Category: His Character Isn’t Quite Right (Page 1 of 5)

Nearly half a year without seeing him in person made their reunion all the more exhilarating. From the moment Zhong Weishi got the call, his heart had been racing. By the time he arrived at the airport, it was practically about to leap out of his throat.

He sat by a flower bed and took a few deep breaths, watching the two small dots on the WeChat location grow closer and closer.

Ah, ah, ah, his heart was still pounding ah…

What to do! What to do!

He was so nervous he started pacing in place.

An airport security guard stared at him for a while and finally said, “Xiao didi, there’s a restroom up ahead, just turn left.”

Zhong Weishi gave an awkward smile. “Thanks, Uncle. I don’t need to pee.”

The security guard had seen plenty of this sort of thing before. With a knowing smile, he asked, “Meeting your girlfriend? Long-distance relationship?”

The words “long-distance relationship” made Zhong Weishi’s ears flush red. “It’s a boyfriend,” he said, then hastily tried to cover it up, “A close male friend.”

“So a good brother!” the guard said with a chuckle.

Good. Bro. Ther.

One second he’d been floating in anticipation, the next his head drooped.

Gu Lizhou really had always just treated him as a good brother.

Zhong Weishi was still chatting idly with the guard when he noticed the man’s gaze suddenly shift and focus behind him.

His heart skipped a beat and he quickly turned back.

He was sure Gu Lizhou had deliberately dressed up today too. He looked handsome on a whole new level.

The hair behind his ears was slightly grown out, taking three years off his age. The freshly cut bangs reduced his age by another three years. And he was wearing clothes Zhong Weishi had never seen in their video calls.

A neatly pressed black cashmere coat paired with slim-fit jeans, a light-colored sweater underneath, and a leather backpack slung over his right shoulder.

Though it was a fairly standard winter outfit, it couldn’t hide his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. He was basically a walking clothes hanger—wearing anything made him look radiant, energetic, and even attracting bees and butterflies…

Because perched on his nose was that devilishly alluring pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

That face he’d seen countless times in his dreams was smiling at him.

“Long time no see ah.”

That smile was totally cheating!

Zhong Weishi’s own smile froze, and he stuttered completely, “Ah, lo—long time no see.”

It’s over, it’s over, it’s over.

All his prepared lines were gone.

He had actually sketched out the whole “long-awaited reunion” scenario on the subway. The original plan was to hide behind a pillar near the arrival area, secretly watch Gu Lizhou, then seize the chance to leap onto him from behind and give him a big hug.

Say something playful and flirty, vaguely suggestive in that harmless way.

It couldn’t be more exciting taking advantage of such moment by accidentally brushing ear and cheek!

But in reality, Gu Lizhou was pulling a suitcase with his left hand, holding two cups of milk tea in his right, with a backpack on his shoulders and a camera slung across his chest.

Eat shit la.

There was no damn angle to make a move!

Why was the gap between fantasy and real life so huge? And to think he’d just been trying to get the uncle to secretly film a heartfelt embrace.

“Want some milk tea? I added lots of boba,” Gu Lizhou asked.

Drink fart!

Half a year! I’ve missed you for half a year!

I was going insane!

And you won’t even give me a tearful, emotional hug?

Milk tea! Seriously!

You look like milk tea to me!

Zhong Weishi’s mood right now was a raging storm, even worse than the downpour on the day Yiping¹From a drama titled “Romance in the Rain.” A story of a father’s harsh relationship with his unwanted daughter and how it’s rekindled. More about it here. begged her dad for money.

But thoughts were just thoughts, his hand shot out quickly: “This tastes great!” He took a big sip and sucked up several boba pearls, eyes lighting up. “So Q!²Chewy. I haven’t had milk tea in forever.”

Gu Lizhou’s eyes curved with a smile. “Mine has popping boba. Want to switch and try it?”

Zhong Weishi thought, even if it were laced with poison, he’d still drink it ah.

The fruit tea hit his tongue, sweet and cloying.

Counted as an indirect kiss.

The storm in his heart instantly cleared.

Gu Lizhou walked behind him at a leisurely pace, heading toward the exit.

“You changed your look.”

“You cut your hair shorter.”

That long-lost sense of synchronicity made both of them exchange a smile.

Gu Lizhou patted his shoulder, genuinely complimenting him: “Looking very handsome.”

Zhong Weishi smiled back with a gaze full of affection, and earnestly commented, “You really don’t look like someone ten years older than me at all.”

“…” Gu Lizhou’s arm froze.

Technically, nothing wrong with the words, but why did it feel so…

Tsk.

What a little shit.

Gu Lizhou suddenly went quiet, and an inexplicable awkwardness spread between them.

Zhong Weishi’s eyes darted away. “The weather’s pretty nice today.”

“Mm, perfect for taking your brain out and drying it in the sun.”

“…” What a familiar pattern of poisonous tongue. No matter how this old man changed things up, he was still the same old man.

Valentine’s Day really did bring good weather. After days of nonstop rain in Yucheng, Zhong Weishi was nearly out of clean underwear. But since yesterday noon, the rain had suddenly stopped, the skies had cleared, and today’s high was close to 20°C.

A great day for a sunny stroll.

When the weather is good, the mood is good. Zhong Weishi sipped his fruit tea, walking briskly, practically floating.

“You could at least help me with the luggage ah,” Gu Lizhou called out from behind, chasing after him. “This is what you call picking someone up? You picked up the milk tea, not me!”

Only then did Zhong Weishi snap out of his giddy state and regain composure. “Oh, right, right, right. I almost forgot about you. Which one should I carry? The bag or the suitcase? Aiyo, seriously, if you were coming back, just come back. Why’d you bring so much stuff? —Oh! This this bag so heavy! What’s in here? Local snacks for me ah? Roast duck or snacks?”

Pulling open the backpack with joy, his face suddenly changed.

It was a heavy bundle of books. Thick, like high school textbooks.

“The Actor’s Self-Cultivation,” “Introduction to Acting Techniques for Film and TV,” “Royal Academy Acting Methods,” “The Actor’s Physical Art,” “Ten Lessons for Actors”…

An entire backpack with nothing but books.

Gu Lizhou’s gaze burned like fire. “Well? Do you like it? Isn’t it a surprise!”

It was simply a heavenly surprise.

Books delivered across a thousand miles.

What a heavy, noble, and completely overwhelming kind of fatherly love this was.

Zhong Weishi zipped up the bag with a gloomy face. “I thought it’d be some kind of local specialty.”

“All the good things in our place are only good when eaten fresh,” Gu Lizhou said.

Zhong Weishi pouted. “Just say you forgot, no need to make excuses.”

Gu Lizhou: “I’ll take you there to eat next time, okay?”

“Sounds great ah!” Zhong Weishi slung the backpack full of fatherly love onto his shoulders. “Let me treat you to a big meal as a favor to you!”

“Oh? Rolling in money now?”

“Hell yeah! We just got our performance pay from the past few months, over 20,000 yuan! I’m rich!”

Gu Lizhou burst out laughing. “Then I want buffet.”

“No problem!”

As they walked, Zhong Weishi suddenly remembered something and looked down. “Let me transfer you the payment for those English lessons. How much was it again?”

“Not much,” Gu Lizhou said.

“Not much money is how much money, there has to be a number.”

“You don’t have to be so polite with me…” After all, what’s mine will be yours too.

“Even real brothers settle accounts, I can’t take advantage of you, and we’re not even real brothers.”

Gu Lizhou sighed and didn’t argue further.

Zhong Weishi searched online and found two highly rated buffet restaurants. One was for barbecue, the other seafood. The seafood one was a little pricier, but fancier too.

“What do you feel like eating?” Zhong Weishi asked.

“I’m fine with anything. You just pick what you like,” Gu Lizhou said.

“No. Every time I pick, you don’t like it. You choose! Just two options, both have great reviews.”

Gu Lizhou preferred seafood, but he remembered Zhong Weishi wasn’t a big fan of fish. Every time Cao Zhiheng made fish, Zhong never touched it. In the end, he chose the barbecue restaurant.

“Hehehe… Actually, I like barbecue too. Finally, we’re on the same page for once.” Zhong Weishi happily placed the order.

Gu Lizhou looked at his cheerful expression and smiled with pursed lips.

There was a bit of distance from the airport to the restaurant. Along the way, Zhong Weishi grew curious about the camera hanging from Gu Lizhou’s chest.

“You really like photography? When did you buy this thing ah?”

“Had it for a while. Just didn’t bring it before.”

“Got any photos in it?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me see.”

Gu Lizhou casually hung the camera around his neck, powered it on, and taught him how to flip through the images.

Their heads were pressed close together, and Zhong Weishi caught a faint, familiar scent.

The camera was mostly filled with landscape shots—towering city buildings, vast green plains, scenes both bustling and serene, and even a stray kitten by the roadside, like snapshots from a journey.

Zhong Weishi didn’t know much about photography, but the compositions and colors were pleasing to the eye.

“How come you’re so good at taking photos, but when you shoot me, I look ugly?”

“I only started learning recently.”

Gu Lizhou had met a photographer in Cheng Hang’s gaming team, someone who followed them around to capture scenery.

He’d picked up a lot of photography tips from that guy.

Over the past half year, he’d poured all his longing into these photos, each one carrying his thoughts and his hope.

He wanted Zhong Weishi to see more of the world.

And he wanted to take him… to eat his way across the globe.

Just as he expected, Zhong Weishi had the strongest reaction when he came across the food photos: “fvck, this looks so good ah.”

“Craving?” Gu Lizhou asked.

Zhong Weishi nodded while flipping through the pictures, practically drooling. “This one looks good too, is that seafood risotto? The shrimp is huge.”

“Yup. Call me daddy and I’ll take you.”

“Pfft. I’m the one treating you to buffet, why don’t you call me daddy?”

Gu Lizhou: “Then call me gege.”

The moment food was involved, Zhong Weishi’s pride vanished. “Ge, I really wanna go to the seaside and eat seafood risotto!”

It felt like an arrow pierced Gu Lizhou’s chest. He realized this little rascal calling him “ge” was even more seductive than when he’d called him “daddy” on the phone last time—it made his bones go soft.

His heartbeat started going haywire.

In the old man’s mental memo, “seaside” and “seafood risotto” were now officially on the itinerary.

By the time they got to the mall, it was peak meal time. The restaurant was packed with diners, the air filled with the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat and the sizzling sound of it cooking, appetite-inducing to the max.

As soon as Zhong Weishi walked in, he spotted a little girl wrapping a huge bite of meat in lettuce, he swallowed instinctively.

“I’m starving.”

Gu Lizhou glanced around the restaurant but couldn’t find an empty seat. The server told them to wait a bit, once the next table opened up, it would be theirs.

Gu Lizhou reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of beef jerky. He unwrapped it and handed it over. “Want a bite to pad you over?”

Zhong Weishi was still fiddling with the camera, trying to snap a photo of the chef grilling steak. Something came near his mouth, and he opened it without thinking.

When his lips brushed against Gu Lizhou’s fingertips, the soft, moist touch sent a jolt straight through his palm, nearly making him drop the piece of jerky.

That tingling sensation rippled from his fingertips all the way down to his limbs.

He stared intently at Zhong Weishi’s profile, rubbing his fingers together.

Enchanted. Sweaty palms.

“Look how well I’m shooting!” Zhong Weishi asked as he chewed on the jerky.

Gu Lizhou glanced down at the flat and unappetizing steak that even his little kindergarten niece could shoot. He complimented, “You’ve really got talent.”

“I think so too.” Zhong Weishi turned to snap more food shots.

Gu Lizhou reached into his pocket for another piece of beef jerky, tempted to feed it to him again but hesitated, worrying that it was just a coincidence What if he refused it this time? Would that count as a failed test ah?

He hadn’t even been this nervous waiting for his college entrance exam results

Just as he lifted his hand, Zhong Weishi suddenly turned his head. Gu Lizhou shoved the jerky into his own mouth and turned away to watch the chef stir-frying noodles.

“Got more? I want another,” Zhong Weishi said.

“Yeah—yeah, of course ah.” He was stammering.

After feeding the kid, the old man pulled out his phone and quietly put a check mark next to a line in his notes: “Willing to eat food you feed him.”

The project’s progress was much faster than expected. Gu Lizhou added, “There’s a chance I can make it back before the New Year.”

“Really ah?” Zhong Weishi couldn’t hide the joy in his voice.

“En, I just have one last storyline to fix,” Gu Lizhou said.

Zhong Weishi quickly replied, “Then go fix it quicky ah! I’ll hang up first!”

“Hey, wait,” Gu Lizhou asked, “Has Old Cao’s girlfriend moved in yet?”

As soon as this topic came up, Zhong Weishi’s voice suddenly turned coy, “Moved ah, why?”

Pretend! Keep pretending!

Gu Lizhou sounded calm, but he was in high spirits. “Oh, that’s nice.”

Zhong Weishi bit his fingernail, hesitating, “So are you planning to stay at my place when you come back? If you’re staying with me, I need to prepare the bed in advance.”

“Is it troublesome…”

“No trouble! No trouble! It’s just a matter of putting on a quilt cover!”

Gu Lizhou swallowed back the second half of his sentence, “If it’s troublesome, I’ll just squeeze in with you,” right at the edge of his throat.

But it didn’t matter. He was going back anyway.

*

All of the game’s storylines were revised before the New Year, and Gu Lizhou returned home to spend the Little New Year with his father.

After Gu Zisheng and Li Yuqin divorced, both remained single. Gu Lizhou’s personality was exactly like his father’s—like squeezing toothpaste, someone else always had to start the conversation.

After Gu Lizhou started earning money from publishing books, he moved out, only coming home during holidays.

The father and son sitting together looked like two stone lions.

“Dad, I’m spending the New Year in Yucheng this year,” Gu Lizhou said.

Gu Zisheng poured him a cup of tea. “Going to accompany your mom ah?”

“Mm…” Gu Lizhou didn’t want to lie. After a pause, he added, “With a friend.”

“You dating someone?” Gu Zisheng asked.

“No,” Gu Lizhou already had someone’s smiling face pop into his mind. He looked down and chuckled, “Not yet, but who knows in the future.”

Gu Zisheng slung an arm around his shoulder and gave him a shake. “That’s good ah! When are you bringing them home for Dad to see?”

“Dad,” Gu Lizhou turned to look at him. “What do you think matters most when choosing a partner? Love or all the practical stuff?”

“You have to weigh both. But truly perfect marriages are rare. The most important thing should be that you really like the person. Only when you genuinely like someone will you want to understand them, accept them, and tolerate them. The practical stuff can be figured out over time. But if you don’t love someone, nothing else will work.”

Gu Lizhou smiled. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Right before the New Year, Gu Lizhou stayed home and wrote tens of thousands of words. Then he messaged his editor on Q.

His editor’s screen name was “Cat Puff Bell,” and the avatar was a cute cat teacher from a Japanese healing anime. They liked to send silly, cutesy stickers, but when it came to chatting, they talked like a total brute—nine and a half minutes out of any ten-minute chat were filled with dirty jokes.

The two of them had never met offline, and Gu Lizhou never quite figured out if they were male or female. But deep down, he just assumed the editor was a guy.

By his count, it had been over ten years—by now, probably a greasy, bald middle-aged man.

The first thing the editor said after adding Gu Lizhou as a friend back then was: “Kid, you’re gonna blow up! As long as you work with me, I guarantee you’ll blow up! Huge!”

It sounded like someone selling health supplements. But in the end, the guy really did manage to sell Gu Lizhou’s… books for a solid price.

This man poured all his energy into cultivating writers—offering comfort when they were down, and dishing out beatdowns when they succeeded. His favorite saying was: “Everything is fleeting. You need to stay calm. Calm.” He sounded like a monk chanting scriptures at an old temple.

Gu Lizhou’s editor was always the first to read and give feedback on all his works.

Gu Lizhou liked to call him Bo Le¹a good judge of talent.–xiong²elder brother, while the editor’s nickname for him had evolved from “Wan Lizhou” to “Xao Zhou Zhou,” and later to “Teacher Wan Li.”

When Gu Lizhou announced he was retiring from writing, his Bo Le also sank into a slump for quite a while and almost quit Xinghe Century. It took Gu Lizhou to talk him out of it.

[Wan Lizhou]: Bo Le-xiong, are you there? I’ve got something good for you to check out.

The greyed-out avatar on the other side lit up.

[Cat Puff Bell]: !!!!!!!!!!!!

A long string of exclamation marks burst out with the joy of reunion after a long absence, practically spilling excitement from the screen.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Oh my god ah!!!! I thought I’d never see you online again!

[Wan Lizhou]: I’m not dead.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Hateful!! You went offline for so long, I missed you so much! Without you around, I couldn’t even get it up anymore. (ノω<。)ノ))☆.。

[Wan Lizhou]: ……

Once he confirmed it really was him, Gu Lizhou sent over the character outline and the sample chapters. The other party downloaded them right away.

Half an hour later.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Good! Great! Really great! But it’s just missing a bit of flavor.

Gu Lizhou frowned: What flavor?

[Cat Puff Bell]: The flavor of romance. The plot is engaging, yeah, but the emotional line with the female lead feels a bit thin.

As someone who had been solo since birth, romance had always been Gu Lizhou’s weak spot. In the past, when writing ensemble fantasy stories, he could use all sorts of entanglements and drama to fill the gaps. But in realistic stories like this one, he struggled with pacing the development of romantic relationships.

Switching genres was a huge challenge for him, but he chose to take the advice.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Whether it’s a male and a female, or a male and male, either way, you gotta add some spice and sweetness. Your male lead’s setup is way too much of a chick magnet. Girls aren’t into that these days.

[Wan Lizhou]: Then what are they into?

[Cat Puff Bell]: They like the male lead and the second male lead falling in love.

[Wan Lizhou]: …

[Cat Puff Bell]: Just kidding hahaha, I’m not telling you to write danmei³BL. But you could emphasize the brotherhood♂ more. As for the romance with the female lead, go heavy or light as you wish. Or turn it into a love triangle, that works too. Hey, have you seen “Xiao Ying”?

[Wan Lizhou]: Read the novel.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Although there is no romance it’s got that strong, socialist brotherhood. The investigation plot was super professional, and the emotional arcs were intense. Audiences love that stuff now. Of course, my advice is just for reference—what matters most is that you write what you want to write.

[Wan Lizhou]: Got it. I’ll tweak the emotional line a bit and send it to you once it’s done.

After fussing over his writing, the bald editor started fussing over his love life. When Gu Lizhou admitted he was still single, the editor completely lost it.

[Cat Puff Bell]: I fvcking. When I was single, you were single. When I started dating, you were still single. I’ve got a kid old enough to buy soy sauce and you’re still single? Gu Lizhou, are you even capable or what ah?

All honorifics vanished the moment they started talking real-life.

[Wan Lizhou]: I’m working on it.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Oh? What stage are you at?

[Wan Lizhou]: Flirting.

[Cat Puff Bell]: How much flirting?

[Wan Lizhou]: Very much flirting.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Who is it? Another writer?

[Wan Lizhou]: Go search Sparrow Channel. On the 5th of last month, around noon, there was a game show called “Brave Rush Rush”. The best-looking guy on that episode.

[Cat Puff Bell]: …You’re full of fart.

Gu Lizhou directly tossed over a video link: The guy in the black hoodie at 32:57.

This show’s online views were relatively high compared to others in its genre. After recommending it, Gu Lizhou clicked in to rewatch it himself.

He wasn’t sure if the uploader had recently hyped the video, but the last time he watched it, there were only around a hundred comments floating on screen. Now there were over 1,600.

The moment the video started, a bright floating comment appeared: “Weibo tourists, skip straight to 32:57. You’re welcome.”

After he skipped to the timestamp precisely, he found that Zhong Weishi was now completely covered by a barrage of colorful bullet comments, making his face practically invisible.

Commenter 1: Hahahahahahahahaha why is he so adorably dumb?

Commenter 2: Why didn’t I discover him sooner? I really want to see him in a stage play!

Commenter 3: That face is insane, he’s ridiculously good-looking. At 03 seconds, I saw his abs!!

Commenter 4: I swear I’ve seen this guy somewhere before. He looks really familiar ah.

Gu Lizhou thought to himself: Maybe what you saw was that palace maid who fed gr4p3s to Emperor Shunzhi.

About five minutes later.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Holy shit! This guy’s cheating, right? Is he mixed? He looks like some fvcking plastic surgery model. You actually know him?

Gu Lizhou replied with the secretly recorded late-night “little hamster” mukbang video from the night before they parted.

This person, who usually posted raw, filter-free selfies like an old man, actually went out of his way to download a beauty cam app just to edit that short clip. He added cutesy cat ears and a soft pink shy face effect, and even slapped on some ridiculously sugary background music that was sweet enough to give someone a sore throat.

This wave of dog food was a bit hard to swallow.

[Cat Puff Bell]: Not bad at all. Wishing you instant success in the new year! If you’ve got any confusion in the love department, come to me for advice—no consulting fee!

—

Gu Lizhou booked a flight for the day before Lunar New Year’s Eve. That day also happened to be Valentine’s Day, which made deciding on a gift a little easier.

[Cat Puff Bell]: fvck, Valentine’s Day ah?! Just book a room already! Why bother with all the extra steps?

[Wan Lizhou]: There has to be a gradual process! Besides, I still can’t be 100% sure he’ll accept me.

[Cat Puff Bell]: In that case ah, try testing the waters a bit.

[Wan Lizhou]: How?

The editor sent over a chart listing more than twenty types of intimate behaviors like “doesn’t shy away from physical touch,” “lets you pinch his ear without dodging,” “willing to eat food you feed him,” and so on.

Gu Lizhou carefully noted them down into his phone’s memo app.

[Cat Puff Bell]: If he checks off more than 10 of those, it’s basically a done deal. Then just set up a romantic atmosphere—wine, champagne, wireless home theater, watch a horror movie, hold hands, cuddle up, and get a little tipsy. That’s how adult relationships usually go.

[Cat Puff Bell]: A romantic atmosphere.

“…………”

[Wan Lizhou]: Alright, I’ll give it a shot.

—

Valentine’s Day.

Zhong Weishi was still snoring in bed, when his phone on the bedside table rang nonstop. He squinted and swiped to answer. “Hello,” he mumbled.

In a hazy daze, he heard a familiar voice.

“I’m flying back to Yucheng today. Do you have time to pick me up at the airport?”

A surprise dropped from the sky.

Zhong Weishi jolted upright like a carp leaping from water, every cell in his body instantly waking up.

“Free, free ,free! I’m getting up right now to wash my face and brush my teeth! Wait for me ah!”

“No rush, I’m just about to take off. I’ll arrive in about three hours. It should be about the same when you get to the airport around ten o’clock. We can have a meal together nearby.”

Zhong Weishi nodded like pounding garlic.

Gu Lizhou was still uneasy and reminded, “Be careful on the way.”

“Mm-hmm! You too!”

After the wave of joy, Zhong Weishi looked in the mirror and instantly started stressing over his appearance.

Lately, he’d been so busy studying and performing that he barely had time to sleep. He hadn’t shaved in days, and it had been three or four months since his last haircut. His bangs covered his eyebrows, and his thick, unkempt hair had fluffed into a bird’s nest. On top of that, he was wearing a pilled sweatshirt and sweatpants, looking like someone out scavenging trash.

He quickly changed into a new outfit. Though it was still just a sweatsuit, at least this one wasn’t pilling. He threw on a down vest before heading out.

Barbershops weren’t open this early, so he had to go through the backdoor to find his bro.

Zhong Weishi picked up two orders of fresh meat dumplings from a breakfast shop and sprinted all the way to Da Fei’s house, offering the breakfast like a tribute.

“Who are you going to see so early in the morning ah?” Da Fei opened the door with a yawn.

Zhong Weishi wanted to say he was picking up Gu Lizhou, but felt a little embarrassed. “To audition for a movie.”

Da Fei let out an “Oh,” and led him into his small bedroom. “What kind of cut do you want?”

“Something clean. A buzz cut is fine too.” Zhong Weishi scratched his head. A buzz cut meant he wouldn’t need another haircut for months.

Da Fei was a man brimming with artistic flair—he wouldn’t even look at something as low-level as a buzz cut. He spent a full hour giving Zhong Weishi the latest trending side-parted Douyin prince charming hairstyle, paired with a black athletic headband with lettering. The look was clean, sharp, and full of youthful energy.

When Zhong Weishi opened his eyes and looked in the mirror, he nearly didn’t recognize the boy staring back at him.

“I’m about to fall in love with myself,” Zhong Weishi turned his head left and right in front of the mirror. “Da Fei, your skill is insane. Is this really me? Hm? Is this me?”

Da Fei was laughing hard. “Your face would still look good even with a shaved head ah.”

Zhong Weishi wanted to grab a broom to sweep up the hair on the floor, but Da Fei quickly pushed him out. “Go on, go to your movie audition! Don’t be late! I’ll clean up here.”

“Da Fei, you’re the greatest hidden gem in Xicheng District!” Zhong Weishi shouted as he ran off.

Da Fei leaned on the doorframe and yelled, “Hey, don’t run so fast ah! Your hair will get messed up!”

“Oh oh oh!” Zhong Weishi immediately hit the brakes and flashed him a dazzling smile. “I’ll treat you to a meal later ah!”

Da Fei waved at him with a grin.

“Song Wenfei! What the hell are you yelling about so early in the morning!” Da Fei’s mother poked her head out from the room. “I told you to stop hanging out with those good-for-nothing street punks, and you never listen. Don’t bring them home all the time. It’s noisy as hell. I worked overtime until midnight, can you just let your mom sleep in peace?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? He’s my friend! He’s not a punk!” Da Fei frowned.

“He doesn’t have a real job. If that’s not a punk, what is?”

“He’s got a proper job now. He’s acting in a drama troupe.”

Da Fei’s mom let out a sarcastic snort. “Who even watches drama these days? How much money can that bring in each month? All he does is dream about being a celebrity. You think anyone can become a big star on TV? If you’re not born with that kind of luck, then face reality and get a proper job. You have to stay grounded, understand?”

They really had nothing to say to each other anymore.

Da Fei slammed the door shut with a loud bang, locking it from the inside.

His mother shouted furiously from behind the door, “You brat!”

Zhong Weishi, terrified of ruining his new hairstyle, even craned his neck while riding the subway, determined not to let a single strand of hair be touched.

A few stops before the airport, seats opened up. He sat with his legs tightly pressed together, back straight, and didn’t dare doze off against the window like he usually would.

His earbuds were in, playing the online English course that Gu Lizhou had signed him up for. He downloaded the whole thing and listened to it during spare moments like it was a comedy podcast. From time to time, he would silently mouth a few of the words.

When Gu Lizhou first signed him up, he said: “A lot of artists these days are going international. What if you get dragged onto a red carpet and a foreign reporter interviews you? What are you gonna say—‘love who who,’ ‘we two who and who,’ or ‘you me you me’? Trying to kill them with laughter?”

Thinking of that, Zhong Weishi lowered his head and let out a quiet snort.

A girl sitting across from him nudged her friend with her elbow. The two exchanged a glance, grinned, and pretended to take a selfie, just to capture that boy’s smiling face.

As he got off the train, Zhong Weishi tilted his head to check his reflection in the glass.

His hair was still perfect and he looked handsome.

Gu Lizhou sent him a WeChat.

– I’ve landed. Are you here yet?

– I’m at the T2 lobby.

– Don’t move around and don’t get lost again. I’m walking over now.⁴You might be confused with this and the chapter title. Author shortened the title from this sentence.

– OKK!

Just two weeks ago, Qiangzi, the group’s all-knowing gossip, overheard people in the group chat talking about a large-scale challenge show being filmed in Nancheng. The equipment was trendy and advanced, and the gameplay was incredibly exciting, not only did it require physical strength, but also brains.

[Netizen 1]: I heard anyone can participate, and the prizes vary. Too bad I only made it halfway. You can only sign up once.

[Netizen 2]: Qiangzi, you’re strong, you’ll definitely do well. Go give it a try.

[Netizen 3]: It’s not all about strength, actually. The key is using your brain, some stages require understanding the rules of balance.

[Netizen 4]: I made it halfway and got a bottle of peanut oil. Qiangzi-ge, jiayou ah!

[Netizen 1]: Why didn’t I get any peanut oil?

Playing a game that puts you on TV and gives out prizes. How could Qiangzi’s ragtag group of debt-chasing gang miss out on such a good deal?

Debt Collection Team group chat lit up.

[Huangfu]: It’s real, real. Just going there gets you a bottle of peanut oil.

[Wei-ge]: How big a bottle of peanut oil ah?

[Huangfu]: Should be pretty big.

[Da Fei]: @Weishi Ge, are you going?

[Weishi]: I still got acting class and English class on the weekend. No time.

[Da Fei]: What’s with the extra English class la?

Zhong Weishi pressed his lips together in a small smile, feeling proud but trying to keep it low-key.

[Weishi]: Your Gu dage bought me an online course. It’s such a pain.

[Da Fei]: So good? What course is it ah? I wanna learn English too.

[Huangfu]: No time? Then forget it.

Right after Qiangzi’s message, he followed up with a digital poster of the challenge event. At the center of the poster was what looked like an ordinary washing machine, but beside it was a line of bold, visually striking text:

First Prize: One fully automatic washing machine worth 3999!

Zhong Weishi’s eyes widened.

That was 3999!

And so, the four little friends set off at 5 a.m. the next morning, full of anticipation as they boarded the earliest bus to Nancheng.

Zhong Weishi and his friends sat in a corner, cheerfully humming an English song they had just learned:

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies are grey.
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away…”

His voice was bright and clear like warm sunlight, with a slightly teasing lilt at the end of each note—so much so that even a rough guy like Qiangzi was completely absorbed listening.

“Urgh…”

The sound of vomiting cut through the singing, and everyone on the bus looked around in confusion.

Zhong Weishi turned his head and saw that it was Da Fei.

Da Fei forgot to buy motion sickness pills before boarding and vomited to death during the three-hour ride.

Throughout the ride, Zhong Weishi sang and told stand-up jokes to distract the other passengers, covering up the sounds of vomiting and easing everyone’s nerves.

Those three hours were nothing short of explosive energy and nonstop entertainment.

When they got off the bus, Da Fei looked like a dehydrated fish, waving weakly as he said, “I’ll just stay down here and cheer you guys on.”

Wei-ge was even more impressive. When they got to the registration area, he reached into his pocket and realized he had forgotten his ID. He was so furious he stomped his feet and gritted his teeth.

“Can’t you just make an exception?”

Staff member: “Sorry, that’s a rule set by the production team.”

“Rules are dead, people are alive ya! This is really my first time coming! I rushed here all the way from Yucheng early in the morning! Spent 58 yuan on bus fare—look, here’s my ticket, I’m not lying. Seriously, little miss, I wouldn’t lie. Just look at this face. Do I look like someone who would lie?”

A’Wei poked at his thick-skinned face. Combined with his strong out-of-town accent, to the people of Nancheng, he was practically a country bumpkin straight out of the mountains.

The two young women exchanged a glance and tried to stifle their laughter.

“Just let me try once, okay? I really love your show! I watch it all the time when I eat! I’ve dreamed of joining!”

Zhong Weishi thought to himself: More like you’ve dreamed of that washing machine.

The young women still shook their heads.

Wei-ge had a flash of inspiration. “Da Fei, let me borrow your ID to register!”

And just like that, the three of them managed to sneak into the backstage area of the show.

The competition began in the afternoon. Wei-ge didn’t even get a fart at the second stage. Qiangzi made it halfway and shamelessly managed to wrangle two bottles of peanut oil, which he then gifted to Da Fei, who had screamed himself hoarse from the sidelines.

Before going on stage, Zhong Weishi took off his thick down jacket. Despite the single-digit temperature, he was only wearing a fleece-lined sweatshirt underneath. His tall, lean, athletic build made even the male host hesitate to approach.

The female host greeted him warmly, giving him a once-over as she introduced him. “I heard you’re an actor? Have you acted in any TV dramas?”

Zhong Weishi couldn’t find the camera for a moment and replied blankly, “I used to do extra work. Now I’m with the Nanhu Drama Club. If anyone’s interested, you can look us up online. We have a performance on the 20th.”

The male host joked, “Hey now, young man, it costs money to advertise on our show ah.”

“Ah?” Zhong Weishi scratched the back of his head. “But I don’t have money. Can I reintroduce myself?”

The male host burst out laughing. “No worries, we’ll cut it later.”

The female host smiled and asked, “Do you feel confident about winning our grand prize today?!”

“Yes!—” The boy’s roar was so loud it startled the female host into a shoulder jerk, momentarily forgetting to control her expression.

By the time Gu Lizhou saw this, he was already laughing so hard he was slapping his thigh and leaning back with his head thrown up.

On the TV screen, Zhong Weishi still hadn’t found the camera. He stared straight ahead, pushing his sweatshirt sleeves up to his elbows. Around his wrist was a red string bracelet.

Under the spotlight, his skin looked paler than usual, making the red string even more noticeable. His forearms weren’t exactly slim, but they were defined and structured. The sight of that red string made Gu Lizhou’s heart skip with joy, he unconsciously touched the matching string on his own wrist.

As soon as the whistle blew, the boy dashed forward on his long legs, light and agile like a specially trained soldier. He barely stayed longer than five seconds at each obstacle.

The audience and the hosts were dumbfounded and held their breath, including Gu Lizhou in front of the TV.

As he neared the finish line, there was still half the countdown remaining.

Zhong Weishi’s foot suddenly slipped. He nearly skidded off the spinning platform, which was soaked in soap water. The only way to move forward was to tightly grip the wooden stick at the center and inch along slowly.

Gu Lizhou felt a chill in his chest. Looked like the washing machine was a lost cause.

Zhong Weishi stayed sprawled on the turntable for a bit, and just as he was about to be flung off in the next instant, Gu Lizhou shut his eyes in distress. Then, in the very next second, both hosts let out a heart-shaking gasp.

Zhong Weishi had landed safely on the next obstacle!

Thunderous cheers erupted at the scene.

Gu Lizhou had barely recovered from that scare when he saw him get smacked to the ground by a giant cylindrical log.

“Does your head hurt ah?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“It didn’t really hurt at the time. I only felt a tiny bit of pain after I got off the stage,” Zhong Weishi said with a smile.

Maybe that red string bracelet was really blessed. At least, that’s what Gu Lizhou thought when he saw Zhong Weishi standing on the podium, taking a photo with the washing machine.

“Your brain wasn’t working that well to begin with, and now after that hit, you’re probably even dumber.”

“Get lost!”

“Hey, so how did you guys even bring that washing machine back ah?”

“Are you stupid ah! The production team mailed it over ah!”

“Oh.” Gu Lizhou rubbed his forehead. “I think my IQ’s dropping just talking to you.”

“Why me again? Why do you rely on me for everything bad?”

Zhong Weishi’s laughter came through the phone, instantly sweeping away all of Gu Lizhou’s accumulated fatigue from the morning.

Zhong Weishi remembered how Gu Lizhou had said he’d be back after the New Year. Carefully, he probed, “When you come back for the New Year, do you wanna try out the washing machine… It’s actually pretty good. Wash and dry in one go, anti-wrinkle, no need to iron. Anyway, it cleans super well… Uncle Cao even tossed his quilt cover in for it to wash.”

Try out the washing machine, my ass.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Sure.”

---

T/N: Sorry for my sporadic updates. I’ll make sure to make it up and update regularly TT

Still, thanks for those who are still here, reading this!

Let me know if there are typos/errors <3

In late October, the weather had turned cooler and the temperature was comfortable.

Gu Lizhou sat in front of his computer, typing away in a loose hoodie, with two other screenwriters and an assistant from the game team seated nearby.

The entire business suite still carried the lingering aroma of seafood risotto.

This was their third day staying in X City.

He had already written five storylines based on the plotlines requested by Cheng Hang’s side. The other writers on the team were responsible for additional side plots and enhancing character dialogue.

His main job was to provide inspiration, link characters and storylines together, control the pacing, and ensure that each level would leave people wanting more.

The other writers in Cheng Hang’s team were all professional game writers. Occasionally, there would be creative disagreements, but everyone had good tempers, and they worked together to learn from and motivate each other.

Overall, things were going smoothly.

As soon as the meeting ended, the rest of the team headed out to shop and grab some late-night snacks, but he remained in front of his computer, still typing away.

He hadn’t written in a long time, and his typing speed was slow—an hour had passed, and he had only managed to type a little over 900 words, not even half of what he used to manage.

Even though he had mentally prepared for this, he was still a little surprised when he checked the word count.

He logged into the Xinghe Century website and saw that Jiumang Star’s name was all over the major charts. Several of his novels had been adapted into TV dramas and had become the site’s most buzzworthy content.

The film Storm, which Cao Zhiheng had previously mentioned to him, was now starring top-tier actor Shen Jing.

After scrolling through the cast list, he saw that it was filled with low-profile veteran actors. The official account had announced the wrap-up back in June, and Jiumang Star’s Weibo had been heavily promoting the film—it looked like they were aiming for a New Year blockbuster release.

To say it had no psychological impact on him would be a lie.

Outside the window stretched an endless sea. As Gu Lizhou gazed into the distance, his thoughts drifted as well.

He and Cui Sheng had been university classmates. They even joined the same literature club. They shared similar interests and had plenty to talk about, often gathering to discuss writing. Their relationship had been quite good—

Until his father, Gu Zisheng, exposed the fact that Cui Sheng’s father had accepted bribes…

His father lost his job and was thrown in jail, his mother divorced and remarried—for a teenager, it was nothing short of a world-shattering event. His self-esteem was severely wounded, and his motivation to write was deeply affected. He stopped updating his stories for half a year and nearly terminated his contract with the site.

Cui Sheng resented his father, resented Gu Zisheng, and by extension, grew to resent Gu Lizhou as well.

After being avoided three times in a row, Gu Lizhou realized that Cui Sheng intended to cut ties with him completely.

He wasn’t the kind of person to cling on shamelessly and beg for reconciliation. Besides, he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. Reaching out three times was already the limit of his patience.

At the time, he thought he’d simply lost a friend—he never imagined he’d gained an enemy instead.

It was like a physical ailment: every time he saw or heard the words Jiumang Star, his chest tightened, his head spun, and he felt like throwing up.

Zhong Weishi’s few messages had brightened his mood from cloudy to clear. He sent back a voice message: “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Zhong Weishi seemed to always have his phone on him, because the typing indicator appeared almost immediately.

— Still early. What about you, are you busy?

Gu Lizhou closed his laptop and stretched lazily toward the window.

— Not busy.

Zhong Weishi sent a video call, but the screen was pitch black.

“You’re wrapped hiding like a cat?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“Yeah.” Zhong Weishi’s voice sounded a little hoarse.

“What’s up with your voice? Caught a cold?”

“Mm, a little. Had to film a scene where I fell into water a couple days ago.” Zhong Weishi coughed once. “But I’m feeling a lot better today.”

Gu Lizhou searched online for a few cough remedies. “Do you know how to make steamed pear with fritillaria?”

“No. What’s fritillaria?”

“Something tasty.” Gu Lizhou laughed and sent him a screenshot of the recipe. “Make it yourself. When you’re done, send me a photo, then drink it.”

“…Okay. I’ll go buy the stuff tomorrow.”

Gu Lizhou felt a little weird talking to a completely black screen. “Stick your head out so I can see you.”

Half of his head poked out from under the covers, revealing only a pair of eyes, but Gu Lizhou could still tell he was smiling.

His mood instantly lifted, but he still felt a little unsatisfied. “Why only half your face?”

Zhong Weishi lowered his gaze, speaking softly, “I got a pimple on my nose. It hasn’t gone away yet, it’s a bit ugly.”

“Yo,” Gu Lizhou chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “You’re still trying to maintain your image with me? Is there any ugly side of you I haven’t seen?”

It’s exactly because it’s you that I want to look good!

Zhong Weishi let out a cold snort. “What if you take a screenshot and show it to my fans? I’m just taking precautions.”

“Like I don’t already have plenty of your embarrassing behavior?” Gu Lizhou sent over a picture of him applying ointment in a park.

In the photo, Zhong Weishi was baring his teeth and grabbing at the phone, looking like a puffed-up, furious cat—downright hideous.

Zhong Weishi was fuming. “Why do you still have that ah!!”

Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow. “Because I want to. I look at it when I need a laugh.”

“Hurry up and delete, delete! This is a violation of my image rights!”

Gu Lizhou retaliated by sending over a video of Zhong Weishi dancing in a public square.

It was pure public execution.

Zhong Weishi, now deflated like a wilted eggplant, retreated back under the covers.

Gu Lizhou: “Oh, right. Let me show you the sea.”

“Yes ah!” Zhong Weishi popped back out again, his dark, shiny eyes full of anticipation.

The camera turned toward the window.

First, he saw a tall watchtower, then the dark stretch of the sea. This was the first time he’d ever seen the ocean, seen an island, seen a beach.

The sea really was just like how it was described in books—vast and boundless.

Gu Lizhou’s room was right by the shore. Outside the house was a small tent, and hanging from the tent was a long string of warm yellow star-shaped lights. Many small insects danced around the halo of light. One step out, and you’d be on soft sand and pebbles.

The sea breeze lifted his hair and the hem of his clothes. As Gu Lizhou walked, he introduced the scenery of the city. “That direction over there is Yucheng.”

Zhong Weishi, a completely directionless road idiot, simply nodded along while saying “mm-hmm.” He noticed Gu Lizhou’s bare feet and the sharp lines of his collarbones, and his senses told him—he had lost weight.

Definitely lost weight.

Gu Lizhou said the seawater was a little salty, and even the sea breeze had a distinct scent.

Barbecue.

Zhong Weishi couldn’t help but laugh.

He felt as if he were very close to that vast sea, as though he could even smell the waves.

Gu Lizhou: “Did you have a late-night snack?”

Zhong Weishi: “No. You?”

Gu Lizhou: “No. Why didn’t you eat?”

Zhong Weishi: “Wasn’t that hungry today. What about you?”

They exchanged this kind of completely pointless small talk for over an hour, until Zhong Weishi let out a long yawn.

“Tired?” Gu Lizhou glanced at the time, it was already past eleven. He hadn’t even noticed. Every time he chatted with Zhong Weishi, he could feel time flying by at a wild pace.

“Not really,” Zhong Weishi said with another yawn. “What about you?”

Gu Lizhou smiled and said, “I’m tired. Let’s stop here. You should go to bed early too.”

“Oh.” Zhong Weishi pouted. “Then goodnight.”

Three minutes later, neither of them had hung up…

Zhong Weishi rubbed his nose. “You haven’t finished telling that story of the Little Prince last time, Is there more?” His voice, made soft and husky by the cold, sounded like he was acting coy.

Gu Lizhou chuckled, brushed the sand off his pants, and stood up to head back to his room.

“Where did I leave off?”

“You said the Little Prince was about to visit Earth.”

In the story, the Little Prince arrived on Earth and met a little fox, hoping the fox would be his friend and play with him.

The little fox said that without being tamed, it couldn’t play with him.

The Little Prince asked what “taming” meant.

Zhong Weishi heard a soft click, and guessed that Gu Lizhou had just lit a cigarette.

Gu Lizhou said, “‘To you, I’m nothing more than a fox, just like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we’ll need each other. To me, you’ll be unique in all the world. To you, I’ll be unique in all the world too…’”

Late at night, when everything was silent, Zhong Weishi hugged a small pillow to his chest and happily closed his eyes.

In his ears was the voice he knew best. Coming through the phone, it carried a hint of husky magnetism. Occasionally, he could also hear the crashing of waves against rocks—surging, powerful. The two sounds layered together brought a deep sense of calm.

He felt as if he could see the boundless sea, and had taken a step into that fairytale world Gu Lizhou described.

“The little fox asked the Little Prince, ‘Are there hunters on your planet?’ The Little Prince said, ‘No.’ The little fox got excited, ‘That’s wonderful! Are there chickens?’ The Little Prince replied again, ‘No.’” At this part, Gu Lizhou suddenly laughed.

“This fox is so greedy. Really reminds me of you.”

Zhong Weishi giggled like a fool under the covers. In his mind, Gu Lizhou was just like the Little Prince who traveled from planet to planet.

“So did the Little Prince tame the little fox in the end?”

“Tamed,” Gu Lizhou said. “The little fox really liked the Little Prince, and the Little Prince really liked the little fox. They weren’t lonely anymore.”

In the story, the Little Prince had to leave Earth, and the little fox was so reluctant it nearly cried.

Half-asleep, Zhong Weishi mumbled softly, “Then, will he ever come back to Earth?”

Gu Lizhou exited the reading app and changed the ending. “Yes, of course .”

A good night’s sleep.

It was as if their conversation had triggered something, making everything start to unfold naturally.

From then on, every day, Zhong Weishi would find something to talk about with him. It became such a habit that when one day passed without any messages even by midnight, Gu Lizhou grew restless and video-called him.

“Our troupe’s been rehearsing. The official performance is next week!” Even at two in the morning, Zhong Weishi still looked full of energy.

Gu Lizhou was skeptical. “It can’t possibly take that long to rehearse, right?”

Zhong Weishi pouted slightly. “I’m just a bit nervous… afraid I’ll mess it up, so I practiced a few more times.”

Even though he had played all sorts of roles in front of the camera, this was his first time performing live in front of an audience, nervousness was inevitable.

Gu Lizhou looked up the play online. There were already 322 electronic tickets sold, which meant that the live audience would definitely exceed 300 people.

It reminded him of his high school days, when he had to give speeches on stage. Looking down at the sea of heads and the countless pairs of eyes staring up at him felt like being scanned by X-rays.

Absolutely spine-chilling.

He had memorized the speech perfectly, but the moment he stepped on stage, it was like someone had whacked him on the head—all forgotten. He read through it blankly and stammering, and nearly tripped over his own feet walking off the stage.

Ai, memories best left buried.

Gu Lizhou smiled into the camera. “You’re amazing. You’ll definitely do great.”

He wasn’t just saying that to be nice. He had seen with his own eyes how Zhong Weishi memorized lines—almost a photographic memory.

What made Zhong Weishi truly impressive was his ability to quickly immerse himself in a role. He could cry on command without hesitation, and that was something Gu Lizhou deeply admired.

He believed Zhong Weishi had what it took to adapt to this new stage.

That was also why he wanted to help him find more opportunities.

This kid really had talent. And on top of that, he was easy on the eyes. If someone was willing to dig deeper and hone his potential, Gu Lizhou believed that one day, he’d soar.

“You can try performing at Da Fei’s barbershop first… Just don’t be afraid. Believe in yourself. Anyone I set my sights on can’t be wrong.”

The. One I. Set. My. Sights. On.

Gu Lizhou had no idea how those few casually spoken words of encouragement were like a powerful shot of adrenaline for Zhong Weishi.

True or not, the man was already floating.

After several rounds of ‘art performances’ at the barbershop, Zhong Weishi’s first stage play went quite smoothly.

Before the show, Qiangzi and the others even spent a small fortune buying couple tickets. Da Fei dusted off his old skills and dressed up as a woman again—though the real purpose was to let Qiangzi, that peac0ck, show off his stuff in public.

The video was secretly recorded by Qiangzi and the others. In order not to disturb the surrounding audience, it was just a short clip—barely a dozen seconds long—but the camera followed only one person the entire time: their Weishi-ge.

It just so happened to be a monologue from Zhong Weishi.

Gu Lizhou had known he was acting in a play, but he hadn’t expected him to be the lead. Watching that long string of lines spill fluently from his mouth, Gu Lizhou couldn’t help but smile.

His voice was deep and resonant, his tone natural and genuine—not the slightest sign of stage fright.

Blue spotlights crisscrossed the stage of the small theater, but to Gu Lizhou, it felt like Zhong Weishi himself was the brightest beam of all, effortlessly drawing every ounce of his attention.

He realized he might be starting to rely on Zhong Weishi more than he thought.

As the end of the year approached, Gu Lizhou took the initiative to invite the Cheng brothers out for dinner.

He used to scoff at the idea of wining and dining to make connections, but after stepping into society, he understood—sometimes a single sentence could completely change the course of someone’s life.

Cheng Yue was somewhat of a fan of his work. As soon as they met, he asked when Gu Lizhou’s next project would be released.

They exchanged a round of mutual praise before Gu Lizhou gradually steered the conversation toward Zhong Weishi.

“My friend once stood in for you as a body double. He said you were passionate and talented, really good at what you do.”

“Oh?” Cheng Yue perked up. “Who’s your friend?”

“Your nude body double.”

“Ah…”

The name Zhong Weishi wasn’t unfamiliar to Cheng Yue. Among the crew, he’d been one of the most lively young actors. He had some solid line delivery and acting skills, and a face that left a strong impression. Unfortunately, his educational background was lacking—not even a high school diploma—and he had no formal acting credits.

Cheng Hang took a sip of hot tea. “How did you end up becoming friends with someone that young?”

So Gu Lizhou briefly explained the whole story.

Cheng Hang’s eyes widened like copper bells the entire time. His expression was almost identical to the one Gu Lizhou had worn when he first heard it, completely stunned.

“Such a pitiful background? No wonder he’s out working so young.”

“En, so if there’s ever an opportunity, I’d appreciate it if you could help him out. I’ll personally keep an eye on the areas where he’s lacking academically. What he needs is just a chance.”

Cheng Hang was a smart man. By this point in the conversation, he had already figured out Gu Lizhou’s true purpose in inviting them to dinner.

But the Gu Lizhou he knew had always been a reserved loner, someone who had to be begged three times before showing up to a gathering—like some old hermit in the mountains. And now, here he was, initiating a meetup just to speak up for a friend?

Impossible.

“Can I ask who exactly is he to you?”

Gu Lizhou was momentarily stunned. He put down his teacup, licked his lips, and replied, “My godson.”

Cheng Hang immediately choked on his tea.

In the entertainment industry, any familial term prefixed with “god-” usually implied a certain shameful connotation…

He never imagined that his old classmate Gu Lizhou—once the embodiment of propriety—would be into that.

The world was truly going downhill.

Back in their school days, Gu Lizhou had been cold and upright, with countless seniors and juniors chasing after him, yet he remained aloof and single, standing out like a crane among chickens.

Who would have guessed this was the real reason behind it all!

“You too…” Cheng Hang trailed off, unsure how to even express his complicated feelings.

Cheng Yue, meanwhile, recalled the figure of his nude body double and thought Gu Lizhou had excellent taste.

He completely understood how tough things were for such a niche group. “Hey, it’s really nothing these days. Society’s so open now. Having a godson is just fine.”

Gu Lizhou didn’t quite follow what an open society had to do with a godson.

He looked completely lost.

Cheng Yue continued, “Our company is currently partnering with a streaming platform to prepare a talent show. The <Power of Idols> is scheduled to premiere next fall. You could have your fri—no, your godson participate. The winner will definitely be signed directly to our company.”

Tianyao Media, where Cheng Yue worked, was one of the most prominent media and talent management conglomerates in the industry. Its operations spanned film, television, variety shows, music, and more—all with dazzling achievements. The company was a true leader in Asia-Pacific entertainment.

The film adaptation rights of his <Lost Souls> had been bought by Tianyao, and the production of <Storm> by Jiumang Star was also backed by Tianyao Media. Many of the hottest top-tier celebrities in the mainland right now had all been brought into the spotlight by Tianyao.

Cheng Yue explained that the main goal of this talent show was to discover more promising newcomers.

If Zhong Weishi could get into this company, he’d never have to worry about not getting acting gigs in the future—but signing with them was no easy feat.

Cheng Yue added, “Honestly, even if he doesn’t win first place, it’s fine. As long as he has talent and drive, he can still make it in this industry. Once the sign-up period opens, I’ll let you know early. If there’s any trouble, just come to me.”

Gu Lizhou stood up and poured them more tea. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem at all.”

Just before leaving, Cheng Hang couldn’t resist reminding him: “You’re really sending your little canary into the entertainment industry. Aren’t you afraid one day he’ll just spread his wings and fly away?”

“…”

Gu Lizhou broke out in a cold sweat—at this point, he felt like even jumping into the Yellow River wouldn’t wash him clean.

—

One afternoon after New Year’s Day, Gu Lizhou was sitting at his desk typing away when his phone started buzzing.

Caller ID: Lunatic.

Now this was unusual. Except for that one time he’d been caught by the police and called for help, this guy usually only sent WeChat messages or video links.

Could it be another life-or-death situation?

Gu Lizhou immediately tensed up.

“Ge! Do you have a TV nearby? Quick quick quick, quick, quick, turn on the TV!” Zhong Weishi’s voice was frantic, like a second’s delay might be fatal.

Immediately, an image flashed in Gu Lizhou’s mind—Zhong Weishi in handcuffs, showing up on the local news.

In the span of two seconds, he’d already mentally prepared himself to fly back to Yucheng to fight a lawsuit and bail someone out.

“Which channel? Are you okay?”

“Sparrow TV!”

Gu Lizhou let out a breath of relief. Thankfully, it wasn’t the Legal Report channel.

At this hour, Sparrow TV was broadcasting a large-scale indoor obstacle course show called<Brave Charge Ahead>.

On screen, a muscular man in a black tank top was walking across a cylindrical balance beam. The beam was spinning continuously, and soft pads were laid out below it.

A countdown timer was ticking away in the top right corner of the screen—thirty seconds left.

Zhong Weishi heard the TV audio in the background. “You turned it on, right?”

“Yeah, but what’s so great about this?”

“I’m running out of call credit! Let’s talk on WeChat!”

“…” Now that’s the God of Stinginess himself.

Zhong Weishi sent a video call request, his face full of excitement. “I also participated in this program! I didn’t think I’d actually be on TV! Just wait a bit—four more contestants and then it’s my turn!”

Gu Lizhou couldn’t help but chuckle. This guy’s thought process really is something else. Wanting to get famous by joining a show like this? But when he saw the prize for clearing the stage, he understood.

—It was a fully automatic washing machine worth 3,999 yuan.

---

Author’s Note:

The story Daddy told was The Little Prince.

“What to talk about ah?” Gu Lizhou walked out unhurriedly.

Cao Zhiheng said, “Talking about what’s going on between you two ah. d daylight… wait no, sunset already, and you’re hugging and holding each other. Are you guys dating now?”

“Retarded. What, are you still living in a feudal society? Hugging once means we’re dating? Then if we kissed, would we need to buy a grave plot and be buried together?” Gu Lizhou fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, trying to cool himself down.

Though it wasn’t much use.

By the windowsill, there was a lighter and an ashtray, all prepared by Zhong Weishi. The little brat always hated it when he flicked ashes into the flowerpots, saying it affected the healthy growth of his cactus.

“This is all your fault, shaking the ash off all the time and ruining the nutrients. This cactus was a birthday gift from Da Fei. Qiangzi also has a pot, and his even bloomed.”

“The cactus refused to bloom because you pissed it off. You’re always sitting there, pulling at its spines for no reason. It probably figured that even if it grew little flowers, you’d just pluck them off too, so it gave up.”

“Anyway, you’re not allowed to flick ash in it anymore.”

“Alright, alright, alright, I won’t. Let’s see if it blooms.”

Magically, there really was a tiny flower bud, about the size of a fingernail, sprouting from one of the cactus pads.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t help but reach out and tap it with his fingertip. He had only ever seen pictures of flowering cacti before, in all sorts of vibrant colors. He wondered what color this one would turn out to be.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Cao Zhiheng’s voice snapped him back to reality. “What exactly are your feelings toward him ah?”

“What feelings? What could I possibly feel?” Gu Lizhou lit his cigarette, pretending to be clueless.

“Oh, no feelings, no feelings. Then why are you seducing the little guy?” Cao Zhiheng pointed toward the bedroom.

Gu Lizhou choked on his cigarette, slammed the door shut behind him, and growled, “What do you mean I seduced him ah! How did I seduce him?” Remembering the damp touch from earlier, he felt entirely justified. “Didn’t you see? He was the one who came onto me!”

Cao Zhiheng widened his eyes in mock surprise but quickly returned to normal. “All I saw was you pulling him into your arms, touching and rubbing him all over.”

Touching and rubbing.

Those words.

Were a little embarrassing.

Was it true?

Probably.

As for that kiss, he wasn’t all that sure himself.

“That hug, I can explain—it was just for comfort, nothing dirty like you’re thinking,” Gu Lizhou said, not wanting to be wrongfully accused of seducing an innocent young man.

“Comfort?” Cao Zhiheng laughed exaggeratedly as if he had just heard a great joke. He reached out, hooked an arm around Gu Lizhou’s neck, and yanked him into his chest, wrapping his legs around him like a tied-up crab. “Then you can comfort me too ah.”

Gu Lizhou jolted like he was electrocuted, struggling wildly before shoving him away and springing backward to put distance between them. “Aiyo, you’re sick! That’s disgusting!” As he said it, he nervously glanced toward the living room.

Cao Zhiheng pointed at the tip of his nose and said, “And you still say you have a clear conscience?”

Gu Lizhou stiffened his neck and snapped back, “How could you and him be the same! Look at that beer belly! Compare your body to his! Hugging you and hugging him—how could that possibly feel the same? Do you have any idea?”

“What’s wrong with my body? My Jingjing likes it when a guy’s a little chubby,” Cao Zhiheng said smugly, like he had figured everything out. “You like him but you’re just too embarrassed to admit it, right?”

Gu Lizhou scoffed, “Who doesn’t like him? You don’t like him?”

“Don’t play dumb. I mean that kind of like,” Cao Zhiheng narrowed his eyes, twisting his two index fingers together, “the L-o-v-e kind.”

Gu Lizhou picked up the cigarette perched on the edge of the ashtray, took a drag, and said nothing.

He admitted that Zhong Weishi was very special to him, way beyond the bounds of normal friendship. But it wasn’t as absurd as Cao Zhiheng made it sound—seducing or whatever—when he reached out earlier, he hadn’t been thinking anything at all.

When he looked at Zhong Weishi, it was like looking at a bamboo shoot trapped under a stone. Watching him struggle to break through the soil made him want to move that stone away.

He used to not dare think too deeply about it.
But just now, that vague, almost-kiss in the living room had completely thrown him into confusion.

No, it wasn’t just confusion… There was also a kind of excitement he couldn’t quite put into words.

The thrill of reaching for that dazzling light.

Cao Zhiheng, having been through it all before, could tell right away from Gu Lizhou’s radiant expression and lack of rebuttal that the guy had definitely stumbled headfirst into love.

“Of all people you could fall for, it just had to be him. You really are one of a kind,” Cao Zhiheng said.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong?” Cao Zhiheng looked utterly shocked. “He’s a guy ah! And you’re dating him.”

Gu Lizhou rolled his eyes. “So what if he’s a guy? You’re a guy too. What, you’re discriminating against him ah?”

Cao Zhiheng seized on the slip-up immediately, jabbing a finger at his nose. “And you still claim you don’t have feelings for him?!”

“My feelings for him right now are kind of vague. I’m not really sure…” Gu Lizhou was still speaking when the door opened from inside, and he instantly clamped up.

“What are you talking about?” Zhong Weishi stood there holding a pile of clean clothes, handing them over to Gu Lizhou. “Your arm’s not in great shape, so don’t bother with a shower. I’ve run a bath for you. Just be careful not to get your wound wet while you soak. Leave the dirty clothes; I’ll wash them for you.”

“So obedient,” Gu Lizhou said, ruffling his hair. After stepping inside, he turned his head and shot a smug look at Cao Zhiheng, looking every bit like a proud peac0ck flaunting his feathers.

Cao Zhiheng rolled his eyes.

Zhong Weishi went over to water the cactus a little. “Were you guys talking about me just now?”

Cao Zhiheng: “Yeah, we were saying how you’re such a little cutie, bound to become super popular someday.”

Zhong Weishi pursed his lips. “I’m a grown man, not some little cutie.”

Cao Zhiheng quickly dumped the blame on his buddy. “It was Old Gu who said you were cute.”

The so-called grown man lowered his head, biting the corner of his lip, and fiddled with a cactus pad with his fingertips. “…Did he really say that?”

“…” Great. Neither the old man nor the little one could be saved.

“I made it up.” Cao Zhiheng asked, “Did you eat dinner?”

Zhong Weishi shook his head.

Cao Zhiheng checked the time. “It’s getting late. Come eat at my place. I just went downstairs to buy some cooked vegetables, let’s eat some noodles.”

“Oh, then I’ll wait for him to finish washing…”

“Wait for what? You still planning to serve that old bastard with bathing and dressing too?” Cao Zhiheng yanked him over. “Come help me cook the noodles!”

Zhong Weishi had no choice but to nod.

“Weishi, my arm’s not moving too well. Come help me scrub my back,” the man inside called out.

Zhong Weishi’s brain spun; his very soul nearly scattered at that call. When his senses finally returned, his face lit up with joy, like a little sparrow chirping excitedly.

“Coming, coming!”

He had just taken two steps when he felt someone grab the collar of his shirt, yanking him backward.

“Go cook the noodles!” Cao Zhiheng, like Hades from hell, dragged both the old and young fools’ crooked thoughts back into place.

Once again, Zhong Weishi tasted the bitterness of disappointment, as bitter as the coffee he drank the day Gu Lizhou said he was leaving.

With his head hanging low, he shuffled over to Room 303.

Shortly after, the person in the bathroom splashed water and roared, “Scram, scram, scram, scram!—I can do it myself!”

Cao Zhiheng was mercilessly kicked out.

At the dining table, the black-faced Hades still sat firmly between the two.

Gu Lizhou and Zhong Weishi sat across from each other, occasionally glancing up to lock eyes.

Completely in sync, without a word needed.

Cao Zhiheng looked left, looked right, and even stretched his foot under the table to feel around. Thankfully, the two weren’t tangled together yet.

From this, he could basically judge: more than friends, not quite lovers yet.

After dinner, Zhong Weishi obediently washed the dishes. Gu Lizhou patted the sofa and said, “Come eat some fruit.”

Cao Zhiheng, who had been busy carving something with his head down, quickly squeezed in next to Gu Lizhou before the little sparrow could pounce over, stubbornly planting himself as the river in the center of the chessboard.

Gu Lizhou sat cross-legged on the sofa, lowering his head to send a WeChat message.

—Is it sweet?

Zhong Weishi’s phone chimed.

He glanced at the message, then stole a peek at Gu Lizhou.

—Sweet ah.

—Then eat more. Finish it all. Don’t leave him any.

Zhong Weishi immediately skewered several more chunks of watermelon, cheeks puffed out like a big hamster.

The TV was playing the currently hottest drama series, but none of the three scheming men had their minds on it.

Gu Lizhou quietly opened the camera app and started recording a hamster-eating broadcast.

Cao Zhiheng, meanwhile, was wondering what kind of scene it would be if these two actually got together in the future. Would they kiss? Just imagining it made his hair stand on end.

Zhong Weishi really wanted to ask Gu Lizhou where he was staying tonight, maybe even invite him back to Room 301, but after holding it in for a long while, he still couldn’t muster the courage to say it.

—What time are you going to the airport tomorrow? I’ll send you off.

—Whenever I wake up, not sure what time yet. No need to send me off, just pick me up when I come back. I’ll definitely come back.

Even though it was still a farewell, this time, it came with a definite promise.

Zhong Weishi’s heart bubbled over with joy. When he turned his head, he happened to meet Gu Lizhou’s smiling, crescent-shaped eyes.

—Maybe the most heart-fluttering moment in the world is when you look at that person and he just happens to be looking at you too.

Clutching his phone tightly, Zhong Weishi felt like he was really about to fall headfirst for this pretty boy…

As it turned out, the more thoughts he had, the smaller his courage became.

”Will you come to my place tonight?’ these few simple words got stuck in his throat for ages and still failed to make it out.

By 1 a.m., Zhong Weishi was sprawled out on his bed in a 大 shape staring blankly at the ceiling.

He pressed his lips together, still savoring the touch of someone’s skin, a little reluctant to let it go.

Before meeting Gu Lizhou, he had never questioned his own orientation. It wasn’t like he hadn’t watched adult films, but now, whenever the tiniest wicked thought crept in, the first image to pop into his head was Gu Lizhou’s face.

After several rounds of cold showers to forcibly extinguish his lust, he was on the brink of a mental breakdown.

In the past twenty-plus years, he had never felt this way about anyone. Gu Lizhou was like a little ghost lingering around him—he thought of him when walking, thought of him when eating, thought of him when showering. Every minute, every second, he thought of him…

Every move, every frown, every smile of the old man tugged at his emotions.

Yet he couldn’t figure out whether this man had any hidden feelings in his heart.

He couldn’t help but get close, yet he feared losing him.

Melancholy. Insomnia.

He was only in his twenties and already suffering from insomnia!

How to effectively improve insomnia troubles?

When he posted this on his Moments, it happened to be 1:30 a.m. Qiangzi, who was pulling an all-nighter at the internet café, was the first to comment.

—Rub one out to burn some energy. Want a link? I can send it to your Baidu Cloud.

—Rub your head!

—Ungrateful. So many people ask me for it, and I’m not even willing to share.

Gu Lizhou saw the post and sent a voice message: “Can’t sleep? Want to hear a story?”

Zhong Weishi pedaled an imaginary bicycle twice in the air with his legs and said in a low voice, “Yeah, what story?”

As Gu Lizhou dialed his number, he also flipped open a book by his bedside. “How about a story about The Little Prince?”

“Sure.”

In his entire life, Zhong Weishi had only listened to two people tell him stories. One was Grandma Zhao, who took care of him when he was little. To coax him to sleep, she told tales of the Big Bad Wolf eating the Little White Rabbit, which ended up scaring him into worrying that if he didn’t sleep, the Big Bad Wolf would come and eat him.

The other was Gu Lizhou.

“The Little Prince lived on a planet called B-612. He was the only resident of that planet…”

Gu Lizhou’s voice was low, without much fluctuation while telling the story, but in the stillness of the night, transmitted wirelessly, it felt especially focused and gentle.

Even separated by several walls, it felt as if the man was lying right beside him. With his eyes closed, Zhong Weishi could easily picture him speaking with his eyes lowered, maybe even wearing glasses.

He liked how Gu Lizhou looked wearing glasses, like a knowledgeable scholar. He had always liked cultured, well-read people.

He sank deep into it, as if immersed in a vast ocean, his whole body softened by it.

Not long after, Gu Lizhou heard the sound of even, lingering breathing from the other end.

The next day.

Gu Lizhou flew back to B City. Zhong Weishi’s restless little heart finally calmed down, and he shifted his focus back to work.

He didn’t get that second male lead role from before, but a senior member of a drama troupe noticed him and asked if he was interested in learning more.

Zhong Weishi had only ever seen drama performances on TV, no post-production, no dubbing. The live stage was a true test of an actor’s line delivery and acting skills. Although acting in a play didn’t pay much, the troupe was full of veteran artists, and he could learn a lot from them.

Zhong Weishi didn’t think too much and applied to join.

There were quite a few young people around his age in the drama troupe, some still studying at the Academy of Drama, who came to learn from the seniors and hone their craft, preparing to enter the entertainment industry for real.

Transitioning from the free life of a temp actor to the structured stage of a drama troupe took some adjustment, and he had to start learning many things from scratch. Still, at least now he had a basic salary, and there would be additional performance fees if he participated in shows.

As long as there was money to earn and food to eat, what couldn’t he adapt to?

It was inevitable for newcomers in a new environment to take on more tasks. He was as busy as a little bee every day, barely even finding time to check his phone. Every night when he got home, his heart felt empty.

He couldn’t help but think of Gu Lizhou—his smiling, laughing face. Sometimes, he would even deliberately wander to the room where Gu Lizhou had stayed, looking for traces he had left behind.

The bench they had sat on together on the balcony, the starry sky they had gazed at together, the big bed they had wrestled on, the pillow they fought over, and the lingering scent of the shampoo…

All those memories turned into longing, almost filling his entire heart.

He was practically going crazy, ah, ah, ah, ah!

Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. On a dark, windy night, he sent Gu Lizhou a message.

—What are you doing?

Gu Lizhou’s heart leapt with joy. After almost a month, this little brat finally thought of him.

—What, missing Dad?

Zhong Weishi’s eyes widened, his palms sweating.

So direct?

But his reply was a bit more roundabout.

—Mm, saw the lighter on the balcony and suddenly thought of you hahahahahahaha…

—Uncle Cao keeps mentioning you in front of me every day. He even got a cat.

—The cactus on the balcony even bloomed hahahahahaha! When are you coming back?

He was practically trying to cover it up.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t help but laugh.

Zhong Weishi clutched his phone, waiting for a reply. No matter how he looked at it, he felt that while his replies sounded casual and natural, he worried that Gu Lizhou might get distracted by the wrong details. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask for a photo of the cactus ah, the flower had already wilted a few days ago.

The other side didn’t reply for a long time. Zhong Weishi frowned and clicked his tongue.

This conversation felt completely half-hearted.

While he got up to use the bathroom, the reply finally came.

—I miss you too

—We.

—I’ll be back after the New Year.

Zhong Weishi widened his eyes and froze for 0.1 seconds.

His brain automatically blocked out the second message. Hugging his phone, he kicked wildly into the air.

Ah, ah, ah, ah!——

He misses me!

He! Misses! Me! Too!

The tranquil moonlight outside the window gave rise to even more delicate and genuine emotions.

Just those four simple words made Zhong Weishi increasingly certain of the feelings in his heart.

At twenty-two years old, he was still young and naïve, his heart as clean as a blank sheet of paper. He had never tasted the sweetness of love, nor had anyone taught him to be cautious when choosing someone to love.

He longed for the feeling of being cherished, yearned for a plain and simple happiness. Just a little bit of tenderness was enough to completely melt his heart.

Torn between fear of gaining and losing, yet unable to suppress the restless beast inside him.

Gu Lizhou had run several kilometers back and forth. He was drenched in sweat, his hair disheveled, and the whole person looked utterly miserable. Zhong Weishi quickly poured him a glass of water and turned on the small fan in the living room.

Gu Lizhou gulped down a large cup of water before some color finally returned to his lips. His throat still burned like fire, and he croaked hoarsely, “Why hasn’t anyone come out to debunk that news ah?”

Zhong Weishi said, “There are tons of posts like that online. Someone even claimed the lead actor has an illegitimate child. The team can’t possibly keep up with all of it. Eventually people forget. But if a post gets too many shares, the official account will definitely step in and clarify.”

Cao Zhiheng let out a heavy sigh. “Old Gu, I really gotta hand it to you. That kind of dangerous scene obviously used props ah. You saw the way that person flew? Their arm looked like it didn’t even have bones.”

“How would I know?!” Gu Lizhou’s eyes were red. “If you knew, why didn’t you tell me! Now you’re just playing hindsight!”

“You didn’t even send me the video ah,” Cao Zhiheng looked completely wronged. “You sounded so sure on the phone. I even asked if you were certain, and you insisted you were. You yelled at me like crazy—‘You’re a scourge~ What does he understand ah understand~…”

Cao Zhiheng pinched his throat to mimic him.

“Shut up!”

Gu Lizhou was thoroughly humiliated. He glanced at the perfectly unharmed Zhong Weishi and felt like a total fool. He was so angry that steam practically fumed out the back of his head.

He even cried in fear at the airport.

Utterly embarrassing!

Too shameful to recall.

Zhong Weishi saw the tips of his ears slowly turning red and thought he was angry. He quickly nudged his arm. “Ge, don’t be mad. I’ll pay attention to my phone next time.”

It was the first time the child had called him “Ge.”

Obedient, cautious, with a tone of trying to make peace—like a pair of soft little hands squeezing Gu Lizhou’s heart into mush in an instant.

Cao Zhiheng furrowed his brows, but managed to stay unusually clear-headed in a key moment: “Ai, that’s not right ah? You’re calling him ‘ge’ and calling me ‘uncle’? So what generation are we even supposed to be ah?”

“Roll!” Gu Lizhou turned around and roared.

Zhong Weishi had no choice but to pick at his fingernail and correct himself, “Uncle Gu.”

“Hahahahahahahahaha—” Cao Zhiheng slapped his leg, laughing uncontrollably.

Gu Lizhou jabbed Zhong Weishi on the forehead hard. “Is your brain full of water or what?!”

Zhong Weishi rubbed his head. “Don’t you usually make me call you ‘Dad’? You are of that generation ah. So how was I wrong again!?”

Gu Lizhou roared in rage, “Either call me ‘Dad’ or call me ‘Ge’! Pick one yourself!”

Standing behind Gu Lizhou, Cao Zhiheng silently mouthed: Call him Dad.

Zhong Weishi looked just like a kid being forced to greet relatives during New Year, awkward and fidgety, then ended up not saying anything at all. “It’s hot, you should drink more water to cool off.”

Gu Lizhou was fuming. In the end, he could only glare viciously at Cao Zhiheng. “Uncle Cao, go get me another glass of water.”

“On it!”

Zhong Weishi lowered his head again to rewatch the video, amused. “Why would you ever think that person was me?”

“You told me this morning you had something going on with the production crew, but didn’t say what…”

Now that Gu Lizhou was watching the video on repeat, he could tell there was a slight difference from a real person—the limbs were a little stiff when the body was blasted away.

The preconceived idea had been too strong. He hadn’t even considered it wasn’t a real person.

He propped one hand on his thigh and took a deep breath. “I only caught a glimpse of that video at first. The second I saw the words ‘Cheng Yue’s stunt double,’ of course I thought of you. These shady marketing accounts will do anything for a few damn clicks—scared the crap out of me, I almost had a heart attack.”

Zhong Weishi pursed his lips. “You really thought I got blown up and died ya?”

Gu Lizhou didn’t say a word.

Cao Zhiheng patted his shoulder. “Alright, alright, alright, it was a false alarm. He’s fine, that’s all that matters. Old Gu, you better take care of that arm of yours or it’ll get infected.”

Zhong Weishi tilted his head and glanced at Gu Lizhou’s arm—then gasped sharply.

No wonder he’d thought something was off. The guy’s arm had been hanging at a weird angle ever since he walked in.

A patch nearly the size of half a palm had the skin scr4p3d clean off. Judging by the wound, it looked like he’d braced himself on the ground and rubbed it raw. The torn area was still smeared with dirt, looking grimy and filthy.

Gu Lizhou’s skin was pale to begin with, so that patch of blood on his hand looked especially shocking.

Zhong Weishi didn’t even dare lift his arm too hard, afraid the bone might be hurt. “What happened?”

Cao Zhiheng, leaning on the sofa, explained, “He thought something happened to you, right? So he ran to the hospital near the film set to see if they’d received any emergency patients. He was running too fast and didn’t notice a car making a left turn and got hit.”

Honestly, after finding out Gu Lizhou didn’t come back out of reluctance to leave him, Zhong Weishi did feel a little disappointed. But seeing him now, in such a sorry state, he felt both distressed and secretly a little pleased.

In short, it was very contradictory.

Gu Lizhou saw the pale look on his face and quickly tried to reassure him. “It’s nothing serious, just some scr4p3d skin.”

“This is not just a scr4p3. Can you even move it? You didn’t hurt the bone, did you?” Zhong Weishi rushed back to the room to rummage through drawers. “Good thing the medicine you bought me last time hasn’t been used up yet.”

Cao Zhiheng settled onto the small sofa. “Didn’t I say it was nothing? But no, he wouldn’t listen to me. You wanna go to the hospital for an x-ray? If there’s a fracture, that’s no small matter.”

Gu Lizhou shook his head. “No need. I know whether my bones are injured or not.”

Cao Zhiheng recalled the image of him getting knocked over by that SUV and still felt a lingering fear. Luckily, it happened at an intersection, so the car had slowed down a bit. Gu Lizhou, all banged up, got up from the ground without even saying a word to the driver, dashed straight across the road, and rushed to the hospital.

Even the driver was confused.

The Gu Lizhou he knew, outwardly friendly and courteous, always able to quickly warm up to others, was actually cold as ice deep down, the type who’d rather lock himself up in a dark room to rot alone.

Aside from writing, nothing ever stirred his interest, let alone getting so worked up over someone that he’d start yelling.

But lately, he kept bringing up that kid in front of him, helping him pay rent, bailing him out from the police station, even going to great lengths to plan a birthday.

They practically grew up together in the same pair of crotchless pants, and when had he ever thrown him a birthday party ah?

At most, he’d send a red envelope.

Not even a slice of cake.

This whole episode today made it feel like Gu Lizhou had changed.

But whether that change was for better or worse, he couldn’t say for sure.

Cao Zhiheng glanced at the kid with his butt sticking out, rummaging through the room for medicine. He hooked an arm around Gu Lizhou’s neck and whispered, “Don’t you think you care a bit too much about your litle didi?”

Gu Lizhou frowned. “What kind of question is that? If it were you in danger today, I’d be just as worried.”

Cao Zhiheng only smiled, neither agreeing nor denying.

Zhong Weishi came out carrying a big bag stuffed with everything he’d ever taken or used in the past four years—some expired, some newly bought.

He dumped it all onto the coffee table.

“What were you so anxious for anyway? I’m not a kid, it’s not like anything would happen to me.” Zhong Weishi twisted open a box of cotton swabs and dipped one into the iodine. He’d never treated anyone’s wounds before, and his fingers were shaking badly. “Maybe Uncle Cao, you should do it instead?”

Cao Zhiheng waved him off. “Nope, not my job. You caused this, you deal with it.”

Zhong Weishi pouted. “What do you mean I caused this ah? I didn’t tell him to…” He looked up and met Gu Lizhou’s eyes. “Fine, fine, I caused it. It’s all my fault. Bear with it ah.”

Ow, ow, ow, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah—

It was like a pig being slaughtered.

The battle was utterly tragic.

“Zhong Weishi! Do you want me to die!”

“I’m already being really gentle! It’s just that this bit of skin is still hanging on by a thread. I wanted to pull it off—it looks so uncomfortable. It’s making my guts itch, just like when you see a tiny pimple.”

“Then let your guts itch! Don’t touch my skin!”

“Then let me blow on it, okay?”

“Fine. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow—”

The skin got ripped off.

Once he finally finished cleaning the wound, Gu Lizhou covered his eyes with a hand, holding back tears. “You’re such a liar.” There was no blowing at all, like he’d promised.

Zhong Weishi leisurely wrapped the gauze, looking quite pleased with himself. “Your clothes are dirty too. Wanna take a shower and change?”

Cao Zhiheng was nibbling on a Cornetto he’d dug out from the fridge when something suddenly occurred to him. “Oh right, where’s your suitcase?”

“Right, oh! And your plane ticket! Did you miss your flight?!” Zhong Weishi snapped to attention. “How much money was wasted?”

“My suitcase is stored at the airport. The flight can be rescheduled, he just had to pay a small change fee. I’ll check online later to sort it out. Old Cao, let me borrow your laptop.”

“Sure, go grab it from my room later. No password on it.”

Cao Zhiheng headed back to 303, and the living room fell quiet. It was nearly six in the evening now, the sky outside growing dim. The atmosphere inside was warm and soft.

Gu Lizhou was trying to blow-dry the medicine on his elbow, while Zhong Weishi was looking through the pile for unexpired antibiotics.

Out of nowhere, that one sentence Gu Lizhou had blurted out in panic echoed again in his mind: “Don’t panic, I’m on my way. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it…”

Zhong Weishi had been a child abandoned by his own family—no father’s love, no mother’s care. The smallest gesture of kindness could move him to tears. That feeling of being cared for, of being protected. It wasn’t something he could ignore, let alone resist.

He looked at the man sitting before him, who was ten years older, a man who had been watering and nurturing his heart over and over again, and he felt like something inside him was slowly taking root and starting to grow.

From the corner of his eye, Gu Lizhou could sense the boy leaning closer. He turned his head and met a pair of clear, bright eyes.

Zhong Weishi had beautiful eyes, full of spirit. Big eyes had this way of making everything they looked at seem so intense, like the kitten he used to have as a child, always staring at the goldfish in the tank.

He often thought: for someone to have a face this good-looking, his parents’ genes must’ve been incredibly strong.

No one knew how long they stared at each other, maybe a second, maybe three, but time felt like it had frozen.

Zhong Weishi saw the tiny mole hidden beneath Gu Lizhou’s brow, a stray eyelash on his cheek, even the reflection of himself in Gu Lizhou’s pupils.

He wanted to look a little deeper, but soon found himself dizzy from that gaze, heart thumping wildly. He dropped his eyes.

The atmosphere was subtle for a while.

Gu Lizhou capped the bottle of iodine and said, “You need to be more careful from now on. No matter how much they pay, don’t take on any dangerous stunt work, got it? I’m not an immortal who can always be by your side. If something does happen, it’ll be too late for regrets.”

Zhong Weishi nodded and murmured, “I know. Thanks for today.”

Gu Lizhou chuckled. “What are you thanking me for ya? It was all just a big misunderstanding.”

Zhong Weishi’s index fingers were nervously twisting together, the tips turning pale from pressure. “Thanks for caring about me. I never thought about it before, but it turns out, if I get hurt, or if I leave, there’s actually someone who’d worry and feel upset. That makes me really happy…”

The boy kept his head down as he spoke, and though subtle, there was a faint quiver in his voice.

That simple confession hit Gu Lizhou right in the softest part of his heart.

The heart that had weathered storms, always calm and unshaken, suddenly turned to mush like a ball of cotton that was left to be ravaged again.

“Your tear threshold’s pretty low, huh?” He hooked an arm around him and pulled him into an embrace, patting his shoulder with one hand.

Without hesitation, Zhong Weishi turned fully and hugged him tightly. “I’m just fvcking touched,” he said, voice trembling.

Gu Lizhou: “Cut the profanity and say it again.”

Zhong Weishi tightened his arms. “I’m really damn touched!”

Gu Lizhou struggled to keep a straight face. Zhong Weishi worked out regularly—his arms were muscular and springy, strong enough to nearly squeeze the breath out of him.

His right hand hovered for a moment before resting on the boy’s back, gently stroking over the slight bump of his shoulder blade, then along the firm, well-defined lines of muscle.

He could trace the outline even with his eyes closed—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a body full of aesthetic strength.

And suddenly, he remembered what Cao Zhiheng had said earlier.

In this moment, he had to admit, it made a certain kind of sense.

Who wouldn’t want to hold a healthy, radiant, full-of-life body like this?

“Meeting you has been really great,” Zhong Weishi murmured. His chin rested on Gu Lizhou’s shoulder. He could smell a faint trace of sweat, but it was mostly overpowered by the scent of laundry detergent. He rubbed against Gu Lizhou’s collarbone, leaning in close to his ear.

Their chests were pressed together, no space in between.

Zhong Weishi blushed in no time.

Not only did his face flush, his racing heartbeat was impossible to hide.

“I think I’m pretty awesome too,” Gu Lizhou said with a smile, ruffling the back of his head. “Alright, I’m covered in sweat and probably starting to ferment. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He tried to push Zhong Weishi away, only to find he wouldn’t budge.

“It’s not stinky, it actually smells kinda nice.” Zhong Weishi leaned in and sniffed at his neck, his lips brushing across the skin, intentionally or unintentionally. That unfamiliar, soft sensation short-circuited his brain, leaving him flustered and frozen.

Gu Lizhou tickled him lightly on the waist. Zhong Weishi svoided it for fear of itching, and quickly squirmed away and finally let go of him.

“Did you put on cologne or something? So flashy,” Zhong Weishi muttered, lips pursed and his face red as a chili pepper.

Gu Lizhou laughed and teased, “Completely charmed by me and got distracted ah?”

“Pfft, shameless,” Zhong Weishi shot up like a spring. “I’ll go find you some clothes.”

“Alright.”

Only after watching the boy’s figure disappear into the bedroom did Gu Lizhou lift his hand and rub at his neck. He turned his head—and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw someone standing by the window, leaning with their head tilted and one eye peeking out.

“Why’re you just standing there like that?”

Cao Zhiheng narrowed his eyes and hooked a finger at him. “Come out. We need to talk.”

Gu Lizhou replied to the message, then stood by the windowsill and stretched lazily.

Cao Zhiheng helped him bring in a few pieces of clothing and folded them, casually asking, “Did you tell the little brother that you’re leaving?”

“I did.”

“You did? You two are usually as inseparable as conjoined twins—why isn’t he seeing you off?”

Cao Zhiheng’s words made him dazed for a couple of seconds.

Close.

That word carried an inexplicable sense of intimacy, like hearing someone say when you were young that a certain teacher praised you in the office, inevitably giving you a slight fondness for that teacher.

Were the two of them considered close?

Probably.

Zhong Weishi seemed to call him for everything.

No one had ever treated him like that before. Even in the school dormitory, no one relied on him so much.

Now, suddenly having to return to the life of a lonely old man, he was a bit unaccustomed to it.

Gu Lizhou sighed, “He has to go to the set to film, it’s not like he doesn’t know the way—what’s the point of seeing me off?”

Zhong Weishi sent another sticker: two chubby little pandas hugging each other.

Gu Lizhou smiled. He didn’t usually chat much, and all the stickers he had saved were from his conversations with Zhong Weishi. After scrolling through for a while, he picked a sticker of a cat making a heart gesture and sent it.

These were the little stickers Zhong Weishi often sent when asking him to bring supper.

Who wouldn’t like a friend who was always full of enthusiasm and could bring laughter?

For the first time, Gu Lizhou found himself reluctant to leave.

At one o’clock in the afternoon.

The scorching sun hung overhead as Gu Lizhou sat in the taxi. The traffic radio station was broadcasting road conditions—an accident somewhere, roadwork somewhere else, and recommendations for drivers to take detours.

His ears were filled with noise, but his thoughts were entirely elsewhere.

Cheng Hang mentioned that he would be flying to over a dozen places for inspiration and wasn’t sure if he could make it back for the birthday. If he couldn’t return, he wondered if Zhong Weishi would be willing to go to City B…

To spend his birthday with him.

And maybe do a bit of touring…

While waiting in line to get his boarding pass, two young girls in front were chatting excitedly about a newly debuted star.

Feeling bored, Gu Lizhou opened his photo album on his phone.

He suddenly realized that he had quite a few short videos related to Zhong Weishi.

It made him feel like an old father recording his son’s growth moments.

The first clip was of Zhong Weishi doing a somersault and a handstand on the balcony. When zoomed in, one could see a medicinal patch on his spine, and every time he got close, there was a faint smell of medicine.

Next was the day of the square dancing, where Zhong Weishi pulled Da Fei to dance a yangko. There was also a photo of Zhong Weishi stuck on the railing and unable to get down, followed by him playing with the yo-yo…

And a photo from the day he got scratched by the cat.

He kept bumping into things every few days—Gu Lizhou wondered if his family would feel sorry seeing all this.

Would they?

Would parents who abandoned their child feel any remorse?

Or maybe, like Huangfu Qiang’s family, they had some kind of unavoidable hardship?

“So tragic, the ‘Xiao Ying’ crew must be cursed or something. I remember there was an accident during the first film too—the lead actor almost got burned to death.”

“Ah ya ya… That part that flew out, was it an arm ah…”

“Ugh—I’m not sure, maybe not. It could be some prop from the scene. But you see, that person hasn’t gotten up for a long time, even if they’re not dead, they’re probably crippled.”

“Good thing it was just a stunt double. If it were the lead actor getting disfigured, it’s over.”

“The stunt double is pitiful too ah! Hopefully, they’re okay.”

The moment he heard the word “stunt double,” Gu Lizhou’s heart clenched tightly. He turned his head to look at the screen on the girl’s phone.

It was a short Weibo video, and judging by the quality, it seemed to have been unintentionally filmed from a distance.

The girl’s fingertips swiped across the screen. Gu Lizhou, flustered and almost incoherent, stammered, “Excuse me, can I-can I take another look at that news, that short video? Who got hurt?”

“I don’t recognize ah.” The girl, seeing his face clearly, blushed and went back to the previous post. “Just a stunt double…”

Entertainment Fresh Report V: During the filming of “Xiao Ying II” at Yucheng Film & Television City, an accident occurred while shooting an explosion scene. The stunt double for lead actor Cheng Yue was blown out of the car, and the scene was horrifying…

The video was blurry, but it showed a figure in a uniform being blasted out of the car and collapsing on the ground, unmoving. A large crowd immediately rushed over, blocking the camera.

Gu Lizhou’s chest felt burning hot, his gaze shimmering with moisture.

“Do you still want to watch?” The girl turned her head, only to see the man staring at the screen in a daze, his eyes red.

It seemed… it seemed like he was about to cry.

Gu Lizhou’s breathing became rapid, and his mind raced to piece together several key phrases: “Do you know Cheng Yue?” “I’m his stunt double ah.” “Lots of explosion scenes.” “People can get blasted away…”

He couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

The temperature in the airport lobby was low, but cold sweat quickly covered his back. His trembling fingers repeatedly tapped the video on the screen, his mind blank.

In a daze, he seemed to hear the boy’s voice next to his ear: “Anyway, don’t forget about me, okay? I’ll always let you know wherever I go…”

He had just sent him a message that morning.

He had clearly said he would come to pick him up.

Zhong Weishi was only 22!

He hadn’t even started his life yet!

“Are you okay?” The girl noticed that he was trembling all over, tears streaming down his face. Worried, she patted his shoulder. “Are you feeling unwell? Ah?”

“Where is that film crew?” Gu Lizhou was so anxious he could hardly breathe. Only after asking did he realize that it was a useless question.

No one here would know.

No one in the comments knew how Zhong Weishi was doing—after all, he was just a little stunt double.

Apart from him, no one knew or cared.

Gu Lizhou’s hands trembled as he unlocked his phone, tapping the contacts list several times before finally hitting the right spot. His legs were so weak that he could only squat on the ground.

When he saw the words “Little Beast” on the screen, tears surged up uncontrollably. He wiped the tears off the screen and dialed the number.

He kept praying in his heart that nothing bad had happened.

“The number you have dialed is powered off…”

He slumped to the ground, the massive suitcase crashing heavily onto his thigh.

Dizziness hit him.

It felt as if all his cells had died in that instant.

It wasn’t the first time Gu Lizhou had experienced this feeling. The summer of his first year in high school, when the homeroom teacher informed him that his grandfather had passed away. It was the same…

Cold, panicked, helpless, and desperate.

Like someone had drained all his strength.

After storing his suitcase, he ignored all the gazes and sounds around him and sprinted madly in the opposite direction.

The sun outside the airport was scorching, the air suffocating hot. As soon as he stepped out, his T-shirt was soaked with sweat.

He hailed an airport taxi, but when the driver asked where he was heading, he was at a loss.

Where?

The Film & Television City was enormous—he didn’t know where the crew was.

He froze for a couple of seconds before suddenly looking up. “The hospital! The nearest hospital to Yucheng Film & Television City!”

The Film & Television City was nearly 150 kilometers away from the airport. Drivers rarely took trips there. After checking on his phone, the driver asked, “Is it the Fifth People’s Hospital?”

At this point, Gu Lizhou could only nod.

Once the car started moving, he began searching for hospitals near the Film & Television City. Besides the Fifth People’s Hospital, there were several others within a five-kilometer radius.

He sent several WeChat messages to Zhong Weishi, but there was no reply. Then, he opened Weibo, hoping to find updates about the incident.

He had been in such a hurry earlier that he hadn’t paid attention to when it happened—maybe about two hours ago?

What was the keyword again?

His heart had been pounding like a drum the whole time, as if it were about to explode.

The trending topics on Weibo were all about celebrities gaining weight, losing weight, laughing, or crying. Frustrated, he pounded his thigh hard.

How could something involving a human life not make the hot searches!

He scrolled through the real-time trending list for a long time but couldn’t find that post, so he searched for “Cheng Yue’s stunt double” and found the previous Weibo post.

The comments were mostly expressing sympathy for Zhong Weishi, though there were also a few discordant voices.

User 285724: If he dies, the crew will be in big trouble with compensation.

The replies were filled with people cursing.

Gu Lizhou rubbed his nose, exited Weibo, and opened Zhong Weishi’s Moments.

He wanted to see his smile again, to hear his voice.

There was still that half-used talent show coupon tucked into his phone case.

Would he ever get to use it?

It shouldn’t be the memento he leaves behind.

The driver noticed his odd mood, as if there were tear stains on his face. “Broke up with someone?”

Gu Lizhou couldn’t hear him at all, and a few pessimistic thoughts popped into his mind.

If Zhong Weishi was really gone, he’d find a good plot and give him a proper burial.

If he’d lost a limb, he’d take him back to B City, hire a caregiver to look after him.

If his face was ruined, he’d find a way to get it fixed and see if he could return to the entertainment industry. If not, he’d just support him—after all, he wasn’t short on money.

Once someone prepares themselves for the worst, their heart somehow feels a bit lighter.

Gu Lizhou suddenly thought of something and frantically called Cao Zhiheng.

“Are you sure he’s at the hospital? Which one?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t need you. I’m heading to the Fifth People’s Hospital right now. You go check out the other nearby hospitals around the Film & Television City. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Cao Zhiheng hung up, tossed the spatula aside, turned off the gas, and rushed downstairs without even bothering to lock the door.

Holding onto a glimmer of hope, Gu Lizhou kept dialing Zhong Weishi’s phone number, but it was still powered off.

Did he drop it at the set? Why hadn’t anyone picked it up?

At least give him a bit of information ah.

Could it be that the phone was blown up too…

Cao Zhiheng ran through several emergency rooms at nearby hospitals but didn’t find Zhong Weishi. Gu Lizhou, drenched in sweat, also came out of the Fifth People’s Hospital.

“Anything on your side?”

“Nothing ah. I’ve checked all the emergency rooms at the nearby hospitals, but he’s not there. Maybe it’s not that serious, don’t worry too much.”

“How could it not be serious!”

Gu Lizhou recalled that video. That person had been blasted out of the car without any protection, couldn’t even get up, and his pant leg was still on fire.

“Hey, don’t yell at me ah. Didn’t you say it didn’t make the hot searches? It shouldn’t be too big of a deal. You know what they say, ‘scourge live long…’”

“You’re the scourge!” Gu Lizhou snapped, words slipping out without thought. “He’s only 22! Just a brat ah, a brat! What does he know? If the director tells him to do it, he’ll do it. With such a dangerous stunt, if the director pushes him, he’d just grit his teeth and go through with it ah! What else could he do?”

Cao Zhiheng, now feeling nervous too, stammered, “It can’t be that bad, right? The director wouldn’t really force him if he didn’t dare…”

“Why not? You don’t know him at all! He’s already been to the police station twice! When he got into heat of the moment, he just goes for it! Now it’s too late to regret it!” Gu Lizhou was so angry his liver hurt. “That damn director—just wants to make a name for himself and doesn’t treat the actors like people. Insists on realistic special effects—if something really happened, I’ll make sure he dies in a very realistic way! Let him prepare to be ruined!”

It was the first time Cao Zhiheng had ever heard Gu Lizhou so furious, and he was left dumbfounded, breaking out into a cold sweat himself.

“Old Gu, Old Gu, calm down first. Things might not be as bad as you think…”

“I can’t calm down right now!”

“Then stay agitated, but listen to my analysis first ah. Usually, with such a life-threatening incident, even if it’s someone from the 108th tier, it would have already made it to the hot searches ah. The official Weibo of the crew hasn’t posted anything, and neither have the marketing accounts…” As Cao Zhiheng was speaking, Gu Lizhou suddenly received a call.

Caller ID — Little Beast

Gu Lizhou’s eyes widened instantly, cutting off Cao Zhiheng’s analysis in a flash. He stammered, “Hello? Where are you? Is it really you?”

“Who else would it be if not me?”

The moment Gu Lizhou heard that familiar voice, his heart dropped back to where it belonged—at least he didn’t need to buy a burial plot anymore.

“Which hospital are you at? Why can’t I find you? Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” He fired off a series of questions, then thought he should stabilize the little beast’s emotions and quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m coming right over. No matter how big the issue is, I’ll handle it.”

Zhong Weishi frowned, “I’m at home ah. What hospital? You’re looking for me…” His voice suddenly cut off.

“Hello? Hello?” Gu Lizhou glanced at the screen and almost fainted from frustration.

The phone had run out of battery.

But being able to hear his voice was already good news.

What did that little beast just say?

At home?

Forty minutes later, almost everyone on the entire floor of Lanshan Apartments heard what sounded like the roar of a furious dragon.

“Zhong Weishi!—”

“Little beast! You’ve got some nerve! Why didn’t you pick up my calls!!! Ah??”

Zhong Weishi was completely dumbfounded, his eyes wide like copper bells. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Hey, didn’t you blast off to the skies?”

Clenching his fists, Gu Lizhou’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing.

After exchanging information, the two finally realized it was a massive misunderstanding.

Early in the morning, Zhong Weishi hurried to the set of “When I Met You in My Youth” to audition. There were over a hundred people auditioning along with him, and by the time it was his turn and he was done, it was already past noon. He grabbed a quick meal near the Film & Television City, and Qiangzi asked him to help move some things.

After finishing up, he was exhausted and overheated. He took a car back home and dozed off for a bit, leaving his phone charging on the bedside table.

His crappy phone not only took two hours to charge for five minutes of call time but also didn’t have an auto-reboot feature. When he woke up, he found over a dozen missed calls.

Still groggy, he called back… only to find that Gu Lizhou’s phone was now off.

He figured it might be because Gu Lizhou had to turn off his phone for the flight, so he didn’t think much of it.

It wasn’t until this man suddenly showed up at the door of apartment 301 that he was stunned, wondering if Gu Lizhou couldn’t bear to leave and decided to stay. Before he could feel happy, Gu Lizhou started yelling at him.

He really felt aggrieved.

Cao Zhiheng let out a sigh of relief. “Aiyo, I told you it wasn’t a big deal, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Look, isn’t he just fine? You’re always worrying over nothing.”

“What do you mean I worry over nothing ah? Then what was that video about? Who was the one flying out ah?” Gu Lizhou asked.

When Zhong Weishi saw the video, he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. “That’s a dummy ah. How could they let a real person perform such a dangerous explosion scene?”

“Huh?” Gu Lizhou’s mouth twisted in frustration.

That scene had been filmed more than a week ago. The person who recorded it was standing far away, so the footage was blurry. The marketing account made up a story based on the unclear image, and the rumor eventually spread as an explosion accident.

Zhong Weishi pouted. “Who told you to just sleep all the time instead of watching me film? I’m a stunt double and a nude body double. You know, like doing over-the-shoulder throws and slamming people to the ground— not a special effects stuntman. The lead actor has several doubles; I’m not the only one.”

“Whoa! Over-the-shoulder throws? That’s pretty impressive!” Cao Zhiheng widened his eyes and patted Zhong Weishi’s arm. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

“Of course.”

Gu Lizhou caught on to a completely different point. “N-n-n-nude, body double?”

Was this even a proper drama? Why would it need a body double?

“Ah,” Zhong Weishi replied. “When Cheng Yue filmed his first drama, his back got burned, so he couldn’t do any scenes requiring nude scenes. Bathing and sleeping scenes all needed a double. My body shape and skin tone are pretty similar to his.”

Gu Lizhou scoffed, “What’s the point of filming a bath scene?”

Cao Zhiheng retorted, “What do you know? Some viewers are really into that. Just think about it—a fresh and vibrant body, with well-defined collarbones, toned muscles, smooth lines, fair and tender skin, water droplets rolling down. How enticing is that…”

Zhong Weishi interrupted him, “Why does it sound so weird when you put it that way? Are we talking about roast duck?”

“…”

They talked about the stunt double topic for a while, but eventually circled back to the main point of the day.

“Not answering my calls!!! Do you know I almost picked out a burial plot for you!? Ah?” Gu Lizhou furiously poked his forehead.

Cao Zhiheng thought to himself that Gu Lizhou must have gotten so anxious today that his brain short-circuited. That was way too harsh.

Zhong Weishi squinted as his head was pushed backward from the relentless poking. He leaned back and ended up falling onto the sofa.

Despite that, his heart felt inexplicably happy, so happy that the corners of his mouth lifted and his chest warmed up.

A little pink flower seemed to bloom above his head.

Zhong Weishi’s ear pressed directly against Gu Lizhou’s fingertip.

A man’s voice came through the phone.

“Alright, I’ll send someone to pick you up at the airport.”

“No need, no need. I booked an afternoon flight. By the time I get there, it’ll be evening. I’ll just take a taxi back and head to your company the next day.”

“Okay, then make sure to call me in advance. I’ll have a driver pick you up.”

“It’s fine, I can go by myself. It’s not like I don’t know the way…”

Zhong Weishi frowned and asked, “Where are you going ah?”

“Back to B City ah.”

Zhong Weishi stared into his eyes, feeling as if all the blood in his body had been drained in an instant.

He had expected that Gu Lizhou would leave the apartment sooner or later, but he hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly.

“Isn’t your home in Qingfeng Garden?”

“No. Qingfeng Garden is my mom’s place. My parents are divorced. I live with my dad,” Gu Lizhou said.

“Ah.” Zhong Weishi was still dazed, barely able to find his voice.

“I moved to B City after middle school. I just came here for a break, but now I have to go back to work.”

Gu Lizhou’s tone was calm, devoid of any emotion, but it left Zhong Weishi with an inexplicable sense of sourness.

“Then why did you have me help you look for a job before ah…”

“My friend only reached out to me recently, after you helped me look for work,” Gu Lizhou said, meeting his gaze. “We’re developing a new game.”

“I see ah.”

Zhong Weishi recalled a conversation they had before about work. Gu Lizhou had mentioned that his job was related to online games.

So he was a programmer.

So awesome.

Gu Lizhou completely shattered the image of an IT guy that Zhong Weishi had in his mind.

The first thing Zhong Weishi did after snapping out of his thoughts was search for B City on the map.

Approximately 1,830 kilometers from Yucheng…

So far away…

He had only ever lived in two cities his entire life, never more than 50 kilometers apart. Now that the high-speed rail was in service, it only took about half an hour to travel between them.

But 1,800 kilometers was totally beyond his imagination.

A place completely out of his reach.

“Do you have to go back?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Zhong Weishi realized how stupid the question was.

B City was the person’s home, so going back for work was the most natural thing in the world.

“It sounds really far,” he awkwardly changed the subject. “How long does the flight take ah?”

“It’s not too bad. A little over two hours.”

In truth, Gu Lizhou had considered turning down the job to focus on his own creative projects. But Cheng Hang had urged him multiple times, putting him in a tough spot.

Back when he was in investment, Cheng Hang had provided him with a lot of valuable connections, most of which were profitable. Now that the person needed his help, outright refusing would be pretty ungrateful.

Friendships were built on mutual exchange. Otherwise, people won’t bother to help you next time

Besides, Cheng Hang’s younger brother was in the entertainment industry… It was more or less a doorway.

Gu Lizhou wasn’t sure yet if he could do anything for Zhong Weishi, but if an opportunity arose, he would definitely give it a shot.

Before anything was certain, he didn’t dare make any promises—he didn’t want to disappoint his little friend.

Of course, the one next to him could not comprehend these little thoughts of his.

Zhong Weishi lowered his gaze, staring blankly at his shoes.

All the strength had been drained from his body, a heavy gloom settling around him. Behind him, it was as if a pale, sorrowful soul was floating up into the air.

A heavy rain had fallen at noon, and now, as the wind blew through the corridor, it carried a faint chill.

Ever since he had given Gu Lizhou that free performance ticket, they often sat in the hallway together, enjoying the breeze.

Gu Lizhou liked watching him play with flower trick and would even join in.

He also liked yo-yos, but his skills were so terrible that he often hit himself in the head when retracting the string and then blamed it on the yo-yo’s poor quality.

Gu Lizhou usually like to drink yogurt, but has recently switched to coffee; sometimes with milk foam, sometimes with a slight tang.

Today’s coffee was a light color and tasted very bitter.

The thought that no one would be sitting here watching him flip around anymore made Zhong Weishi’s eyes suddenly burn, his nose stinging with an ache.

Instead of blowing away his fatigue and irritation, today’s penetrating wind made him even more lost.

His mood plummeted from the heights of Mount Everest into a bottomless abyss.

He hated rainy days. And he hated goodbyes even more.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Gu Lizhou tilted his head to look at him.

Say what ah?

What was there left to say ah? You’re leaving anyway.

Frustrated, Zhong Weishi turned his face away and reached up to fiddle with a cactus on the windowsill.

“Why are you plucking its spines ah? Still don’t think it’s bald enough?” Gu Lizhou grabbed his wrist and tugged him back slightly.

Zhong Weishi let out a huff and kept plucking. “I want to pluck its spines. I’m going to strip it bare.”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Gu Lizhou sighed and let go. “Then pluck it.”

The moment the one on the side’s attention shifted away, Zhong Weishi’s expression turned resentful.

What ah…

Did he not notice his bad mood at all?

Could he really not tell that this was reluctance!

But then again, how could an old man like him understand something like reluctance? The person was only here to clear his mind anyway.

He came when he felt like it, and he left when he didn’t.

Who would care about him?

All that heartbeat nonsense—what a load of bullshit!

Was he really going to let his heartbeat revolve around just one person for the rest of his life?!

Gu Lizhou chuckled and nudged his elbow. “Still drinking your coffee?”

“No.” Zhong Weishi didn’t look at him. “That stuff tastes awful.”

Gu Lizhou picked up their earlier conversation. “When are you filming that super badass explosion scene? I’ll come watch.”

“I don’t know. It depends on the director. We have to wait for the weather to clear up first,” Zhong Weishi said.

“I see ah”

Something crossed Zhong Weishi’s mind. “Give me your bank account number. I’ll transfer you the rest of the money.”

“Just send it to my WeChat. There’s not much left anyway.”

“Oh.”

Another long silence.

Gu Lizhou wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Usually, it was Zhong Weishi who took the initiative to keep the conversation going. Now that this little parrot had shut his mouth, Gu Lizhou had nothing to say.

Zhong Weishi also found the atmosphere strange—even more awkward than when they first met.

After half a day, he shoved aside his uncomfortable feelings, summoning all his strength. “You’ll come back at some point, right? If you do, don’t just sneak in quietly—make sure to let me know ah.”

“Alright.” Gu Lizhou smiled. “But I’m afraid by the time I come back, you won’t be here anymore.”

“How is that possible! I’ll always be here!” Zhong Weishi straightened his back, eyes burning with determination.

Gu Lizhou chuckled. “Don’t you want to be a big star? Once you start getting roles and make a name for yourself, you won’t still be stuck in this broken place ah.”

Zhong Weishi’s head drooped again, like a wilted blade of dogtail grass.

Four years ago, when he had just moved to Yucheng, everything was unfamiliar. He had to learn how to cook and do laundry on his own, how to make his bed and dry his blankets in the sun, how to take the bus and squeeze into the subway, how to haggle with street vendors, and how to hold back tears…

With both confidence and uncertainty, he tried, little by little, to find his place in this world.

He wanted to shoot a movie, to work hard like the others in his group, to fight his way into the ranks of 18-line actors.

He wanted to earn money to support his grandmother’s old age. He wanted to make a name for himself, to make the people who abandoned him regret it, to live a life that was a little easier…

Back then, every single moment he had wanted to escape this place. But ever since Gu Lizhou arrived, that thought had never crossed his mind again.

Now, he looked forward to coming home every day, to sitting in the hallway under the moonlight with the old man, listening to him tell stories.

Fairy tales, romance, suspense, horror… every kind of genres.

It had become a habit—something as essential as eating and sleeping.

And a comforting habit like that wasn’t so easy to break…

Even if he went somewhere else and met new people, no one would be as understanding and helpful as Gu Lizhou.

To him, Gu Lizhou was like a steadfast evergreen pine—lush and enduring. Most days, he seemed warm and gentle, but when it truly mattered, he could shield others from the wind and rain with a quiet, unwavering strength.

“Just don’t forget me ah.” Zhong Weishi’s slipper swayed twice, knocking against the tip of Gu Lizhou’s shoe. “No matter where I go, I’ll let you know.”

At the moment of parting, all other emotions felt insignificant. The only thing that mattered now was making sure Gu Lizhou would remember him—remember that there was someone here in Yucheng who considered him a close friend.

“En.” Gu Lizhou reached out and ruffled his hair.

Zhong Weishi thought about it and still felt it wasn’t enough. “If you ever go back to live in Qingfeng Garden, make sure to let me know too ah. It’s not far from here.”

“If I come back, I’ll probably just stay at Old Cao’s place. I’m not used to living with my mom—she nags too much.” Gu Lizhou paused before adding, “But next time, I might have to stay in a hotel. His girlfriend is moving in, so it’d be inconvenient for me.”

“Then you can stay with me ah,” Zhong Weishi blurted out.

As soon as he said it, Gu Lizhou seemed to freeze, as if someone had hit pause on him.

A suffocating wave of awkwardness crashed over Zhong Weishi.

What the hell was he saying!

Why was he so desperate for him to come back?!

This is way too weird!

It wasn’t until Gu Lizhou chuckled and replied with an “alright ah” did he finally breathed again, a crescent-shaped smile spreading across his face.

“There’s still an empty room here. I used to have a male roommate, but he moved out after the New Year.” Zhong Weishi said.

Gu Lizhou: “But when I first met you, you said you had a roommate.”

Zhong Weishi: “Well, we weren’t familiar with each other back then. I was afraid you would plot against me.

“Oh, please.” Gu Lizhou laughed so hard his gums almost showed. “With a phone balance in the negatives? Who would be interested in you ah?”

Zhong Weishi patted his shoulder. “I’ll treat you to a meal sometime as a send-off.”

“Good ah.” Gu Lizhou nodded.

Zhong Weishi had originally planned to take Gu Lizhou out for lunch on his birthday according to the solar calendar, then see him off at the airport for a proper farewell.

But things didn’t go as planned. That morning, he got a last-minute notice from a new production crew asking him to come in for an audition.

It was an opportunity he had waited for a long time.

A second male lead.

A role that would let him live from the start to the end.

He agonized over the decision for a long time, torn between sending Gu Lizhou off and attending the audition. His brain hurt from the stress. In the end, he cautiously sent a message to test the waters.

[Weishi]: I have to head to the set later, not sure when I’ll be back. What time are you leaving in the afternoon ah?

[Pretty Boy 0229]: It’s fine, just focus on your work. No need to see me off.

[Weishi]: I might be able to make it back in time.

[Pretty Boy 0229]: Really, don’t worry about it. I’ll start packing now.

What ya…

Zhong Weishi sulked, gnawing at his thumbnail.

When he reached the line at the subway entrance, he sent another message.

[Weishi]: Be careful on your way back.

[Pretty Boy 0229]: En.

Zhong Weishi received the message and let out a heavy sigh at the subway entrance.

That single “en” felt perfunctory to him.

A pessimistic thought even crept into his mind—once Gu Lizhou left, would he also become just as insignificant as that “en” to him? Light and meaningless.

Like encountering a stray puppy during a walk—one might sigh and think, ‘how pitiful’ then pat its head and buy it some food. But in the end, reality would push that puppy out of sight and out of mind.

It was so unfair ah.

Because, in the puppy’s eyes, the only thing that mattered was the person who fed it.

But his pessimism didn’t last long. After sulking for five minutes, he finally typed out what he thought was an elegant, poetic, and deeply heartfelt message.

—If you ever come back, I’ll be there to pick you up! Not even thunder and lightning can stop me!

The original line was actually from Liang Shiqiu: I won’t see you off when you leave, but no matter the wind or rain, I will be there to welcome you back.

He felt it was the perfect fit for the situation.

He had to admire how romantic people from that era were.

And, of course, he believed that his slight modification made it even wilder.

Then, as he squeezed into the overcrowded subway car, a delayed sense of embarrassment washed over him.

Ah, ah, ah! No, no!

This is way too cheesy! Way too cheesy!

Panicked, he hurried to unlock his phone and retract the message—only to be jostled by someone nearby and accidentally hit “Delete” instead.

Dear heavens ah!—

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the world.

A round, chubby little soul once again floated above his head.

For a long moment, there was nothing. Then—his phone vibrated.

Standing in the subway car filled with the overwhelming scent of chive and egg pancakes, he took several deep breaths, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Hands trembling, he picked up his phone.

[Pretty Boy 0229]: Alright ah, it’s a deal.

Zhong Weishi pressed his lips together and grinned foolishly at the screen, his forehead lightly knocking against the subway handrail again and again.

All his gloomy little emotions instantly vanished into thin air.

Ah.

He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to do a backflip.

Qiangzi was sitting at the table next to Zhong Weishi and the others. When he lifted his face from the hotpot, he happened to catch a glimpse of the two men beside him with their heads pressed together, smiling, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

They weren’t even drinking anything.

“What are you guys laughing at ah?” Qiangzi tilted his head and asked.

“Nothing.” The two men spoke in unison.

As Qiangzi retracted his gaze, he unintentionally noticed the identical red strings on their wrists, standing out conspicuously.

“What’s this ah? Couple bracelets? Where did you get them ah? I didn’t notice them just now.”

Before putting it on, Zhong Weishi had briefly considered the implications, but the thought was fleeting and quickly dismissed.

Now that the word “couple” had popped out of Qiangzi’s mouth, he felt his ears burning.

This, this, this… was too embarrassing!

How shameful.

Should I take it off?

The person sitting across from him didn’t seem to mind at all, lazily explaining, “It came with a donation I made for a kid a while ago. Apparently, it’s been blessed. I’ve been feeling really lucky these past couple of days—I won another free bottle twice in a row.”

“Oh? For real ah?” Qiangzi’s face lit up with excitement. “Are there more? Get me one too.”

Da Fei was just as thrilled after hearing that. “I want one too, I want one too.”

“I’ll donate again next time I run into that girl and get one for each of you bros.” Having spent so much time with Zhong Weishi, Gu Lizhou’s way of speaking had started to resemble his. When he said this, his tone was bold and uninhibited.

Qiangzi gave him a thumbs-up. “Nice, that’s real solid!”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

On the way back, everyone was talking about Duan Yi and Da Fei.

“Honestly, that surnamed Duan doesn’t seem all that bad. I thought there’d be a fight today,” A’Wei said as he pulled a retractable steel pipe from behind him. “Look, I even brought a handy weapon.”

Gu Lizhou was checking the location of their Didi driver when he heard this and burst out laughing.

Xiao Tian: “I just felt like that guy kept sneaking glances at Da Fei with those shifty eyes. He definitely had some perverted thoughts.”

Qiangzi showed off his 3D tattoo. “With me around, would he dare do anything?”

A’Wei: “He must’ve chickened out when he saw how many of us there were.”

Da Fei: “I think so too.”

Qiangzi strolled over to Zhong Weishi, bumped his elbow, and asked, “New watch ah? Where’d you snag it from?”

“Psht, I’m not a pickpocket,” Zhong Weishi scoffed and jerked his chin toward the figure ahead. “He gave it to me.”

“A gift?” Qiangzi suspiciously lifted his wrist for a closer look. “Since when did you two get so close? This brand isn’t cheap, you know.”

Zhong Weishi froze.

Was their relationship considered close?

They weren’t exactly familiar—Gu Lizhou, this person, was always so secretive, and never talked about his family. But at the same time, he seemed to go along with everything Zhong Weishi said.

That old beast was stupidly rich and kindhearted, sure—but wasn’t this a little too fvcking much…

You have no place to spend your money?

Was he sponsoring impoverished residents of Yucheng now?

Or did he really think of him as a son?

Gu Lizhou slowed his pace, and glanced back, “Heading back together? I called a car.”

“Ah.” Zhong Weishi returned to his senses and nodded, “Okay ah.”

The two walked side by side, their arms occasionally brushing against each other. The sensation was like a feather lightly grazing his skin—tingling and electrifying.

But unlike a feather, Gu Lizhou’s arm was firm and carried warmth.

Zhong Weishi stole a glance at the man beside him from the corner of his eye. Even though they were less than ten centimeters apart, even though Gu Lizhou would curve his lips slightly at Qiangzi and the others’ conversation, he still felt completely out of place with his surroundings.

Maybe the age difference played a part.

But it was exactly this mystery, this sense of detachment, that made people want to get closer.

A’Wei spotted a pretty girl in a short skirt by the roadside and followed her with his eyes. If his gaze could shoot lasers, he probably would’ve burned right through her outfit.

The hot topic of conversation somehow got to their types of girls.

Da Fei said he liked older sisters. Qiangzi preferred gentle and clingy types. Wei-ge said he wasn’t picky. When it was Gu Lizhou’s turn, Zhong Weishi’s gaze immediately followed him.

“The type doesn’t matter, because people’s preferences change with age and experience. But one thing is for sure—when you try to get close to someone, your heartbeat will definitely speed up.”

“Heart beating faster?” A’Wei clutched his chest. “Mine sped up just now when that girl walked past.”

Gu Lizhou: “It’s good that it beats, but feelings have to be mutual. You have to see if hers did too—otherwise, it’s a waste.”

A bunch of people burst into laughter.

For some reason, Zhong Weishi suddenly thought of how Gu Lizhou looked in glasses that morning, and his knees felt a little weak.

It must have been the sunlight that was too damn strong.

While waiting for the car, Gu Lizhou was looking down at trending news. Around him, Qiangzi, Da Fei, and the others were laughing heartily, the sounds of passing cars mixing in with their voices.

The group was shoving each other playfully, arms slung over shoulders.

Using this as cover, Zhong Weishi subtly leaned closer to Gu Lizhou’s side. Having just come out from an air-conditioned space, both their arms were still cold. A strange sensation spread through his body like a current in his bloodstream.

He wasn’t sure if Gu Lizhou was too focused on scrolling or if there was another reason, but the man didn’t move away.

While Zhong Weizhi’s skin was cold, his blood boiled.

Whoever could make this old beast’s heart race was unknown, but this old beast had already made his heart race more than three times.

Noticing a burning gaze from the corner of his eye, Gu Lizhou turned his head slightly. “Do I have flowers on my face?”

“Is the driver almost here?” Zhong Weishi leaned in to check the screen.

“There’s still 500 meters.” Gu Lizhou shielded his forehead from the sun, glanced to the right, then casually stole another look at Zhong Weishi as he retracted his gaze.

“Hehe.” Zhong Weishi grinned at him. “Do you have plans this afternoon?”

Gu Lizhou instinctively answered no. But then, remembering the pile of books he had yet to read, he immediately corrected himself. “Actually, I need to sleep.”

Zhong Weishi frowned. “Sleeping again? Why are you always sleeping?”

Gu Lizhou: “That’s how we old people are.”

The next second, the little bastard said something that made the corners of his lips lift.

“You’re not old, you’re not old at all.”

Gu Lizhou raised a hand and ruffled his hair before giving him a light push on the back. “Let’s go. Get in the car.”

Gu Lizhou didn’t notice that the boy hadn’t shaken his arm off this time. Nor did he know that his casual gesture had left the other covered in a thin layer of sweat.

–

Old or not, Gu Lizhou still had books to read.

In the end, Zhong Weishi failed to get him to hang out.

Maybe it was a case of thinking about something too much during the day and dreaming about it at night, but that night, Zhong Weishi had an absolutely ridiculous dream.

He dreamt that Gu Lizhou knocked on his door in the middle of the night, asking if they could squeeze in together. And as they squeezed, Gu Lizhou ended up hugging him from behind.

His body was scorching hot, one leg hooking around both of Zhong Weishi’s. He could hear the steady breaths behind him.

That was his clearest memory of the dream.

When he woke up, his body was still in a heated state. He lowered the air conditioner a few degrees, then grabbed his phone and mindlessly scrolled through Moments, hoping to let the rush of heat slowly fade. As a result, he clicked on the old man’s WeChat avatar as if possessed.

The last time they chatted was the night of his birthday.

After mentioning his own birthday, Gu Lizhou sent two voice messages.

“Hm, rest early.”

“Good night.”

Zhong Weishi bit down on his blanket as the deep, gentle voice echoed over and over in his empty room.

From the very first day he met Gu Lizhou, he’d thought the man was good-looking and had an insanely nice voice. The more he listened, the more he felt…

Ah!—

Can’t sleep!

Zhong Weishi flung his phone away and stomped his feet in the air a few times before finally giving in and dragging himself to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm down.

–

Zhong Weishi didn’t know if that red string bracelet had really been blessed, but ever since he started wearing it, his luck genuinely seemed to improve. After landing the role of the chief eunuch, he got another part with more than ten lines.

And this time, he played a rich guy who woke up every day in a thousand-square-meter villa.

“You stinking woman! You eat my food, drink my wine, use my money, sleep in my bed, and now you dare seduce another man! You even brought him into my house!”

“Speak! In the end, who is it! Is it that pretty boy you’re acting with!?”

Zhong Weishi gripped a single strand of hair between his fingers, eyes bloodshot with fury.

“You misunderstand, he and I are just ordinary friends. This is probably just a strand the cleaning lady accidentally left behind,” Gu Lizhou drawled lazily, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a script in the other.

“You fart!”

The sheer force of “fart” sent Gu Lizhou’s bangs flying. He shut his eyes and wiped his face, brushing off the spit that had landed on him. One glance at his coffee, and he lost all interest in drinking it.

Putting down the script, he sighed. “Hey, I say, can you dial it back a bit? You’re turning into a human fountain.”

Zhong Weishi acted it out again according to his ideas.

“It’s good this time ah, like a normal person.” Gu Lizhou said applauded.

Zhong Weishi frowned. “But the director keeps telling me I’m not intense enough. He wants me to take notes from the Roaring Emperor and deliver a full-on explosive performance that leaves a deep impression.”

Gu Lizhou rubbed his temples. “Emotion needs to be expressed from within. Just shouting won’t do anything. Your director is completely unreliable.”

The new project Zhong Weishi had taken on was a modern web drama called <When Mother-in-Law Meets the Pretty Daughter-in-Law>. From the title alone, it was obvious it revolved around family drama and romance. In short, it was a dog-blood drama.

Gu Lizhou skimmed a few pages of the script and quickly realized—there wasn’t a single normal person from the main characters to the supporting characters.

The director was a fresh graduate, a little fresh meat with barely any filming experience. But he acted like a big shot—according to Zhong Weishi, everyone on set, from the crew to the actors, had to follow his lead, or they’d be fired.

Since the quality of the script wasn’t good at all, the production had to rely on other gimmicks to attract viewership. If they couldn’t afford A-list celebrities for exposure, they’d pivot to comedy, encouraging audiences to roast the show online.

This drama fell into the latter category.

Small actors like Zhong Weishi, who had no fame or status, had zero say in anything.

Gu Lizhou pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Have you considered that if you ever get famous one day, this could all be your black history ah? Netizens will dig it up and blacken you to the bone.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind. If some people hate me, that means others will like me,” Zhong Weishi said, shaking his head. “Besides, think about it. If I ever make it big, it’ll be because I have a real hit work, right? If people compare my new project to my old ones, won’t they see my progress? Like when I read Wan Lizhou’s latest book and then his first one—I just think, he’s improved so much. He must’ve been working hard in places we can’t see.”

Gu Lizhou lowered his head and chuckled. Zhong Weishi really was a natural optimist.

His mindset was completely different from Gu Lizhou’s.

With such a resilient heart, he’d probably handle life under the public eye just fine.

“May you always keep this attitude, and I hope you land a decent director next time.”

“There are good, reliable directors out there,” Zhong Weishi said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. Sitting beside Gu Lizhou on the balcony bench, he continued, “Do you know Li Qingliang?”

Gu Lizhou, an outsider, naturally didn’t know about this. He pulled out his phone and looked him up.

Li Qingliang—an acclaimed TV drama director with nearly 20 years in the industry. He started out as a martial arts stunt double and, by a stroke of luck, transitioned into an executive director role.

The TV drama, <Spring Dawn>, broke viewership records. Not only did he win the Best Director award, but the show’s lead actress also won Best Actress.

Later, he skyrocketed to fame with a crime drama called <Xiao Ying>,¹lit. Brave Eagle. which turned its two male leads into stars.

“This guy is seriously badass. Right now, he’s got a bunch of celebrities filming a new drama over at the film studios. Do you know Cheng Yue? The lead from Xiao Ying? They’re shooting the sequel now,” Zhong Weishi said, getting more and more excited. He opened Weibo and searched for the actor. “This guy—I’m his stunt double!”

Besides being a famous actor, Cheng Yue was also a top-tier singer with several albums. Even someone like Gu Lizhou, who didn’t follow celebrities, had heard a few of his songs.

But when Gu Lizhou first met Cheng Yue, he wasn’t a singer yet—because Cheng Yue was actually the younger brother of his old classmate, Cheng Hang.

Speaking of which, the pair of brothers were pretty interesting. Their family was in real estate, and their father was loaded, yet neither of them wanted to inherit the business. One went off to start a gaming company, while the other became an entertainer.

That said, Gu Lizhou wasn’t exactly close to Cheng Yue. They’d just had a few meals together.

“Do you want to come watch me film?” Zhong Weishi nudged him. “This drama has a ton of explosion scenes. Director Li uses specially made gasoline bombs—people literally get blown into the air. It’s sick.”

“They don’t use CGI? Aren’t real bombs very dangerous?

“Ai, you sound like such an outsider.” The moment Zhong Weishi started talking about filming, his face lit up with enthusiasm. “We have professional explosives experts in the crew. Every blast point is precisely calculated, and the actors’ movements are all pre-arranged. Before the actual take, we run through everything multiple times—actors sprinting ahead, with explosions going off behind them like fireworks—boom, boom, boom…”

“Enough with the boom, boom, boom. Just be careful. Didn’t the news report on that one drama where a gas tank…” Before Gu Lizhou could finish, his phone rang.

While he was distracted by the call, Zhong Weishi grabbed his coffee cup and took a sip.

Burnt. Bitter. Just one mouthful had his face twisting into a grimace, his teeth bared in agony.

Vomit.

After vomiting he took another sip.

That same dizzying, burnt, bitter taste…

What kind of taste does an old man have ah?

Gu Lizhou saw his scrunched-up face and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I booked a flight for the day after tomorrow. Isn’t the Mid-Autumn Festival the day after? I figured I’d come back for once and spend it with my grandma and the family before heading back.”

Go back!?

Zhong Weishi instantly perked up.

Where was he going back to?

“Vehicle god?” Gu Lizhou finally had the chance to plant his long legs back on the ground and immediately switched to ruthless mockery. “Your driving skills are worse than mine. You took out all the streetlights on this road.”

“Shut up!” Zhong Weishi was furious, annoyed, and burning up.

The nearby flatbread-guy had just been sent flying by a sudden motorcycle crash. While waiting for it to reset, he glanced over and happened to notice that the one who had been bragging about showcasing his skills earlier now had a tense expression, his face flushed red all the way to his neck, giving it his all to steer toward a building.

He was still cursing under his breath. “fvck, this damn machine is broken! It’s not responsive at all!”

“You can pull back.” Gu Lizhou propped one hand on his thigh while keeping a tight grip around Zhong Weishi’s waist. “You nearly shook the shrimp wontons out of my stomach just now.”

Zhong Weishi couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

Gu Lizhou tilted his head slightly to glance at the screen, his warm breath brushing against Zhong Weishi’s neck.

Zhong Weishi shrank his neck, feeling like his head was placed on a sizzling grill, smoking away.

His movements gradually slowed, but whether it was his imagination or not, the arm wrapped around his waist didn’t loosen. Instead, the grip seemed to tighten even more.

Ah, ah, ah—

Charge ah!—

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shift his focus away from that arm around his waist.

Their two-player motorcycle race ended without suspense.

Dead last.

It was a complete disaster—they fell two full laps behind the first-place finisher, got flung off four times, and crashed into countless buildings.

Because Zhong Weishi had crashed into Duan Yi twice, Duan Yi turned his head with a face like thunder. But rules were rules—players were allowed to attack each other mid-race. He had been in first place from the very start, using nitro boosts freely, leaving everyone else in the dust. Victory was practically in his grasp—until Zhong Weishi sent him flying in the second lap.

This time, Qiangzi took first place, looking absolutely radiant. “Shi-ge, congratulations, congratulations! For a first-time run, this was already pretty damn good.”

Duan Yi snorted.

The burning sensation on Zhong Weishi’s face had finally faded. Refocusing on the race, he stiffly salvaged his reputation as a vehicle god. “That round was just a test. Next one’s the real deal.”

To ensure fairness, the group revised the rules.

The new map was set to Hong Kong’s Causeway Bay. Players could only pick one type of upgrade—choosing nitro boosts meant giving up speed enhancements, opting for stability improvements meant sacrificing all other buffs…

Mid-race collisions were still allowed, and each player could choose a navigator to assist them.

Gu Lizhou let go of Zhong Weishi’s waist and stepped aside. “I’ll help you navigate the map.”

Zhong Weishi finally took a deep breath, feeling the oxygen revive every cell in his body. He nodded firmly.

At first, Qiangzi had thought Duan Yi brought such a large group for a brawl, but since this was Wild Moto, there was no need for so many people. He personally picked Da Fei as his navigator.

Duan Yi’s expression was grim.

“All right. So you don’t say we’re ganging up on you—we’ll split into four teams: me and Da Fei, Xiao Tian and Wei-ge, and two teams from your side. That makes it fair, four bikes in total.”

Qiangzi said, flexing his rose-tattooed arm with an air of dominance. “Whoever wins gets to call the shots. If we win, the moment you step out of this arcade, you stay the hell away from Dafei—no more contact, and don’t harass him on any live broadcast platforms either.”

“Deal.” Duan Yi smirked, licking the corner of his lips before turning to look at Da Fei. “No problem.”

Da Fei averted his eyes in embarrassment.

After listening to the proposal, Zhong Weishi found it fair and nodded in agreement. But then, a serious issue came to mind. “Hey, Qiangzi, what about our team?”

Qiangzi hadn’t expected Shi-ge to make such an unreasonable request at such a crucial moment.

With how disastrous his last run was—was that even worth watching!?

This was a battle concerning Da Fei’s future!

It wasn’t a child’s play!

But he couldn’t just say that outright. Furrowing his brows, he tactfully replied, “Shi-ge, here’s the thing—this round is an official match. Next time, I’ll play with you as much as you want.”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

Just then, Gu Lizhou returned from the cashier and placed a small basket of freshly exchanged game tokens in front of Zhong Weishi. “Go ahead and play. It’s on me.” Then, he handed ten tokens to the flat-bread face. “The extra ones are interest.”

Flatbread: “Thank you.”

“No problem. Just go easy on me later.” Gu Lizhou patted Zhong Weishi’s shoulder with a smile. “It’s a kid’s first time playing and he got so worked up after losing one round that his forehead was practically smoking.”

Zhong Weishi turned his head, opened his mouth, and pretended to bite Gu Lizhou’s arm. Gu Lizhou swiftly retracted his hand, dodging it.

Recalling their earlier performance, Duan Yi curled his lips into a smirk. “Doesn’t matter. You guys can team up.”

Qiangzi, being prideful, initially wanted to refuse, but before he could speak, Zhong Weishi immediately latched onto the opportunity. “You said it yourself ah!”

Duan Yi shrugged indifferently. “Yeah, I said it. Not like you’d win even with a one-lap head start.”

Zhong Weishi nodded. “Great, then go ahead and let us ah.”

Duan Yi: “…” Shameless!

Qiangzi: “…” His big bro was still his big bro—this move of slipping through the cracks was legendary.

The flatbread guy thought to himself—these two so-called “vehicle gods” had no shame when it came to saving face. Their personalities were practically identical.

To ensure everyone could connect to the game, Qiangzi gave the command, and everyone inserted their tokens at the same time.

“Clank, clank.” Two game tokens dropped into the machine.

After everyone finished selecting their car colors, map, and upgrade package, the sound of tokens dropping continued—“Clank, clank, clank.”

Something wasn’t right.

Everyone turned their gaze toward the back.

There, they saw Gu Lizhou hunched over, aggressively feeding tokens into the machine.

Ever since the last race ended, Zhong Weishi had kept his head down, ignoring him completely. Seeing his gloomy expression, Gu Lizhou figured the kid was probably sulking over his loss.

As a loving father, he naturally had to help his child reclaim victory and restore his reputation as the legendary racer of Akina Mountain.

Rules? Who cared about rules? Making sure the child was happy was the priority.

Besides, they weren’t technically part of the official teams anyway, right?

Thus, the game interface lit up—Nitro Boost +15, 100 km/h acceleration in 2.6s, Top Speed: 400 km/h, Stability +8…

And the numbers kept climbing.

“Hey! What the hell are you guys doing?!” Duan Yi jumped off his bike and pointed at Gu Lizhou, yelling, “We agreed on only one upgrade package!”

Gu Lizhou remained unnervingly calm. “We’re cheating. Didn’t you say you’d give us a lap head start? No need for that anymore.”

Duan Yi: “…” Shameless!

Even as he spoke, Gu Lizhou’s hand kept shoving more tokens into the machine.

Zhong Weishi was starting to feel a little embarrassed. He nudged Gu Lizhou’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, that’s enough.”

“Enough?” Gu Lizhou glanced at the screen and let out a casual “Oh yo.” “Yeah, looks like it’s enough.”

In the end, Duan Yi and his team had no choice but to admit defeat and start purchasing a ton of upgrades themselves.

The game paused and was fed with dozens of tokens. This kind of RMB playstyle was simply unheard of. A large group of uniformed staff stopped to watch, pointing, and discussing.

Even passing bystanders got involved, setting up side bets on who would win.

The arcade was instantly heated.

As an RMB player in this game, Zhong Weishi unlocked advanced options, granting him the ability to select an SSS-tier motorcycle.

The bike’s sleek silver-and-black body gleamed under the lights, and even the helmet had a lightning emblem printed on it. The entire aesthetic was ridiculously cool.

Duan Yi sneered. “Flower Peac0ck, just don’t fall two laps behind again.”

Zhong Weishi ignored him. Instead, he lifted his head and locked eyes with Gu Lizhou. For a brief moment, they both felt as if they had read something profound in each other’s heated, sincere gazes. Without words, they communicated their thoughts through their eyes.

Gu Lizhou: The key is to participate. Don’t take it too seriously. If we’re about to lose, just fake a leg cramp—Dad will definitely help you cover it up.

Zhong Weishi: Okay. Thanks for believing in me. We’re winning this round for sure.

The “START” sign suddenly lit up.

Zhong Weishi twisted the throttle and simultaneously pressed the function button on the bike’s console. The fifth-place motorcycle instantly shot forward with a nitro boost, streaking across the track like a silver-white lightning bolt, leaving the other four bikes in the dust.

“Woah—”

As the special effects burst onto the screen, the surrounding spectators let out a wave of astonished exclamations.

Qiangzi seized the opportunity, smirking as he forced Duan Yi into a corner.

Duan Yi’s eyes were locked onto the screen. He let out a frustrated “fvck.”

The arcade’s simulated road conditions were impressively realistic. For the first time, Zhong Weishi experienced what it was like to play a racing game with cheat-level enhancements. His lips curled up, and his heart pounded violently in his chest.

He was both nervous and thrilled.

Gu Lizhou was as focused as he was.

“Slow down, slow down. Sharp left turn ahead.”

“Take the left fork up ahead.”

“Lean to the right, lean to the right. There’s a small road!”

No one was familiar with the new map. The sounds of discussions and collisions echoed nonstop, and everyone’s attention was highly focused.

Among the roaring of the accelerating motorcycles, Zhong Weishi focused intently, trying to pick out and follow Gu Lizhou’s deep, steady voice.

Probably due to his poor eyesight, Gu Lizhou had leaned in closer to the screen, one hand braced against the table, eyes locked onto the mini-map in the top-right corner.

By the third lap, Zhong Weishi accidentally missed a shortcut. Duan Yi and Qiangzi’s motorcycle icons suddenly appeared on the mini-map.

They were catching up.

Gu Lizhou furrowed his brows. “Slow down, don’t rush.”

Zhong Weishi took a deep breath, then executed a high-speed left drift, his knee nearly scraping the ground.

The tires skimmed past an obstacle.

A perfect dodge.

Behind him, Duan Yi crashed into a railing, letting out a string of curses.

The race ended. The first-place finisher, a flamboyant-looking man on screen, took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, curling his lips into a smirk.

Zhong Weishi ranked first with a time of 2 minutes and 32 seconds. He raised his hand and exchanged a high five with Gu Lizhou.

Duan Yi finished with a time of 2 minutes 33 seconds, ranking second. Qiangzi, lagging behind by 0.12 seconds, placed third—so furious that he was pounding his chest and stomping his feet.

“We won ah,” Zhong Weishi turned his head and said, “so stop harassing Da Fei.”

“Bullshit!” Duan Yi was annoyed. “You guys cheated! Would you have won without all those speed boosters?”

“Didn’t you just say you’d give us a full lap head start?” Qiangzi countered righteously.

“You!” Duan Yi choked on his words. “This round doesn’t count! Rematch!”

Zhong Weishi frowned, straddling his seat again. “Fine, let’s go again.”

This time, it was a brand-new map, and the rule was clear: no purchasing upgrades, no navigators giving directions.

“Hey, you flashy peac0ck,” Duan Yi turned to Zhong Weishi, “why don’t you bet something too? Otherwise, there’s no thrill if you lose.”

“Bet on what?”

“If you lose, you have to stand in the hallway outside and shout ‘I really like men!’ at the top of your lungs.” He then turned to Huangfu Qiang. “You too.”

Qiangzi’s face twisted in disgust. “I fvck, you’re a fvcking pervert.”

Da Fei, anxious, tried to intervene. “Forget it, let’s not do this.”

But Zhong Weishi simply tossed in two tokens. “Deal.”

Ten minutes later.

A row of men—except for Gu Lizhou—stood neatly in the hallway outside the arcade.

Qiangzi’s old face was burning red. He opened his mouth several times but couldn’t bring himself to say something so humiliating.

Unfortunately, today happened to be the day a car accessories company was hosting a promotional event. The ground floor was packed with people, and passersby were starting to cast curious glances their way.

“Shout ah,” Duan Yi smirked, arms crossed over his chest, looking insufferably smug. “A man’s word is his bond—I already agreed to leave Da Fei alone.”

Qiangzi struggled to turn his head, desperately seeking outside help. The first person he looked for was the thickest-skinned among them. “Hey, Shi-ge, look, we grew up together, right? Back when we swore brotherhood, didn’t we promise to share blessings and difficulties…”

“No, no, no! Stop!” Zhong Weishi backed away repeatedly. “When the hell did I ever swear brotherhood with you?”

Why not!” Qiangzi clung to him. “How about this—I won’t force you, let’s just split the sentence in half?”

Zhong Weishi immediately latched onto Gu Lizhou, who was leaning against the wall, enjoying the show, and roared, “I refuse! If you keep this up, I’m cutting ties with you ah!”

Duan Yi: “…”

Gu Lizhou watched the drama as if it were nothing, “Just imagine the entire floor is a vast melon field, and you’re just shouting out your innermost desires to the melons.”

Qiangzi took a few minutes to gather his emotions. Then, in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s, he muttered, “I-I-I really like…”

As he watched the customers around him gather more and more, he suddenly felt like his throat had been blocked, unable to force out another word.

Duan Yi sneered, “Louder. Who can hear you with this commotion?”

And just like that, a mere 0.05-second difference cost a champion eater his dignity in the middle of Wanda shopping mall.

Da Fei originally wanted to take this opportunity to return the several thousand yuan Duan Yi had given him, but Duan Yi flat-out refused to accept it. Da Fei grabbed his phone, trying to check his Alipay account.

Right outside the arcade, the two ended up reenacting a classic New Year’s scene—where an elder tries to give a red envelope and the younger one adamantly refuses to take it.

“Keep it, buy yourself some new clothes. I’ll still continue to follow your singing—you sing really well. I’m your little fan-ge”

Duan Yi reached out, trying to pat Da Fei’s shoulder, but Dafei dodged. “I won’t spend your money. If you ever regret this, you can always take it back. But making friends is impossible. No chance. I don’t like men.”

Duan Yi didn’t say anything. He just left behind a meaningful smile before turning and walking away.

“Don’t harass him again ah!” Qiangzi shouted at Duan Yi’s retreating figure.

Zhong Weishi watched the scene unfold, clicking his tongue several times in mock admiration. “If I had such a devoted fan, life would be so much easier. I’d never have to worry about food or clothes again.”

Gu Lizhou: “If you ever decide to do a cross-dressing live broadcast, make sure to invite me. Dad will help you achieve your dream of getting rich.”

Zhong Weishi smirked, pressing his lips together. “Didn’t you say you hate seeing men in women’s clothes?”

Gu Lizhou: “You’re different ah.”

“Where is it different?” Zhong Wei Shi asked.

“Everywhere is different.”

Zhong Weishi huffed smugly. “Trying to butter me up ah? Not falling for it. Give up already.”

Gu Lizhou chuckled as he caught up to him. “By the way, what was that show you mentioned last time—the one where the palace maid feeds gr4p3s to Emperor Shunzhi?”

“Bleh, bleh, bleh… not telling you.”

With everything settled, and Da Fei even walking away with a small fortune from his crazy fan-ge everyone’s mood was pretty great—Except for Qiangzi.

“Did that bastard Duan record everything just now?” He suddenly had a horrifying realization.

Zhong Weishi said, “He didn’t record it, I did. Do you want to see it?”

Gu Lizhou beckoned with a finger, “Come on, show me.”

“…” Qiangzi’s face darkened instantly. The urge to cut ties forever had never been stronger.

Lunch was on Da Fei at a well-known porridge shop in the mall. The food was good, the portions were big.

Of course, the most important thing was that the price wasn’t expensive.

A huge pot of seafood porridge cost 32 yuan and came with unlimited refills—perfect for a big appetite king like Qiangzi.

It was peak lunch hour, and seats were scarce. After a quick trip to the restroom, Zhong Weishi and Gu Lizhou returned to find that only two corner seats were left.

While waiting for their porridge, Gu Lizhou scrolled through the news. Zhong Weishi, whose phone was dead, idly glanced around, taking in the shop’s decor. His gaze eventually landed on Gu Lizhou’s wrist—and the conspicuous red string tied around it.

“Ai,” Zhong Weishi knocked on the table. “Where’d you get that? I don’t remember seeing you wear it before.”

“Huh?” Gu Lizhou looked up. “What?”

Zhong Weishi gestured at it. “That red string. Looks like cheap street stall stuff—totally doesn’t match your rich guy aesthetic.”

Gu Lizhou glanced at his wrist bone, where the string rested. “I bought some books the other day and ran into this little girl collecting donations for a welfare center. I donated some, and she gave me this.”

“You’re such a caring person.” Zhong Weishi propped his chin on his hand, laughing. “It looks quite good, kinda tacky with a bit of sexiness and cuteness.”

Gu Lizhou’s eyes curved with amusement. “She said wearing it brings good luck. I have another one in my wallet. Want it?”

“Pfft, how old are you ah? Still falling for this kind of…” Zhong Weishi’s tone was dripping with disdain.

Gu Lizhou’s fingers paused mid-motion. Just as he was about to say not to pull it down, he saw the other person whose eyes filled with disdain and was condescending, never believing in this kind of bullshit boy, hooked his finger at him. “Hand it over. Let’s see if it actually works ah. If not, I’ll march into that welfare center and demand a refund.”

Gu Lizhou laughed so hard that his shoulders shook.

“Damn, why’s it so tight ah? How the hell did you even get this on ah, fvck. Too tight”

“Idiot. Give me your hand. I’ll put it on for you.”