The commotion caused by Jing Yuan being taken away was far from minor.
Being escorted out under everyone’s gaze, it was obvious—Jing Yuan had been targeting Nie Luo.
But no one knew exactly what he had intended.
His dark insinuations in the blackout even made some feel awkward.
Nie Luo supposedly harassed Jing Yuan?
Yet, how could that be? Everyone had seen how evasive Nie Luo was; he would never have taken advantage amidst the chaos.
And anyone could tell: it was Jing Yuan who had been pressing forward.
The thought only settled when Nie Luo returned to the studio, and the murmur of speculation quieted.
His hairline was visibly damp, many noticing.
Was Nie Luo washing his face to calm down?
Everyone guessed silently, but no one dared to speak.
He scanned the studio and then looked toward the production team.
“Not continuing?”
The crew froze for a moment—then realized that Nie Luo was willing to stay and continue filming!
The director made a swift decision. Since Jing Yuan was gone, they’d proceed with the original plan without him.
Nie Luo did owe someone a favor, yes, but this time, the show had already repaid it.
His reputation for seriousness and professionalism preceded him; even if Jing Yuan had caused trouble later, the studio could easily intervene, claiming that Nie Luo’s portion should be preserved.
Fan Qing exhaled slowly, watching filming proceed smoothly.
If it were him, he would have seized the opportunity to turn the situation to his advantage.
But Nie Luo’s approach—that calm, steady handling—was exactly why Fan Qing admired him.
On stage, Nie Luo’s hair dried quickly, and he returned to work with unwavering focus.
His makeup and hair were slightly disheveled, strands at his forehead gently pushed back by his own hand, revealing a wide expanse of skin.
The orange-red stage lights reflected in his eyes, glowing with an intensity that clashed with his otherwise icy expression—a small flicker of fire blazing within, brilliant and arresting.
He simply stood there on the stage, his figure partially shrouded in shadow.
Even so, no one could ignore him.
Not even Fan Qing.
He had been captivated by Nie Luo from the very first moment they met.
Filming without Jing Yuan went surprisingly smoothly.
But as soon as the shoot wrapped, Nie Luo turned and walked away.
The director hurried after him.
“Nie—”
The words died in his throat.
The tall man stepped back into the shadows, only half of his face visible, brows lowered with an unreadable, cold detachment.
He could no longer speak.
The director immediately understood.
No matter what he wanted to say, some things had already happened.
“Director, a lot happened today. Nie Luo’s tired.”
Fan Qing emerged from behind Nie Luo, moving casually.
The director looked at him, then at Nie Luo.
He had been in this industry long enough to know he’d never seen a manager serve as a temporary assistant for someone else.
Nie Luo and Fan Qing’s private rapport had to be strong.
But knowing that didn’t change anything.
Fan Qing continued evenly.
“Although I’ve seen Nie Luo’s schedule, I wasn’t aware the production team had invited Jing Yuan.”
He paused, then cut straight to the point.
“Given how much trouble the previous events caused, surely the director knows Jing Yuan isn’t exactly compatible with Nie Luo, right?”
The director was speechless.
What could he say? That yes, he knew, but Mr. Zhao’s offer was just too tempting?
Fan Qing let out a light laugh.
“By the way, today’s Christmas.”
A faint curve touched his lips. “Merry Christmas, director. Though later, Nie Luo’s studio will coordinate with the production team. I imagine you’ll want to figure out how to give the audience some explanation—after all, they’ve only heard of a mysterious mentor, never an assistant mentor.”
Cold sweat ran down the director’s back.
Fan Qing’s words hit like a bucket of ice water.
Exactly.
Nie Luo’s identity as a mysterious mentor had been teased in advance.
But Jing Yuan had not.
Nie Luo’s fans were not the sort to stay quiet!
Once Jing Yuan’s appearance was revealed, the production would face criticism.
And on top of that, they’d have to deal with Nie Luo’s studio afterwards. The director suddenly felt despair.
Regret now?
Where had he been earlier?
Fan Qing acknowledged his own irritation—Zhao Yuan was the mastermind, Jing Yuan the main player—but the director was merely a pawn.
So what?
Nie Luo had come on the show to repay a favor.
And this director had turned around and ignored the obvious tension between Nie Luo and Jing Yuan by letting him appear?
If the director had considered Nie Luo even slightly, this wouldn’t have happened.
Fan Qing turned to Nie Luo, lowering his voice.
“Nie Luo, shall we go?”
Nie Luo nodded, turning away.
His figure melted completely into the shadows without hesitation.
Fan Qing followed, quickly disappearing alongside him.
The studio wasn’t silent, but it wasn’t loud either.
Many whispered, speculating about what had just occurred.
Yuan Jing looked around, bewildered.
Who was that? Where was he? What exactly had happened today?
Hua’er came over and draped a hand over his shoulder.
“Let’s go. Filming’s done.”
Yuan Jing hadn’t reacted yet when Hua’er used a bit of force to pull him along.
He hadn’t noticed, but many eyes had secretly lingered on him as Jing Yuan was escorted away.
Though they didn’t know what might happen, it was safer to leave the scene.
Especially since he noticed many sneaking out their phones to record.
Hua’er didn’t know all the details, but he understood Jing Yuan and Nie Luo didn’t get along.
Fan Qing’s relationship with Nie Luo was clearly special.
Today’s events had been sudden, with Jing Yuan appearing without warning—and clearly targeting Nie Luo.
That mysterious blackout, too, had been suspiciously timed.
Perfectly executed.
Then came Fan Qing’s intervention, swiftly neutralizing Jing Yuan.
It all happened in a flash, leaving Yuan Jing focused on one thing:
Jing Yuan was done for.
Jing Yuan’s downfall wasn’t his concern—but Yuan Jing? That was different.
Hua’er glanced back.
Luckily, they had left in time.
Yuan Jing, quietly following, tugged on Hua’er’s sleeve.
“Brother… am I in trouble?”
Hua’er didn’t answer.
Yuan Jing forced a wry smile.
“I actually guessed this before. I’m too much like him. Now he…”
He didn’t finish, but both knew the implication.
Once Jing Yuan’s actions were exposed, his reputation would be ruined.
And Yuan Jing, who resembled him exactly?
He wouldn’t escape unscathed either.
Everything now depended on how the company handled it.
Nie Luo and Fan Qing left the studio, slipping into a low-profile black sedan, faces partially hidden by masks and hats.
Once they got in the car, Fan Qing immediately took off his gloves.
His nails were neatly trimmed, rounded and smooth; every knuckle clearly defined. Even in the dim interior of the vehicle, his hands looked like polished jade—irresistible to the eye.
Nie Luo’s gaze instinctively fell on the back of his hand.
Fan Qing knew full well the advantage he held.
He cleared his throat and, with the other hand, reached into his pocket for a small box.
But before he could even speak, Nie Luo’s voice, deep and rich like a cello, carried a clear note of disapproval.
“Not cold?”
He took Fan Qing’s glove and, without hesitation, slipped it back onto his hand himself.
“It’s snowing outside.”
Fan Qing froze for a moment.
Then his gloved hand was grasped by Nie Luo’s, and together they were tucked into the pocket of Nie Luo’s coat.
Nie Luo cast him a brief glance.
The look gave Fan Qing a strange sensation—like a child caught doing something wrong and gently scolded by a parent.
Except this parent clearly spoiled him.
Fan Qing couldn’t help but curl his fingers around the “parent’s” knuckles.
Nie Luo’s fingers moved slightly, soon meeting his halfway.
He tilted his face, a cold, handsome beauty tinged with a restrained sensuality.
Fan Qing had always known Nie Luo was attractive, but when he did something so indulgent, Fan Qing suddenly realized:
This man was more than just handsome.
He was utterly endearing.
Fan Qing thought this, and Nie Luo heard him without moving.
Fan Qing’s smile was bright, his voice pleasant.
He wondered, softly:
“Does he not want to know why I’m smiling?”
Finishing his thought, he leaned his shoulder against Nie Luo’s.
Nie Luo instinctively relaxed his arm, letting Fan Qing get comfortable.
He tilted his head to glance at Fan Qing.
“You want to tell me?”
Fan Qing countered, teasing,
“Do you want to know?”
Nie Luo paused, slowly shaking his head.
Fan Qing blinked in surprise.
“You don’t want to know?”
Why not?
Nie Luo’s eyes were serious and clear.
“We’re both busy.”
Busy…?
Fan Qing was momentarily stunned, then heard Nie Luo continue.
“And Ah Qing, your smile… it’s even better in person than over the phone.”
Of course, he was curious about his boyfriend’s life.
But there was little time. Nie Luo regretted nothing.
They could talk, video call.
He could hear Ah Qing’s laugh, see Ah Qing’s face.
But it wasn’t enough.
Nie Luo’s dark, inky eyes took in all of Fan Qing.
His gaze seemed calm but was greedily capturing every detail of his lover—his voice, his smile.
Everything mattered.
Some things, he didn’t need to know if there wasn’t enough time.
Fan Qing understood instantly.
For a moment, he felt as though his fingers, entwined with Nie Luo’s, were melting.
He even felt a twinge of regret.
Snapping back slightly, Fan Qing squinted and leaned closer.
A kiss, far from gentle, landed on Nie Luo’s lips.
“Had I known… I should’ve turned off our phones back in the restroom.”
He wanted to devour this Nie Luo.
From fingers to lips, every inch of skin that belonged to him.
This man… belonged to him.