Go to sleep, I'm not going anywhere.
The memories of the past made Jonathan incredibly clear-headed; he is the singer Janus.
From the moment he first met Jiang Songhe until now, he has always been Janus.
Janus should be carefree, powerful, and invincible. He has revealed too many flaws since arriving in the Porcelain Kingdom, but it doesn't matter. It's Jonathan who has flaws; just lock him up.
The next step is behavior modification.
Jonathan raised his hands at the villa entrance, buried his face in them, took a deep breath, and then exhaled. He lowered his hands, looked up, and gave Vasin a bright smile.
"Today is the 16th. I will return to China on the 26th in 10 days. Please wait for my reply. I will finish the final song before the 26th. On the 27th, I will ask Adam to wait for me at the company. We will discuss the arrangement based on the final version. The contestants will record together from the 28th to the 3rd. Each of the four teams will have one day. The rehearsal will be on the 4th."
Vasin was taken aback upon hearing this, then stepped to the side, opened the door wider, and nodded to explain that he understood.
Jonathan changed his shoes in the entryway, stepped into the villa and walked ahead, then stopped and turned his face slightly, saying, "By the way, tell Fan to prepare for the early release of 'Night Sacrifice'. I want it to premiere at the opening show."
"And also, I want to bring my champion to the Coccella event."
-
Jonathan went to Jiang Songhe's bedroom on the second floor, took out sheet music and a pen from his suitcase, and sat on the bay window, absentmindedly tracing the notes countless times.
As dusk fell, the private cars from the villas across the street and next door gradually returned to their garages. Jonathan leaned back a bit, propped himself up on his knees, and finally turned to the next page of the score, beginning to compose the music and lyrics for the ending of the final piece.
I started working on the final song as soon as I learned that I would be joining the judging panel before the new year. Most of the contestants in the talent show are boys around 20 years old, and Janus's early rebellious and flamboyant musical style is a perfect match for them.
Although the creative process was diligent, it didn't require racking one's brains or pouring one's heart and soul into it; the basic framework of the lyrics and music was completed smoothly. The remaining work only required contacting the contestants to get an impression and then polishing the pieces, and then the job would be done.
On the eve of her departure for Jingting, Jonathan had already sent the initial draft, which showcased the overall tone, to the Star Show competition organizers to facilitate their preparation of the stage design and other related work for the final championship stage. What should have been a relaxed end to the work was now inexplicably causing Jonathan some anxiety.
Ten days is enough to refine the initial design, but it's not enough to go beyond the initial design and make major changes.
After reading "Yan Ge Xing", Jonah Xi had many new inspirations, and the source of many of these inspirations all pointed to a young boy.
He hopes that the person who will ultimately stand on the championship stage and sing this final song will be Jiang Songyun.
The only room left for him to elaborate was the few lines in the final paragraph.
"A thousand troops crossing a single-plank bridge," Jonathan felt that way. A multitude of inspirations raced through his mind, but he could only take the best and put it on paper. The next one was always better, yet he was always afraid it wouldn't be good enough.
The crumpled pieces of paper on the bay window gradually surrounded Jonathan, connecting one by one and spreading out into an invisible net.
Jonah became increasingly irritable and neurotic. He usually created his work in his well-equipped studio, but the current environment was inconvenient, the lighting was uncomfortable, and even the air felt stuffy.
After agonizing for hours, it was completely dark outside, and the latest page of the score was still blank. Jonathan suddenly remembered his stepfather's face, his teeth, his hands, the stained score...
nausea.
Jonathan suddenly felt nauseous. He suppressed the urge to vomit, kicked away the crumpled paper, climbed out of the bay window, rushed into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and filled the bathtub with cold water.
Before the bathtub was full, he quickly took off his clothes, stepped in, lay down, closed his eyes, and felt the water rushing, the water level rising, and the hairs on his skin standing up and floating.
Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles, bubbles.
The turbid air was encased in bubbles, which rose to the surface one after another and burst open.
Only when his chest cavity was emptied and he felt like he was about to suffocate did Jonathan sit up shivering and brush the hair that was stuck to his face behind his head.
Take a breath and inhale the faint scent left by Jiang Songhe back into your lungs.
It's too bland, not bland enough for Jonathan to return to normal.
So he got up, still soaking wet and holding his breath, stepped out of the bathtub, took off the large bathrobe with a cool, woody scent from the wall by the sink, grabbed the collar and wrapped it around his head, and only took a deep breath after his body temperature and the scent had mixed together.
Round after round, Jonah gradually calmed down and his mind finally cleared.
Back by the bay window in his bedroom, he tightened the belt of his bathrobe, unfolded and flattened the crumpled papers one by one, picked up his phone, turned on the recording function, and began to sing each paper one by one.
During this time, Vasin came up and knocked on the door a few times, carrying a food box that looked completely different from the one at noon, asking if he wanted to rest for a while and have something to eat, but Jonathan ignored him and drove him away.
The time in the upper left corner of the screen jumped to 00:00, and the icon in the upper right corner was reduced to a narrow red line. Jonathan had to stop and connect the charging cable to the overheated phone that was about to stop working.
Staring at the red line widening and turning green, Jonathan clicked on the green bubble software with added red dots on the BottomBar. Even though he knew the message couldn't possibly come from ▉, his eyes still lit up for a moment.
After seeing it clearly, it went dark again.
The long finger scrolled through the screen, bombarding it with images until it reached the earliest one from a few hours ago.
WTW: J, I received the dry-cleaned clothes. Why bother? I was planning to leave them for you to wear back anyway.
Next are many solo photos of Jonathan at the WANTON WU show.
Those getting their makeup done, those waiting backstage, those warming up the crowd, those singing, those dancing... The last photo stops at my fingertips. In the photo, Jonathan is holding a microphone in one hand and resting the other hand on a point between the collarbones of the closing model.
Jonathan smiled suddenly. In that instant, he struggled with himself, restrained by the cameras and the gazes of the show's guests, before barely managing to suppress the urge to continue downwards with his fingertips, hook the necklace, pull the model closer, and forcefully kiss her.
They had no choice but to settle for second best, turning their physical impulses into impromptu lyrics that were used to make a frivolous statement.
It's past midnight, why hasn't Jiang Songhe gone home yet?
Jonah replied to Wu Fangsi with a half-hearted "XOXO," pursed her lips, selected the last group photo, and forwarded it to the chat box with ▉. She immediately realized her account belonged to a female stylist named GRACE, and hurriedly clicked "recall."
I thought the other party would naturally pretend not to see it, but they replied with a "?" in a second.
"..." Jonathan narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "???"
With her eyebrows lingering, Jonathan's tongue darted from one canine tooth to the other, then she tapped her cheek, chuckled, and sent a reply to ▉: "Sorry, I sent this to the wrong person. Did I bother you?"
▉: It's okay.
If you say "it's okay" instead of "whether it's there or not," then you've probably bothered them to some extent.
What did I disturb?
GRACE: The photo I posted was one that wasn't released yet. I hope you can keep it a secret for now.
Send a screenshot showing that the other party has withdrawn the message, then reply: Didn't see it.
GRACE: You want to see it? If you promise to keep it a secret, I can secretly send it to you again. [flirting]
The other party is typing... ▉... The other party is typing...
Hesitant and indecisive, could it be that he really wants to see something else?
▉: No need, thank you.
The cold, emotionless words made Jonah feel a surge of mischievous, slightly malicious glee. He sat down on the edge of the bed and focused intently on typing in the chat box.
GRACE: Okay, you really are a person of principle.
GRACE: Thank you for not letting my work go wrong. It's so late, to express my gratitude and apology, I'd like to order you some late-night snacks. Could you send me your location? [Roses][Roses][Roses]
▉: I just ate, don't spend any more money.
Have you eaten? Who were you with in the middle of the night?
▉: I have something to do, sorry.
The dialogue ended there.
Jonathan's feelings were mixed. The person opposite him was clearly not interested in the gender-swapped stylist. Then who was he interested in? Who was he having something to do late at night with? What was it that he had to finish in the middle of the night without going home?
I can't think of an answer.
Jonah was shocked to realize how little he knew about Jiang Songhe's life and relationships. What about Jiang Songhe? Did he also have moments of such "shock" as he did? How much did he know about himself?
Looking back on the events of the past two months, aside from Janus's outward behavior, everything else about her that Jiang Songhe knew about herself was something Janus had told her voluntarily. She hadn't asked him anything, nor had she asked him anything.
Perhaps he simply doesn't want to know.
Why don't you want to know? Because it's unnecessary? Why is it unnecessary? Because you think this relationship won't last? For a relationship that won't last, knowing more about the people and things involved is just a waste of brainpower.
Before meeting Jiang Songhe, Jonah had always done this to ensure that her inspiration and emotions were abundant.
The two had only known each other for a little over two months.
Although the two months between them were longer, more intense, and longer than the time before Jonathan's relationship with other men, which could only be described as a relationship, it was far from enough to establish a deep understanding between them.
Can a lack of deep understanding give rise to genuine love?
Will what is produced be nothing more than a sugar-coated reflection of self-pity, a filter of hormones, and an obsession with voyeurism, possessiveness, and competitiveness? Sugar coating is equivalent to illusion, and illusion requires countless lies to build up.
Just like the perfect idol Janus.
Should the emotions generated by Janus's true self be considered real or fake?
horrible.
What's even more frightening is that, of all these things, both inside and out, Jonah is currently only certain that he possesses them.
Compared to herself, Jiang Songhe clearly didn't have such strong desires. She didn't delve into things, didn't force things, and didn't care. At most, she would be a little jealous, and she could only elicit a slight reaction from him if she used some underhanded tactics.
The excitement of the long brainstorming session hadn't subsided, causing his thoughts to wander further. Even though he knew Janus shouldn't do anything underhanded, Jonah still acted on his own, as if possessed.
Jonah was going crazy trying to find evidence in Jiang Songhe's territory—whether it was to prove their feelings, their true nature, the truth or a lie, anything at all.
It can only be blamed on the current state of their relationship. Only Jiang Songhe can reach out to Jonathan, while Jonathan can only wait for Jiang Songhe to return.
Although Jiang Songhe's room was large, it was nowhere near as elaborately furnished as Jonathan's apartment, which resembled a treasure cave. There were almost no superfluous decorations, and the room was filled with minimalist elements in cool, somber tones.
The treasure hunt was drawing to a close in no time, and nothing was found. Jonathan's crazy hopes were dashed, and he sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his signature slippers far away in frustration.
I glanced at my phone; it was fully charged. As I reached for it, my gaze fell on the bedside table.
Jonathan hadn't looked in the bedside table yet, the most private place where secrets were often hidden. He was both resistant and curious, so he left it for last.
Inside, there was only a key to the next room and a red velvet jewelry box.
Apart from that, there was nothing Jonathan was afraid to see.
The mad, dark emotions vanished the moment the jewelry box was opened, replaced by shame and remorse, along with an overwhelming, bittersweet feeling of warmth.
In the most private corner, Jiang Songhe placed Jonathan and his family together.
Jonathan removed the half-dry stray hairs from his eyes, rubbed his eyes to stare at the silver glint in the box for a while, then placed the jewelry box on his lap, put his hands behind his neck, took off the platinum necklace he had worn for eighteen years, and put on his birthday present this year.
-
After a long day, exhaustion finally set in.
Jonathan lifted the covers, arranged the two pillows vertically at the head of the bed, then lay down on his side and pulled the covers over the sloth and the tree trunk.
My body drifted into a deep sleep, but my consciousness wandered into a scene that was both real and unreal.
I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching and receding, like someone running, at a very fast pace.
They stopped at a very close distance, and the controlled breathing mixed in with the sounds, which then began to play more slowly, but somewhat chaotically. At first listen, it was impossible to tell whether it came from one person or two.
The footsteps seemed to possess a magical power, opening up routes, guiding Jonathan's vision, and initiating a constant shift in scenery.
One second you're in a dilapidated tenement building complex, the next you're in a cramped attic. Your view narrows and narrows, only allowing a tiny bit of space in front of you: orange juice, guitar, exam papers, flowers, a pen, a microphone, a ring...
Jonathan was unaware of where he was floating, observing from the sidelines, still unable to extricate himself from the images presented in the kaleidoscope.
Suddenly, a pair of strange yet familiar eyes appeared in the scene. They were golden-brown, strangely bright, and exuded murderous intent.
My heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly; it was the eyes of that contestant lurking on the top floor of the Tang Dynasty building!
The buoyancy vanished instantly, his left arm was grabbed, and the combined weight of the two dragged Jonah towards the endless void at breakneck speed!
Completely obscured by darkness, the swift air currents seemed capable of dissolving disguise. Overwhelmed by fear, Jonathan flailed his arms and legs, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Don't be afraid, it's me." In his blindness, someone caught him in front of him. The person's embrace smelled of cold wind and tobacco. "Don't be afraid..."
Although he couldn't see it, Jonathan could clearly feel a pair of large, warm hands touching his face, then going around his shoulder and pressing against his back, as if demonstrating that they wouldn't hurt him.
"It's okay, you go back to sleep, I'll carry him back." The person's voice turned away.
If your voice is off-track, your attention will definitely be off-track too, and it's hard to say whether you'll soon abandon yourself and leave.
Jonah clung to the man's neck like a lifeline, burying her face in the direction of the sound, determined not to let go, not to leave: "Don't...don't go...stay..."
"I'm not leaving." The warmth from his back fell onto her hips and legs, and he patted her gently, gesturing for Jonathan to lift up and give him his weight. "Be good, hold me tight."
Jonathan did as instructed, and then felt himself begin to move through the air. Footsteps sounded again, this time clearly, coming from one person, very solid and steady.
The man laid him down horizontally, then released his grip. Jonathan used his hands and feet to cling to him even tighter, pressing one of his ribs against the strong arm in protest.
"Tsk, it's dirty if you don't take off your clothes."
"in spite of……"
The protest was effective. The man sighed, and his large hand returned to his back, clapping rhythmically.
"Go to sleep, I'm not going anywhere."
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