Teen Idol

Abigail was on the school swim team. She was sturdy, nothing like skinny Taylor, so Ryan didn't have to be so careful.

After a while, Ryan let out a long breath and entered a clear, thoughtless state—the so-called Sage State.

Abigail collapsed right after him, looking even more exhausted than Ryan.

Apparently, a battle between athletes was on a whole different level from anything ordinary people could manage.

Abigail picked up Ryan's water glass from the bedside table and took a big gulp, then pulled him out of bed to take a shower.

After they came out of the bathroom, Abigail was practically glued to Ryan.

"You really haven't done it with Taylor?" Abigail was still hung up on the question.

Ryan shook his head.

"Hmph." Abigail gave a cold laugh, apparently unconvinced.

"She's definitely into you. On the way to Miami this time, she was asking about us, and she said a lot of bad things about you, too," Abigail tattled.

"What did she say?"

"She said you used to be a model, had a messy personal life, and often provided services to middle-aged women!" Abigail said.

"And when we were in the stadium stands earlier, I said I wanted her to get us together, and she immediately panicked. I can see right through little tricks like that," Abigail said confidently.

"So what if she is? I'm not the only one she's interested in," Ryan said, fully aware of his own appeal.

To a teenager, the world might be black and white, and there might only be two ways to feel about someone: liking them or not liking them.

But for adults, liking or disliking someone was only one factor among many, and not even an important one.

Taylor was a passionate woman, but she was also a refined self-interest seeker. She knew exactly what she needed most. When a man couldn't give her what she wanted, she quickly pulled away. She was also good at presenting herself as the "object"—the one who passively endured everything from beginning to end. That was why she could write those songs with such "sincerity."

If you interviewed the men in those songs, you'd probably get a completely different version of events.

"You're right. She's had plenty of relationships. Objectively speaking, part of the reason is that she's so outstanding. You know, guys consider dating her an honor—something they can brag about over and over."

"So she should be more careful."

"Why be careful? Everyone knows what's going on. No one ever expected to stay together for long. It's just dating." Abigail blurted it out, then realized she'd said the wrong thing and gave an awkward laugh.

"But that doesn't include me! Anyway, don't mention her in front of me again!" Abigail pinched the skin on Ryan's arm as a warning.

"Worried she'll get jealous?" Ryan ran his fingers through Abigail's damp hair.

"I gave her a chance to admit it, but she probably doesn't think much of you. So this time, let's make her jealous for a change." Abigail bit down on the edge of Ryan's palm.

Then she turned her head away. It was a long while before he heard her voice. "Why do all the guys revolve around her?"

Her tone held a trace of resentment.

Ryan and Abigail didn't return to Taylor's room until after breakfast. A strange smell of vomit hung in the air. It looked like Taylor had thrown up again last night.

Abigail walked over to the bed and lifted the covers. Standing behind her, Ryan could just make out Taylor's disheveled clothes. Abigail quickly shifted to block his view, afraid he might catch even the smallest glimpse.

Women's friendship... Ryan curled his lip.

Taylor slowly woke up. Her complexion looked fairly normal, and the first thing she did was press a hand to her forehead.

"My whole head feels like it's splitting in two! Why did I drink that stuff?" Taylor's lips drooped as she complained miserably.

"Good thing the two of us were with you this time. Otherwise, who knows who might have picked you up?" Abigail sat on the edge of the bed, looking concerned.

Taylor lifted her head and looked first at Abigail, then at Ryan behind her.

"I remember you two left the room together last night," Taylor said quietly.

"If I hadn't pushed him out, would you have wanted him to stay alone in a room with you?" Abigail asked with a smile.

"True." Taylor nodded, unable to find a flaw in the logic.

Abigail spent the whole day taking care of Taylor, only sneaking into Ryan's room in the middle of the night...

The next day, the three of them took a sightseeing bus to Punta Gorda, on the other side of the Florida peninsula. Compared with the international metropolis on the peninsula's western coast, the eastern coast was much quieter. The town of Punta Gorda sat beside Panama Bay. Fishing and tourism were its main industries, and Hillbilly Mud Park, located there, drew plenty of visitors every year.

After getting off the sightseeing bus, the three transferred to the park shuttle they'd booked in advance. The route passed through natural wetlands.

"The air's a lot cleaner than in Miami." Taylor applied sunscreen to her neck.

"It really is." Abigail took a deep breath. She wore a very short T-shirt that showed off her toned abs, paired with hot pants. She looked even hotter than Taylor.

As she spoke, she glanced back at Ryan every now and then. It wasn't the first time today she'd flirted with him right under Taylor's nose.

Sitting in the row behind them, Ryan finally asked a question that had been bothering him all day.

"Why do people online talk about your fans so much more than the fans of other country singers?" Ryan asked.

"Jealous?" Taylor looked smug. "The reason's actually simple. Most of my fans are teenage girls, members of Gen Z, so of course they're more active online."

Ordinary working people couldn't spend all day obsessively following celebrity gossip and interacting online.

"I've already seen people calling themselves Swifties online," Abigail chimed in.

Ryan finally understood. Most country music listeners were middle-aged. In that sense, Taylor was less a country singer than a teen idol who sang country songs.

But not just anyone could become a teen idol. To start with, the songs you released had to speak to teenagers.

That puts me at a disadvantage. Only party animals would like my songs, right? Ryan recognized a harsh truth.

Taylor turned around. Ryan's reflection appeared in the huge sunglasses on her face.

"You're not thinking of going for that kind of career, too, are you? Your looks would suit it, but your music is the problem," Taylor said with a laugh.

"A few years ago, boy bands like Super Boy and the Backstreet Boys had plenty of crazy female fans, too, but they're all out of date now," Abigail added.

Stratford, Ontario, Canada.

In a cramped apartment, a boy was cooking by himself in the kitchen. He was so short that he had to stand on a stool to reach the stove. His cooking amounted to heating up some discounted burger patties and precooked vegetables from the supermarket. They were leftovers from the day before.

Behind him, a radio was playing Chris Brown's R&B single "With You," released the previous year. The boy hummed along in his clear, childish voice as he warmed the food, swaying gently to the rhythm.

"With you, girl, with you, with you, with you..." The boy's voice was clear and bright, and he handled the runs in the R&B song with ease. Even at such a young age, he was already showing a gift for singing.

Bang! The wooden door snapped open and shut.

The boy set down the battered metal spatula and ran to the door.

"Mom! You're home from work?! Or... did you lose your job again?" The boy was surprised, but immediately realized what might have happened. His expression turned anxious.

The woman, her center-parted black hair somewhat disheveled, tossed several letters and overdue utility bills onto the table, then bent down and felt the boy's forehead.

"Mom just took time off. Remember that Mr. Bryan from the American record company I told you about last time? He's almost here, and he's arranged to meet us!"

"Yeah!" The boy jumped up excitedly.

His mother led him to the bathroom, combed his hair, and made him put on the new clothes he only got to wear at Christmas. Then the two of them took a ride to the train station.

By the time they arrived, Mr. Bryan was already waiting for them at a nearby restaurant.

This "record company executive" looked remarkably young. The boy's mother even wondered if he'd graduated from college.

"I live in Atlanta now, and I'm currently the entertainment consultant for the Atlanta Hawks. I also started a record company that works with Universal Music, the biggest music group in the world. I can get Jermaine Dupri to produce your son's album. Do you know who he is? Janet Jackson's longtime boyfriend. He produced Mariah Carey's last album, too. He's a real big shot! And what about Puff Daddy? Surely you know him?" The young man, who introduced himself as Scooter Bryan, claimed to have close ties to all sorts of famous people.

The boy looked up at his mother. Judging by her expression, she seemed to be taken in.

"Just as I said before, I can take your son with me and give him the best resources. But things have gotten a little complicated, so I'll have to add some new conditions." Scooter gave the boy's mother a meaningful look.

"What are you trying to do?" The boy's mother immediately pulled her collar tight, looking a little nervous.

"What I mean is, your son is too young. To avoid legal issues, I'll have to become his guardian until he comes of age!" Scooter said slowly.