Nie Luo immediately felt that coming here might have been a mistake.
Not only that, the single sofa he deliberately chose might have been an even bigger one.
The show was airing, but his attention wasn’t on the screen at all.
“…Are you drinking a bit too often?”
Every few moments, a faint brush of an arm would graze his shoulder—light as a feather, but impossible to ignore.
“Am I?”
Fan Qing’s goal was mostly achieved; he placed the thermos on the table.
“Then I won’t drink anymore.”
It wasn’t anything else—he’d already “finished” the act several times over.
And it was worth it.
Nie Luo opened his mouth to say something, then held back.
Now that the cup was down, there wouldn’t be any more “accidental” brushes against his shoulder, right?
He slowly turned his gaze to the screen.
On the screen, the teams had just finished dividing up.
Jin Yi couldn’t help but gasp at the team setup.
“This grouping… is insane! How much did Jing Yuan pay the production to get this?”
With a grouping like this, he could’ve easily soared in this show himself!
Guan Junhao nodded along.
“Exactly.”
Waltz, sitting farther away, wasn’t entirely sure, but judging by Second Young Master Jin’s reaction, this grouping seemed to put Jian Feiyang at a disadvantage.
So…?
Waltz quietly glanced at the regent—no, the regent consort—who appeared completely calm, seemingly unaffected.
But… was he indifferent to the show, or to Jian Feiyang’s performance?
Surprisingly, Nie Luo frowned slightly and spoke coolly.
“Probably not.”
“Ah?”
Jin Yi opened his mouth to respond, but Nie Luo shot him a dismissive glance and explained lightly.
“I’ve dealt with Director Zhao before. His background is solid; it’s hard to impress him. And this absurd grouping? If it were scripted, that would be strange—but it isn’t.”
Exactly because there was no script, they could film so openly and fairly.
“Really?”
Jin Yi rubbed his chin, instinctively glancing at Fan Qing for confirmation.
“Brother is right.”
Fan Qing didn’t say much, but the intimacy and smile in his tone were unmistakable.
Jin Yi: …
Waltz: …
Guan Junhao: …
Jin Yi even shivered a little.
It wasn’t anything else—he’d grown used to seeing Fan Qing in full authority, serious and imposing.
Now, hearing him call someone “Brother” in such a sweet, gentle way… goosebumps.
So terrifying. So, so terrifying.
Falling in love really was scary!
Nie Luo, meanwhile, paused slightly.
He couldn’t help but glance at Fan Qing.
“…They all know me.”
Hmm?
Fan Qing looked puzzled.
“So?”
Nie Luo’s voice lowered.
“Don’t… call me that anymore.”
The moment he said it, Fan Qing’s eyes lit up.
Nie Luo: ?
Why was Fan Qing’s reaction completely different from what he expected?
“You mean… you want me to call you… Nie Ge?”
Fan Qing tilted his head slightly, his chin almost brushing Nie Luo’s high nose.
The two words were enunciated clearly, yet carried an unmistakable hint of intimacy.
Strangely, Nie Luo felt this title made him far more restless than the simple word “Brother” ever did.
Hiss… hah… hiss…!
Jin Yi stared, wide-eyed, even wishing he could pay to turn this moment into a premium clip.
Not for anything else!
He just wanted the pacing to move faster!
Ideally, Fan Qing would press Old Nie against the sofa right now… and—hiss, hah, hiss!
Guan Junhao glanced once, then sheepishly looked away.
He really couldn’t handle this kind of premium content—especially with Fan Qing as one of the stars.
Waltz, too, had long since mentally wandered out the window, admiring the falling leaves.
He wanted to watch the show, but the sofa he picked was terrible—he’d have to twist his head to see anything.
And if he did, every movement of the regent consort—no, the regent himself—would be in full view.
He couldn’t risk it.
He was just a humble worker, hoping to do his job quietly.
Fan Qing only teased Nie Luo slightly, never pressing too hard.
Satisfied at seeing the faint blush on Nie Luo’s ear, he began to steer the conversation.
“Do you want to know why Jing Yuan took this survival show, Nie Ge?”
His fingers rested on the right thigh, the knuckles defined, the hand delicate and refined like polished jade.
Nie Luo avoided Fan Qing’s gaze, letting his long lashes lower. All that met his eyes was the hand.
Instinctively, his mind flickered back to the spot where the knuckle-duster had been…
“…Somewhat interesting.”
He forced his gaze to the screen, eyes fixed as if afraid to miss a single frame.
“Very simple.”
The camera cut to Jing Yuan, magnifying his self-nominated, then modest, expression during the draw.
Fan Qing raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping so only he and Nie Luo could hear.
“Nie Ge, have you ever heard of Mr. Zhuo?”
The words barely left his lips before a flicker of color crossed Nie Luo’s deep, dark eyes.
“And what does that have to do with him?”
So, Nie Luo knew?
Fan Qing’s fingers traced slowly along the seam of his pants.
“It’s simple—Jing Yuan wanted to meet him, Mr. Zhuo agreed. But Jing Yuan got scared.”
“You mean…”
Nie Luo’s calm returned instantly. He considered for a moment, then met Fan Qing’s eyes steadily.
“Jing Yuan’s stirred up trouble, and now wants to run?”
As expected from the one he’d chosen.
Fan Qing took in Nie Luo’s composed, self-contained demeanor, suppressing the urge to kiss those cold, dark eyes. His fingers moved more deliberately along the seam.
“Exactly.”
“And…”
Fan Qing leaned slightly toward Nie Luo’s shoulder.
Nie Luo hadn’t yet moved aside when Fan Qing spoke softly, almost a whisper.
“The noise we heard in the restroom last time? That was Jing Yuan and Mr. Zhuo causing a scene.”
Last time?
Restroom?
In an instant, memories he’d forcibly suppressed played rapidly in his mind.
His gaze inevitably returned to the hand in front of him.
The knuckle-duster reentered his mind with an unignorable presence.
Nie Luo exhaled softly, the breath carrying a quiet, intense heat.
The blush on his ear, long cooled, returned.
Fan Qing: …
He really was easily flustered.
He raised the thermos and took a sip, tongue brushing across the parched lips where no one could see.
So cold, so reserved… and yet so easily embarrassed.
This was truly deadly.
The two sat in quiet for a moment before Nie Luo finally spoke, calm and composed.
“If it’s the Mr. Zhuo I know, he’s gotten himself into serious trouble.”
“Oh?”
Fan Qing was slightly surprised.
“You know Mr. Zhuo?”
“Not entirely.”
Nie Luo pondered briefly—not that he couldn’t say more.
“He had once inquired about me.”
Crack.
A fine fissure traced the surface of the thermos.
Fan Qing’s previously flirtatious, bright eyes seemed to frost over, a coldness so overwhelming even Nie Luo felt it.
“You…”
Nie Luo instinctively glanced at Fan Qing.
“Nie Ge, wait, I’ll change my water.”
Fan Qing avoided his eyes, got up, and returned with a fresh cup before sitting down again.
Once seated, his expression was as sunny as before, showing no hint of the earlier tension.
Nie Luo paused for two seconds. If Fan Qing didn’t want him to know, there was no reason to pry.
He spoke again, but his heart stirred slightly.
These past events weren’t something he’d only told Fan Qing.
Yet only Fan Qing’s reaction made him feel truly noticed.
“He inquired, yes. But my appearance didn’t suit his taste.”
Nie Luo glanced meaningfully at Jing Yuan on the screen, his tone light.
“Also, that year I won the Best Actor award. Perhaps he thought it wasn’t worth it, or for other reasons, he never appeared before me again.”
“Is that really so?”
Fan Qing looked at Nie Luo, pressing for the truth.
Nie Luo’s words were too casual.
Fan Qing felt certain he was hiding something.
If Mr. Zhuo really gave up so easily, why was Jing Yuan, the protagonist, forced to join a survival show to hide?
And if Nie Luo hadn’t won the Best Actor award at the time?
“Then what do you think?”
Nie Luo met his gaze with no hesitation, no retreat.
As if the story he told encompassed everything.
After a long, steady look, Fan Qing chuckled softly.
Nie Luo blinked.
Why was he laughing?
Fan Qing leaned slightly, his nose brushing Nie Luo’s bridge.
“Nie Ge, this is the first time you’ve really looked me in the eyes.”
Not exactly as he’d wanted.
But it still made his heart flutter.
“You…”
His mind was full of nothing but this.
Nie Luo barely had time to respond before Fan Qing withdrew, lips curved in a tender, lingering smile.
“I won’t disturb you, Nie Ge. Shall we continue watching the show?”
He straightened, his tone relaxed and at ease.
“Jing Yuan seems confident he played his hand well… but Jian Feiyang’s performance isn’t bad at all.”
Nie Luo hadn’t yet replied when Jin Yi, who had been holding back, finally found an opening to interject.
Good grief. He had assumed this was a premium channel, watching intently.
But who knew!
The plot had taken a sudden turn, and he hadn’t heard a word of the whispered conversation earlier!
“That guy’s on screen—look!”
“Oh? Where?”
Guan Junhao swiveled his head, and Huazhi seized the moment to slip over to the solo sofa farthest from him.
Being a companion to the Emperor and the Regent, and apparently a suspected Regent’s consort as well, would be one thing.
But as a fellow subordinate, why did Guan Junhao get to enjoy it so much alone?
Even their in-game progress—he and Jin Yi were the ones boosting him!
Huazhi’s face remained expressionless, staring at the screen, trying hard to ignore Guan Junhao’s bewildered look.
Still… he was suffering in solidarity with his superior.