Pei Qingjian continued preparing calmly to join the crew, while Xu Jianian felt increasingly unsettled.
After being flatly refused by Xu Ya, he felt wronged and wanted to complain to Tang Wenzhen.
But Tang Wenzhen, busy with family matters, was inevitably a little dismissive of his complaints. Xu Jianian sensed it, hung up feeling aggrieved, and was upset.
He felt frustrated from both sides. After a few days of disappointment and seeing that Xu Ya still didn’t comfort him, he grew anxious.
Unlike Tang Wenzhen, Xu Ya had always been gentle and patient with him.
If Tang Wenzhen gave him an occasional distant attitude to create tension, Xu Ya had always been someone he could rely on steadily.
But this time, it was clear Xu Ya was angry.
After waiting a day with no response from Xu Ya, Xu Jianian anxiously reached out.
[Are you still angry?] he asked.
A week had passed. Xu Ya wasn’t so angry anymore; what lingered was the hurt—that Xu Jianian could so casually say that thing.
Seeing no reply, Xu Jianian grew more flustered: [I didn’t mean it like that the other day. Please don’t be angry.]
He continued: [I know you care about Xingchen, know you want to make up with him. I wanted to work with you, actually to help you.]
[No need.] Finally, Xu Ya gave a reply.
Xu Jianian breathed a sigh of relief—getting a reply meant Xu Ya wasn’t that angry.
He continued typing: [Yes, yes, I just want you two to get back to the way you were as soon as possible.]
Then he added in a pleading tone: [Xingchen too. You’ve been sincere, so how can he stay unmoved? That’s too cruel. He clearly wasn’t like this before. Why suddenly? Is this because of Pei Qingjian?]
Xu Ya hadn’t expected him to say that.
Xu Jianian kept going: [No matter what, you’re his best friend. How could he sulk over Pei Qingjian? All these years of friendship… how could he just cut it off? That’s too much.]
Xu Ya froze.
He couldn’t believe it—he couldn’t believe Xu Jianian would say that.
How could he say that about Lan Xingchen?
He had always liked Lan Xingchen, hadn’t he?
He had secretly loved him for so many years, unwaveringly.
So why would he say this?
Xu Ya typed in disbelief: [Jianian, do you know what you’re saying?]
Xu Jianian, puzzled: [Huh?]
[Even if you have feelings for Tang Wenzhen now, weren’t you the one who liked Xingchen most? Why would you say that about him?]
Xu Jianian paused. What did he say about Lan Xingchen?
He looked carefully at what he had typed and saw nothing wrong. Besides, he was speaking to Xu Ya, wasn’t he? So what was the problem?
[Because we’re friends.] Xu Jianian replied. [So of course I side with you. Besides, this whole thing was his fault. No matter what, you’ve been sincere, and he still won’t forgive you. What more does he want you to do?]
[So are you really going to ignore him from now on, and that will make him happy?]
Xu Ya stared silently, unable to speak.
At first, he had treated Xu Jianian well because they were roommates, because he was a little older, and because he had a vague fondness for him. Helping him had felt natural.
But later, he realized Xu Jianian liked Lan Xingchen.
Those four heavy years of unrequited love didn’t just move Xu Jianian—they also moved Xu Ya, who, as Lan Xingchen’s friend, thought Xu Jianian was the person who loved Lan Xingchen the most, the one reliable enough to make him happy. That’s why Xu Ya had worked so hard to bring them together.
In other words, most of Xu Ya’s later kindness toward Xu Jianian was rooted in Xu Jianian’s deep feelings for Lan Xingchen.
Because of his deep love, and because he was at a disadvantage in that unrequited love, Xu Ya constantly supported him, hoping to help this relationship flourish.
But now, Xu Jianian was complaining about Lan Xingchen, criticizing him, pointing out what he shouldn’t have done.
In that instant, Xu Ya was struck with confusion. Didn’t Xu Jianian love Lan Xingchen?
Even if Tang Wenzhen was in the picture, wasn’t it just a mild interest?
So how could he so quickly put aside his long-standing unrequited love and start criticizing Lan Xingchen?
What wrong had Lan Xingchen done?
What was excessive about him?
The one who had made mistakes was Xu Jianian, not Lan Xingchen.
He had made a mistake and wanted to make amends. He didn’t want to lose this friend. If he didn’t show sincerity, could he still expect Lan Xingchen to forgive him?
And then there was that line: [So are you really going to ignore him from now on, and that will make him happy?] What was that supposed to mean?
How could he ignore him?
They had known each other for so many years, lived through thousands of days and nights together. How could he, knowing he had done wrong, just let Lan Xingchen drift further away?
Xu Ya knew full well that life rewarded pride—friends could come and go. He grew up spoiled, never needing to compromise to get what he wanted.
He had lost touch with people before—classmates in elementary and middle school, friends who had been close but drifted apart because of moving, school transitions, or other reasons.
That was all fine; it didn’t matter. Those people were unimportant. But Lan Xingchen was different.
Lan Xingchen had grown up like a brother to him. If not for the lack of shared blood, their bond would have been no different from actual siblings.
People hurt the ones closest to them the most. The familiarity, the natural closeness—it makes words careless, actions thoughtless. Because you know they won’t leave, you grow bold, sometimes hurting them without realizing it.
Yet it’s also why such bonds are not easily broken.
Xu Ya could accept arguing with Lan Xingchen—even though he would regret harsh words said in the heat of a quarrel.
But he could not accept anyone else criticizing Lan Xingchen, especially Xu Jianian.
In that moment, he suddenly remembered what Pei Qingjian had said in the conference room:
“Xu Jianian isn’t worried. He isn’t worried that someone he secretly loved for four years would suddenly be treated so dishonorably by a friend. Wouldn’t that hurt?”
Back then, they were discussing Lan Xingchen’s early entrepreneurial days, when he had gone against his promise for Xu Jianian.
Xu Ya had defended Xu Jianian at the time: “He didn’t know.”
Pei Qingjian had clearly not believed it, pointing out that Xu Jianian couldn’t have been unaware, and concluded: “So maybe he didn’t love Lan Xingchen that much.”
Xu Ya had refused to believe that, trying to find excuses for Xu Jianian, insisting that he really did care for Lan Xingchen.
But now, Xu Ya wondered if maybe Xu Jianian really didn’t love Lan Xingchen that much.
Otherwise, how could he have ignored Lan Xingchen’s feelings back then, and now, again, not consider him?
In that instant, Xu Ya felt estranged and disappointed toward Xu Jianian.
The lens of deep affection and unrequited love that had colored his view of Xu Jianian shattered in an instant.
It was as if he had been walking through a snowy field, seeing only white, and now suddenly black spots appeared everywhere.
The foundation supporting his kindness toward Xu Jianian crumbled.
A strange relief even rose within him. No wonder Lan Xingchen didn’t like him—thankfully, Lan Xingchen didn’t like him.
Compared to Xu Jianian, Pei Qingjian, who had always stood by Lan Xingchen, only considering his happiness, was clearly more suitable.
He was wrong. Gravely wrong.
Xu Ya replied to him:
[I can’t ignore him.]
[Whether he forgives me or not, I cannot ignore him.]
He could sever ties with anyone, even Xu Jianian—but not Lan Xingchen.
After sending that, he ignored Xu Jianian, said [I’m going to work now], and set his phone aside.
Xu Jianian kept messaging, but Xu Ya did not reply.
Frustrated, Xu Jianian threw his phone aside, thinking, What is this? I tried to help, and now I’m wrong too?
Feeling wronged again, Xu Jianian went to Tang Wenzhen.
Pei Qingjian and Lan Xingchen had no idea. At that time, they were cozied up at home, enjoying Pei Qingjian’s last seven days of vacation.
Soon, the seven days ended. Pei Qingjian grabbed his suitcase and, together with Zhou Pengyue, headed to the new production crew.
This time it was an urban drama, no specialized filming base needed. The crew had already selected the filming area—less than two hours from Lan Xingchen’s company, convenient for commuting.
Lan Xingchen was very pleased: [I’ll come see you in a few days.]
Pei Qingjian sent him a “mm-hmm” emoji and followed Zhou Pengyue into the elevator.
Once he entered the room, just as Zhou Pengyue left, Pei Qingjian hadn’t even started unpacking when his phone rang.
To his surprise, it was Lan Rui calling.
Pei Qingjian frowned—why would Lan Rui call him at this moment? Was something wrong?
He answered, “Hello?”
Ever since the last time Lan Rui had called him, costing him five minutes of rest and three hundred fifty thousand yuan, he had been wary of Pei Qingjian’s tearful, love-obsessed brain.
But in recent days, there were rumors that Lan Xingchen might have someone he liked, and Lan Rui instantly jumped to the thought that maybe it was Pei Qingjian, prompting this call to check.
“How’s it going with Lan Xingchen?”
Pei Qingjian pursed his lips. “How’s it going? Nothing at all.”
“He doesn’t like you? I heard he might have someone he likes.”
“Where?” Pei Qingjian denied outright. “He leaves at 8:30 a.m. and comes home at 6 p.m., and I monitor him the entire time. Even at noon, I carefully bring him lunch, making sure he can’t survive without me. So where would he have time to like someone else?”
Lan Rui: …Well, that is dedicated.
“Then why are people saying otherwise?”
“Obviously false,” Pei Qingjian said without hesitation. “Just like online gossip about which celebrity likes whom. Did they crawl under someone’s bed? At least I actually live at his place—I can guarantee he has no other interest.”
Lan Rui, a little disappointed, asked, “So you just stay there? Haven’t tried to make him like you?”
“I have!” Pei Qingjian said. “Do you know where I am right now?”
“Where?”
“At the set, filming!”
“Huh?” Lan Rui blinked. Late realization struck—oh right, Pei Qingjian really is an actor, which is why he seemed professionally competent and they trusted him to go.
“I figured it out. Being a live-in caregiver all day isn’t the point. He’s used to you serving him, so naturally he won’t cherish you.” Pei Qingjian spoke off the cuff. “You need to make him realize your value. He should discover that life without you, the caregiver, is impossible. Then he’ll chase you, beg you back. That’s what a ‘chase-wife inferno’ looks like—just like in novels.”
“So?” Lan Rui asked.
“So now that I’ve left, it’s time for him to face the chase-wife inferno.”
Lan Rui: …
Lan Rui frowned. “Is it possible he just chooses another caregiver?”
“Impossible,” Pei Qingjian said firmly. “The novel didn’t go that way.”
“Novels aren’t reliable—they’re dramatized!”
“Well, art comes from life. I refuse to believe he has no feelings for me after all this time.”
Lan Rui: …Good grief, not only a love-obsessed brain, but a love-obsessed brain that believes in novels!
Lan Rui realized he’d better think of a new approach.
“Why didn’t you consult me before doing this?”
Pei Qingjian’s eyes welled up, two clear tears falling. “You scolded me! You scolded me! I did this for you, and you scold me!”
Lan Rui groaned—hearing him cry gave him a headache. “I’m not scolding you! I just think you could have asked me first, consulted me!”
Does he even realize how rare it is to have someone close to Lan Xingchen?
Pei Qingjian laughed bitterly. “If you cared about me at all, would I even need to consult you?”
“You only care whether I’ve seduced Lan Xingchen, not whether I live or die! I signed a contract with the agency, and if I refuse to film, I’d have to pay a penalty. Do you know how much money I have? You don’t! You don’t care! You just use me! You don’t love me!”
Lan Rui’s temple throbbed at his crying voice. Here it comes—familiar love-obsessed brain, ready to strike again.
“I do love you, otherwise why would I call?”
“Really? I don’t believe you.”
“Of course it’s true.”
Since he hadn’t found someone better, Pei Qingjian still couldn’t be discarded. Lan Rui patiently soothed him: “See? You don’t trust me, don’t tell me anything, so I don’t know. Had I known you’d have a penalty, could I just let it slide?”
“Really? I don’t believe you.” Pei Qingjian sniffled.
Lan Rui asked helplessly, “How much is this penalty?”
“Seventy-five million,” Pei Qingjian blurted.
Lan Rui: !!!
“You wouldn’t make me pay, right?” Pei Qingjian feigned surprise. “No way—I like you, not your money. I couldn’t bear it.”
He added thoughtfully, “Anyway, I’m already at the set, just two or three months. Filming will finish soon, and maybe Lan Xingchen will actually come looking for me. So don’t make me pay—I’d feel bad.”
Lan Rui: …Gotta admit, he really loves him.
“That must be exhausting for you.”
Pei Qingjian sighed. “Yeah, working two jobs alone. But I like you, so I’m willing.”
Lan Rui: …Sometimes, being the object of a love-obsessed brain is actually kind of satisfying.
“Stay at the set for now. If anything comes up, contact me immediately.”
“Mm.”
Lan Rui thought for a moment, then transferred 100,000 over. “Take this for now. It’s not enough for the penalty, but it can buy you something you like. I know it’s tough, but don’t neglect Lan Xingchen’s side either.”
Pei Qingjian: !!! Good grief! Another transfer!
If every call came with a transfer like this, he’d even be willing to set aside time just to wait for Lan Rui’s call!
“Mm-hmm, I’ve been his caregiver for so long, I need to get something out of it. I refuse to believe he can really get used to life without me.”
Lan Rui: …Let’s hope so.
“I’ll be waiting for your good news.”
“Mm!”
Finally, Lan Rui hung up, letting out a quiet sigh.
In the end, he didn’t have high expectations for Pei Qingjian. Every transfer of tens or hundreds of thousands of yuan was like buying a small trinket; if it worked, great—if not, no major loss.
What irritated him more was Ning Yuan, an outsider stirring up trouble in the Lan family’s company.
And Wen Yuan, siding with Ning Yuan instead of helping his uncles and grandfather—it was infuriating.
Lan Rui knew these people holding honorary positions at Anlai, doing nothing but leeching from the company, were “parasites.” But if the water is too clear, there are no fish; besides, this was their Lan family company. They could leech as much as they wanted. When Lan Xingchen’s grandfather and great-uncle were alive, they hadn’t said much—so what right did Ning Yuan have to play demolition policies here and sweep out these “stubborn tenants”?
Ning Yuan made things hard for him and the family, so he had no reason to make things easy for Ning Yuan.
If Pei Qingjian could stir things up and get Lan Xingchen to clash with Wen Yuan, any outcome would be better than the current situation.
Ideally, Lan Xingchen would drive Ning Yuan away. Then everyone would be relatives again, and Lan Xingchen wouldn’t target them—they could happily remain the company “parasites.”
Whether Pei Qingjian’s “chase-wife inferno” plan would succeed—he wasn’t sure.
“Of course it won’t,” Lan Xingchen said, hearing what Pei Qingjian had just told him, dissatisfied. “Why would I need a chase-wife inferno? I’m not dead yet!”
“It’s just a term,” Pei Qingjian explained. “It describes the difficult process of chasing someone.”
Lan Xingchen: ???
“So I still have to chase you with difficulty?”
“Of course not,” Pei Qingjian said. “I only told Lan Rui that to keep him calm.”
“Oh, right,” Pei Qingjian remembered. “He transferred another hundred thousand to me—I’ll transfer it to you.”
Lan Xingchen: ???
“Is he your automatic ATM now? Transferring money every time?”
“This is all event funding, meant to ‘strategize’ you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t give me any money.”
Looking at the bank notification on his phone, Lan Xingchen silently added another hundred thousand to Pei Qingjian’s financial account.
“Alright, next time ask for more. I like that car, roughly thirty million—since it’s event funding, get him to approve as much as he can.”
Pei Qingjian: …
“Thirty million? You really dare to ask for that much. I’m afraid he’ll only give me thirty thousand.”
Lan Xingchen snorted. “If it’s not thirty million, he can forget about strategizing me—dream on!”
“I said it’s just symbolic, to show you my feelings. Do you really expect me to win you over with money?”
“So if not money, then what?” Lan Xingchen smiled. “Feelings?”
“Of course, my diligent caregiver work for you!”
Lan Xingchen: …
“Who else’s caregiver leaves for two or three months, and still has the employer personally checking up?”
Pei Qingjian quickly coaxed, “Shows you’re a good employer—totally different from others.”
Lan Xingchen snorted again. “I’ve just been too good to you.”
Pei Qingjian agreed. “When I come back, I’ll accompany you properly. I swear, I won’t take any roles for three months.”
“You just arrived at the set and are already thinking about returning?”
“Shows how eager I am to return, how much I miss you.”
Lan Xingchen finally smiled. “You do know how to talk.”
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Pei Qingjian looked toward the door and stood up. “Someone’s here. I’ll hang up first.”
“Mm.”
Lan Xingchen hung up, glancing at Pei Qingjian’s financial account—pretty good, fifty thousand earned in three months. His little goldfinch must be happy.
Pei Qingjian opened the door to see Ning Rong standing outside.
He had met her before during an audition, so it wasn’t unfamiliar.
“Ning teacher, it’s you! Thank you so much for the audition help. I wanted to thank you afterward but didn’t have your contact info. Luckily, I passed the audition and can thank you in person now.”
Ning Rong didn’t expect him to remember and sincerely want to thank her—she was pleasantly surprised.
“You’re welcome.”
She took out her phone. “Let’s exchange contacts, so next time you can find me to say thanks without trouble.”
“Sure.” Pei Qingjian didn’t hesitate.
He scanned Ning Rong’s WeChat QR code, thinking she was really easygoing—though she appeared aloof, she was unexpectedly gentle in interaction.
“Ning teacher, what did you want to see me for?” Pei Qingjian asked after adding her.
Ning Rong put away her phone, speaking lightly. “I just ran into the director. He said there’s a script reading tonight, so I came to see how your preparation is going. After all, you play my brother.”
“It should be fine,” Pei Qingjian admitted, not fully confident. “If you’re not busy, we could do a rehearsal together. You can check if my lines are okay, so I don’t perform poorly tonight.”
Ning Rong agreed.
Tonight’s script reading only involves the four of them.
Her acting clearly surpassed Pei Qingjian by several levels, and the two actors playing their parents were veterans with awards and notable works. Pei Qingjian, a newcomer, would naturally appear inexperienced. Ning Rong couldn’t help worrying that he’d perform awkwardly and be criticized by the director.
So she wanted to meet Pei Qingjian ahead of time to give him some guidance.
“Alright,” she said. “But you don’t need to call me ‘Teacher Ning.’ I’m not that much older than you, and in the drama, I’m your sister anyway. Just call me sister, like in the show. It might help you get into the character and feel more immersed.”
Pei Qingjian had never called anyone “sister” before.
He was an only child, didn’t interact much with relatives, and the people he knew were either girls his age, whom he called by name, or older teachers or aunties.
He’d never used “sister” as a child, and as he grew up, it became even more awkward to say.
Still, he didn’t mind.
Ning Rong had been friendly from the start, and in the drama, Luo Fei also called her “sister.”
Since this was outside the drama and filming hadn’t officially started, he naturally felt a little shy and awkward.
“Sister,” Pei Qingjian said softly.
Ning Rong smiled. “Mm.”
Hearing the word aloud once made him feel slightly more at ease, a little less embarrassed.
He quickly stepped aside, joyfully saying, “Then come in, sister.”
Ning Rong stepped inside, a smile she couldn’t hide on her face.
Author’s note:
Ning Rong: He called me sister!
Qingjian: She wants me to call her sister!
Lan: What inferno?! I’m not dead, why would I enter an inferno?!
Qingjian: Some people have to die to enter the inferno, and some… maybe don’t, yet still enter!
Lan: That definitely isn’t me!