Even after finishing the VOGUE magazine shoot, the exhaustion from that deep-seated emotional release still lingered.
Sitting in the car, watching the street scenes outside the window, Ou Yangguang felt like a delicate doll whose soul had been emptied.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He sluggishly pulled it out, and the screen lit up—a message from his brother:
"Xiaoguang, where are you? Are you alright? Are you still angry?"
Ou Yangguang stared at the message for a long time, his fingertip hovering above the screen, but he didn't know how to reply.
He typed, deleted, typed again, deleted again... In the end, he didn't reply to anything, but just said to Li Chenghuan, who was driving, "Brother Chenghuan, let's go back to the company."
He needs some time, and he needs a more suitable approach.
The car came to a stop in the company parking lot. He didn't go to his usual small practice room, nor did he go back to his dormitory. Instead, driven by an almost instinctive feeling, he walked towards the somewhat old practice room that they used most often before their debut.
That place holds so much sweat, laughter, and the purest, most innocent dreams.
The practice room door was ajar, and warm light shone from inside.
Ou Yangguang gently pushed open the door and, sure enough, saw that familiar figure.
Lay was sitting on the floor, leaning against a mirror, wearing headphones, seemingly listening to a music arrangement, looking very focused.
Hearing the door open, he looked up and saw Ou Yangguang standing in the doorway, looking somewhat hesitant. A knowing look flashed in his eyes, and he took off his headphones, revealing a gentle smile.
"You're here?" His tone was so natural, as if he had expected Ou Yangguang to come.
Ou Yangguang stood at the door, awkwardly lowered his head, rubbed his toes on the smooth floor, and said in a muffled voice, "Hmm."
Ou Yang walked in, but didn't get close. Instead, he sat down cross-legged a few steps away from Zhang Yixing, still with his head down, like an awkward child.
The practice room quieted down, with only the faint sound of the air conditioner running.
After a long while, he finally raised his head, his eyes red, not from crying, but from suppressing his emotions and the signs of exhaustion from the past few days.
Looking at Zhang Yixing, his lips moved, as if his grievances had finally found a safe outlet, and his voice trembled with a barely perceptible sob:
"Brother... I didn't... I didn't mean to cause trouble." He spoke quickly, trying to explain, "That opportunity with VOGUE was really good... I just didn't want to give it up... I never thought it would turn out like this... Seung-hwan hyung got his pay docked... and everyone else..."
He spoke haltingly, his vocabulary somewhat disorganized, but the grievance of being misunderstood, the self-blame for causing trouble, and the sadness after the conflict with the members were clearly conveyed.
He is no longer the domineering or affectionate actor in front of the camera, nor the dazzling idol on stage. At this moment, he is more like a younger brother who has been bullied outside and comes home to complain to his older brother.
Zhang Yi listened quietly without interrupting him, her eyes filled with understanding and tolerance.
He knew that what Ouyang Yang needed was not someone to judge right and wrong, but a safe haven to listen.
Once Ou Yangguang had finished speaking and calmed down a bit, Zhang Yixing moved to his side, put his arm around his shoulder, and patted him gently.
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