The six of them, dressed in matching performance outfits, gathered backstage to touch up their makeup. His own face happened to be facing the camera, with Logan Brooks visually behind him, turning his face to the side as the stylist adjusted his coat, looking unusually well-behaved.

For the moment, he couldn’t think of any good caption—he was really inexperienced at this sort of thing—so Henry Foster just uploaded the photo.

This photo became like a newly opened window, and with a gust of spring wind, he was once again overwhelmed and submerged by the flood of little larks pouring in.

Cute things really do bring people joy.

“Wow, it’s already been shared over ten thousand times in just a few minutes.” Caleb Grant was a bit surprised; it had never reached this level before. “You’ve really become a traffic magnet, Henry Foster.”

He was about to deny it, but Owen Clark spoke first, “Didn’t you see little Brooks’s last Weibo post? There were so many comments, and even ours have increased.”

Brian Harris slung an arm around Caleb Grant’s shoulders. “Let’s put the popularity aside for now—you need to come record the demo with me first.” Then he looked at the team leader. “Mr. Samuel, you’ve got the guitar, right?”

Samuel Reed nodded, then said to Owen Clark, “Just now Mr. Ethan said the dance teacher you scheduled is almost here. Go wait for him on the tenth floor.”

“Got it.” Owen Clark got up and shook out his clothes. “Let’s get to work.”

Seeing everyone had their own tasks, Henry Foster belatedly asked, “What about me? Should I go record with Brian, or go with Mr. Owen?”

But both of them refused, saying they wouldn’t need him for a while.

“There’s actually something you’re needed for,” Samuel Reed’s droopy eyes curved into a smile. “You need to go back to the dorm. The production team said they’ll be coming by soon to install cameras, so help keep an eye on things for everyone.”

In the end, Henry Foster got the most relaxing job—going home to rest.

After taking a shower, he changed into loungewear and tied up his slightly long hair into a little tuft, looking like an apple stem. Back in his room, he took his vitamins, pulled out a thick sudoku book, flipped to an unfinished page, and sat at his desk, pen in hand, thinking intently.

After filling out three sudoku puzzles in a row and feeling extremely calm, Henry Foster suddenly heard the doorbell ring outside.

Crap, the production team was here.

Feeling guilty for making them wait, Henry Foster immediately put down the sudoku, slipped on his slippers, and hurried out to open the door. Whenever he played sudoku, he’d get lost in his own world, so hearing the doorbell ring faster and faster, he could guess how long the other party had been pressing it.

Without even checking the security monitor, Henry Foster anxiously ran out of the entryway and opened the door, already apologizing, “Sor—”

But outside wasn’t the production team at all. It was Logan Brooks, dressed in a black down jacket and black mask, hand raised to press the doorbell again.

The apology that almost slipped out was swallowed back down.

“Sorry for what?” Logan Brooks unconsciously raised an eyebrow, pulled off his mask with one hand and stuffed it in his pocket. “Sorry to who?”

Author’s note:

Fan circle terminology explanation:

top: The most popular member in the group

teaser: Trailer

C-position: Center, usually the center spot in choreography. Many groups have more than one C-position, which may rotate with different albums, while some groups have a fixed C-position.

Insulting X: Means the person being talked about is far inferior to X; putting them together is an insult to X.

Benchmarking: Means positioning someone as a rival to someone else, or forcibly comparing them.

Chapter 6: Alone Together

The surprise on Henry Foster’s face gradually faded, like ripples settling back into still water.

“No one,” he replied simply.

“Are you the only one here?” Logan Brooks glanced inside, bringing with him a chill from outside. “The moving company is downstairs. They’ll be bringing things up soon.”

Still holding the door open, Henry Foster finally let go and stepped aside. “Oh…” Then, realizing the other hadn’t come up yet, he moved forward another step. “Is there a lot?”

He wanted to ask if he should help, but the words seemed stuck in his throat—he couldn’t swallow them, nor could he say them.

Warm air flowed out from inside. Logan Brooks took off his hat as well. “Not much.” He glanced at Henry Foster’s snow-white, soft loungewear, as if he’d guessed what Henry Foster was thinking. “Go back inside. If you go down dressed like that, you’ll freeze.”

It wasn’t the nicest way to put it, but at least he didn’t have to go downstairs. Henry Foster was quite satisfied.

Soon, the sound of the elevator opening at the entrance came, and the movers quickly brought up Logan Brooks’s luggage. Henry Foster tidied up the living room, which his teammates had left messy after gaming the night before, to make space for them.

He stood by the wall with a cup of hot tea, watching as they brought in a total of five large cardboard boxes. Judging by the way they set them down, he guessed each one was pretty heavy.

What exactly did Logan Brooks bring? Henry Foster couldn’t help but be curious.

“Thank you for your hard work,” Logan Brooks said politely.

Just as he was about to see them out, Henry Foster suddenly called out, poured each of the three movers a cup of hot tea, and handed it to them without a word.

“Thank you, thank you.” The three men quickly took the cups, blowing on them and drinking until their chests and lungs felt warm, leaving with big smiles.