolding them. I didn’t know why she came back with Yibo, though.”

“She was a race model? I thought he hated them!” His friend had shushed him when his volume rose, earning them a disapproving glance from others. The mechanic waved his hand in apology, and relocated themselves so they were now outside, though they were still able to see the pair from where they were standing. “He didn’t even want to look at them. Why would he suddenly let her sit beside him?”

His friend clearly had other priorities.

"I'm taller than Yibo though, and the model was really tall. Don't you think we'd look better together?" The mechanic chose not to reply to that one. He didn't know if his friend could handle the bitter truth. "Do you think Yinzheng-ge will say anything if we’ll ask him?”

The mechanic shook his head, glad that their conversation veered to a more acceptable path. “No, man, they’re protective of each other. If Yibo hadn’t said anything about it, then I doubt that he would freely give that information.”

They both watched in rapt silence as Yibo asked for another water bottle after giving the one that was handed to him to his alleged girlfriend. The beauty had initially refused it, but sensing that Yibo couldn’t be convinced otherwise, she eventually accepted it with a small nod and a shy smile.

“Yibo was blushing.” The mechanic said, awed at what he had just witnessed. He turned to look at his friend, laughing as he did so. “Dude, he blushed! Did you see that? Man, I never thought we'd see the kid love someone that wasn't his motorcycles and skateboards.”

However, his friend didn't even share his enthusiasm, for he only looked disappointed as he said, “Guess I couldn’t ask for her number later.”)

*

True to her words, Qing-jie came back just before the qualifying rounds started. He was not needed until the final race where he was told to just smile and hold the umbrella over them— pretty simple, but the media had to come back and cover Tracer85, and he probably needed to do some pre-race thing. At this time, Xiao Zhan’s feet had been hurting less, though he didn’t refuse the offered chair when they were gently thrown out of the tent.

Qing-jie said that they could return on quarters intended for models to stay in. It was located 10 tents down after rounding up the corner, and Xiao Zhan refused to torture himself like that when he was perfectly fine hiding behind the tent. He wanted to watch Tracer85 race, but that would also mean that he needed to still walk to the stands.

Thinking that he couldn’t do anything without aggravating his tortured feet, Xiao Zhan was prepared to just scroll through his Weibo until he was required to go. Had Xiao Zhan known that he only needed to appear in the final race which wouldn’t happen until much later, then he at least would have had thought of bringing his laptop with him so he could be a little productive while waiting.

There were no huge industrial fans in their hiding place, and Xiao Zhan, in all his leather ensemble, was already feeling hot. The handheld fan that Qing-jie had given him could only do so little. Since everyone seemed to be so busy now that the event was officially starting, surely, no one would come and check on them right? Surely, if Xiao Zhan was to remove his wig, air his scalp and let it breathe, it would be okay, right?

Qing-jie had just slapped his hand away when it started to tug on the bobby pins lodged on his wig. Xiao Zhan almost dropped his fan, not expecting her to notice since she seemed so preoccupied with her phone. When he turned to look, Qing-jie still had her eyes trained on her phone. He had to give it to her. Her peripheral vision was amazing.

Xiao Zhan, however, would not be deterred by this. He was a man on a mission, and after knowing how success tasted like after he had completed his leg-crossing mission earlier, he was thirsty for more. So, as stealthily as possible, Xiao Zhan’s fingers began their journey upward.

“Zhanzhan, behave.”

Xiao Zhan’s hand froze midway, and now he looked like he was having a neck cramp. He huffed. Qing-jie was still watching something on her phone. “I wasn’t doing anything.” He said, you know, like a liar.

When Qing-jie didn’t say anything again, Xiao Zhan deemed it safe enough to continue. He had finally managed to touch the first bobby pin when another slap came.

Qing-jie’s eyes, of course, had never once left her phone screen. “Zhanzhan, don’t touch your wig.”

“But no one is around, right? It’s okay.” Xiao Zhan gave up on being sneaky. He just tugged on a bobby pin, and didn’t stop until Qing-jie had no other choice but to put her phone down and physically stop him. Xiao Zhan was fast though, so by the time Qing-jie had both of his wrists hostage, he had already managed to free at most 15 pins. A bit of a breeze was starting to seep through the back part of his wig and he giggled, much to Qing-jie’s chagrin whose scowl had gotten deeper.

“Zhanzhan! What are you doing!” Qing-jie whined, staring unhappily at the current state of the wig. “You almost pulled the whole thing off!”

“Sorry.” Xiao Zhan replied, not feeling sorry at all. Qing-jie's phone, which had been carefully placed on the ground since the only furniture in the vicinity was the chair that Xiao Zhan had been sitting on, had erupted in cheers.

So that was what she was doing— watching a live stream.

“You really have to cause mischief just when Wang-laoshi’s race is about to begin?"

Oh, Xiao Zhan had forgotten that Qing-jie was a fan. Of course, with an event as big as this, there had to be some live stream too. Capitalism.

"You can remove your hold on me now. Promise, I won't touch the wig again if you'll allow me to be like this for a while." The distrust in Qing-jie's eyes was understandable, so Xiao Zhan continued to negotiate. "You know the schedule, right? You know when I am needed to go so you could just fix it before that. Promise, I really won't do more damage."

Xiao Zhan had tried to look as earnest as possible, which was not too hard considering that he really meant it. He was not that bad, you know, he knew how much work it would take to fix a whole wig, so he was already content to feel some breeze on his nape.

Also, he really just wanted to watch the live stream too.

Qing-jie had squinted her eyes at him. Xiao Zhan smiled widely at her. Another round of cheers from her phone finally forced her to let go, but not without wagging a warning finger near his face.

When Qing-jie had picked up her phone again, Xiao Zhan pretended to be chill about it as he tried to catch a look at her screen.

"Wang-laoshi is going to race now?"

Qing-jie gave him a sidelong glance, as if she was assessing whether Xiao Zhan was just looking for an entry to cause a ruckus again. Seriously? He did one thing and all trust had been lost?

Valid.

Xiao Zhan suppressed the need to snicker. Right. He should have had expected that. Still, he was curious about the race even though he was sure that he couldn't understand anything about it.

Qing-jie, bless her kind, forgiving heart, had scooted forward and shared her screen with him. "Yes. Look, this is him. They're waiting for the go signal."

Xiao Zhan had moved her hand a bit lower so the phone wasn't really at his face. After he had adjusted to it, Xiao Zhan could finally see Wang-laoshi in his full racing suit, helmet pulled over his head, hunched over his sleek bike. Now that Xiao Zhan had found him, he couldn't seem to move his eyes elsewhere to check the other racers.

Then, the race started. Wang-laoshi had started smoothly, and according to Qing-jie who had been gracious in sharing some information, back when Wang-laoshi had his first official race, he was so nervous that the front of his bike had lifted in the air. It looked cool at that time, but Wang-laoshi had explained later in an interview that no, he wasn't trying to look badass. That was him losing his control.

Xiao Zhan chuckled at that. He couldn't say that he knew what the racer was like because they only shared a couple of words and he had just met him for the first time today, but that answer sure sounded like something he'd say. No nonsense and straight to the point. Xiao Zhan could almost imagine his expression when he said that.

He made a mental note to search for that interview in Bilibili, just so he could confirm if he was right.

(He was right.

"You looked so cool when your front wheel had lifted at the start of the race. It's definitely eye-catching and now a lot of fans had been talking about it."

A stretch of silence. Wang-laoshi just looked at the reporter, waiting for her to continue. She didn't, because that was the end of it. Someone probably signaled something to Wang-laoshi offscreen, finally answering as if he didn't just stare at the poor reporter for no more than 15 seconds.

"It wasn't cool. I was nervous." Yibo’s eyes darted somewhere behind the screen again. Someone probably asked him to elaborate because he had continued, looking only slightly resigned. Weary too. "I let go of the clutch too fast so the head bounced. It lowered my speed. Fortunately, I was able to stabilize it after the fourth lap. That never happened before. They were all baffled.”)

(It was a bad interview, Xiao Zhan concluded. Yibo was economical with his words, and the interviewer wasn’t really helping him. Still, it made him curious about what he had seen behind the screen that prompted him to speak an entire paragraph. He was hoping he wasn't threatened, as what most rookies were subjected to.)

(It was definitely the interviewer’s fault. Xiao Zhan had watched several more—fine, all of it, Bilibili had just decided to recommend more interviews to him— and Yibo had no trouble speaking his mind, to the point that he sometimes came off as rude for being too frank.

If Xiao Zhan fell asleep halfway through the nth interview, Yibo’s baritone voice a pleasant hum to his ears, then it was between him, Jianguo, and his Bilibili history.)

Xiao Zhan let Qing-jie's commentary wash over him, grateful for it. He still didn't understand the technical aspects of it, but from what he could gather, Wang-laoshi had been steady and performing well. Xiao Zhan without fail, would always feel his breath hitch for every curve that they needed to pass, which was, quite a lot. Qing-jie would say something about the angle or the timing of every turn, but Xiao Zhan had only focused on the fact that they had managed to pass it successfully.

The racers needed to finish all 10 laps, and it didn't even take that long with how fast they all were. It had been over too soon, Wang-laoshi— Wang Yibo was what Xiao Zhan had read when his name flashed through the screen, had finished 1st on his bracket, and 2nd overall. Qing-jie cheered loudly as Xiao Zhan laughed at his silly friend, and if he released a relieved exhale, Qing-jie was thankfully too distracted to point it out.

Xiao Zhan had never watched a motorcycle race before or any kind of race for that matter. He also had never felt the urge to stay on the channel whenever he had free time to just lounge on his sofa and in front of the television, choosing to settle on Home Channel instead or some dramas which seemed interesting enough despite him not knowing the full context of the scenes. He had never been particularly an adrenaline junkie— his interests would tell you that, but right now, as the atmosphere became charged, deafening cheers fueled by the sound of the racers' roaring engines, Xiao Zhan felt a bit more alive.

He’d seriously consider watching another race if the opportunity arose. Preferably when he wasn’t wearing a dress too.

After Yibo’s race— yes, Xiao Zhan was going to call him by his name, it seemed easier that way and no, of course he wouldn’t allow himself to slip it out later— another set of racers were set to go. Qing-jie had mentioned that the racers would use the gap to coordinate with their coaches about their observations during the qualifying round and be advised on what would work best for them in the final race, so they had been pretty relaxed from where they were hidden. No one would come looking for them until 30 minutes later, and Qing-jie, despite all the fuss she’d created over his half-off wig, was confident that she could fix it in 15.

Xiao Zhan and Qing-jie were not careless. Yibo was just not supposed to look for them. Of all people, they didn't expect him to roam around.

“Wang-laoshi!” Qing-jie had spotted him first, which was a mistake because there was a possibility that Yibo wasn’t even looking for them and had just happened to pass by on the back area of the tent.

Yibo had his helmet removed just like how he was when they’d met earlier, only this time, his face was red from exertion, his hair mussed up. Xiao Zhan thought he looked hot, and he wasn’t just talking about hot hot that probably caused him to sweat.

Yibo had acknowledged Qing-jie with a brief nod, and then his eyes had landed on him. He looked like he was assessing him— scrutinizing, calculating— his head tilted a bit to the side, and it was much more intense when he had done it before, when he told Qing-jie’s superior that he was gorgeous and s—. Nope. That was a fluke. It probably didn’t even happen.

(It did. Qing-jie would make sure that he would never forget about it.)

A sudden breeze made Xiao Zhan unintentionally shiver. Yibo’s eyes had widened for a fraction, but Xiao Zhan had missed it because he was overcome with a sudden realization.

“Wang-laoshi! Da-laoshi is looking for you!”

“I’ll be there.” Yibo replied, raising his voice so the staff could hear him, but still unwilling to break eye contact. It was Xiao Zhan who chickened out first as he discreetly moved to the side, hiding behind Qing-jie even though he knew that it was already too late for that.

He heard him clear his throat, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps—he was walking away, softer and softer until it was completely gone. Xiao Zhan released a shuddering breath.

Qing-jie turned to face him, her face scrunched up in confusion.

“What was that? The way he stared at you, almost like he wanted to gobble you up—”

“Qing-jie,” Xiao Zhan interrupted, mortified by her description more than his stare off battle with Yibo earlier. “My wig.”

It was almost too funny to see the emotions pass in quick succession on Qing-jie’s face. Funny, if Xiao Zhan wasn’t sharing her panic too.

Qing-jie brought her hands against her mouth, muffling her gasp, expression settling to horror. “Oh shit.”

*

Xiao Zhan wasn’t ready for this.

He thought he was conditioned to the ogling crowd after what they had endured from Qing-jie’s superior, but this— this was different.

It’s a charity event— of course it was, a friendly race meant to raise funds for their chosen organization. That would explain why the atmosphere was not as tense as what he’d been expecting, why some staff had the time to chit chat and watch them get yelled at, why the entire set-up felt different for some reasons. Why Qing-jie’s superior was adamant that he look a certain way— Xiao Zhan hoped that the chosen beneficiary wasn't for children, otherwise, his insistence for a skimpy outfit wouldn't make any sense— why the circuit was filled to the brim with fans, hence the ear-deafening screams.

Xiao Zhan had never seen this many cameras before. There was one stationed in front, solely focused on them for live streaming purposes, another one to their right side, and a bunch of photographers whose shutters never ceased from going off. Xiao Zhan had taken photography gigs back when he was still fresh out of college, so he knew that the number of shots taken was a bit excessive. He had to blink for every camera flash. There was a respectable distance between them and the media, so at least, Xiao Zhan need not to worry about how close the shots were.

Xiao Zhan snuck a glance at Yibo, curious about how he was faring. His face was still impassive, eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses. He was holding his helmet in front, and the cap he was wearing was littered with logos of his brand sponsorships. He was nodding along to a beat, courtesy of the music from his earphones, and if Xiao Zhan would lean a bit more then he would be able to tell what song was playing because of how loud it was. He had most definitely maxed the volume. Xiao Zhan was envious. He wanted to get lost in music too.

If he was feeling uncomfortable too, then he was doing a great job of not letting it show.

Despite everything— the lack of enthusiasm, indifference to the attention, and him not bothering with fanservice— not once did he appear haughty to him, or a stuck-up prideful racer who thought he was above others. He just seemed… cool. Laidback. One fan had commented 'cool guy' during the qualifying rounds, and watching him now bob his head slightly, Xiao Zhan had to agree with the sentiment.

(He’d say that Yibo was disinterested, that he didn’t care about anything— stuck in his own bubble, but Xiao Zhan was well acquainted with how much he cared.

Why else would he stop by and whisk him away from the verbal attacks when he could just pass by them like what others had done? Why else would he offer him a seat when others were perfectly fine to ignore the weird, huge person who had no business lounging in the corner? Why else would he offer him to ride pillion after Xiao Zhan confirmed that yes, his feet still hurt?

His staff who had been appalled by his offer hadn't been able to change his mind. It was only after Xiao Zhan had repeatedly assured that he could walk on their spot without inflicting more damage on his feet— a lie, obviously, their spot was quite far— that Yibo had finally relented, much to everyone’s relief.

Wang Yibo was cool, sure, but he was also warm. He was kind, thoughtful, considerate and a gentleman.)

Contrary to what they were dreading earlier, Yibo had not spoken a word about the wig situation. Xiao Zhan and Qing-jie had practiced what he had to explain if asked— they had agreed to settle on him going through his rebellious phase hence the short hair, a much better approach than him having to explain that he was suffering from a medical condition as what Qing-jie had first suggested— but when they met again, Yibo had said nothing more after inquiring about the poor state of his feet.

An interview was ongoing, and there were still four more racers before Yibo's turn. Xiao Zhan tried to search for Qing-jie in the crowd, needing some moral support, but there were simply too many people. He had unfortunately caught her superior's eyes earlier, so Xiao Zhan was determined not to let his eyes stray in his direction again.

"Why did Monster hire a prude?" Xiao Zhan heard from somewhere behind him.

Ah, he thought. It had started again.

He tightened his hold on the umbrella handle, willed his smile to stay in place as instructed, made sure that the Monster logo on the umbrella was facing the cameras even as the voice continued to talk smack about him. He could do this.

"Last year's model wasn't that bad, so why didn't they hire her again?"

More camera flashes. Xiao Zhan had unconsciously stepped backward.

"I don't know. She’s a giant. I have never seen anyone that tall. I bet she's even taller than my boyfriend!"

Why the gossip could reach him despite the surrounding noise was a mystery that he had no patience of solving. He took another step backward, ignoring one of the photographers who gestured for her to stop moving. One of the staff who was monitoring the live stream had furrowed his brows too when he saw what he did.

"Where did they get her? I'd advise our agent not to step one foot in that company." Someone laughed. Another step backward. Xiao Zhan was seconds away from bringing the umbrella down to shield himself from the gossips, from the flashes. He wanted to be mad, they were no different from Qing-jie's superior, but now, knowing that there were at least a thousand people who were viewing the live stream, he was just… embarrassed. Mortified. Did they also think the same whenever they looked at him?

"Her legs are long, though. But that's it."

"Yeah. Yingying told me that someone got scolded severely earlier. That must be her. I'm surprised they didn't kick her out."

"I'm pretty sure they will, if they can. Maybe they don't have a spare. It's a big event, her agent will be scolded once again after the race."

By now, instead of standing beside Yibo who was comfortably straddled on his bike, blissfully unaware that another round of gossips had started again, Xiao Zhan had moved until he could only see Yibo's nape and the mole that was peeking out from under his racing suit.

Fascinating. He had three moles?

Xiao Zhan had decided to just look at that, hyperaware that the flashes had started to pace now that he was semi-hiding himself. Qing-jie said that he only needed to smile and hold the umbrella over them, and in a way, he was still doing that. He had his arm slightly outstretched so the umbrella could still cover Yibo despite the increasing distance between, and his lips were forcibly stretched for a smile.

Qing-jie didn't specifically ask him to be on the frame for pictures. No one could fault him if he wanted the actual star to shine. Think of this as him doing a favor for the media— they wouldn’t need to trouble themselves into cutting him out of the picture.

"What was she doing? Look at her. She'll definitely get fired after this."

Oh, Xiao Zhan would resign first before he could be fired. Xiao Zhan resigned from his last actual corporate job. He wouldn’t let himself be fired with this.

Qing-jie owed him a month of hotpot, coffee, and chips. The stakes were higher now. He wasn’t unprofessional, and he wouldn’t be fired.

“Is she trying to hide herself?” The voice continued, much closer to him this time. They must be the staff of the racer behind them. Would explain why he was able to hear them clearly.

“As if she could do that.” The staff snickered. “Tracer85 wasn’t that huge for her to hide behind him. He must be embarrassed that he had to be with her. Look, he hadn’t even noticed that she was moving backwards.”

From Xiao Zhan’s peripheral view, he could see several photographers who were motioning him to come forward. An irate looking man had started to come his way and oh god, he was going to get yelled out again, wasn’t he?

However, before the man could appear within the live stream frame, Yibo had noticed him first before taking off his right speaker and glancing over his shoulder to look at him.

The camera flashes returned once again.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his lips barely moving, just loud enough to be heard over the shutters. He faced the front again— unable to sustain the weird twist of his neck and torso, after all, Xiao Zhan had moved considerably, but he didn’t make a move to jam his earphones back in his ears. He was obviously waiting for his answer.

When Xiao Zhan remained muted, Yibo took another quick look at him. There was now a crinkle between his brows, his lips set in a thin line. Or maybe he just saw differently because of the strong camera flash. He couldn’t check his expression because he had moved too soon.

A cameraman started to shift, intending to move forward for a closer shot, but for some reasons unknown, he had immediately settled back down. No one dared to follow after him, firmly staying in their designated spot.

“Look, he was even bothering Tracer85. How unprofessional.”

Xiao Zhan bristled. There it was, that godforsaken word again.

“Tracer85 must be so embarrassed of her. He appeared to have an aversion to the models, but I’m sure that after this event, he’d hate them more. Hiring this jiejie was clearly a mistake.”

He would not cause a scene, Xiao Zhan had chanted in his mind, convincing himself to calm down. He would not subject himself to a walk of shame— he had long stopped doing that after he graduated university, and yes, he was completely aware of the innuendos— nor would he cause a scene by finally chucking his wig at the gossipping ladies, a scenario he’d been dreaming of ever since that altercation with Qing-jie’s superior.

His embarrassment had started to ebb away, to make way for his ire—indignation that he was humiliated all day. Sure, Yibo had said that he was gorgeous and sexy, but Yibo was only one man, and the voices of these nasty people could easily overpower him.

“I’m curious about her, though. Have you seen her face? Bet she wasn’t even that pretty. With a build like that—”

A loud cough interrupted them— so sudden that Xiao Zhan had almost dropped the umbrella that he was holding. He turned his attention on Yibo, alarmed, even as he waved off a staff who was approaching him with bottled water.

Xiao Zhan was perplexed that photographers wanted to take a picture of this. No matter how cool Yibo looked, anyone who had been coughing their lungs out wouldn’t look pretty on film.

Yibo, after he had calmed down from his abrupt coughing fit, had craned his neck to get another look at him. “Come on, stand beside me.” He said, the roughness of his voice cushioned by the subtle lift of the corner of his lips. “I can’t keep on looking at you like this. It’ll break my neck. Do you want me to break my neck before the race?”

The immediate squeak that Xiao Zhan had let out was undignified, as he hurried to return to his spot beside him. Xiao Zhan gave him a glare when the racer chuckled at his reaction, his shoulders untensing— he had only noticed it after the tension had receded, though he promptly remembered himself and turned towards the ever blinking cameras to give his smile.

He didn’t ask about the gossip even though Xiao Zhan was sure that he had heard them. He didn’t say anything to comfort him, didn’t ask if he was okay. He did, however, offer him the right speaker of his earphones, his face still impressively impassive even through the collective gasps of the crowd and the renewed vigor of the photographers who had somehow decided to take as many pictures in a minute as possible.

“I hope you like listening to hip hop.”

That startled a laugh out of Xiao Zhan. Yibo, with his neutral expression and his perpetually pink ears, was saying the silliest words.

“Do you have any Avril Lavigne hits?”

He would like to take his words back. Yibo may only be one man, but he was more than enough.

*

They had only managed to listen to two songs before it was Yibo’s turn to be interviewed. The first one had been a hip hop classic that sounded incredibly familiar— perhaps it was from that dance program that Chengyi just wouldn’t stop blabbing about, and Avril’s Sk8ter Boi. Xiao Zhan had been astounded when he immediately recognized the first lines of the song, caught off guard that Yibo really did have them and played it for him when he was just mostly joking earlier. He was equal parts delighted and endeared that he had decided to let the frequent glances sent his way go unquestioned, smiling at the racer instead to show his appreciation.

The management had taken advantage of the short respite after the interview to warn them that the stunt Yibo had just pulled—sharing earphones, should not happen again. Qing-jie who appeared miraculously on his side to dab the sweat off his face had only raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing more. Xiao Zhan had understood it perfectly though, so even if Yibo— stubborn as he was, offered the same thing once again as if he didn’t hear the warning, he had politely declined him. He thought he saw someone clap from somewhere in front but maybe that was for the racer who was currently being interviewed.

The thing was, now that Xiao Zhan had no nosy staff and music to distract him, he had started to feel uncomfortable with how hot it actually was. They also had been standing under the sun for almost half an hour, the heat amplified with all these people milling about them. No wonder Qing-jie had only wiped his sweat off and had forgone retouching, because he was certain that he’d just sweat it all out. He had tried not to fidget, nodding along to Yibo who had somehow begun to talk about skateboards (was that why he had sk8ter boi in his playlist?), desperately shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling of sweat as it dripped down on the side of his face.

Why was he dressed in an all leather ensemble again?

Yibo was recounting an experience with his friends Ollie and Shuvit— Xiao Zhan was ashamed to admit that he was only half paying attention to him, but those sounded like the name of foreigners so they must be his friends— when he stopped to peer at him.

Xiao Zhan’s eyes had already adjusted to the camera flashes.

“You’re sweating.” He said. Xiao Zhan flushed. He quelled down the urge to wipe his forehead, not wanting to risk smearing what little make-up was left on him. On top of it, his scalp was starting to itch due to the thick wig. This was a completely different nightmare. Xiao Zhan almost wished for the gossipers to be back if it meant that he could forget about the heat.

“It’s hot.” Xiao Zhan replied lamely, his smile no more than a subtle grimace. He must look like a mess right now.

Yibo nodded his head in lieu of a reply. He looked like he was contemplating something, and then when it appeared that he reached an acceptable conclusion, he turned to the direction of his staff, and gestured for something.

The staff disappeared for a bit, and came running at them with a box of tissues.

And because they’re still streaming live, the staff had hesitated before exiting out of the camera frame, leaving the box on Yibo’s waiting hand.

Xiao Zhan had watched the whole exchange, not quite following what was unfolding before his eyes.

The staff was still hovering in the background, ready to bolt forward if Yibo so much as look at their direction, but the racer only opened the box, took a generous amount of tissues, and offered it to him.

“Here.” He said, and it was unfair that he still looked dry compared to him. Wasn’t his racing suit also leather? Why was he not sweating as much as he did?

He had probably been silent longer than what was considered adequate, or maybe Yibo thought his act of yet another kindness was rejected— it wasn’t, Xiao Zhan was just having a hard time wrapping his head around that Yibo had not sweat at all— because he was pushing the tissues on his spare hand. Xiao Zhan scrambled to grasp them, preventing them from falling on the ground. He had tried not to purse his lips— pout, he was not pouting— but Yibo wasn’t done yet. He had swiftly snatched the umbrella handle from his hand, before facing forward again, rearranging his position on the bike and ignoring Xiao Zhan’s indignant and bewildered stare.

“Wipe your sweat.” He repeated. Some staff had facepalmed and turned their backs at them, shoulders slumped in resignation, while some were gaping at them. The media, on the other hand, had been smiling, no doubt enjoying the scene they were causing. Why did it look like there was a bigger crowd now compared to when they first started?

“Wang-laoshi, why are you holding the umbrella?” Xiao Zhan asked as he patted his face with the tissue, careful at first, but when they came out clean with no traces of make-up, he gave in and proceeded to wipe generously. He refused to be conscious of the ubiquitous cameras. “Give it back to me.”

“No.” Yibo replied. Xiao Zhan tried to reach for it again, but the racer simply transferred it to his left hand, and Xiao Zhan couldn’t reach it unless he wanted to lean forward and brace himself on Yibo’s bike.

“You’re taking my job away from me.”

“I’ll make sure you’ll still get your pay.” Yibo peeled his eyes away from the half-amused, half horrified crowd to look at him. He adjusted the umbrella so the logo was still facing the camera— so he knew what they were supposed to do, and tilted his head towards the box of tissues.

Xiao Zhan had begrudgingly picked it up. He was aware that among the things that Yibo had done, this was something that he couldn’t fully agree on. He may have had no knowledge about this race thing, but he was certain that letting the racer hold the umbrella over them wasn’t it, charity race or not.

“The interviewer was on the last two racers. It wouldn’t be too long until then.” Yibo had explained, having sensed his uncertainty. When Xiao Zhan had continued to silently wipe his sweat, frowning a little as he did so, the racer continued, “Can you smile? Do you need me to wipe your sweat too?”

Ah, Yibo. This silly racer with the silliest words.

“You’re not going to get scolded, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The corners of Xiao Zhan’s lips had twitched, itching for a smile. His previous concerns had vanished immediately at the sight of his favorite racer shifting uncomfortably on his seat, no doubt under the impression that he had offended him “Zhan-er,”

Ah, since when did Yibo become his favorite racer?

“Look, they’re asking for you to smile.”

Since when did you care about the demands of your staff, was what Xiao Zhan had wanted to say, but instead, he opted with, “Yes, Wang-laoshi. I’d smile for you.” smile indulgent as he mock-bowed. A staff member had materialized beside him to retrieve the box now full of used tissues, looking slightly constipated. Unlike earlier, he had disappeared immediately, never looking back, not even staying around for further instructions.

“It’s for the brand.” Yibo had grumbled, and if Xiao Zhan didn’t know better, then he would think that he was blushing through his pink ears.

(Xiao Zhan, in fact, didn’t know better.)

Xiao Zhan had now two sides he refused to face, one for Qing-jie’s superior, and one for Qing-jie herself. He didn’t really know how to explain this if asked..

“Can you move a little closer? You’re not under the umbrella’s shade.”

It took Xiao Zhan all the effort not to burst out laughing right then and there. He had moved closer, Yibo’s thigh now touching his hip— the umbrella wasn’t that big to fit him on his bike and Xiao Zhan after all, and when Yibo didn’t protest at the contact, Xiao Zhan had smiled wider.

“Is this better, Wang-laoshi?”

Yibo— this silly, stubborn, warm-hearted, attentive racer who was undeniably, the only good thing that happened in this disastrous day— had smirked straight at the camera. “Yes. Better.”

It’s a shame that Xiao Zhan could only watch replays of Yibo climbing on the podium after he won in his own bracket, exhaustion settling deep in his bones as he slumped on his kitchen counter so late at night. It’s a shame that of all days, this prickly VIP client had to ask for a sudden consultation on a design that prompted him to leave early, right before Yibo’s race could start.

Qing-jie owed him a lot. She owed him a month of hotpot, coffee, chips, and Yibo’s signature. Or maybe, just Yibo’s sign would do.

Chapter Text

Extra: Comments from the live stream— Charity Race 2020, Tracer85 Solo Camera

babyibo: i still cant believe this day happened,, like,, yibo just interacted?? and talked?? to the model?? I kept on coming back here because im still in shock. Help

wangyibao0805: right!! it’s been a month but i'm still here. this livestream is a cultural reset

luvyiboforever: maybe they’re friends? don’t you have friends too? or was that too foreign for you?

babyibo: upstairs, don’t be rude. pls, friends? look at them? they’re flirting

TRACER85king: this is indeed unusual. are they dating?

ywgge37476453: tracer85 is shit

tracer85fans: Please help us report upstairs. Thank you!

tracerrrr: i just hope the camera came closer, so we could hear what they're whispering about. the camera was too damn far!

yibaobao: right! bet they didn't expect this to happen. they're supposed to interact with fans, but all he did was flirt lol not complaining tho. let our man be happy!

racingfan85: i hope they’d use boom mic or sth next time. they usually use that, why not today? it was deliberate, definitely requested. and in this essay, i will

0805WYBBB: i visited other racers’ solo cameras and they were much nearer + you could hear them talk too. hmmm wang yibo sus

wangyibao0805: didn't you see? @11:14 wang yibo had subtly flinched and stared down at the camera when they attempted to come closer LOL

babyibo: omg you're right lolol he didn't want people to hear them talk. def dating

0805WYBBB: oh, to be cared for by the great Wang Yibo! earphones, tissue, umbrella, triple kill! lmao he trended not because he won, but because of this hahahahahahaha

yibaobao: the model was incredibly pretty too. she wasn't even wearing makeup. and her legs! im envious

racingfan85: they did look good together. i'd be smitten by her too

wangyibao0805: right! when she just wiped her sweat like that @20:13 without any care for her makeup, i was surprised. turned out she wasn't really wearing any make-up at all. this pretty jiejje really.. flexing on us

tracerrrr: yeah she's covered up which was slightly weird but she still had this charisma? idk how to explain it but she's amazing

racingfan85: jiejie can step on me with her thigh high killer boots

TRACER85king: why was she missing during post-race tho? wang yibo didn't look too happy even when he won :(

babyibo: maybe he was wondering where the pretty jiejie was? he was also lifeless during the post interview. pretty jiejie was supposed to stand by his side on the interview

lurkerjj: a friend of my friend knew a staff, and she said that the pretty jiejie left early

greatvalentinorossi: does anyone know the name of the pretty jiejie? or her weibo? does zhan-er ring a bell?

racingfan85: eww, upstairs, we could see your edit history. pretty gege? are you for real? you're a weirdo

0805WYBBB: yikes go away weirdo

tracer85fans: Please help us report @/greatvalentinorossi Thank you!

Yibo closed the tab with an annoyed grunt. Fortunately, he had decided to use one of his spares instead of his actual burner account. No doubt, that account would be gone immediately— his fans were pretty efficient when they wanted to be.

Well, Yibo could still use other ways to find the pretty gege with the prettiest smile.

Chapter Text

"Yibo," Wen-ge sighs, but not for the first time. "You're not even straight."

Yibo bristles. He expects to be reprimanded for his insistence but not this. Never this. He hates being perceived, hates —

A rag goes flying in his direction. Yibo dodges it easily, but only because he's been used to it. He only needed to get smacked with a dirty rag on his face thrice in the past before he developed the reflexes for it. 

"Don't look so offended. You came out to us." 

Oh, Yibo thinks, stunned. He did?

"Brat." Wen-ge says, choosing not to opt for violence this time as he takes the chair opposite of Yibo. "How could we forget it? You had been quiet as we negotiated your contact with your parents and agent, and when we asked for any input from you, you straight up said " I like men. If it's going to be a problem, then we're leaving." 

Yibo smirks at the memory, refusing to be embarrassed about it. Wen-ge, upon seeing his expression, reaches out for another rag. 

Yibo leans over and snatches it away. Wen-ge huffs as he sits back down, but Yibo spies the lack of lines around his eyes that usually suggest he's genuinely annoyed. 

"Whenever I tell anybody that you're an insufferable brat, no one wants to believe me." Wen-ge laments. 

"That's because I'm a cool guy." Yibo says, puffing his chest out for emphasis. He breaks into chuckles, however, upon seeing Wen-ge fake vomit, mumbling something under his breath. 

"Cool my ass."

Yibo gleefully ignores it. "Wen-ge, you're not off the hook yet. Did you find out anything about Zhan-er?"

"No, Yibo. You're not straight and you hate the models."

Yibo waves his hands in dismissal. "Irrelevant. Zhan-er where?" 

"Oh god, he said 'Zhan-er where' " Yibo waits until Wen-ge is done with his mini-breakdown because he has manners. Wen-ge emerges from burying his entire face on his palms moments after, and Yibo gives him the same smile he's done on that toothpaste ad. 

"Let us go through this again, shall we?" Wen-ge straightens himself up, shifting to his business voice. Yibo isn't sure if it's meant to be intimidating, because he's not the least bit affected by it. "You are free to date or like whoever, but please make me understand first." 

Yibo is momentarily distracted upon hearing him say date. Yep, he'll like to take Zhan-er out on a date sometime. That sounds nice. Maybe he can finally make him agree to ride pillion. He was terribly disappointed when Zhan-er refused his offer before in favour of appeasing his staff. Yibo was aware that his feet still hurt. 

"You're so done for her." Wen-ge intones, effectively breaking his train of thoughts. Yibo nods, even though it's not a question. "Why? You've only been with her for a handful of hours!"

"That's why I wanted to get to know him more. Plus, his smile is pretty. His eyes too. He laughs at my jokes and he's not intimidated by me."

"Hate to be the one who has to break it to you, but you're far from being cool on that day. You've been blushing and you can't even look at her for an extended period!" Wen-ge points an accusing finger at him. "And the umbrella! What are you even thinking!" 

"I'm thinking, " Ah, Zhan-er looks hot." Wen-ge sputters, as Yibo crows. "Not that kind of hot, of course! I mean he's hot, sure, but he's wearing an all-leather outfit under the burning sun, of course, it'll be so hot. I don't want him to get a heat stroke you know, I'm kind like that." 

"You didn't care about our previous models." Wen-ge deadpans. "You won't even look at them. Do you realize how much commotion you've caused on that day?"

"Well, Zhan-er is Zhan-er." Yibo says, as a matter of fact. There are race models, and then there's Zhan-er. He doesn't think Wen-ge will appreciate his profound explanation, so he keeps it to himself in the meantime. He still needs his help in finding him, he won't dare annoy him for real. 

"You're unbelievable." 

"Back then, I have so many regrets." He announces, even though Wen-ge didn't ask. "I wish we could've talked more. His voice sounds nice, smooth. It's melodic. Too sad you never hear him talk, huh?" 

"Frankly, Yibo, I don't —" 

"I also regretted not looking at him." Yibo says, interrupting him. Wen-ge is just in denial, he's sure that he cares about his love life. Or to be more specific, about the love of his life. "But he's just too pretty, you know? Everytime I try to look at him, he'd smile at me. He has the prettiest smile, have I told you about that? How could I survive that?" 

He pauses to briefly reminisce about the smile he was given after giving him a bottle of mineral water. He'd give him gallons of it just to see him smile again. Zhan-er also smiled at him when his song request— Avril Lavigne hits, began to play. He already added all her albums in his library for future references. He wants to be prepared for their next meeting, wants to be acknowledged that he's a man of culture. 

Out of all the smiles he was bestowed though, his favourite had been the one just before his race started. Along with his words of encouragement, his soft 'jiayou', it didn't surprise him that he broke his record on the same day. Too bad he left early. Did he know that he won?

A rag smacks him right on his face, halting him from spiralling further. With the memory of Zhan-er's smile still fresh in his mind, Wang Yibo just calmly removes the rag to beam at Wen-ge.

"Fine, I'll help you, brat!" Wen-ge says, sigh exaggerated. "You said that you wanted her for your next race, right? I'll make sure to find her by then." 

Yibo is just too delighted with the confirmation that he chose to ignore the fact that they probably didn't take him seriously when he first expressed his wish to meet him again. It's alright. He still has four more months before his next race. In the meantime, he could make do with watching the replay of their live stream if he wants to see him again. 

"Speaking of your next race, we already started to receive some designs or additional logos to be added to your racing suit. The deadline will be at the end of this week, we'll send you the files after we filtered the unnecessary ones." 

Yibo hums, as he opens his phone to navigate back on their live stream. He had paused on the part where he offered Zhan-er tissues, and because he had already watched this video for the nth time, he'll now soon be graced with Zhan-er's small pout and gorgeous bare face. 

"Okay, I'll check them all out next week. Maybe I'll personally meet them too if I'm very satisfied with their work."

He hears Wen-ge move, but he doesn't dare lift his eyes away from the screen. Zhan-er is now wiping his face with the tissue. He's really really pretty. 

"Do your thing, just invite them here so you could still practice." 

Yibo opens the rolling comments and is satisfied by the influx of praises for his Zhan-er. That's right, people. Recognize his beauty.  He's briefly aware that Wen-ge is still waiting for his response, so he gives him a thumbs up towards his general direction. 

But Wen-ge has moved to stand behind his chair, much to his surprise. "I'll give it to you, kid. She's a natural beauty."