Ming Qi kept a straight face, staring seriously at Yu Qinchou, still not understanding how he could say something shameless so matter-of-factly.
What did he mean, “one time equals ten kisses, and I’ll let you off the remaining two”? It sounded like he was the one taking a loss—but after spending so much time with him, Ming Qi knew better. There was definitely a trap waiting.
Especially since he had tricked him earlier with “miss a note, get a kiss.”
Seeing Ming Qi bury his face back into the pillow again, refusing to engage, Yu Qinchou finally laughed.
“Baby, once you miss the chance, it’s gone. That’s forty-two kisses—you might not even be able to face people afterward.”
Ming Qi: “……”
As if he could face people after doing it four times in one night either.
He bargained, “Half price.”
He originally thought Yu Qinchou would refuse, but unexpectedly, the man agreed almost immediately.
“No problem.”
Ming Qi felt a faint unease, but successfully negotiating still made him relax—until he was pressed down by Yu Qinchou, who slowly ground against him, making him unable to release anything, unable to fully satisfy anything, leaving him so uncomfortable he almost cried.
And Yu Qinchou still smiled, teasing him, “Baby, you agreed to two times yourself.”
Ming Qi’s eyes were red at the corners. “You always just trick me.”
“How is that a trick?” Yu Qinchou lifted his chin and kissed him. “I can’t take that blame.”
Ming Qi didn’t even know how he fell asleep. When he was woken up the next morning for piano practice, his body was still sore, as if he’d been thoroughly “handled” the night before.
Sitting at the piano bench, his lower back hurt so much he couldn’t even straighten up.
“You really think I can learn like this?” he complained.
Yu Qinchou came over to massage his waist. Only after he felt better did they continue.
Even though the process was difficult, Ming Qi still managed to catch the 2 billion milestone.
He wasn’t dressed formally—just casual clothes—but sitting at the piano bench, his strong memory allowed him to perfectly replicate the piece Yu Qinchou had taught him. The performance, combined with his face, instantly pushed the related topic onto trending searches.
Meng She called him after watching the video, clearly surprised.
“Not bad, Ming Qi. You look like you’ve been practicing for years.”
Meng She didn’t understand music, but the continuity of the piece seemed flawless.
And online comments from music students also confirmed it—this wasn’t something a beginner could easily pull off.
Ming Qi was lying on Yu Qinchou’s lap, answering lazily, “It’s alright. Paid for it with my life.”
Meng She: “That exaggerated?”
Ming Qi: “Yep.”
Yu Qinchou pinched his cheek. Their eyes met, and though nothing was said, Ming Qi immediately understood the look: Are you sure?
He coughed and corrected himself, “Fine… not really.”
Yu Qinchou had only “tortured” him on the first night. After that, whenever punishment turned into kisses again, Ming Qi would reflexively dodge so well that he practically demonstrated “talent awakening,” and Yu Qinchou barely got any kisses in during the entire lesson.
Thinking of that expression on Yu Qinchou’s face back then made Ming Qi want to laugh, but he held it in.
Meng She, unaware, kept talking about the film and fan buzz.
“Our Ming Qi has really blown up this time. I even heard people praising your acting at the mall near the cinema today.”
“Fans are still asking you to do a 3-billion box office bonus. You might want to consider it.”
“What do you think, bro?”
“I think if you’re interested, you can go ahead,” Meng She said after thinking it over seriously. “I just got a message from Zheng Liang. What he said makes sense. Even though you’re taking the route of a strength-based actor, strong fan engagement still helps you.”
Ming Qi nodded, resting his face in his hands. “If people like me, I should give something back.”
He couldn’t give much, but even something as small as a video could make them happy for days. He thought that was worth it.
He hadn’t decided on the exact content for the 3-billion bonus yet—maybe he could discuss it with Bo Hongfang.
So he acted immediately. After ending the call with Meng She, he went to find Bo Hongfang.
Bo Hongfang said, “I’ve been thinking about it too. Why don’t you just teach me piano?”
Ming Qi: “……I can’t play.”
Bo Hongfang thought for a moment. “Then recommend me your teacher.”
Without hesitation, Ming Qi turned and sent Yu Qinchou’s WeChat to him.
When Bo Hongfang first saw the ID “[Y]”, he didn’t think much of it. After successfully adding the contact, he accidentally clicked into the Moments.
After seeing what was inside, Bo Hongfang’s mouth twitched violently and immediately sent Ming Qi a flood of question marks: You dare recommend him, but I don’t dare let him teach me.
Yu Qinchou’s piano lessons—aside from Ming Qi, the legitimate partner—who the hell could afford them?
In the end, Bo Hongfang gave up on piano and said, “How about we do a livestream together instead? We can chat, play games, eat—anything. What do you think?”
Ming Qi had seen actors do livestream promotions after dramas or films, so he thought it was reasonable and agreed.
After discussing the 3-billion bonus, night had fallen. After dinner with Yu Qinchou, Ming Qi went with him to a cinema under the Yu Corporation’s mall chain. He had promised earlier to take him to watch his own film, but filming and promotions delayed it for days. Now they finally had time.
He picked a screening around 10 p.m. The mall was about to close, and the cinema was nearly empty, so they didn’t need to worry about being recognized.
“I’ll treat you to popcorn. Do you want cola or juice?” Ming Qi leaned on the counter and looked back.
Yu Qinchou said, “Didn’t we agree before? You treat me to the movie, I’ll treat you to popcorn and cola.”
Ming Qi remembered that was indeed the case.
He blinked and stepped aside. “Then you buy me cola. I want double-flavor popcorn—large size.”
Yu Qinchou laughed softly. “Alright.”
The two walked into the cinema carrying popcorn and drinks. The cashier girl blinked, vaguely feeling they looked familiar.
…
Since openly admitting he had a partner, Ming Qi occasionally showed off their relationship online. For example, posting movie tickets and popcorn photos on Weibo.
Every time Meng She saw it, he had the feeling Ming Qi was about to accidentally make things public.
But if it went public, so be it.
Undercover’s strong performance was clearly tied to Ming Qi’s acting. Anyone with eyes could see his ability.
With that thought, Meng She felt reassured.
In the following days, Bo Hongfang discussed the livestream with Ming Qi. After announcing the 3-billion bonus, fans became extremely excited—until someone said: Just don’t livestream games. Your skills are terrible, worse than Huo Chengtong.
Bo Hongfang: “?”
He instantly exploded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Games! We’re definitely playing games!”
So Ming Qi asked, “What game? I’m not very good.”
Bo Hongfang thought for a moment. “Dou Dizhu (Fight the Landlord). How about that?”
Ming Qi: “……”
Thanks. Never thought I’d livestream this to fans in my life.
He hesitated. “Brother Bo, do you and Senior Huo also play this often?”
Bo Hongfang: “Of course! My skills are amazing—I can carry you to crush opponents!”
Although the idea of them livestreaming Dou Dizhu seemed outrageous to Meng She, Zheng Liang, and even Yu Qinchou, Yu Qinchou still took it seriously and prepared an expensive high-performance computer and camera in advance.
The livestream was scheduled for Saturday at 7 p.m.
Ming Qi sat nervously in front of the camera and asked, “Do I look okay?”
Yu Qinchou stood in front of him and nodded. “You look good.”
Those simple words easily calmed Ming Qi’s nerves.
He logged into the streaming platform account Meng She had helped him register and started the broadcast after syncing with Bo Hongfang.
Fans who had been waiting since the announcement immediately flooded in. The moment they saw Ming Qi’s striking face, they started sending gifts—but nothing went through.
Ming Qi smiled at the camera. “Good evening, everyone.”
Then he noticed the comments and explained, “We agreed with Brother Bo that since this is a fan bonus, we won’t let you spend money.”
He connected with Bo Hongfang.
Bo Hongfang rubbed his hands. “Let’s go! Today we’re going to win one billion Happy Beans!”
[You’re really playing Dou Dizhu?]
[I thought you were joking… turns out it’s real.]
[…Wait, aren’t these brand-new accounts? You only start with 10,000 beans. One billion? That’s harder than Undercover making 4 billion.]
Ming Qi also felt it was a bit unrealistic.
“Bro,” he said seriously, “as long as we don’t go bankrupt, that’s already a win.”
Bo Hongfang snorted and said, “Didn’t I already tell you? I’m really good at Dou Dizhu. I used to play with that guy back then and never lost.”
[That guy? Who?]
[Bo Hongfang, is your mouth incapable of saying “Huo Chengtong”?]
[The one above is killing me hahaha]
Ming Qi stopped looking at the bullet comments and decided to trust Bo Hongfang for once.
The result: after three rounds, Bo Hongfang went bankrupt three times.
He fell silent, staring at his remaining two hundred-plus Happy Beans for a long moment, then asked, “Qi-zai, do you still have beans?”
Ming Qi: “Yeah, didn’t I just win a big one?”
Earlier, they had indeed won a big round as farmers—spring card reversal plus two bomb combinations, which doubled the score.
But Bo Hongfang frowned. “Even if we won, I didn’t get many beans.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a bullet comment floated by:
[Laughing to death. Others have boyfriends topping up money, tens of thousands at a time. What do you have? Your pitiful few beans?]
Bo Hongfang: “?”