There’s a saying: plans never keep up with changes.
Originally, Qin Wunian and Song Cheng had agreed that after breakfast the next day, they would take the twins and go to Han Congzhou’s house to pick up Chengfeng.
But early that morning, Ban Yunfang had already scheduled work for Qin Wunian: a new endorsement deal, an interview with a magazine, and a lunch meeting with a director that afternoon.
Among the pile of scripts, Song Cheng thought Director Xue’s art film was the best. Although he didn’t quite understand ninety percent of the plot, the dialogue—even if not spoken by a real person—was utterly captivating to him.
Song Cheng thought it was a good fit, and after Qin Wunian read through it himself, he agreed. So Ban Yunfang went to discuss the fee with Director Xue. At Qin Wunian’s level of fame, he no longer had to go through the standard audition process, but a private meeting with the director was still unavoidable—the director needed to see for himself if he was the right fit.
What had been a free day suddenly became packed. When Song Cheng heard this, he felt just a hint of disappointment, but he quickly recovered and told Qin Wunian to go to work with peace of mind—it would be just the same if he brought the twins along.
Little did he know that Qin Wunian would react so strongly to this suggestion. He firmly refused to let Song Cheng go alone, and his reasons were particularly compelling.
Too many people recognized Song Cheng now; going out alone would attract a crowd. He wasn’t familiar with the routine of taking care of children—the twins were little devils at home and little tyrants outside. Taking care of two kids was hard enough; coming back with a dog on top of that—what if one got lost, or all of them? Where would he go to find them then? And then there’s that Han Congzhou guy—he looks like Song Cheng’s friend, but what if he isn’t? What if he’s a scammer? As a Chinese person, you’ve got to have at least some basic awareness of fraud prevention.
Song Cheng was completely bewildered by Qin Wunian’s barrage of reasons. It wasn’t until Qin Wunian had left and Song Cheng was sitting alone in the living room that he narrowed his eyes slightly.
He couldn’t help but feel that none of the earlier excuses mattered—it was the last one that was the real reason Qin Wunian didn’t want him to come over today.
……
After being shut down for so many days, today marked the official resumption of work. Ban Yunfang looked refreshed and energetic, making Qin Wunian beside her seem lifeless by comparison.
Midway through the shoot, Ban Yunfang gave him a gentle reminder. “When the magazine editors and reporters arrive in a bit, you absolutely mustn’t act like this. People these days are quick to jump to conclusions. If you look unhappy, they’ll start speculating about what’s wrong with you—whether the domestic violence scandal is still affecting you, or if you’re not as composed as you appear on variety shows, and that deep down, you’re actually feeling guilty.”
Qin Wunian sat in his chair, letting the makeup artist touch up his face, his expression sour. “I’ve looked like this for years. If they’re only jumping to conclusions now, it just shows that some people’s reaction times are beyond the realm of ordinary humans.”
Ban Yunfang: “Times have changed. Your image has changed. The third episode of the variety show has already aired, and now the internet is flooded with comments about how sweet the two of you are. Those clips of you two exchanging messages off-camera have been edited to death by marketing accounts. Didn’t you check your DMs this morning? A bunch of people are asking what exactly you were whispering to Song Cheng back then.”
Qin Wunian wore a completely expressionless face: “You dragged me out of bed the moment I woke up. When would I have time to check my phone?”
Ban Yunfang: “……”
“I’m helping you make money, not get into debt. Can you at least give me a friendly look?”
Seeing that he was in a decent mood, Ban Yunfang silently forgave him and continued, beaming with excitement: “I have a feeling that starting today, your ship’s fanbase is going to spread like wildfire across the country. First love, youth, childhood sweethearts, a reunion after a breakup, and most importantly—two handsome guys. With all those elements coming together, it’s impossible not to go viral! Second Young Master, there are some things we should discuss right now. I know Song Cheng doesn’t want to act, but would he be willing to shoot commercials? Traffic equals business opportunities. While this wave of popularity is still here, let’s make a killing. We’ll split the profits according to your contract—what do you say?”
Qin Wunian glanced at his agent, who seemed to get a huge boost of energy whenever there was money to be made, then flatly refused without a moment’s hesitation, “No.”
Ban Yunfang was taken aback. “Why not?”
Qin Wunian: “Aren’t commercials supposed to be for promotion? Small endorsements are fine, but the big ones come with so many strings attached. Those companies aren’t stupid—they’ll definitely include clauses in the contract requiring Song Cheng to increase his exposure. But how is he supposed to do that? He’s a complete unknown who doesn’t act, so his only options are to keep appearing on variety shows and attending events. If he does all that, can he still be considered a complete unknown?”
Ban Yunfang blinked and crossed her arms. “Well, they can make the request, but we can refuse. The brand isn’t Huang Shiren—it’s not as extreme as you’re making it out to be. If they want more publicity, you and Song Cheng can just take a few more photos together and post them on your Weibo. CP fans are the easiest to satisfy—a single photo can keep them shipping for years.”
The makeup artist finished touching up his makeup and left. Qin Wunian relaxed his posture, leaning back in his chair like a grandpa. He lowered his eyelids and replied, as unyielding as ever, “No.”
Ban Yunfang: “……Why? You have a problem with posting photos?”
Qin Wunian: “Yeah, I just have a problem with it.”
He shot Ban Yunfang a sidelong glance. “I don’t even want to post my own photos—why would I want to post Song Cheng’s? Besides, I’m not some newbie just entering the industry. Don’t I know how things work around here? It starts with just photos, then gradually moves on to events, and eventually, even if Song Cheng doesn’t want to enter the industry, he’ll have no choice but to. Because all that exposure will only highlight his star power and commercial potential—just like you right now. I don’t want Song Cheng to have to give up what he really wants to do just because he appeared on a variety show.”
Ban Yunfang listened to his righteous reasoning. She didn’t say whether she agreed or disagreed; she just looked him up and down and asked, “Oh? So what is it that Song Cheng really wants to do?”
Qin Wunian had no idea—not even Song Cheng knew the answer to that question.
After a moment’s silence, Qin Wunian said, “It’s definitely not shooting commercials.”
Ban Yunfang chuckled. “You’ve said all this, but these are just your thoughts. You haven’t even asked Song Cheng. How do you know he doesn’t want to? Maybe he doesn’t care about any of this at all. Maybe he actually enjoys it. Just like before we filmed the variety show—you didn’t want to do it either, but when Song Cheng heard about it, what was his reaction? He agreed right away.”
Qin Wunian: “That’s different. Back then, he agreed just for my sake.”
Ban Yunfang nodded. “That’s true. So what are you afraid of?”
Qin Wunian’s expression froze for a moment. He looked up and saw Ban Yunfang raising her eyebrows at him.
“Second Young Master, we’ve been working together for nearly four years now. You’re not exactly a mysterious person—no, let me put it this way: you’re not mysterious at all. Anyone who’s known you for a while can tell just how easy you are to read.”
Qin Wunian: “……”
Ban Yunfang was ten years older than Qin Wunian. Although he often drove her up the wall, sometimes she felt he was like her own immature younger brother—always making mistakes, yet impossible to hold a grudge against.
Sitting across from Qin Wunian, Ban Yunfang said earnestly, “You can’t do this. Just because you’re afraid and worried, you’re denying Song Cheng every opportunity. I don’t know if shooting that commercial will turn out the way you fear, but I do know that if he finds out you’ve made decisions for him behind his back, he’ll definitely become exactly what you’re worried about—and it might even be worse.”
Qin Wunian’s fingers twitched slightly—a sign that he knew he was wrong. Yet in the vast majority of cases, he would never admit it.
Only Song Cheng could ever elicit an “I’m sorry” from him.
Qin Wunian moved his lips, his voice slightly lower than before: “I’m not trying to deny him this opportunity. I’m just afraid he’ll be pressured by outside voices into doing things he doesn’t like.”
Ban Yunfang asked him, “Is Song Cheng the type of person who would let himself be pressured?”
Qin Wunian recalled the past and, lowering his gaze, shook his head slightly.
Song Cheng isn’t.
He will never be forced by anyone. His eyes see only what he desires most, and he walks straight toward it, step by step. Perhaps his temperament has softened somewhat now, but a person’s true nature never changes—and this is precisely what Qin Wunian is absolutely certain of and relies upon.
Online comments might influence him, and diary entries might move him, but no matter how much information the outside world poured into him, none of it could determine Song Cheng’s actions. If Song Cheng were to do something, it would only be because he wanted to.
It was like that when he left him, and it was like that now that he had returned to his side.
This was Qin Wunian’s last hope. If even this about Song Cheng had changed, his world might well collapse along with it.
*
After Qin Wunian left, he sent another assistant from his studio to help Song Cheng look after the twins. This woman was clearly a gem of a preschool teacher who had somehow ended up in a celebrity’s studio. While the twins weren’t exactly well-behaved under her care, at least they stopped asking those headache-inducing questions. When the three of them played together, Song Cheng joined in and played with them for nearly an hour before retreating to a corner to open Qin Wunian’s computer.
He felt that once the twins started elementary school—no, once they started middle school—he should be able to get along with them properly. It wouldn’t be too late to build a relationship with them then.
……
With that in mind, Song Cheng typed Qin Wunian’s name into the computer and happily began browsing his past works.
Back when he was in the hospital, Song Cheng had only seen a few clips; he hadn’t watched any full-length TV series or movies. After moving here, with Qin Wunian right in front of him every day, he had even less time for such things. Everyone raved about Qin Wunian’s acting skills, but Song Cheng had no idea just how good they were.
The video app had a “Celebrity Collection” section. Song Cheng picked the one with the highest rating, sat up straight in his chair, and watched as the movie’s opening credits rolled. His eyes sparkled.
Two hours later, Qin Wunian returned home. The twins were downstairs watching TV with his assistant. Qin Wunian greeted them, then began searching for Song Cheng. He didn’t find him on the first floor, nor on the second floor, nor even on the third floor. Qin Wunian’s mind went blank; he thought Song Cheng had left without a word again. Just as his brain was about to run out of oxygen, he suddenly remembered that the house had a basement.
…
Rushing down to the basement, Qin Wunian found Song Cheng sitting on the sofa, a laptop on his lap and a pack of tissues beside him. He was crying so hard that even the tip of his nose was red.
Qin Wunian: “…”
Song Cheng was wearing headphones. As Qin Wunian approached, he saw that the laptop screen was showing him—Qin Wunian—on film. Three years ago, he had starred in a drama film that swept almost every domestic award. That’s when he earned the title of Best Actor, though Qin Wunian himself felt he was still too inexperienced back then to deserve it.
The film was adapted from a female journalist’s interview notes. Because it was based on real events, it was especially moving. He played the protagonist, a social outcast with no friends, estranged from his family, and no dreams. His everyday work was temporary jobs. A sudden incident forced him to live with two criminals for three days, during which he experienced countless events. Mistakenly identified as one of the criminals, he was compelled to help them escape and gradually learned their pasts, with his own story unfolding in tandem.
Originally, he wasn’t always like that. He had a younger sister, but she was abducted by human traffickers when he was still under ten, and he couldn’t rescue her. At home, his father beat him and his mother scolded him, leaving the family in tears. His mother passed away when he was in his teens, and his relationship with his father worsened. By eighteen, he had left home to work, using labor and indifference to numb his own emotions, as if suppressing them would hide the rot inside.
In the film, these three days revealed the truth: the trafficker had colluded with his uncle to abduct his sister. One of the criminals’ wives turned out to be his sister as an adult. She had lived poorly, had a daughter early, and was now about to lose her husband.
The protagonist’s emotional journey was the film’s highlight. Qin Wunian’s performance was exceptional, as if he had truly lived that life. Eventually, the police caught the criminals. Though the protagonist had endured tremendous highs and lows, he found some relief, realizing the past wasn’t his fault. He resolved to take care of his sister, learn a trade, go home, tell his father the truth, and visit his mother’s grave to tell her their family could reunite.
He had prepared to shoulder his life and start anew. Then, under the police car’s blinding headlights, one criminal panicked, resisting arrest and grabbing a knife. He tried to stab a young female officer, and the protagonist stepped in to shield her, ending up falling in a pool of blood.
During the final arrest scene, many people came—relatives of the criminals urged surrender, the protagonist’s sister was there, and villagers gathered, including his father. Despite the crowd, the blood on him slowly dried. In slow motion, the film concluded.
Song Cheng had only broken down crying at this final scene.
Qin Wunian felt helpless. He had quietly approached from behind, and the tear-jerking BGM in Song Cheng’s headphones had masked his presence. After waiting a moment and seeing Song Cheng still crying, he reached out and removed the headphones.
As the music stopped, the overwhelming urge to sob diminished by half. Song Cheng froze and looked up, tears still on his cheeks.
Qin Wunian: “I know I acted well, but you don’t have to—”
Before he could finish, Song Cheng sprang up, hugged Qin Wunian’s neck, and continued crying. “Waaah, you can’t die!—”
Qin Wunian: “…………”
Between sobs, Song Cheng said, “How could you die at a time like this? Your life is about to turn around! The writer has no heart—why such an ending? I hate them!!!”
Qin Wunian stayed silent, finally deciding not to tell Song Cheng it was based on a true story, fearing the tears would never stop.
Qin Wunian wasn’t good at comforting others, so he simply held Song Cheng, letting him sit and repeatedly reassuring him, it’s not real, it’s just a movie.
After nearly ten minutes, Song Cheng’s emotions finally eased. He sniffled, rested against Qin Wunian, and said, “You acted really well.”
Qin Wunian smiled softly. The vibration of his chest made Song Cheng’s ears tingle.
“Not all my credit. I watched many documentaries back then, saw the real people enduring such tragedies. My acting didn’t reach even one percent of their true feelings.”
Song Cheng shook his head. “You can’t say that. Acting is acting. Saying it’s just a performance doesn’t diminish it. Compared to reality, sure, but in acting, you’re a master—a master no one can surpass.”
Qin Wunian had heard many similar compliments, but coming from Song Cheng, spoken so sincerely, it filled him with warmth.
He couldn’t resist lowering his head to kiss Song Cheng. Song Cheng tilted up, smiled, kissed back twice, then turned to lie comfortably across Qin Wunian’s lap.
He said, “Now I understand why you became an actor. You were born for this.”
Qin Wunian looked at him. “And you? What were you born to do?”
Song Cheng blinked. “Hmm… I was born to rely on you.”
Qin Wunian: “…”
“Not joking. Chengcheng, what do you want to do in the future? I’m not rushing you, but you can’t stay home forever. You need to do something, enrich yourself.”
Song Cheng: “Your assistant…”
Qin Wunian looked him in the eye. “You really want to be my assistant?”
His expression was serious, so serious that Song Cheng couldn’t help but sit up. Qin Wunian’s attitude toward this matter was far more earnest than he expected, though Song Cheng didn’t understand why he was so solemn.
It seemed that in Qin Wunian’s mind, work was extremely important, and perhaps this seriousness was the “normal” way to approach it. For Song Cheng, however, work wasn’t such a big deal.
He simply wanted to be with Qin Wunian, to see him every day.
In other words, whether he became an assistant or did something else didn’t matter—as long as it let him be around Qin Wunian often.
But Song Cheng vaguely sensed that this wasn’t the answer Qin Wunian wanted. If he said it, Qin Wunian might not be pleased.
But why? He was trying to stay close to Qin Wunian; shouldn’t that make him happy?
Song Cheng couldn’t figure it out. Sitting on the sofa, he pondered for a while, his expression turning slightly wistful, and finally murmured, “I don’t know.”
Qin Wunian studied him and felt he might have been rushing things. With the amnesia unresolved, why worry about this now?
Sitting face to face, Qin Wunian reached up and touched Song Cheng’s face. He spoke softly, “I just want you to be happy.”
Song Cheng looked at him and held Qin Wunian’s wrist, which was two sizes thicker than his own. He rubbed it gently. “I know, but what I do isn’t what brings me happiness. Who I’m with is.”
Qin Wunian paused, then shifted to another topic. “Qin Yinian is coming back tomorrow, arriving at the airport at eight in the morning. First, we’ll take the twins back to him, then the two of us will go pick up Chengfeng. How does that sound?”
Song Cheng asked, “You don’t have work tomorrow?”
Qin Wunian: “I do, but only in the afternoon.”
Song Cheng nodded. “But I don’t know if Han Congzhou will be free. If he isn’t…”
Qin Wunian: “Then he’ll make time. Isn’t he your friend? Can’t he do this for you?”
Song Cheng: “….”
He couldn’t help thinking how ridiculous that sounded. Even friends can’t be treated like that!
Moreover, Han Congzhou hadn’t actually claimed to be his friend—Song Cheng had assumed it. After what happened last night, he hadn’t contacted Han Congzhou at all.
Still, Song Cheng didn’t know exactly what Han Congzhou had said to Qin Wunian yesterday. Hesitating for a moment, he finally sent a message to Han Congzhou, asking if he was free tomorrow morning.
Of course, Han Congzhou was free. Since taking care of Chengfeng, he only visited the company at noon. Morning and evening were reserved for the dog. Chengfeng had boundless energy, and without a yard to run, he sometimes had to put the dog on a treadmill.
But dogs aren’t easily fooled. After trying a few times and finding he was still in the same room, Chengfeng refused to run.
Honestly, returning Chengfeng to Song Cheng was a huge relief, both for the human and the dog.
After all, they had both feared they would have to spend a lifetime together.
Author’s note: The dog really is a dog! Just exceptionally clever—not a human in disguise, not a dog spirit, and not a human soul inhabiting a dog’s body.