Zhou Ziheng stood motionless, his fingers clutching the small handwritten letter. Head bowed, the brim of his black hat obscured his deep eyes and concealed his thoughts, leaving him silent for a long while.
Xia Xiqing couldn’t fathom what had overtaken him. His heart beat restlessly, a surge of emotion—somewhere between panic and shame—climbing within him. This wasn’t like him. Neither feeling was remotely Xia Xiqing.
“Um…” Xia Xiqing’s lips trembled. The pride that had long dominated this body compelled him to reach out and snatch the letter from Zhou Ziheng’s grasp. “This is a passage I copied. I really like this poem…”
His forced words ended abruptly when Zhou Ziheng stepped forward and kissed him. His hands cradled Xia Xiqing’s cheeks, but Xia Xiqing felt as though he was cradling his own anxious, barely-beating heart. The soft kiss was a potent remedy, reviving him from the depths of profound loss.
Xia Xiqing wrapped his arms around Zhou Ziheng’s back, their bodies pressed together seamlessly, chest against chest, heart against heart.
When he wrote those words by hand, he truly felt like a sacrificial offering.
For Zhou Ziheng, this dazzling constellation, he offered everything he possessed. His timidity, his deep-seated ailments, the shadows within his soul, his burning, consuming desire.
In this opulent, secretive penthouse gallery, one hundred works created solely for one person surrounded them. Outside, the world gossiped about this strikingly handsome young artist, stirring up a citywide storm. Yet he cared not a whit. Even if his supposedly perfect plan had been disrupted, his muse had still come.
Fulfillment born of regret proved all the more complete.
Zhou Ziheng gently stroked Xia Xiqing’s nape, kissing the top of his head again and again. His emotions were incredibly complex—from initial panic and restlessness, to the disappointment of feeling forgotten, then anger, then worry. The relief of finally meeting outside the gallery doors, the surprise and emotion of reaching the top floor.
All those indescribable emotions now melted into a torrent of passion for the man in his arms.
“Do you like these gifts?” Xia Xiqing lifted his eyes to meet Zhou Ziheng’s, his gaze warm as flowing spring water.
“I do.” Zhou Ziheng kissed the tip of his nose. “I like these, but I like you even more.”
The blunt confession seared his heart, his ears burning.
Xia Xiqing turned away from him, taking his hand and leading him to the sculpture. Zhou Ziheng felt astonished—an indescribable sensation. Seeing himself transformed into a snow-white work of art, observing its fluid lines that bordered on realism, the facial bone structure as deep and sculpted as mountains… There was just one thing: Zhou Ziheng couldn’t shake the feeling it didn’t quite look like him.
“It’s too gentle,” Zhou Ziheng said, standing half a meter away, his face turned toward his little artist, smiling with a touch of embarrassment. “Don’t you think? I’m not really that…”
“Who says that?” Xia Xiqing walked toward him, tilting his head to meet Zhou Ziheng’s gaze, hisvoice soft and warm like a spring breeze.
“You have no idea how gentle you are with me.”
A gentleness that neither clay nor affection could ever replicate.
After speaking, Xia Xiqing turned back. “Don’t you find this sculpture’s pose strangely familiar?”
Zhou Ziheng hadn’t yet pulled himself out of his emotions. Struck by his rare display of genuine feeling, he felt slightly intoxicated. He reached around from behind, wrapping his arms around the slender waist encased in the tailored suit. Resting his chin on his shoulder, he tilted his head to gaze at the sculpture.
It wasn’t standing but seated, the upper body exposed, muscles full and sharply defined. A soft fabric draped from the waist to the thighs, its texture so lifelike it could pass for the real thing. The weave and semi-fluid state were utterly authentic, as if one could grab a corner and pull it off. The head was tilted slightly, eyes gazing ahead. The right hand held a rose in full bloom, its petals soft and delicate. The play of light and shadow seemed deliberately crafted, as if moonlight had slipped in from the oblique front to illuminate him.
Beneath the tabletop lay a golden plaque engraved with a single word—Thief.
Zhou Ziheng suddenly felt a pang of familiarity. “Is this… the day you stole it from my house when I was grounded?”
Xia Xiqing turned his face, rewarding him with a kiss on the cheek, his smile exceptionally sweet. “Yes.”
He could never forget the sight he’d seen when turning back at parting: the Little Prince beneath the moonlight, holding that single red rose. That frozen image in his pupils lingered endlessly in this failed Romeo’s heart, compelling him to use his own hands and talent to preserve that night’s moonlight forever.
To interpret Zhou Ziheng through the form that best embodied Xia Xiqing’s essence.
“Thank you.” Zhou Ziheng gently brushed his cheek against Xia Xiqing’s profile. Xia Xiqing turned his face, a childlike smile spreading across his pure, beautiful features. “You’re welcome.”
“I should be thanking you.” The next moment, he turned back, his voice low and soft.
“You are my Renaissance.”
Zhou Ziheng didn’t catch the words clearly. He hugged him again and asked once more, but Xia Xiqing refused to repeat it. His heart raced wildly. He felt he must be mad to utter such words.
No matter how much he pressed, Xia Xiqing refused to repeat it. Instead, he broke free from the embrace and walked to the sculpture, pretending to examine it. He reached out and stroked the sculpture’s cheek. For some reason, this action suddenly made Zhou Ziheng feel intensely threatened. He stepped forward and pulled Xia Xiqing back to his side. “Don’t touch it.”
Xia Xiqing was baffled. “What are you doing?”
“Touch me instead. I’m standing right here, alive and well.” He grabbed Xia Xiqing’s hand and pressed it against his own face. Seeing Zhou Ziheng like this, Xia Xiqing felt both annoyed and amused. “You’re getting more and more pathetic. Now you’re jealous of a sculpture?”
Jow Ziheng, accustomed to jealousy, couldn’t be bothered to defend himself. “Yeah, I am jealous.” His brow furrowed as a thought struck him. He murmured, “Who knows if you’ll treat this sculpture like your own Galatea.”
Xia Xiqing froze. Fine, he was jealous. but this guy was actually quoting Greek mythology now.
He tugged at Zhou Ziheng’s cheek. “How clever are you? How can you even compare? Pygmalion carved a statue and fell in love with it—he had no real model. But I have you.”
Though his tone wasn’t exactly gentle, those last words fell like stars into Zhou Ziheng’s heart, lighting up his entire chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around Xia Xiqing, kissing his face over and over, his joy washing away all traces of jealousy.
“Hey, let go of me. You’re being childish.”
“No way. You’re mine.”
“Let go or I’ll lock this up and never show you again. None of this is yours.”
“Threatening me won’t work. All this is mine, and so are you.”
The two stayed in this small art gallery for a long time, viewing every single painting Xia Xiqing had made for him. Many had been completed before they even met, carefully framed and placed here. Zhou Ziheng couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. When he’d seen the truck pass by the apartment building earlier, he’d assumed Xia Xiqing was quietly leaving.
It turned out he was moving all the paintings here.
At three in the morning, Xia Xiqing, who had been nestled in Zhou Ziheng’s embrace for a long while, finally awoke from the sweetness. His heart desperately tried to escape the troubling reality, but it had indeed happened, and its impact was immeasurable. Xia Xiqing had entered the entertainment industry merely as a hobby—it was never his true calling. He intended to return to his real career eventually. But Zhou Ziheng was different. Acting was his profession; his ideals and ambitions were fulfilled through performance.
But the art world differed from showbiz. He didn’t want Zhou Ziheng dragged into the abyss of public scrutiny by his own actions.
“You should leave now,” Xia Xiqing murmured, eyes lowered. “You shouldn’t have come at all.”
Zhou Ziheng refused to hear such words. “I should have come. I should have been here more than anyone else.”
“Yes.” Xia Xiqing lifted his head and sighed again. “What I mean is, I’m definitely being watched by many people right now. You should keep your distance from me for a while.”
“It’s fine. Even if we’re worlds apart, people will still speculate about our relationship. It doesn’t matter.” Zhou Ziheng smiled. “If reporters snap photos, so be it. If you don’t want to go public now, I’ll handle it. I’ve been in the industry this long, and no reporter dares post my candid shots online—unless they want to ruin their careers.”
Xia Xiqing felt a slight relief. Now was the perfect time to leave the art gallery. He led Zhou Ziheng to the rear garden, unlocked a wooden door, and the two slipped out quietly, getting into Xia Xiqing’s car parked outside the back entrance.
Seated behind the wheel, Xia Xiqing’s mind raced. His sexual orientation wasn’t exactly a secret, especially within Italy’s social circles. But this sudden exposure back home, forcing him into the open, had truly caught him off guard. Upon reflection, too many suspicions surfaced. The timing alone was eerily coincidental. “It’s strange. Exposing me is one thing, but choosing your birthday specifically? It feels like deliberate revenge.”
“It is deliberate revenge.” Zhou Ziheng licked his dry lips impatiently. “Wei Min is behind this.”
Xia Xiqing was taken aback. He’d assumed Zhou had offended someone else, never expecting it to be that cowardly bastard again. “Wei Min? Does he have a death wish?” He loosened his tie with one hand and draped it over his wrist. “Last time, I should’ve made sure he couldn’t father children.”
“Probably just a deep-seated need for revenge.”
Xia Xiqing suddenly understood Wei Min’s motive. Knowing his own standing, Wei Min dared to do this only because he truly liked men and was genuinely with Zhou Ziheng—aiming to stir up public opinion and subject him to criticism.
But he still didn’t understand Xia Xiqing well enough.
“Does he really think this will get back at me?”
Xia Xiqing had never cared about public opinion; he never lived by others’ judgments.
“Since he exposed your sexuality, the next step—if I’m not mistaken—will be digging up dirt on your past private life,” Zhou Ziheng analyzed calmly, soothing Xia Xiqing. “My sister-in-law said she’ll handle that. She’ll manage the PR.”
“PR is useful, but not the most effective solution.” Xia Xiqing’s fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, a casual smile playing on his lips. “If he wants to play this game, let’s see who ends up disgraced first.”
By the next day, the heated discussions about Xia Xiqing’s sexuality on Weibo hadn’t died down, still dominating the trending topics.
Jiang Yin reached out to several influential Weibo users and published posts. Some of these deliberately framed the issue around homosexuality, adopting a homophobic tone. As soon as these articles appeared, they immediately sparked backlash and criticism from a segment of netizens, naturally generating sympathy for Xia Xiqing.
[@Skysc□□r: Some Weibo influencers’ comments are truly disgusting. I’m not gay myself, but I can’t stand this. What business is it of yours who someone loves? Shut up already!]
[@LittleAngelLovesBeauty: I thought society had progressed enough to be more tolerant toward homosexuality. To see this kind of reaction is truly disheartening.]
[@WhereDoYouLikeToGo: I’m a guy who likes guys. These past few days, I’ve really felt the sheer malice in this society.]
Yet many netizens engaged in online bullying, attacking Xia Xiqing’s sexuality. A significant portion were Zhou Ziheng’s toxic fans, writing lengthy essays about Xia Xiqing’s sexuality. They accused him of being clingy, parasitic, attention-seeking, and even escalated it to workplace harassment—truly a headache for Jiang Yin.
After all, even if Xia Xiqing and Zhou Ziheng had no connection, fans should have kept quiet and distanced themselves instead of shifting blame. Yet some fandom members remain utterly clueless, tearing into others with such ferocity they might as well destroy their own idol.
[@OnlyLoveZhouZiheng: Mr. Xia is gay and has repeatedly used Zhou Ziheng’s name to enter the entertainment industry and collaborate with him multiple times. His intentions are despicable.]
[@GossipFairy: I shouldn’t say this, but even though I’m not Zhou Ziheng’s fan, putting myself in his shoes makes me feel sick. If my idol was forced to promote a fake relationship with a gay guy, I’d probably die of anger.]
[@User23345290: Am I the only one who disliked Xia Xiqing the moment I saw him? He looks so gay—what good is being handsome?]
As soon as these remarks surfaced, they were immediately bombarded by his supporters and fans, with neither side willing to back down.
Fortunately, the fandom remains a niche community, and toxic fans are a minority—they ultimately couldn’t stir up much of a storm.
As online discourse began shifting toward discussions about sexual orientation, Jiang Yin promptly deployed new writers to voice opposing viewpoints. Articles such as [Is Homosexuality Truly an Original Sin?], [I Have the Right to Choose Between Coming Out or Staying in the Closet, and the Right to Refuse Being Outed!], and [It’s Not About Sexual Orientation, It’s About Freedom]. Many well-known LGBTQ+ bloggers voluntarily contributed to this wave, quickly igniting a fervent online debate about sexual orientation. Xia Xiqing’s forced outing was elevated into a matter of freedom, precisely hitting the soft spot and resonating with the demands of many netizens.
[@TransparentHeart: I think the root of this issue lies with the person who exposed it. Whether someone likes men or women is their private business—they haven’t done anything heinous. Isn’t this an invasion of privacy?]
[@CottonCandyIsSweet: Has the world become so worthless that we can’t even have the freedom to choose who we love?]
Xia Xiqing ignored Jiang Yin’s advice. His Weibo remained active, constantly monitoring online sentiment, waiting for the perfect moment.
Given Wei Min’s mindset, his next move would surely be to expose Xia Xiqing’s private life. While Xia’s past had been messy, it wasn’t promiscuity—just a considerable number of people he’d pursued, but always one at a time. Moreover, because he never trusted anyone, he’d never left behind any photos or videos. Wei Min’s attempt to exploit this weakness would amount to little more than sensationalist gossip pieces—the odds of finding concrete evidence were slim.
His phone suddenly rang. It was Zhao Ke.
“Hello.” Xia Xiqing’s tone was unnervingly calm.
Zhao Ke hesitated on the other end. “You… you’re okay?”
“Perfectly fine. Absolutely fine.” Xia Xiqing rummaged through his workbench, pulled out a lollipop, tore off the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth. “What’s up?”
“I heard about Wei Min. A friend of mine was seated next to him at a big meeting. Someone mentioned his hospitalization. No one knew the details, but my friend said Wei Min nearly flipped the table. His face turned dark. On the way back, he kept ranting about how he’d make sure someone paid dearly, that they’d taste the humiliation too.” Zhao Ke paused. “I only just learned he was targeting you. But it seems he was just planning to expose your private life and subject you to online bullying.”
“Hmph.” Xia Xiqing snorted coldly. “Does he think I’m made of paper? That a few gossiping strangers could make me hang my head in shame?”
“My neck is as stiff as iron. I was born with it, and I’ve never bowed mine.”
Zhao Ke sighed, feeling his childhood friend had it rough with this romance, so many complications. “That Wei Min is a scoundrel, utterly shameless. My friend said he started talking about bedroom stuff at dinner parties, completely disregarding the dignity of the women he was with. He spoke so crudely, and apparently even…”
Hearing Zhao Ke hesitate, Xia Xiqing pressed, “What?”
Zhao Ke and Zhou Ziheng were cut from the same cloth—well-behaved kids from families within the system. The topic made his throat tighten. “My friend said he even pulled out his phone at the table and played a video he’d recorded. It was of some third-rate actress.” He clicked his tongue in disgust, his tone dripping with contempt, yet also tinged with concern for Xia Xiqing. “If Ziheng hadn’t arrived in time back then, you might have…”
Xia Xiqing suddenly crushed the sugar ball in his mouth, the sound crisp and sharp.
“I know.”
After hanging up on Zhao Ke, Xia Xiqing sat at his workstation, motionless, until the candy fragments in his mouth dissolved.
Zhao Ke’s earlier words lingered in his mind, echoing repeatedly. A thought flashed through his head, and Xia Xiqing suddenly curved his lips into a smile. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end didn’t sound like the usual teasing of a close friend; instead, it carried a hint of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Come on, you know me better than that.” He laughed, getting straight to the point.
“Xia Zhixu, do me a favor.”
Author’s Note: Two masters of sweet talk~
Note: Regarding the Galatea mentioned by Hengheng.
Greek mythology recounts: Pygmalion, King of Cyprus and a sculptor, had despised mortal women since childhood. He dreamt of a beautiful woman. Later, while carving an ivory statue—intending to create a muscular male figure—he inexplicably sculpted a stunning woman instead, the very image of his dream. He fell hopelessly in love with her and named her Galatea.
Moved by his profound and sincere devotion, Aphrodite, the goddess of love, breathed life into Galatea.
Self-study girls, rest assured—Xia Xiqing won’t back down just because of public opinion. After all, he said back in high school: “Who I like is none of your damn business. Even if I liked a dog, it’d be my business with that dog!” Hahaha.
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