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?