Qin Sizheng lay across Lu Xianqing’s legs, slowly closing his eyes.
Since arriving in this world, fragments of memory had slowly returned, time flowing gently across his heart, washing away filth, revealing its true form.
Lu Xianqing was like a silkworm cocoon—beneath layers of the world’s scrutiny lay the gentlest of souls, and he was fortunate enough to touch and occupy that entire soul.
He had originally been a set of data created for Lu Xianqing, inexplicably given his own soul—and he could even win his affection. How rare and difficult that was.
“Fourth Brother.”
“Hm?”
“A little sleepy.”
“Shall I carry you to your room?”
“No, I’ll sleep like this. Before I wake, you’re not allowed to move.”
Lu Xianqing said, “Alright.”
Qin Sizheng rested on his legs, pressed against his slightly cool, fragrant, dry hands, and—unexpectedly—fell asleep not long after closing his eyes.
Lu Xianqing lowered his gaze onto the sleeping boy. Fearing he might wake him, he stayed perfectly still.
He wasn’t a man chasing perfection, needing everything in its place. He could let everything go—but he could never lose Qin Sizheng.
Leaning down, Lu Xianqing placed a kiss on the boy’s sleeping face, softly murmuring: “Yanyan, my virtuous companion, my orderly melody.”
He Xing, having managed Mingfei and Lu Xianqing before, approached everything with efficiency and decisiveness.
Covershoots, interviews, TV dramas, films—everything was busy yet orderly, without arrogance. It was as if he had been waiting all these years for this exact opportunity, which had now finally erupted.
He Xing didn’t allow artists too much contact with fans; more words meant more risk.
“Hatred doesn’t care whether your point is valid. They’ll always pick something to attack, even if you say the weather is fine—they’ll argue there are people starving while you admire the sun.”
Qin Sizheng frowned: “Isn’t fan interaction supposed to be important?”
He Xing shook his head slightly. This was the flaw of working in a small company: thinking fan interaction was paramount. In reality, true fans didn’t need much—they were satisfied just to see him on stage.
They feared more that he would be dragged through mud by haters; they wanted to protect him, not merely receive his attention.
“Important? Look at your Fourth Brother—when has he ever interacted with fans? Does anyone dislike him?”
Qin Sizheng felt a sweet warmth at the words “your Fourth Brother,” barely noticing anything else before He Xing rapped the table to snap him back: “Get a grip. Don’t go acting like a fool whenever you think of him. You are a rising star with tens of millions of fans, not just his Yanyan.”
Qin Sizheng pressed his lips, wanting to protest silently: he was his, after all.
He Xing knew what he was thinking and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about the bad influence of a corrupting boyfriend. With Lu Xianqing like that, even Qin Sizheng had been led astray.
Originally so well-behaved…
Now, one was more infuriating than the next—one openly, one subtly—but she could only swallow her words.
Still, under He Xing’s guidance, Qin Sizheng’s career quickly fell into stride. Ten days or half a month might pass without a chance to return home, schedules packed tight.
Especially this time, six months had passed since he last went home.
Lu Xianqing, meanwhile, had positioned himself elsewhere. If scripts weren’t suitable, he wouldn’t act; he had more free time than before.
He Xing didn’t allow him to visit the set frequently—three times a month at most; otherwise, he had to wait until filming ended to call.
The drama’s director was Zhou Changjiang, a rather serious political intrigue piece. This was Qin Sizheng’s first time shouldering a leading role alone, with no female lead at all.
Qin Sizheng played the son of a treacherous minister who had thrown the court into chaos.
A new emperor ascended, establishing authority, executing the overreaching minister, yet due to a general pardon, the minister’s family was exiled rather than executed.
The son, disguised and returned to the court, sought to clear his father’s name. To reclaim justice, he first needed supreme power, gradually rising to the position of Grand Councilor.
Killing corrupt officials, purging the court—every step precise, a frail boy manipulating the throne, despised as a flatterer. Yet in his heart, he still cherished the simple joys of youth: his father’s handmade wooden horse, his mother’s sugared pastries and osmanthus cakes.
That flame remained—a final warmth amidst turbulent winds and shifting clouds.
It was a complex role, demanding nuanced, layered acting. Without skill, one could only portray a single layer: either a cunning minister, or a boy consumed by revenge and playing at intrigue.
At first, He Xing worried Qin Sizheng might not handle it well, suggesting he could start with simpler romantic dramas. But the starting point didn’t need to compare to Lu Xianqing.
It turned out he had worried unnecessarily.
The filming wrapped, and Qin Sizheng’s makeup had grown heavier, making him look gaunt and exhausted, radiating a sense of unfulfilled regret, as if his life were about to end. The final scene had him in pure white, dying in the snow.
Draped in royal garments, wielding immense power, he avenged his father’s wrongful condemnation—but at the cost of blood on his hands. Qin Sizheng captured this transformation perfectly, earning rare praise even from Zhou Changjiang.
When the wrap party came, everyone hugged him. The flowers, the fanfare—it was overwhelming.
No matter how genuine their feelings were, Qin Sizheng felt it wasn’t easy-earned, responding to each embrace with gratitude and looking forward to working together again.
Unlike in Between Good and Evil, when he had just started out and was awkward in every way, now he carried the lead with ease, preparing wrap gifts in advance according to each co-star’s preferences—leaving nothing to chance.
Zhou Changjiang patted his shoulder. “You’ve grown up.”
Qin Sizheng smiled and handed him a gift. “Uncle Zhou, thank you for your care and guidance.”
Zhou Changjiang blinked at the address, then smiled. “I’m glad you don’t hold grudges. I knew you’d go far. I wasn’t wrong about you—good kid.”
Zhou Changjiang and Wen Li had already finalized their divorce, which was an open secret in the industry. Her whereabouts remained unknown; others avoided mentioning it out of respect.
Qin Sizheng shared an unspoken understanding with Zhou Changjiang, keeping their emotions in check.
Zhou Changjiang asked, “When are you and Lu Xianqing holding the wedding? Domestic policy won’t allow it, so you’ll have to go abroad. That man has too strong an ego—you need to make it clear to the world, or he won’t calm down. Like a child.”
Qin Sizheng felt slightly embarrassed. He turned and took a white, gold-embossed invitation from Shen Changfeng, handing it to Zhou Changjiang. “This is our wedding invitation. If you have time, please come.”
Zhou Changjiang paused. “Without telling Lu Xianqing?”
Qin Sizheng nodded, a small curve on his lips. “I want to give him a surprise. Don’t tell anyone.”
Zhou Changjiang laughed. “You, huh.”
He gave one final pat on Qin Sizheng’s shoulder. “Keep moving upward. Don’t dwell on the past.”
Qin Sizheng smiled. “You too.”
After removing his makeup, Qin Sizheng saw a few unread messages on his phone—all from Lu Xianqing.
“Not replying?” He Xing glanced at him.
“No,” Qin Sizheng turned off the phone and got in the car, taking a candy from Shen Changfeng to prevent low blood sugar and urging the driver to go.
“What’s the rush? Even if you’re at the airport, you’ll have to wait. The plane won’t let you go first anyway.”
Qin Sizheng’s excitement bubbled. Since last month, he had been planning a surprise for Lu Xianqing with Ye Xu—from the wedding ring design to the smallest details of the ceremony, meticulously finalized.
He wondered if Lu Xianqing would be moved when he saw it.
Seven hours of flight passed, and Qin Sizheng didn’t feel tired at all. He energetically carried his bag straight to the wedding venue, most of which had already been arranged—just a few details remained.
Ye Xu insisted on air-shipping fresh flowers, even eucalyptus leaves were to be freshly picked and flown in.
The wedding attire had been designed by Yalusi and delivered. Qin Sizheng tried it on himself first—he hadn’t let Lu Xianqing try it, keeping it a secret. Ye Xu said, “Never mind him; you just need to look good.”
Lu Mingxun frowned beside them, and Ye Xu pointed at him. “You keep quiet. If you complain about extravagance, you’re flying back tonight, and you won’t attend your son’s wedding.”
“…I didn’t say anything.”
Ye Xu snorted, spinning Qin Sizheng around twice with a look of loving approval. “Not bad, very pretty. Try the other set too.”
Lu Mingxun couldn’t bear the luxury, nor Qin Sizheng’s exhausted expression. “Let him rest; he’s worn out. Try the dresses tomorrow.”
Ye Xu quickly agreed. “Oh, I forgot. Go rest.”
But Qin Sizheng wasn’t tired. After showering, he still had no sleepiness, and he got up to finish writing the last few invitations.
The favors were prepared by Ye Xu, but the gift boxes and invitations were his own design.
Eucalyptus branches, the faint outline of green mountains, and a kite soaring in the wind—the three kite strings represented their three meetings, converging on their initials.
He lightly touched Lu Xianqing’s name with the pen tip, whispered a term of endearment, and shyly sat by the desk lamp for a long while.
Lu Xianqing had been non-stop, just finishing an ad shoot when he got a call from He Xing, asking him to fly to country S for a cover shoot.
“Sister He Xing, let me breathe,” he said, rubbing his forehead in frustration, his temper on the verge of exploding.
He Xing replied, “You wanted to earn money to support your family, didn’t you? You don’t want to anymore?”
Lu Xianqing exhaled, calming himself. “I will. Fine. Heading to the airport.”
An Ning, privy to the plan, secretly smiled—those ready to scold him would have to wait until he arrived.
The flight from Jiangcheng was eleven hours. Lu Xianqing managed a short nap but landed radiating the intensity of an impending storm.
The driver was unfamiliar, and he didn’t bother asking questions, keeping his eyes closed—otherwise, he’d have to deal with complaints.
An Ning quietly updated everyone: landed and likely another hour and a half to go.
Lu Xianqing’s frustration grew—he hadn’t seen Qin Sizheng in ages. Recently, busy filming, they barely spoke over the phone, occasionally a quick video call, then hung up. Four days with only five hours of sleep.
Was he overworking himself?
He even called Zhou Changjiang, only to be scolded: “You didn’t act like this back then. Is Qin Sizheng that delicate? Don’t bother him during filming. If he’s in a bad state, we’ll have words.”
He Xing, worried Lu Xianqing might rush to the set, arranged a nonstop week of shoots for him—from one studio to another—he had never been this busy in his life.
One by one, he was cutting off all the lovebirds.
Damn it.
Lu Xianqing suddenly felt like quitting the entertainment industry entirely—and taking Qin Sizheng out with him. That way, no one else would like him, no one would compete for him. Even though they were the closest, he had the least time with him.
His expression grew darker and darker, almost ugly with frustration. An Ning stole a glance through the rearview mirror, barely able to suppress a laugh.
An hour later, they arrived. Lu Xianqing got out of the car and saw the white veil fluttering in the breeze, with an archway completely covered in white roses and eucalyptus leaves leading the way.
It was unmistakably a wedding venue.
He froze, glancing back to find An Ning gone, and the driver nowhere in sight.
He stepped through the arch to the end, stunned into place.
At the center was a giant wedding card, opened, decorated with eucalyptus, roses, distant mountains, and a kite—Green Mountains, You Have Si.
In the middle of the card was a blown-up photo: Qin Sizheng leaning down to kiss a sleeping Lu Xianqing. When had it been taken? Both were in simple loungewear, yet the scene radiated warmth and softness.
Lu Xianqing’s eyes stung, fists clenching instinctively.
“What are you standing there for? Change your clothes.” Ming Fei appeared from somewhere, draping an arm over him and dragging him into a room, pressing him down before he could resist.
Makeup artists quickly stepped in to finish him.
Lu Xianqing, unusually dazed, even felt his thoughts slow down. Only when Ming Fei handed him the suit did he regain a small sense of composure.
“Where’s he?”
“Relax, you’ll see him soon. Don’t embarrass yourself,” Ming Fei sneered. Su Xian and the other groomsmen chuckled alongside.
Sweat prickled Lu Xianqing’s palms as he mechanically changed into his attire, following the flow to the stage. The quiet environment, the numerous guests—all made him nervous.
Not even winning Best Actor had made him this tense.
Yan Yan… hurry up and come out.
Don’t make me this anxious.
The wedding music played softly, and Qin Sizheng appeared, accompanied by Lu Mingxun, walking steadily toward him, a gentle smile that nearly brought tears to Lu Xianqing’s eyes.
His white dress paired with a blue-white boutonniere gave him an ethereal purity. Lu Xianqing had to clench his fists to resist the urge to rush forward and hold him.
He was walking too slowly.
Finally, Qin Sizheng reached the stage.
Lu Xianqing exhaled, disregarding formalities, and pulled him into a hug.
“Fourth Brother, don’t hug me yet—the ceremony isn’t finished.” Qin Sizheng tried to push him away, embarrassed with so many eyes watching. Planning the wedding secretly was already hard enough; this public display was even more mortifying.
“Just for a moment.”
Lu Xianqing breathed in his scent, absorbing his warmth, feeling reality settle around him.
“Planning all this behind my back—was this taught by Mom?”
Blushing, Qin Sizheng whispered, ignoring the stares and laughter around them, “No, I wanted to surprise you. I just asked Mom and Dad to help, keeping it from you. Don’t you like it?”
He was a little nervous, hoping Lu Xianqing wouldn’t feel forced into it.
“I love it. I really love it.”
Lu Xianqing was overjoyed, barely able to contain the desire to kiss him then and there to show his emotions and overflowing love.
But the ceremony had to continue.
Reluctantly, he let him go. Qin Sizheng had chosen Zhou Changjiang as the officiant—the director of their first couple scene, who had collaborated with Lu Xianqing multiple times and treated him kindly.
Zhou Changjiang, slightly choked up, guided them through the ceremony, announced their vows, and oversaw the ring exchange.
Shi Jian and Ming Fei held the two ring boxes on either side, unusually serious, their eyes filled only with blessing. Each placed the ring on the other’s ring finger, signaling the start of a shared life.
“The rings have been exchanged. You may now kiss your husband.”
As Zhou Changjiang finished, Lu Xianqing could no longer wait. He grabbed Qin Sizheng’s arm, pulling him close, kissing him openly. Amid the cheers and blessings of all present, he whispered against his lips, “I love you.”
Qin Sizheng returned the kiss, silently reciprocating.
The veil danced in the breeze, the music flowed romantically, and the guests chatted joyfully.
Lu Xianqing held Qin Sizheng’s waist, feeling that this journey—like a dream—was finally real, reaching out to touch the boy who belonged to him.
Qin Sizheng intertwined their fingers, their rings warming against each other.
I see the green mountains, and the green mountains hold thoughts of you.
Chapter 111: Blue Skies Stretching for Miles
“What are you looking at?”
Lu Xianqing emerged from the shower to find Qin Sizheng still focused on his phone, ignoring washing or anything else. He reached out, taking it to see.
“I’ll bet you, Qin Sizheng and Lu Xianqing won’t last long,” he said sharply, tugging at a towel like he was ready for a proper Weibo battle.
Qin Sizheng snatched the phone back to prevent disaster. “Don’t, or Sister He Xing will scold you again.”
“Hmph. She’s the boss, I’m the boss?”
“Let her live a few more days, okay?” Qin Sizheng draped a towel over his head, wiping away droplets, then grabbed the hairdryer to dry him.
Fingertips ran gently through his hair; Lu Xianqing closed his eyes, enjoying it. “How’s the new drama?”
“Had some approval issues. Production’s forced to pause. Even if the team doesn’t disband, filming can’t start for a while. We have to wait.”
“Go shower then.”
Lu Xianqing took the hairdryer from him, turned it off, lightly tapped Qin Sizheng’s waist to urge him, and as soon as he left, grabbed his phone to call He Xing, confirming that he really had no major schedule coming up.
“What are you planning?”
“We’ve been married for a while now. We should have a honeymoon.”
He Hexing was silent for a moment. Although she wanted to scold him, what he said made sense. On the second day after their wedding, Qin Sizheng had returned to the country, spending the next half year so busy he hardly had a moment to breathe.
Lu Xianqing fared better—his status allowed him to turn down projects—but Qin Sizheng was still on the rise; he couldn’t be as capricious.
And he was diligent, never complaining, always striving to perfect every task.
She saw all of this and knew that a long-distance arrangement wasn’t ideal, but there was little she could do. Fortunately, Qin Sizheng’s new drama ran into some issues, freeing up at least two months.
“Hexing, be reasonable.”
Hexing nearly choked. “If I weren’t reasonable, do you think he’d still be home with you? And I’m his manager now, don’t boss me around.”
Lu Xianqing pressed a hand to his forehead and smiled. “Isn’t he mine too? Stop fussing. Since he has nothing urgent, let An Ning book the tickets.”
Qin Sizheng, just out of the shower, casually asked, “Work?”
“Come here.” Lu Xianqing hung up the phone and beckoned.
He walked over, barely steady on his feet before Lu Xianqing yanked him forward. He braced himself on the bed edge. “My hair’s wet! Don’t pull me, or the pillow will get soaked—Lu Xianqing!”
Lu Xianqing grabbed the hairdryer and leaned close, whispering into his ear, “You’ve wet the pillow plenty of times before—what’s new?”
Qin Sizheng punched his stomach, and Lu Xianqing dodged with a smirk. “Again with this? How many times have you hit me and I still don’t learn?”
“You’d stop teasing me if you learned.” Qin Sizheng huffed, sitting on the bed to have his hair dried, closing his eyes as the warm air brushed over him.
“Where are you going tomorrow?”
“Not me. We.”
Qin Sizheng opened his eyes. “We? New work? I didn’t hear Hexing mention anything about a joint project.”
“Of course there is. This one has to be us, no one else.”
Qin Sizheng pressed for details, but Lu Xianqing refused to say anything—neither threats nor bribes could break him. Exhausted and confused, Qin Sizheng gave up. The next morning, An Ning handed him the tickets, but said nothing about going with them.
Only upon landing did he realize what Lu Xianqing meant:
He had prepared a honeymoon for Qin Sizheng, after Qin Sizheng had prepared a wedding for him. They arrived at an island nation, rustic and beautiful, where locals recognized them but remained politely reserved.
It was Qin Sizheng’s first time in such a place. Excited, he stayed up half the night and ran out in swim trunks to go swimming. Lu Xianqing had no choice but to follow.
Fortunately, the beach wasn’t empty—streetlights and floodlights made it bright as day. Qin Sizheng ran across sand smoothed over countless tides and dove into the water.
The night sea was cool. He swam a while, then surfaced and called, “Come on!”
Lu Xianqing refused, too fastidious, content just playing in the sand, furrowing his brow as he watched Qin Sizheng in the water. He wondered why he indulged him so completely, yet couldn’t help thinking how beautiful Qin Sizheng’s smile was.
After ten minutes, Qin Sizheng heard a faint cry for help. Turning, he saw a hand struggling on the water. He swam decisively to it—it was a young girl, light in weight. With his stamina, he easily supported her and brought her to shore.
When Lu Xianqing looked up, he saw the crowd forming a circle, overhearing the words “drowning” and panic rising in him. He didn’t care about mud or sand, pushing through the crowd.
He saw Qin Sizheng giving first aid. The blonde girl spat out water, wincing in confusion, and the bystanders all visibly relaxed.
Lu Xianqing’s heart finally settled.
Qin Sizheng stood, saying, “Someone call an ambulance, please.” Then he saw Lu Xianqing, pale as a sheet, standing in the crowd.
He parted the people, holding Lu Xianqing’s hand, leading him to a quiet spot, gently touching his face. “You okay? Let’s go back if you’re not feeling well.”
Lu Xianqing hugged him suddenly. The deep, rough breathing he had been suppressing hit Qin Sizheng hard.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought it was you… thought you were drowning… then disappeared right before my eyes.” His low, hoarse voice, worn by countless hardships, sent a pang through Qin Sizheng’s chest.
He wrapped his arms around Lu Xianqing’s waist, soothing him softly. “Don’t be afraid. It’s not me.”
After a moment, Lu Xianqing released him. On the way back, he insisted on holding hands. Qin Sizheng opened his fingers, letting him intertwine them, giving subtle reassurance in the smallest gestures.
They walked silently through two alleys until Lu Xianqing suddenly said, “We leave tomorrow morning.”
Qin Sizheng frowned. “Why?”
“To keep you away from the sea.”
Qin Sizheng tugged at his shirt to stop him. Lu Xianqing remained tense, as if harboring a deep resentment toward the ocean.
“I really like it here. Leaving before we’ve made enough memories would be such a pity.”
Lu Xianqing’s expression softened slightly. Qin Sizheng tilted his head and kissed him. “Let’s stay a few more days, okay?”
“Okay.”
The alley was dimly lit, bustling at the ends with laughter and music, yet here, it felt like a hidden passage, a private current of tenderness.
Qin Sizheng looped an arm around his neck, letting gentle waves stir the storm inside, savoring their quiet intimacy.
After a kiss, he leaned on Lu Xianqing’s shoulder, breathing softly, teasing in little, irresistible ways.
Lu Xianqing traced his fingers along Qin Sizheng’s lips, gently rubbing them until they reddened.
Qin Sizheng let out a soft “mm” and pulled his hand away. Before Lu Xianqing could react, he stepped back, moving to the edge of the light and shadow where the space was half-lit, and waved him over.
“Come on, Fourth Brother, hurry.”
Lu Xianqing stepped forward, as if time had reversed. A memory of the glass house metaphor flashed in his mind, and only now did he realize that sunlight had never truly been blocked by glass.
He extended his hand. “Come here.”
Qin Sizheng placed his hand in his, fingers intertwining. “I’m coming.”
The next day, the girl he had rescued was discharged and came to thank him.
She didn’t speak Chinese, and Qin Sizheng’s English was patchy at best. They attempted to communicate for a while before giving up. “Fourth Brother, come over,” Qin Sizheng called.
Lu Xianqing stepped out, hands in his pockets. Seeing the delicate young girl, he barely glanced at her before returning his gaze to Qin Sizheng. “What is it?”
Qin Sizheng scratched his head. “She seems to want something from me, but I don’t understand. Can you tell her it was nothing, no need to thank me?”
Lu Xianqing relayed the message. The girl’s eyes lit up. “Please tell him I want to thank him. Can I invite him for a drink at the bar tonight?”
An invitation?
Lu Xianqing’s teeth ground together, but he restrained his temper, smiling as he said, “How old are you? Are you an adult? Married? No? We’re already married—he’s my husband, our wedding is done.”
The girl immediately looked at Qin Sizheng. Though he didn’t understand her words, he caught her confirming gaze and smiled politely.
She glanced at their rings, disappointed for a few seconds, then raised her head, said, “Wish you happiness,” and waved goodbye.
Qin Sizheng watched her leave, smiling. “She’s so cute, came all the way to thank me. I wonder which country she’s from… her blue eyes are so beautiful.”
Lu Xianqing snorted and turned back inside.
Qin Sizheng was confused. Why was he upset now? Was it because he complimented someone else? Surely not.
He followed him inside, and as soon as the door closed, Lu Xianqing pressed him against it, kissing him fiercely, stealing all the air until their lips burned and he finally let go.
“What are you doing? You’ll have to wear a mask if we go out soon.”
“No mask.”
Qin Sizheng pushed him away slightly, touching his lips to feel the warm embarrassment. He glanced at him, half scolding, half playful. “No mask? Everyone will know what we did. No more kissing during the day.”
Lu Xianqing grumbled against his shoulder. “That girl liked you just now… even on vacation, someone likes you. It’s annoying.”
Qin Sizheng froze for a moment, listening to the soft, childlike whining in his voice. His heart melted, and he patted his back like coaxing a child. “But I only like you.”
“Say it again.” Lu Xianqing nuzzled his neck, insisting, playful and unguarded—so different from his usual aloof demeanor.
“Lu Xianqing, I like you.”
“Not enough.”
“Only you. Is that enough?”
“Barely enough.”
“What barely enough! You cried last time you heard me say this!” Qin Sizheng still remembered Lu Xianqing’s tears at their wedding, captured by Ye Xu and framed at home.
Lu Xianqing growled, accusing Ye Xu of betrayal and threatening to tear it down. Qin Sizheng spread his arms to block him. “You dare!”
He ground his teeth in frustration, but eventually let it go, only turning his head whenever they passed by it.
“Fourth Brother crying… is like a fallen star on earth, the most beautiful in the world,” Qin Sizheng teased, mimicking a fan. He counted down and noticed Lu Xianqing’s expression darken.
“Still talking?”
Qin Sizheng nimbly slipped from his arms, ran a short distance, then turned to flash him a mischievous, radiant smile.
Lu Xianqing couldn’t help but curve his eyes.
“You little rascal.”