To be honest, Ji Jiahe had initially picked Luo Ding for the feature with some ulterior motives. He had his eye on Luo, but since their interactions had been limited, he knew that a few collaborative projects would help deepen their connection. He had even prepared to scrap the Luo Ding shoot if things went poorly and substitute Duan Xiubo in his place.
But now… these photos? These were far from just suitable for the inner pages—they were cover-worthy!
Hu Qi, cut off mid-speech, was practically purple with frustration, but he couldn’t help himself from adding, “If you’re impressed now, wait until you see the next shots. You’ll see just how versatile Luo Ding can be!”
Reluctantly, Ji Jiahe flipped to the final image.
And this… This made his eye twitch, and his fingers trembled as he rubbed his temples.
“Really…?”
*Really, I don’t even know what to say…*
It was a large image—unlike the previous solo shots, this one featured Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo together.
Standing shoulder to shoulder, Duan’s shirt was still slightly unbuttoned from the earlier shot, but he now faced forward, his profile angled toward Luo Ding. Meanwhile, Luo, still wearing those light-colored low-rise jeans, was positioned with his back to the camera, his profile turned toward Duan.
Though Luo was shorter than Duan, he gazed up at him with such warmth and familiarity, while Duan returned the look with a gentle, indulgent smile. Their contrasting facial features—one sharp and rugged, the other refined and delicate—fit together perfectly.
But it wasn’t just their faces—their body language was even more striking.
Luo’s waist was slim, his hips round and firm, his lower back forming a perfect arch that accentuated his slender figure. Duan’s broad hand rested on Luo’s waist, fingers splayed across his bare skin. The contrast between their complexions was stark, and the difference was heightened by the camera’s focus. Luo’s hand, though attempting to encircle Duan’s waist, failed to fully reach, so he settled for clutching the fabric of Duan’s shirt, his grip appearing almost endearing in its awkwardness.
Ji Jiahe felt a guilty pang as his mind wandered to inappropriate places, his eyes lingering on Luo’s exposed waist before darting back to Duan. He couldn’t decide which one he was more envious of.
*Luo Ding’s waist must feel incredible to touch. Duan, you lucky bastard!*
*Duan looks unbelievably manly. Luo, let me take your place and get looked at like that!*
His thoughts were spinning out of control, and Ji Jiahe finally snapped his head up to glare at Hu Qi, who was now beaming with pride. “Who told you to shoot them like this?!”
“Huh? You don’t like it? I thought the composition was brilliant! Look at Luo Ding—he’s clearly embodying youthful innocence, while Duan is all masculine energy and control. Together, they strike a perfect balance, don’t you think? It’s such a harmonious clash!”
“Very… suggestive,” Ji Jiahe summed up his feelings in one succinct word.
“…”
Hu Qi frowned, staring at the photo again. After a few moments, he started shaking his head. “Oh… Yeah, I see it now.”
He hadn’t intended for the shot to come across this way. As one of the few remaining straight photographers in the industry, Hu Qi had approached the shoot with purely artistic intentions. Duan hadn’t even taken his shirt off! And he had carefully sifted through the photos, discarding any shots that seemed too intimate. Yet… the result still exuded a subtle tension.
Ji Jiahe slapped the desk and chuckled, clearly amused. “Good! I like it! Nowadays, what magazine *isn’t* suggestive? Your composition is perfect—not too overt, but enough for people to read into if they want to. Great job! Keep this up—I’m counting on you!”
Hu Qi, still somewhat baffled, scratched his head as he wrestled with the realization that no matter how he shot it, the image just… looked suggestive.
Ji Jiahe, on the other hand, was now wrestling with a different problem: *These photos are all so good. Which one should I choose?*
******
Luo Ding’s fans had been buzzing with excitement for days.
Whenever official content was released in quick succession, it always triggered a surge of enthusiasm in the fandom. This time, the excitement was sparked by a subtle announcement on *Fashion Weekly’s* official website.
“For a limited time, we will include free photo prints of this issue’s featured star with every purchase. The prints are sealed inside random magazines, and the price remains unchanged. Consider this a small New Year’s gift to our readers.”
And then, below this notice, they… posted… two… photos… of Luo Ding.
The moment fans saw the pictures, they were rendered speechless, reduced to nothing but incoherent screams.
In one shot, a shirtless Luo Ding stood with one hand in his jean pocket, his other hand running through his slightly damp hair as he gazed down. His half-lidded eyes gave him a drowsy, languid expression, radiating a relaxed sensuality. In the second image, he was grinning broadly at the camera, radiating youthful energy. Despite no change in wardrobe, the difference in his demeanor between the two shots made him seem like two completely different people.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
That morning, Duan Xiubo woke up to find his small fan account flooded with notifications. A well-known figure in Luo Ding’s fan circle had shared the official post, and it had instantly gone viral.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH I’M GOING TO DIE MY BABY, DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!”
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIRTLESS! SHIRTLESS! AHHHHHHHHHHHH MY HUSBAND IS SO HOT!”
“THOSE MUSCLES! SO SULTRY! WHY IS HIS SKIN SO FAIR?!”
“I’m done for! He’s just too much! This is it—I’m jumping into the river!”
“Lick lick lick… Why does every phone I own get water damage?! I’ve gone through four this month alone!”
“*Fashion Weekly*, if you’re going to tease us with photos, why don’t you go ahead and publish the issue?! JUST RELEASE IT ALREADY! COME ON!”
“Please, take my money! I’ll pay extra! Just give me ALL of Luo Ding’s photos! I don’t care if it’s 100 yuan per shot—take my wallet, I beg you!”
Duan Xiubo sat bolt upright in bed, his expression turning serious as he opened the two photos.
It was *those* shots. They actually went with *those*!
Duan blinked, and the image of Luo Ding’s half-naked body immediately transported him back to the shoot. Every detail from that day, the closeness, the smooth skin… Luo Ding in real life was even more stunning than in these photos. His skin had been so soft… without a single blemish. Just touching it had felt like…
Duan Xiubo glanced down at himself, ignoring the unmistakable sign of his growing excitement. Luckily, he was alone in the room, so there was no need to be discreet. He quickly navigated through his fan account, examining every single comment left under the post.
Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he clicked on the post shared by one of the major fan accounts in the Luo Ding fandom and typed out his own reply—a long string of *ahhhh* that surpassed everyone else’s in length.
After clicking “publish” he felt an odd sense of satisfaction, watching as his username floated up to the top of the comment section, his reply standing out among the countless others.
Feeling content, Duan Xiubo got up and headed for the bathroom to wash up, his morning routine punctuated by the thought of Luo Ding’s photos.
Meanwhile, Ji Jiahe, the *Fashion Weekly* editor-in-chief, had managed to push through his proposal to double the magazine’s usual print run, despite fierce opposition from many within the company. During the meeting, he had faced several detractors, all of whom he rebutted convincingly. He had argued that Duan Xiubo’s star power, Luo Ding’s growing online influence, and the exceptionally high quality of the photos would ensure strong sales. Eventually, the higher-ups had chosen to ignore the doubters and approved Ji Jiahe’s plan.
From the moment the decision was made, and even up until the night before the issue was set to hit the shelves, many within the company eagerly awaited Ji Jiahe’s downfall. They believed he had overestimated the situation, allowing his recent success to cloud his judgment. To them, it was a clear case of a rookie mistake. They had assumed that *Fashion Weekly* was setting itself up for failure by printing double the usual amount.
To these skeptics, the mere suggestion that Luo Ding’s “popularity” could drive sales was laughable. After all, he wasn’t even a household name in mainstream media. Sure, Luo Ding might have a presence online, but that didn’t mean people would actually spend money on a magazine just to see him. They imagined his fans as the kind who would only consume free content—certainly not the type to pay for physical copies. And as for the claims that the photos were particularly stunning, that seemed like an absurd overstatement. What difference did a good picture make when most fans could easily find free scans online?
They were all too eager to see Ji Jiahe’s ambitious plans crash and burn.
The day the magazine finally hit the shelves, Ji Jiahe closed his blinds and collapsed onto his office sofa, bracing himself for the results.
He had to admit that he had been a bit impulsive this time. When he first saw the photos of Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo together, he had been so struck by their chemistry and the visual impact of the shots that he had let his emotions guide his decision-making. He had confidently pushed for a larger print run, bolstered by the success of his last issue. But now, with the initial excitement wearing off, Ji Jiahe couldn’t help but second-guess his logic.
Was Luo Ding’s fanbase really as strong as he had thought? Sure, after some investigation, he had concluded that many of Luo’s fans were older and more likely to spend money. But no one could predict whether these online supporters would actually follow through with purchases. It was entirely possible that Luo’s fanbase, like those of many modern singers, was full of people who praised him endlessly online but didn’t actually spend money on his work.
And then there was the bold choice of the suggestive photos of Duan and Luo. Ji Jiahe had selected the shots knowing they would stir conversation, but the decision had been risky. The images defied *Fashion Weekly’s* usual aesthetic, and while they had a modern appeal, they might alienate the magazine’s more traditional readership. For all he knew, the reaction could be overwhelmingly negative.
The phone rang, its jarring sound shattering the silence. Startled, Ji Jiahe sat up and checked his watch, then sighed deeply.
“Let the storm come,” he muttered to himself before answering.
On the other end, his assistant’s voice was hoarse with excitement, trembling with an energy that suggested they were on the brink of collapse.
“Boss!!! We sold out!!! *Fashion Weekly* sold out everywhere! We’re getting calls nonstop for more stock!!!”
Ji Jiahe’s hand trembled as he hung up the phone, only for it to ring again. And again. Each time, he received the same news: the magazine had sold out faster than anyone had anticipated.
“We have to reprint!”
“We’re getting bulk orders from Japan!”
“Can the printer speed things up? The first batch isn’t enough—we need more copies immediately!!!”
Still shaking, Ji Jiahe ran his hands through his hair and silently screamed into the empty office. Then, gathering himself, he put on his coat and strolled out of his office, his usual composure now back in place, ready to bask in his triumph.
Back at the company, colleagues who had once discreetly doubted him now scrambled to get the reprints done, all while showering him with praise for pulling off another massive success.
Ji Jiahe accepted their congratulations with calm nods, but inside, he was practically soaring.
What he didn’t know, however, was that far beyond the walls of his office, there was an entire online community just as thrilled as he was.
That strange and enthusiastic group known as the Luo Ding fandom.
Or rather, the *Luo-anything* fandom, as they referred to themselves with playful variations—*Luo baskets*, *Luo radishes*, *Luo lolis*. None of it really mattered. At this moment, the only thing that mattered was the collective joy they shared as fans. Screaming fans. Fans who could barely form coherent thoughts, drowning in a sea of “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
All of social media was now engulfed in the chaotic waves of *AHHHHHHHH*, and there was no end in sight.
R : me too AHHHHHHH !!!!
This was a saturday ko-fi bonus !! Thank you for your support , it helps a lot ! ( ˘ ³˘)❤
I wish y’all a happy week-end ! ~
Discover more from Shy shy shy
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
