Yuchen's Pov
In the immortal realm, only those who successfully cultivated for 5,000 years could ascend to godhood—a feat so rare it had become mere legend. No immortal had ever lived that long; they either surrendered their lives willingly or had their threads of fate severed prematurely.
Yuchen, however, was different. He possessed a gift unprecedented in the immortal records: the ability to double his cultivation progress. His father was the first to discover this extraordinary talent, and it terrified him.
"The boy must be sent away," his father had whispered to the elder one night, unaware that Yuchen lingered in the shadows beyond the door. "If other immortal sects learn of this, they will stop at nothing. Envy is a poison more potent than any demon's venom."
And so, when Yuchen reached merely 100 years—a child by immortal standards—his father sent him away to the demon realm after the elder's secretive training. The young immortal's heart hardened with each passing decade, interpreting his exile as rejection, his father's distance as disdain.
He despises me, Yuchen thought bitterly as he mastered demonic arts that would have made his immortal ancestors weep. I am a disappointment he wishes to forget.
It wasn't until centuries later, when a brown-eyed fox demon named Hu Yetao spoke words that pierced his hardened heart, that Yuchen began to see through different eyes.
"When a parent strongly ignores a child," Yetao had said, his voice gentle yet unwavering, "it could be either to protect them or to develop their potential. It could never be pure hatred."
The words settled into Yuchen's soul like seeds into fertile soil. Sometimes, viewing a problem from another perspective could illuminate truths long concealed by shadows of assumption. Yetao was that kind of light—radiant, revealing, and relentlessly kind even in darkness.
What began as simple affection evolved into admiration. Yuchen found himself drawn to Yetao's unwavering confidence in dire situations, his graceful movement through both physical and emotional battlefields, and the thoughtfulness that tempered his every decision. Slowly, imperceptibly, like a current shifting beneath still waters, Yuchen fell for the entirety of Hu Yetao—not for specific traits, but for the harmonious whole they created.
His heart would flutter at Yetao's smile, his eyes would seek him out in crowded chambers, and his attention would fix upon the fox demon as naturally as trees lean toward sunlight. It was subtle yet profound, this gravitational pull toward another being.
But fate, as it often does, introduced complications. When circumstances bound Yetao to Bambam, the Demon lord with a mysterious past, Yuchen watched with growing despair as their connection deepened. Though he resisted acknowledging it, the truth was undeniable: Yetao looked at Bambam the way Yuchen looked at Yetao, with that same curious mixture of fascination and tender regard. And Bambam, despite his cryptic nature, clearly reciprocated.
Yuchen fortified his heart with stone, remaining nearby solely to protect Yetao. Yet when catastrophe struck—when Yetao lost consciousness after receiving the memory stone—Yuchen's resolve wavered. He stood by, silent and unmoving, as Bambam prepared to sacrifice himself for Yetao's sake.
Let him go, whispered the darkest corner of Yuchen's mind. With him gone, perhaps gege will...
He didn't complete the thought, ashamed of its selfish nature. But he didn't intervene either.
Then, in a twist of fate that would haunt him for centuries, Yetao offered his own life in exchange for Bambam's. The sun that had warmed Yuchen's cold existence was extinguished, leaving him in darkness deeper than any he had known before.
"If only I had stopped that Demon lord," became his eternal lament. The guilt consumed him like a living thing, feeding on his regret that the only brightness in his solitary existence, the only sweetness in his bitter journey—Yetao—had died for someone else's love.
Driven by remorse and desperation, Yuchen stole the "Parallel Eye" with little Thio's help. Together, they searched countless universes, examining myriad timelines where Yetao might exist. After what seemed an eternity, they found him—reborn as a bright-eyed child in a loving family, untroubled by memories of past lives and loves lost.
To recreate the world anew, Thio sacrificed his shell—the vessel of his power—and reincarnated alongside Yetao in his world, memories wiped clean like footprints washed away by tides. Yuchen remained behind, the last survivor of their shattered world, more isolated than ever before.
Yet he persisted. Discovering Yetao's passion for gaming in this new incarnation, Yuchen found a mortal with the skill to create a virtual world, Omar. With the power of the "Parallel Eye," they crafted a game designed to lure Yetao back to a shadow of his former existence.
But when Yetao completed his mission within the game, Yuchen saw something that cracked his stone heart: Yetao's reluctance to release Bambam's hands until the final moment. Even across lifetimes, their connection endured.
A demon lord like Bambam had no soul—they weren't born of parents but formed to combat world-ending calamities. Without a soul, reincarnation was impossible. Forever separated from Yetao.
Yuchen made his decision. After 2,500 years of cultivation—halfway to godhood—he stood before the celestial gates, prepared to ascend. But instead of stepping through, he made a sacrifice that left even the gods speechless: he offered his ascension in exchange for Bambam to receive a true soul.
The gods questioned him repeatedly, bewildered by his choice. Ascension was a rarity coveted by all immortals—why surrender it for a demon?
Yuchen's answer was simple yet profound: "I don't want his smile to fade... just like he always made sure to keep mine alive."
And so Bambam received a soul, his existence woven into the fabric of the world alongside Yetao. Yuchen reincarnated with his memories wiped clean, his long lonesome journey finally complete. The weight of centuries lifted from his spirit, leaving behind no pain—only the lightness of a love that had, at last, learned to let go.
As he faded into his new life, the gods whispered among themselves in reverent tones about the immortal who had traded divinity for another's happiness—perhaps the most divine act of all.
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Back to current timeline...
The red string connecting them might have healed, but BamBam soon discovered that centuries of separation had changed them both in ways he hadn't anticipated.
Two days after their moonlit reunion at Chiang mai, BamBam noticed a shift in Yetao's demeanor during filming. Gone was the soft warmth in his eyes when they met across the practice room, replaced by something cooler, more calculating. During their scheduled mentoring session, Yetao maintained rigid professionalism, addressing him only as "Producer-nim" and avoiding any opportunity for their hands to brush as they had so naturally before.
"Did I do something?" BamBam finally asked when they found themselves momentarily alone in the corridor.
Yetao's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing recent," he replied cryptically before rejoining his fellow trainees.
That evening, Yetao didn't respond to any of BamBam's messages—unusual since their reconnection. It wasn't until midnight that his phone finally chimed with a notification.
It wasn't from Yetao but from Shen, Yetao's roommate—or as BamBam now remembered, his glass snake familiar from their first life when BamBam was a demon lord. Their souls had traveled together across lifetimes, bonds maintaining even through reincarnation.
My Lord. You still have a long way to go, the text read with a reel attached.
BamBam opened it, heart light with anticipation, expecting some cute moment Shen had captured of Yetao. Instead, his blood froze in his veins.
The video showed Yetao in the practice room after hours, performing an intimate choreography with Peanut, another trainee whose crush on Yetao had been painfully obvious since day one. Their bodies moved in perfect synchronization, Peanut's hands lingering on Yetao's waist longer than necessary, their faces mere inches apart during the final at certain steps.
"How dare he look at my Taotao like that!" BamBam yelled, throwing his phone against the wall with such force that the screen shattered beyond repair. The poor phone reached heaven that day, finally getting peace.
Pacing his apartment like a caged tiger, he grabbed his spare phone and called Shen directly, fury overwhelming rational thought.
"What the hell are you doing there not stopping him?" he demanded when the call connected, not bothering with greetings.
Silence greeted him.
"See how that peanut or walnut is looking at him? Shouldn't you have interfered and stopped it somehow?" BamBam continued, voice rising with each word.
"Why should he interfere?" came a voice that definitely wasn't Shen's.
BamBam froze mid-step, heart lurching painfully. "Taotao... you..."
"I'm going to date someone else too," Yetao interrupted, voice cold and precise.
Horror crawled up BamBam's spine as the implication of Yetao's words sank in. "What? Why would you—"
"When you had no guilt kissing someone else other than me, then why should I be the good guy?" Yetao's accusation cut through the connection like a blade.
BamBam's mind raced, confusion evident in his voice. "How do you...?"
A scoff from the other end. "See? I saw your interview. So that's actually true."
Realization came like ice water down his back. Three years ago, before finding Yetao again, BamBam had given a candid interview about his dating life—downplaying his experiences, but admitting to a few casual relationships and kisses. Words spoken before remembering, before reconnecting, but apparently now coming back to haunt him.
"But Taotao, that was before I found you. I swear even my lips are pure for the past three years," he blurted, immediately regretting the implication behind his words.
Yetao's laugh held no humor. "So you went all the way, huh? I would've understood if you were a normal guy. But you could see those threads. Didn't you feel even a bit guilty doing that?"
"No, listen Taotao, I—"
"Just remember I'm not going to stop with just this dance," Yetao declared before abruptly ending the call.
BamBam's legs gave out beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. "I'm doomed. Why did I have to say all those things in the interview? I should've listend to Jay B hyung"
....
The days leading up to the show's finale became exquisite torture. BamBam maintained his professional facade during filming but found himself obsessively scrolling through social media every free moment, masochistically consuming the growing collection of fan edits pairing Yetao and Peanut.
#YeTaoPeanut had become a trending hashtag, with eagle-eyed fans capturing every interaction between the two trainees and spinning elaborate relationship theories. BamBam's eyes grew bloodshot from lack of sleep and endless scrolling, requiring extra attention from makeup artists before cameras could roll.
On April 6th, the finale aired live. Yetao secured his well-deserved debut position, ranking third overall—a triumph after his previous elimination. When BamBam approached to offer official congratulations, Yetao smiled perfectly for the cameras, bowing respectfully and thanking "Producer-nim" for his guidance with no hint of their shared history in his eyes.
"We should celebrate your success," BamBam whispered under his breath as they posed for photographs.
"I already have plans," Yetao replied through his camera-ready smile, eyes never meeting BamBam's.
The afterparty proved even more painful as BamBam watched from across the room while Peanut monopolized Yetao's attention, their heads bent close in conspiratorial conversation, Yetao's laughter at Peanut's jokes driving daggers into BamBam's heart.
Just when BamBam thought things couldn't get worse, they did. On April 10th, Peanut posted a reel captioned: "Take a look at my girlfriend 💕" featuring Yetao playfully batting his eyelashes at the camera.
Something inside BamBam snapped.
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The hallway of the Waterbomb Hainan event hotel felt endless as BamBam strode purposefully toward room 1214, where he knew Yetao was staying. His mind had gone strangely calm, the roaring jealousy of previous days crystallizing into cold determination.
He knocked sharply, reining in the urge to pound his fist against the door.
When it opened, BamBam was momentarily thrown by the sight of Zihao's familiar face—their son from their past life, reincarnated alongside them but with no memories of their previous connection.
"Where is Taotao?" BamBam asked, struggling to keep his voice level.
Zihao smiled innocently. "He's showering. You can go in. I'll tuck in with Thio."
BamBam's heart softened at the sight of the boy who had once called him Dad. "Thank you."
As Zihao gathered his things, he paused, looking up at BamBam with unexpected solemnity. "Don't hurt Mommy. He can be reckless but he loves you a lot."
The simple statement stunned BamBam. Did Zihao somehow sense their connection, or was this merely a son's intuition? Throat tight with emotion, he could only nod and pat the boy's head gently.
Once alone, BamBam seated himself at the edge of the bed, heart pounding as he heard the shower shut off. Moments later, Yetao emerged wrapped in a white hotel robe, hair damp and skin flushed from the hot water.
His startled cry upon seeing BamBam was followed immediately by a pillow thrown with surprising accuracy. "What are YOU doing here? Where is my son?"
"He went to sleep with Thio," BamBam replied, rising to his feet. "And he's OUR son, Taotao."
Yetao's eyes flashed dangerously. "No, he's not. He only calls me Mommy in this life and I'm going to find another Daddy for him. The previous Daddy I've chosen was a playboy. I don't want to set a bad example. Now get out!" He advanced, attempting to physically push BamBam toward the door.
Instead of resisting, BamBam pulled Yetao into a tight embrace, burying his face against the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of Yetao's skin—unchanged across lifetimes—momentarily overwhelmed him.
"I swear Taotao, I just kissed twice and I didn't go all the way because I didn't feel any connection toward them. Please believe me," BamBam whispered, voice breaking as tears gathered in his eyes. The tears weren't planned—they sprang forth from the genuine fear of losing Yetao again after centuries of searching.
Beneath his hands, he felt Yetao's resistance softening, the rigid tension in his shoulders gradually relaxing.
"Why are you being such a crybaby over this?" Yetao sighed, his own arms tentatively rising to return the embrace. "I... I just wanted to vent my anger. It's alright."
BamBam pulled back, cupping Yetao's face between his palms. "So you won't make me go nuts again, right?"
"I won't. So—"
Before Yetao could finish his sentence, BamBam pressed their lips together, years of longing condensed into a desperate kiss. His hands slid into Yetao's damp hair, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear.
Yetao struggled briefly, pushing against BamBam's chest when breathing became difficult. As he pulled away, something fell from BamBam's jacket pocket with a soft thud against the carpet—a small bottle of glycerine.
The room fell silent.
Yetao stared at the bottle, then at BamBam's tear-stained face, understanding shown in his eyes.
"I couldn't get tears in my eyes since I've seen so many shipping videos of you and Peanut," BamBam blurted out, immediately realizing his mistake.
Another weighted silence descended between them.
"Fine," Yetao finally said, trying to push Bambam outside the door. "You go and watch the remaining videos. I'm going to sleep."
Instead of releasing him, BamBam gently but firmly pressed Yetao onto the bed. "You already forgave me. No takebacks," he insisted, lips finding Yetao's once more.
For a moment, Yetao remained rigid beneath him, and BamBam feared he'd pushed too far. Then, with a resigned sigh that melted into something warmer, Yetao's arms wrapped around BamBam's neck, pulling him closer.
"You're impossible," Yetao murmured against his lips.
"Only with you," BamBam replied, smiling into their kiss.
.
.
.
Later, tangled in hotel sheets with Yetao's head resting on his chest, BamBam traced idle patterns along his lover's spine.
"So," he ventured carefully, "you and Peanut...?"
Yetao chuckled, the sound vibrating pleasantly against BamBam's skin. "He was in on it. I told him I needed to make someone jealous."
"You're cruel," BamBam complained without heat.
"And you're dramatic," Yetao countered, lifting his head to meet BamBam's gaze. "Glycerine tears? Really?"
"I was desperate! And they weren't all fake," BamBam defended himself, earning a playful swat from Yetao.
Silence settled between them again, comfortable this time as the red string between their fingers pulsed with vibrant light, stronger now than ever before.
"What happens now?" BamBam asked eventually. "You'll be busy promoting with your new group. I have the label to run."
Yetao's fingers intertwined with his, their red strings wrapping around each other like living vines. "We figure it out. One day at a time."
"It won't be easy," BamBam warned, thinking of the media scrutiny, the distance their careers would often impose, the careful balance they'd need to maintain between public personas and private truths.
Yetao's smile held centuries of wisdom. "Nothing worthwhile ever is. But we've waited lifetimes to be together. What's a few challenges compared to that?"
BamBam pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been the wise one," Yetao replied with mock seriousness. "You were just too busy being a dumb one to notice."
Laughter bubbled between them, and BamBam marveled at how quickly they could transition from passion to conflict to this easy companionship—as if their souls remembered the rhythm of being together even when their minds had forgotten.
The path forward would not always be smooth. They would argue about past jealousies and present insecurities. Their professional lives would sometimes pull them in different directions. Old wounds from past lives might occasionally resurface, bringing fresh pain to be healed.
But through it all, the red string that had once been severed would remain whole—a vibrant reminder that some bonds transcend time, space, and even death itself.
Not everything goes smoothly in a relationship. The trick is how quickly you solve it, so that happy times last longer than the bickering. Even though they shared three lifetimes of memories together, they would still fight from time to time—but they would never again be separated, only drawn closer with each challenge overcome.
After all, the red string of fate might stretch or tangle, but once properly mended, it never again breaks.
THE END....