Chapter 5

Day three of recording. Morning, 7:12 a.m.

Qi Linyuan opened his eyes from a haze of sleep to find two people already seated in the room. He snapped awake at once, but when he saw it was Zhou Siqi and Le Xi, the sharpness in his gaze slowly faded, and he lay back down on the bed. “Aren’t you two a bit early?”

Seeing he was awake, the two finally broke out of their act of pretending to be deaf and mute while fiddling with their phones. Zhou Siqi looked at him, still not intending to get up, and chided him with exasperation, “What do you mean, we’re too early? Do you know, when I came over, that guy, Lu—whatever his name is, was peeking around here. When he saw you were still asleep, he left with a look of glee all over his face!”

Of course, Qi Linyuan didn’t know, but he could easily imagine the scene. Instead of being angry, he actually found it quite amusing. Is Lu Xiang really that pleased? Well, that’s just great—he loved this sort of drama the most.

Zhou Siqi watched him smile “so sweetly” that he nearly rolled his eyes to the heavens. He wanted to ask Qi Linyuan, “Are you an idiot?” but before he could speak, Le Xi stepped on his foot.

He yelped, making the smile on Qi Linyuan’s face look even more innocent. “You two are really close.”

Le Xi grinned, “Of course, we’ve known each other for so many years, after all.” Then, afraid Zhou Siqi might blurt out something he shouldn’t, Le Xi quickly added, “Go wash up, it’s not that early anymore. Once you’re done, we’ll go have breakfast together, and after makeup, we can head to the studio!”

Qi Linyuan was tempted to laze around, but seeing their genuine concern, he relented and got out of bed without further delay.

A day had passed—he wondered if Lu Xiang’s acting had improved even a little. It was something to look forward to!

But most of all, he looked forward to seeing Ji Yuchen. He wondered if that once-cold benefactor had already become an iceberg at twenty-five.

—

Day three of recording. Morning, 8:49 a.m.

Qi Linyuan entered the studio with Zhou Siqi and Le Xi, selecting three adjacent empty seats.

Lu Xiang spotted them from afar but didn’t come over. He simply waved, remaining firmly by the side of the studio’s princely favorite, basking in the crowd’s attention without budging an inch.

Qi Linyuan smiled and waved back, not a trace of resentment or suspicion in his eyes.

Seeing this, Lu Xiang was instantly reassured: his earlier suspicions truly were just his imagination. Though this person called himself Qi Linyuan now, he was still that easy-to-fool Qi Yuan.

Qi Linyuan watched as Lu Xiang looked away, then withdrew his own gaze as well. Unlike Lu Xiang’s expectations, he didn’t just sit quietly—he glanced around, then nudged Zhou Siqi beside him. “Didn’t you say President Ji was coming?”

Zhou Siqi was taken aback. “He didn’t come?”

Qi Linyuan stared at him expressionlessly, thinking, what kind of question is that? If he’d arrived, would I be asking you?

Zhou Siqi caught the look of disdain and scratched his head awkwardly. “Actually, I don’t know him… I just heard some gossip from my agent…”

—

With that answer, Qi Linyuan was seized by the urge to strike someone.

The reason he hadn’t noticed an extra person in his room that morning was because he’d spent so much time the night before thinking about how to make a good first impression on Ji Yuchen. He’d tossed and turned, losing sleep for most of the night, only for Zhou Siqi to tell him now that it was all just hearsay—that Ji Yuchen wasn’t coming?

Had he lost sleep for nothing?

For the first time, Zhou Siqi sensed a hint of murderous intent from the usually harmless-looking Qi Linyuan and shrank back. “It’s just what I heard… they said it’s likely, not certain.”

Qi Linyuan looked at him a while longer, then sighed, letting all traces of hostility vanish. “Forget it. It’s not your fault… I was overthinking.”

He withdrew his gaze and sat quietly, saying no more.

This time, there was no performance—he simply didn’t feel like talking. Yet, with his quietly downcast eyes and that face of his, he looked more pitiful than ever.

Le Xi stepped on Zhou Siqi’s foot again. This time, instead of crying out, Zhou Siqi just cleared his throat guiltily.

How was he supposed to know Qi Linyuan was so eager to meet Ji Yuchen… If he’d known, he wouldn’t have talked so much…

Qi Linyuan was oblivious to their emotions, and to the attention he was drawing. He composed himself and turned his attention to observing the recording.

Because of what had happened back then, and what he’d learned afterward, he hadn’t had a good impression of this variety show. But now, reincarnated and looking at it with cool detachment, he had to admit that the show’s modest popularity back in the day was well-earned.

It was indeed a “prince’s showcase” type of variety show, but not one that blindly promoted its favorites or distorted the truth. When the judges scored and eliminated contestants, they didn’t fake it or lie outright. While scores weren’t based solely on acting ability, they did reflect the actual performance—by and large, the scoring was fair.

Of course, just because the judges tried to be fair didn’t mean the show itself was fair.

The seeds of unfairness were sown from the very beginning with the choice of performance segments. The segments picked for the favorites had roles with vastly unequal importance, so for outsiders to pull off an upset, their acting had to be head and shoulders above the rest. But…

Qi Linyuan glanced at those around him and sighed softly.

They were all young, in their twenties—how likely was it for someone to be that much better at acting? And to ensure the favorites looked good, the outsiders had been “carefully selected”—most were amateurs or career-changers.

In such circumstances, if the outsiders were eliminated, they could only blame their luck.

Qi Linyuan didn’t feel much indignation at this realization. He knew exactly what his role was here: first, get rid of the scumbag; then, beautifully perform one or two roles as a “pretty face” he never got to play in his previous life, hoping to attract scripts for such parts—so he could experience being a “flower vase beauty” on stage. If, in the process, he could poach a few fans from the favorites, all the better!

As for dreams of superstardom, making it to the end… Not his concern!

With this easygoing mindset, Qi Linyuan returned to his original “naive and carefree” state, which lasted right up to his time on stage.

Seeing him like this, Lu Xiang’s confidence only grew.

He looked over Qi Linyuan’s outfit: a plain white shirt, simple casual pants, barely any lip color, and almost no eye makeup.

By contrast, Lu Xiang’s own expensive ensemble and the elaborate makeup done by the favored “young master’s” artist made him look truly noble—a leading man in every sense.

Lu Xiang stepped onto the stage brimming with confidence, waiting for the host’s countdown: “Three, two, one, action.”

Just as they’d planned, Qi Linyuan didn’t stand center stage, but at the very edge of the camera’s frame. Yet even so, he looked at Lu Xiang with an expression he’d never seen before, and in a tone laden with emotion he’d never encountered, let out a soft, low sigh.

“You’re here.”

—

Xu Yunfei stood beneath the tree, gazing up at the person who had just stepped out of the car.

This man had everything—at least, everything that mattered to most people: wealth, good looks, youth, single-minded devotion… To most, these virtues outweighed any flaws.

What’s more, compared to himself, the man had one undeniable advantage—health. He didn’t need a partner to care for him, didn’t need anyone to worry endlessly about his condition.

Realizing this, Xu Yunfei pressed his fist to his lips and coughed quietly.

He tried to restrain it, but as time passed, the sickly flush on his pale face only deepened, betraying just how much worse his health was than he let on.

He drew a sneer from He Ming. “You’re really something, aren’t you? Anyone who didn’t know better would think I’m bullying you!”

Xu Yunfei looked up at the second-floor window not far away—the home of the girl he’d always cherished, who was now He Ming’s girlfriend.

She should be home now; if not, the curtains in her room would be open. But whenever she was home, she always kept them drawn. In all these years, she’d never realized that, whenever he was feeling low, someone would stand quietly under the tree outside, watching her window until his mood lifted bit by bit; then, he’d leave as silently as he’d come.

“Bullying? You mean in An’an’s eyes? No, she wouldn’t see it that way. In her eyes, you… you’re proud and extraordinary,” Xu Yunfei said, his voice tinged with unmistakable sorrow.

He Ming immediately puffed up with pride. “Of course! I am extraordinary. Otherwise, An’an wouldn’t like me!”

Watching He Ming’s exuberance, Xu Yunfei vaguely understood where he’d lost.

This man was so full of life—whether arguing or in moments of intimacy, An’an must have felt free with him.

Unlike himself… When An’an was with him, she was always on edge, worried about his health, tiptoeing around his emotions, unable even to laugh out loud or be carefree.

“I understand now,” Xu Yunfei said out of the blue.

He Ming’s guard shot up. “I’m warning you! An’an loves me for who I am, not for anything specific I do. Don’t try to imitate me and steal her from me! She’s mine! She’s always only loved me, and she’ll only ever be with me!”

The words sent a stabbing pain through Xu Yunfei’s heart, draining the flush from his cheeks until he was deathly pale.

He didn’t bother to argue he’d never had such thoughts. He simply straightened his back, forcing himself to maintain that usual calm and gentle demeanor, and looked at He Ming. “I know. Take good care of her. From now on… I won’t come around anymore.”

It seemed those words took all the strength left in him; as soon as he finished, he closed his eyes, as if only by focusing all his will could he preserve his last shred of pride.

He Ming was unmoved by his emotion. He tipped his head. “I’ll take good care of her. You don’t need to worry.”

With that, He Ming strode past Xu Yunfei toward the house.

The moment they brushed past each other, Xu Yunfei opened his eyes one last time, glanced up at that second-floor window, and finally began to walk away.

His steps were light but steady. Though he was filled with longing, he never looked back, leaving that tree behind as though he would never return.