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The crew kept the weightlifting machines on set, as if by some miracle Bai Yu is going to start putting massive amounts of muscle and never wear padding ever again.

 “You’ve created unrealistic expectations about the male body,” Bai Yu whines at the culprit during breakfast, who thankfully isn’t in some form-fitting dress shirt nor wearing any sleeve garters. Sleeve garters! Bai Yu’s going to dropkick the stylist one of these days. “I’m reasonably confident about my own good looks but you’re overdoing it at this point and it’s making us all look bad.”

 Zhu Yilong snorts into his chili oil-infested bowl. Bai Yu can’t figure out if Long-ge is flattered or if he just finds the whole idea of ‘being too attractive for his own good’ ridiculous. “Finish your noodles. You’ll need the energy for the workout later.”

 “What if I’m feeling faint,” Bai Yu reasons, “what if I can’t lift a finger.”

 “I’ll find someone else to spot me then,” Zhu Yilong says, straight-faced, like he isn’t aware of how good he looks sweaty and smug in a tank top gloating about how many bench presses he made. Maybe he isn’t, but Bai Yu is 100% aware.