https://clearlykero.livejournal.com/ (
clearlykero.livejournal.com) wrote in
writetomyheart2019-05-23 02:35 am
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
[TEAM TWO] consider a retirement plan
yells i wrote and then forgot i hadn't posted! anyway this is fic of a chinese webnovel called Superstars of Tomorrow, in which the main character Fang Zhao is a 120+ year old composer-turned-war-general who gets reincarnated into the body of a student composer 500 years after the apocalyptic war is over, and proceeds to become a celebrity. Wang Tie is the middle-aged paparazzo who stalks him from time to time, in disguises such as another young student or a curvy lady in 5-inch heels.
"I'm here to help," said Fang Zhao, quite enthusiastically. As Fang Zhao was rather well-known for his propensity to be unfazed by everything the world had to throw at him, this did not reassure Wang Tie a single bit. He attempted one last wiggle in a bid for safety, but all it did was cause the sheet holding him up to make an alarming tearing noise. The ground was very far away. Wang Tie truly regretted his New Year resolution to lift his personal ban on Fang Zhao reporting. He must have been high on something.
"To help me along to my death?" It was a pertinent question, considering Fang Zhao had yet to offer any actual assistance. Instead, he was leaning out to inspect Wang Tie's predicament with a glint of excitement in his eye.
"Why are you hanging from the window?" Fang Zhao asked him, as if Wang Tie wanted to be there.
"Your bodyguard put me here," Wang Tie replied anyway. After all these years, he was well acquainted with Fang Zhao. There was no point in trying to hide anything. He took another glance at where his feet were dangling in the air, gulped, and added: "Because I was trying to get into your room."
Fang Zhao tapped his fingers on the twisted sheet that held Wang Tie in the air. "I'll have to speak to him about trying to matchmake me," he murmured, loud enough for Wang Tie to hear.
"Matchmake you?" Wang Tie almost shrieked.
"He probably thinks you're a female reporter," said Fang Zhao lightly, taking hold of the sheet and hauling before Wang Tie could formulate a reply. One of his heels ended up lost to the wind, but eventually he got all of himself back into the room. Fang Zhao had an arm around his waist, politely steadying him as he kicked off his other heel.
"Does your bodyguard just hang any random female reporter out the window? I could make that kind of news do headlines for a month, how do you not have any scandals?" Wang Tie smoothed down his dress in a huff.
"Did you really forget? We've seen you in this disguise before," Fang Zhao said, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't taken his arm off Wang Tie's waist. "He remembered I quite enjoyed our conversation."
Now Wang Tie remembered. He'd probably blocked it from his memory because of the trauma. "By conversation, you mean threat at gunpoint?"
Fang Zhao shrugged, patting Wang Tie's hip then letting him go. "We did spend an awful long time in that hotel room. He must have misunderstood."
"I'm going to expose you one of these days, you mark my words," Wang Tie said, lifting his chin but not quite daring to point his finger in case Fang Zhao punted him back out the window. He doubted it, though. This wasn't the first time Wang Tie had tried to get one up on Fang Zhao in the past couple of years. He still had his pride as the King of Paparazzi, after all. But the days when his snooping caused Fang Zhao to break into his apartment and deliver a threatening speech were long gone; now he usually just sent a text message and Wang Tie would grudgingly desist. There wasn't really any enmity between them.
"If anyone was going to expose the real me someday…" Fang Zhao trailed off. He looked out the window, suddenly pensive. Wang Tie thought he could understand a little bit of how Fang Zhao felt. They were in a strange sort of relationship these days, somewhere in the amorphous state between friends and adversaries. It didn't seem like Fang Zhao had very many friends, much less the kind of friend he didn't need to hide his sharpness around. Wang Tie was in a very unique position. "Maybe you'd write my biography after I die," Fang Zhao said at last. He didn't look back at Wang Tie.
"Maybe I would if you let me report on you for once," Wang Tie said, rolling his eyes. "Can I go? We don't want your bodyguard to have another misunderstanding. This uncle is too old for you, anyway." He didn't catch the amused smile that broke across Fang Zhao's face at that sentence.
"You look quite young and gorgeous today, though?"
Wang Tie, horrified at the blush that was rising in his cheeks, sprinted to the door and slammed it behind him. Fang Zhao's bodyguard gave him a judgemental stare, his eyes lingering on the way his dress was rucked at his hips and his lack of heels.
"Shut up," said Wang Tie, now entirely red.
"I didn't say anything," said Fang Zhao's bodyguard, mildly.
Maybe, thought Wang Tie, maybe I should think about retirement.
over to you,
coyoteclaw!
"I'm here to help," said Fang Zhao, quite enthusiastically. As Fang Zhao was rather well-known for his propensity to be unfazed by everything the world had to throw at him, this did not reassure Wang Tie a single bit. He attempted one last wiggle in a bid for safety, but all it did was cause the sheet holding him up to make an alarming tearing noise. The ground was very far away. Wang Tie truly regretted his New Year resolution to lift his personal ban on Fang Zhao reporting. He must have been high on something.
"To help me along to my death?" It was a pertinent question, considering Fang Zhao had yet to offer any actual assistance. Instead, he was leaning out to inspect Wang Tie's predicament with a glint of excitement in his eye.
"Why are you hanging from the window?" Fang Zhao asked him, as if Wang Tie wanted to be there.
"Your bodyguard put me here," Wang Tie replied anyway. After all these years, he was well acquainted with Fang Zhao. There was no point in trying to hide anything. He took another glance at where his feet were dangling in the air, gulped, and added: "Because I was trying to get into your room."
Fang Zhao tapped his fingers on the twisted sheet that held Wang Tie in the air. "I'll have to speak to him about trying to matchmake me," he murmured, loud enough for Wang Tie to hear.
"Matchmake you?" Wang Tie almost shrieked.
"He probably thinks you're a female reporter," said Fang Zhao lightly, taking hold of the sheet and hauling before Wang Tie could formulate a reply. One of his heels ended up lost to the wind, but eventually he got all of himself back into the room. Fang Zhao had an arm around his waist, politely steadying him as he kicked off his other heel.
"Does your bodyguard just hang any random female reporter out the window? I could make that kind of news do headlines for a month, how do you not have any scandals?" Wang Tie smoothed down his dress in a huff.
"Did you really forget? We've seen you in this disguise before," Fang Zhao said, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't taken his arm off Wang Tie's waist. "He remembered I quite enjoyed our conversation."
Now Wang Tie remembered. He'd probably blocked it from his memory because of the trauma. "By conversation, you mean threat at gunpoint?"
Fang Zhao shrugged, patting Wang Tie's hip then letting him go. "We did spend an awful long time in that hotel room. He must have misunderstood."
"I'm going to expose you one of these days, you mark my words," Wang Tie said, lifting his chin but not quite daring to point his finger in case Fang Zhao punted him back out the window. He doubted it, though. This wasn't the first time Wang Tie had tried to get one up on Fang Zhao in the past couple of years. He still had his pride as the King of Paparazzi, after all. But the days when his snooping caused Fang Zhao to break into his apartment and deliver a threatening speech were long gone; now he usually just sent a text message and Wang Tie would grudgingly desist. There wasn't really any enmity between them.
"If anyone was going to expose the real me someday…" Fang Zhao trailed off. He looked out the window, suddenly pensive. Wang Tie thought he could understand a little bit of how Fang Zhao felt. They were in a strange sort of relationship these days, somewhere in the amorphous state between friends and adversaries. It didn't seem like Fang Zhao had very many friends, much less the kind of friend he didn't need to hide his sharpness around. Wang Tie was in a very unique position. "Maybe you'd write my biography after I die," Fang Zhao said at last. He didn't look back at Wang Tie.
"Maybe I would if you let me report on you for once," Wang Tie said, rolling his eyes. "Can I go? We don't want your bodyguard to have another misunderstanding. This uncle is too old for you, anyway." He didn't catch the amused smile that broke across Fang Zhao's face at that sentence.
"You look quite young and gorgeous today, though?"
Wang Tie, horrified at the blush that was rising in his cheeks, sprinted to the door and slammed it behind him. Fang Zhao's bodyguard gave him a judgemental stare, his eyes lingering on the way his dress was rucked at his hips and his lack of heels.
"Shut up," said Wang Tie, now entirely red.
"I didn't say anything," said Fang Zhao's bodyguard, mildly.
Maybe, thought Wang Tie, maybe I should think about retirement.
over to you,
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)