Chapter Text
Jiang Xiaoshuai had always been a strategist.
Even now, as a vlogger,a famous one at that–that part of him had never really faded. If anything, it had only evolved into something sharper and more instinctive. He understood people. What they lingered on and what made them pause, rewind, replay.
More importantly, he knew what his viewers liked to see and how to use publicity to engage them.
It wasn’t accidental.
Nothing he did ever really was.
_________________________________________________________________________
He usually did makeup tutorials. It was clean, detailed, and oddly soothing to watch. The kind where even people who knew nothing about makeup would still sit through the entire video, just to hear his voice and watch the transformation unfold.
Every now and then, he would slip in everyday routines. Soft, almost intimate glimpses into his life. Morning skincare. Late-night ramblings. Lazy afternoons that felt carefully unplanned.
Those always did well too. People liked feeling like they knew him.
And then there were the travel vlogs. It was not frequent but that was exactly what made them special.
They came once in a while, dropped without too much warning, and somehow always managed to feel bigger than his usual content. The energy was different. Looser and warmer.
More alive.
“Are you packing or just staring at your suitcase?” a voice drifted in lazily from the doorway.
Xiaoshuai didn’t even look up, still scrolling through his analytics. “I’m thinking,” he replied smoothly. “There’s a difference.”
A quiet scoff followed.
“Mm. Right. Thinking about content again?”
That made him smile, just a little.
Because yes–of course he was. He always was.
_________________________________________________________________________
Actually, the real reason behind how all of this started traced back to one of those travel vlogs.
It hadn’t been planned. Not really.
But then again,some of Jiang Xiaoshuai’s best content never was.
He had been on a short vacation at the time. Nothing extravagant. Just a few days away from the usual routine, booked almost on a whim.
Of course, he hadn’t gone alone.
He was with his boyfriend, Guo Chengyu. And naturally, that meant Chi Cheng came along too because the two of them were practically inseparable when it came to long-term plans.
And where Chi Cheng was, Wu Suowei followed which worked out perfectly, because Wu Suowei was, in every sense that mattered, Jiang Xiaoshuai’s best friend.
They had always been a tight-knit group. The kind that didn’t need formal plans to meet because they were already together most of the time anyway.
They traveled together. Ate together. Drifted into each other’s spaces without knocking. Days blurred into each other so easily that sometimes it felt less like four separate lives and more like one shared rhythm.
So really,this trip hadn’t been anything unusual.
Not at first.
_________________________________________________________________________
Guo Chengyu had already made his way into Xiaoshuai’s videos a few times before this.
It was not intentionally in the beginning. Just appearing and somehow, every single time, his viewers had been delighted.
It had started with something small.
Xiaoshuai had been doing his makeup during a live session, focused, mid-routine, explaining something about blending techniques when Guo Chengyu had suddenly walked in without warning.
No hesitation. No awareness of the camera.
Just a simple purpose.
“I’m heading out, baby” he had said casually, already leaning down.
And then ,like it was the most natural thing in the world,he pressed a quick “goodbye” kiss to Xiaoshuai’s lips before turning to leave for groceries.
For a second, Xiaoshuai had just blinked.
Still holding his brush and frozen in place.
And then the comments skyrocketed.
The chat had exploded so fast that it actually lagged.
Messages overlapping, reactions flooding in faster than he could read them.
Comments-
Who was thatttttttt–
HELLO??? REWIND!!!!!!
BOYFRIEND REVEAL???
There had been hashtags by the end of the day. There were edits and clips circulating like wildfire.
Of course, not every comment had been kind.
There were a few nasty ones–there always were but they were drowned out almost immediately by overwhelming support and excitement by people who had already decided they loved whatever this was.
And after that?
Well.
It just became a thing.
Guo Chengyu would pop up now and then.
It was not often and not always planned but it was enough to keep people watching a little closer than before.
And Jiang Xiaoshuai, the strategist that he was, allowed it because he understood exactly what it was doing.
And exactly how far he could take it.
Wu Suowei, on the other hand, fully supported him. Not just in words, but in the quiet, consistent ways that mattered–helping behind the scenes, sitting nearby during edits, occasionally offering opinions that Xiaoshuai would pretend not to rely on but always did.
But when it came to the camera?
Suowei wanted no part of it.
He was rather camera shy. It was not in a dramatic or avoidant way but in the subtle way his shoulders would tense the moment a lens turned toward him. The way he would instinctively step out of frame, or lower his voice, or suddenly find something very important to do elsewhere.
It wasn’t discomfort with Xiaoshuai’s work. Just discomfort with himself, in that space.
That hadn’t stopped Jiang Xiaoshuai from trying, of course.
There had been a few livestreams, carefully planned, deceptively casual where Suowei had appeared, though barely.
A shoulder here. A blurred reflection there. A voice just out of frame. It was hidden well enough that it became almost a game for viewers.
Is that him? Your best friend??
Xiaoshuai keeps mentioning a Suowei— Is that himmmmm?
Somehow, that only made them more curious.
Chi Cheng, however, had never bothered with any of it. Not the camera. Not the framing or the audience.
He simply didn’t care. Which should have made things easier but somehow didn’t because wherever Wu Suowei was, Chi Cheng was there too. It was not always obvious but it was present.
And more often than not, that meant he ended up blocking half the frame without even realizing it, standing just slightly in front, just slightly to the side, like an unintentional barrier between Suowei and everything else.
He was effortlessly and constantly protective.
So in the end, neither of them had ever really appeared in a way that let people truly see them.
At least–not yet.
So now, this whole thing had started when he had decided to go live during their vacation. It hadn’t been planned, not slotted into any schedule or teased beforehand. It was just one of those impulsive decisions that came to Jiang Xiaoshuai when the morning felt a little too quiet and his mind a little too awake.
It had been early, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, and he was the only one up, moving around the space without interruption. Naturally, that translated into content. So he set up his phone, adjusted the angle with practiced ease, and decided to do an impromptu live. His viewers, as expected, had been enthusiastic–notifications lighting up, comments trickling in and then flooding faster as more people joined, the familiar buzz of attention settling comfortably around him.
He was seated in the living room, relaxed, already easing into his usual rhythm as he greeted his audience, his tone light, conversational, like he was simply talking to friends. Behind him, the setup was unintentionally perfect. The hallway leading to the bedroom clearly visible, and just to the side, the kitchen opening into frame. It wasn’t staged, but it might as well have been, the kind of natural framing that made everything feel more real and intimate.
That was when Suowei appeared. Still half-asleep, completely unaware of the camera filming, he stumbled into the kitchen with slow, unguarded steps, his hair slightly messy, his expression soft in that early-morning haze. He mumbled out a quiet good morning in Xiaoshuai’s direction, voice low and unfiltered, the kind that hadn’t fully woken up yet.
He was wearing a cute pajama set, dotted with little teddys, the fabric loose and comfortable, the shorts riding just enough to show off his long, bare legs,soft and unselfconscious, and entirely too pretty for someone who had no idea he was being watched.
The chat didn’t just react –it erupted.
Comments-
Who is thatt??
OH MY GOD LOOK AT HIS LEGS–
HELLO??? PRETTY BOY ALERT???.
Wait waittttttt ZOOM IN I’M NOT BREATHINGG
WHY IS HE SO CUTE THIS IS ILLEGAL–
Before he could even process what was happening, before he could warn Suowei, turn the camera, or salvage the situation in any way, Chi Cheng appeared behind him like it had been perfectly timed.
There was no hesitation, no pause to assess the situation, just that same effortless certainty he carried in everything he did. One moment Suowei was standing there, still blinking sleep out of his eyes, and the next he was lifted clean off the ground.
Bridal style.
“Chi Cheng–!” Suowei gasped out, startled, his hands instinctively gripping onto his shoulders as his entire world tilted without warning. His voice carried that soft, breathless surprise, somewhere between protest and habit, like this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
Chi Cheng didn’t even look mildly apologetic. If anything, he looked faintly amused, eyes still heavy with sleep but focused entirely on the man in his arms. “Mm,” he hummed, adjusting his hold like it was second nature. “Those pretty legs don’t deserve to be on the ground first thing in the morning, baby.” His voice was low, rough with that early-morning rasp, the kind that seemed to sink into the quiet space around them.
He carried him the few steps to the counter with ease, like Suowei weighed nothing at all, before settling him down carefully against the kitchen surface. His hands lingered for a second longer than necessary, steadying him, like even that small distance needed to be bridged with touch.
“You sit here,” he added, tone softening just a fraction, but still leaving no room for argument. “I’ll make coffee for you, Wei Wei”.
Suowei opened his mouth, maybe to protest, maybe out of habit more than anything else but the words never really came out. Not when Chi Cheng leaned in instead, closing that small space between them, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting, just slow enough to feel intentional, like something quietly familiar, something that belonged only to them.
And then he pulled back like it was nothing. Like this–all of this–was just another morning.
Now this?
This was completely normal for Jiang Xiaoshuai. He didn’t even blink anymore at things like this,had long since gotten used to the quiet intensity of whatever existed between those two.
But for his viewers?
Absolute chaos.
The chat didn’t just explode–it collapsed in on itself.
Comments-
Who is that handsome HUNK WITH THE CUTIE???!!!!
Oh myyyyy goddddd we have another couple in the house–
DID YOU SEE THOSE BROAD SHOULDERS AND THAT DEEP ASS VOICE-
I heard the pretty boy say CHI CHENGGGGGGGGG.
HE JUST LIFTED HIM LIKE HE WEIGHED NOTHING???
AND THAT KISS???? WHEN WILL I EVER GET SUCH SWEETNESS #SODAMNSINGLE
First there was Jiang Xiaoshuai and Guo Chengyu and now these mystery couple who is making us feel single!!!!!!!!!!!
But their size differenceeeeee godddd and like who TF even says “those pretty legs don't deserve to touch the ground” mama romance is not deaddddd
And somewhere in the middle of all that,Jiang Xiaoshuai, still seated calmly in front of the camera, watched the numbers spike.
Watched the reactions flood in.
And very, very quietly–
He smiled.
And that was how the idea took shape in Jiang Xiaoshuai’s mind.
It was not in a sudden flash of brilliance but in that slow, deliberate way his thoughts tended to align when something clicked. He watched the numbers climb, watched the comments spiral into chaos, watched the way his viewers latched onto something so effortlessly raw and unfiltered and he understood.
This was it. This was gold.
Later that day, he brought it up to Guo Chengyu.
Casually, of course. As if he hadn’t already thought five steps ahead.
“They like them,” Xiaoshuai said, scrolling through his phone, tone deceptively light. “A lot.”
Guo Chengyu didn’t even need to ask who they were.
He glanced over once, took in the expression on Xiaoshuai’s face. At the quiet calculation and the unmistakable spark and sighed softly.
“You’re planning something,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
Xiaoshuai smiled, slow and pleased, like he’d just been proven right.
Guo Chengyu shook his head.
There was no real resistance in it. There never was. Because at the end of the day, no matter what kind of chaos Xiaoshuai decided to stir up,he would follow. Not blindly, but willingly and patiently. Like this was just another one of those things that came with loving him.
“Don’t drag me into trouble later,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to his forehead softly, though there was no real weight behind the warning.
Xiaoshuai only hummed in response.
Already thinking ahead.
And after that–
He started collecting.
Not obvious moments or staged ones. Just the kind of thing that happened when no one thought they were being watched.
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Wu Suowei curled up in Chi Cheng’s lap during movie night, tucked in like he belonged there, like that space had been made for him alone. The others were watching the screen, the soft glow of the television flickering across the room but Chi Cheng?
Chi Cheng was looking at Suowei. He was not looking constantly or in a way that demanded attention.
But often enough and long enough.
His hand would come up absentmindedly, brushing Suowei’s hair back, his fingers lingering just a second too long before he leaned in to press a quiet kiss against his cheek. Then another. And another. Scattered, unhurried, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.
Like affection, for him, wasn’t something deliberate rather it was just instinct.
_________________________________________________________________________
When they went out, it was the same.
Without discussion or question, Chi Cheng carried everything. Bags that weren’t his. Jackets Suowei had taken off halfway through. Things Suowei had only looked at picking up before deciding against it.
At some point, Xiaoshuai had watched Suowei reach for something out of habit, only to pause when he realized Chi Cheng already had it.
And the way he just let him? That said everything.
_________________________________________________________________________
The park had been quieter.
A slower moment in the day. Until someone bumped into Suowei–hard enough to make him stumble half a step.
That was all it took.
Chi Cheng’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. It became sharp and focused. The kind of change that didn’t need words to feel dangerous.
Xiaoshuai had barely registered the movement before Chi Cheng had already stepped forward, gaze locked onto the stranger like he was seconds away from making a scene.
It might have escalated.
It probably would have had Suowei not reached out first.
“Hey,” he said softly, catching Chi Cheng’s face between his hands, forcing him to look at him instead.
Not them. Not the stranger.
Just him.
And just like that , the tension cracked. It was not completely gone but it had softened mmarginally.
Suowei leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, his voice quieter this time. “I’m fine.”
And somehow, that was enough.It always was.
Xiaoshuai captured all of it.
Every glance. Every touch. Every quiet, unspoken thing that said more than words ever could.
And when they got back, he put it together.
_________________________________________________________________________
The upload went live within hours. There was no warning and no buildup.
Just a title, a thumbnail and then the internet did the rest.
Chaos ensued.
The video spread faster than anything he had posted in months. Comments poured in, edits started appearing almost immediately, entire threads dedicated to dissecting every second of footage.
People weren’t just watching anymore.
They were invested.
It became his second most liked video. Only surpassed by the now legendary “Boyfriend Does My Makeup While I’m Blindfolded (and ruins everything)” video with Guo Chengyu–which, to this day, people still referenced like it was a cultural reset.
And yet, this one felt different because this time, it wasn’t just about him.
Or even about love that was openly shared.
It was about something quieter. Something people had stumbled upon and decided they never wanted to let go of.
Comments-
myyy heart :( this is the cutest everrr. We have another sweet couple in our house now. #mustProtectAtAllCosts
i didn’t sign up to feel this single today–
the way he looks at him??? i’m unwell
no because this is actually insane……they’re so soft
xiaoshuai drop more RIGHT NOW i’m begging
i need a full compilation. a series. a documentary. SOMETHINGGGGG
they’re literally living in their own little world and we just witnessed it
who gave them the right to be this adorable???
i’m not okay i’m actually not okay. The way he gets so protective? Im goneeee
please tell me this isn’t the last time we see them–
i would watch hours of this idc
the internet just collectively adopted them btw
It didn’t take long for Wu Suowei to find out. It was inevitable, really–there was only so much virality one could avoid, especially when it came wrapped in something so unmistakably him. And besides he was among the first who would check out his best friends video. At first, it was Xiaoshuai who showed him, far too casually for someone who had orchestrated the entire thing, scrolling through the flood of comments and edits like it was just another day.
Suowei had been hesitant even to look, his initial reaction a mix of embarrassment and disbelief, shoulders drawing in slightly as if the attention alone could reach through the screen and touch him. But curiosity won, eventually and as he read, really read, through the responses, something in his expression shifted. The shyness didn’t disappear, not entirely, but it softened, giving way to something quieter.
It was warmer because the comments weren’t cruel. They weren’t invasive in the way he had feared. They were fond. Overwhelmingly so. People adored him. The way he spoke. The way he moved. The way he existed beside Chi Cheng like it was the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps what lingered the most was that they didn’t just see him—they saw them. And they liked what they saw. That realization sat with him longer than he expected, settling somewhere deep and unfamiliar, leaving behind a faint, almost shy kind of happiness he didn’t quite know what to do with.
Jiang Xiaoshuai, of course, noticed. He noticed everything and where most people would have stopped there, content with the success and satisfied with the response–he saw something else entirely. An opportunity. Potential. And, admittedly, a little room for mischief. Because if there was one thing he understood perfectly by now, it was that his viewers didn’t just want glimpses anymore. They wanted more. And if there was one thing he understood even better than that,it was Chi Cheng. More specifically, what made him react. So naturally, Jiang Xiaoshuai decided to play a little devil. For content, of course. Always for content.
The plan came together almost too easily. He approached Suowei first, under the guise of something entirely reasonable–a makeup company had reached out, he said, interested in a collaboration. The catch? They wanted him to feature at least one other person on his channel to try out their products. It was framed casually, like a minor inconvenience, like Suowei was simply the easiest option. But Xiaoshuai knew exactly what he was doing. The hesitation came instantly, as expected. Suowei resisted at first, fidgeting slightly, already trying to come up with excuses. He wasn’t good on camera. He wouldn’t know what to say. What if he messed something up? Xiaoshuai countered every point with practiced ease and gentle persuasion laced with just enough guilt to make refusal difficult. It wasn’t aggressive, but it was effective. And eventually, with a reluctant sigh and a quiet agreement, Suowei gave in.
The setup was simple and familiar. It was safe–at least, as safe as Xiaoshuai made it seem. Suowei sat in front of the camera, noticeably stiff at first, hands resting awkwardly in his lap as if unsure where they belonged. His gaze flickered once toward Xiaoshuai, seeking reassurance, and Xiaoshuai gave it with ease–light conversation, soft teasing and easing him into the moment the way he always did. Slowly, carefully, he began working on Suowei’s makeup, his movements steady, precise, the rhythm of it grounding. And little by little, Suowei relaxed. His shoulders loosened. His replies came more naturally. He even smiled once. It was fleeting but real.
And the chat?
The chat did exactly what Xiaoshuai knew it would.
The comments started rolling in at a pace that was almost impossible to keep up with, admiration spilling over into something far louder, far more unrestrained. Because Wu Suowei, camera-shy or not, was undeniably beautiful. And now, for the first time, people were seeing him clearly. Fully and up close.
Comments-
He’s even prettier like thissssssss
I CAN’T DO THIS HOW IS HE REAL?????????
XIAOSHUAI YOU HAVE BEEN HIDING THIS BEAUTy FROM US!!!!!!!!!!
THOSE EYES??? THAT FACE??? HELLO???
I WOULD LET HIM RUIN MY LIFE THANK YOU—
And right there, in the middle of it all,Jiang Xiaoshuai continued blending, calm and composed on the surface, while something far more satisfied settled quietly beneath.
Because now, all that was left……
Was to wait.
Right on cue,as if the universe itself had decided to reward Jiang Xiaoshuai’s patience,the door opened. There was no hesitation in the movement, no polite knock or pause to assess the situation. Chi Cheng simply stepped in, his presence filling the space in an instant, his gaze sweeping once across the room before settling inevitably on Wu Suowei. It didn’t take more than a second, not for him to notice the camera, the setup, the way Suowei was seated there, soft under the lights, open in a way that wasn’t meant for anyone else to see. And something in his expression shifted into something quieter, something softer and deeply certain with the faintest trace of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He crossed the distance without a word, each step unhurried, until he was standing right behind Suowei, close enough that the space between them simply disappeared. His hand came to rest at Suowei’s waist, firm but gentle, pulling him back just slightly, just enough to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Suowei startled at the sudden contact, breath catching, his name already halfway out in a flustered protest. “Chi Cheng….wait, I–” he began, glancing instinctively toward the camera, suddenly aware again of everything.
Chi Cheng didn’t let him finish.
He leaned in instead, slow and unhurried, his lips brushing against the curve of Suowei’s nape in a touch that was soft, lingering, and undeniably affectionate. It wasn’t meant to interrupt rather it was meant to reassure. “Filming?” he murmured, voice low, still carrying that quiet morning warmth, as if the question mattered far less than the person in front of him. His grip at Suowei’s waist steadied, grounding and familiar in a way that made Suowei instinctively lean back into him.
“Xiaoshuai said it was for–” Suowei tried again, softer now, but the words faded as Chi Cheng shifted slightly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the screen. He caught it this time–the flood of comments, the way the chat was moving too fast to read, the sheer interest directed at the person in front of him.
There was a pause.
And then his lips curved. It was not one of irritation.
It was soft and unmistakably smug.
His attention returned to Suowei, and whatever flicker of sharpness had been there melted into something warm, something quietly pleased. His hand slid just a little higher, thumb brushing absently against Suowei’s side, and he leaned in again, closer this time–close enough that his voice dropped into something more intimate, more deliberate.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, and this time there was a hint of amusement beneath the certainty, like he had already decided how this would end. His lips hovered near Suowei’s ear, and with the faintest smirk, he added, just loud enough to be heard–
“He’s mine.”
The effect was immediate.
Suowei went still for a brief second, the words settling over him before his expression softened, warmth rising to his face in a quiet flush. There was no real resistance in him, no embarrassment strong enough to pull away,just that familiar, shy kind of happiness that always seemed to follow whenever Chi Cheng was like this, his fingers curling slightly against the edge of the counter as if grounding himself in the moment.
The chat, however, did not share that calm.
It completely unraveled.
Comments-
he said he’s mine????? i’m gone-
no one touch me i’m cryinggggg
the smirk??? did you see the smirk???
this is not a vlog this is a live attack I-
i need what they have or i don’t want ittttttttttttttttttttttttttt
xiaoshuai you knew. you knew this would happen.
Chi Cheng, my man skkkskskks. He came to stake his claim!!!!!
Across the room, just barely within the frame, Guo Chengyu let out a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, shaking his head as if none of this surprised him anymore. Like this kind of chaos had long since become part of his everyday life.
And Jiang Xiaoshuai?
He didn’t move.Not even slightly. The brush in his hand remained steady, his expression composed but his eyes flickered once toward the screen, catching the numbers as they climbed higher and higher.
Perfect.
Because in the end, it had never just been about capturing moments. It had always been about understanding them and about knowing which ones would linger, which ones would stay.
And as the livestream spiraled into something loud and unforgettable, Jiang Xiaoshuai allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
Because this time, he hadn’t just given his audience something to watch.
He had given them something to fall in love with.