Xia Xiqing never imagined that Zhou Ziheng would return this painting to him on his twenty-sixth birthday. As he gazed at his name engraved on the frame’s plaque, his eyes stung slightly. The painting had vanished for years, and he had almost embraced a mindset of avoidance—not seeking it, not thinking about it. It was as if by pretending it never existed, he could convince himself he had never cared about so-called family ties, and thus had never been hurt.
But avoidance remained just that—avoidance. He couldn’t deny that this painting held too many complex emotions to put into words, and within those emotions lay love. Zhou Ziheng understood this, which was why he had helped retrieve it—to mend his own fractured heart.
Zhou Ziheng always managed to pinpoint his vulnerabilities with uncanny precision, then shield them with his warm palms. Regardless of his own willingness, he offered his idealistic devotion as always. Yet he couldn’t deny that each time, it struck the bullseye.
Watching the event unfold smoothly, Xia Xiqing’s nerves relaxed considerably. Among the guests were numerous media representatives from the arts and culture sector covering the occasion, and Xia Xiqing accordingly granted interviews.
“How did you embark on your path of artistic creation?”
The question wasn’t particularly insightful. Xia Xiqing smiled at the female reporter who asked it. “I was exposed to it from a young age.”
“So you mean your family is also in this profession?”
“I don’t think this art gallery event has much to do with my family.” Xia Xiqing began to doubt the reporter’s intentions. He tried to extricate himself, only to find himself surrounded by another group of media.
“How did you join the production team of The Stalker?”
“Rumor has it you invested your own capital into the project. Could you clarify your relationship with the film’s investors?”
So they were after the movie. Xia Xiqing should have anticipated this. The massive buzz following the film’s trailer release was bound to make some people jealous. It seemed they couldn’t find a breakthrough with Zhou Ziheng or the director, so they were targeting him instead. Though not part of the entertainment industry, Xia Xiqing had been splashed with enough mud to be well-versed in the tricks of the trade.
Thanks to his assistant’s quick thinking, security arrived to take control of the situation.
“Excuse me, please leave the exhibition hall.”
“We’re invited media! How can you just kick us out like this?”
Xia Xiqing kept a smile on his face, gently holding back the security guard’s arm. “It’s fine.” He flashed a professional fake smile at the journalists. “As long as you don’t ask questions unrelated to this event, you certainly won’t be expelled. Anyway, we have video recordings here. If your reports later differ from the actual situation, we will certainly pursue legal responsibility according to the law.” After saying this, he added jokingly, “I’m such a nitpicky person, I’m sure you all know that very well.”
Watching the awkward expressions spread across the reporters’ faces, Xia Xiqing smiled innocently. “Aren’t you here to interview? Shall we discuss El Greco’s somber palette first? Or perhaps the fluid light in William Turner’s paintings?”
After dismissing the swarm of entertainment reporters, Xia Xiqing ascended to the second floor, poured himself a glass of champagne, and downed it in one gulp. Regaining his composure, he sensed there was more to this than met the eye. Those paparazzi had repeatedly cited the investment in Stalker as justification—could it be that competitors, seeing the investors hadn’t made their involvement public, were deliberately exploiting the situation to claim they’d brought their own capital into the production?
He’d love to bring his own funding into the production, but they hadn’t given him that chance.
He tried calling Jiang Yin—busy signal. Xia Xiqing considered dialing Zhou Ziheng but ultimately decided against it. She’d mentioned shooting a perfume commercial earlier; it probably wasn’t wrapped up yet.
To understand the situation, Xia Xiqing checked online. The trending topics hadn’t yet featured anything about the investment in The Stalker, but clicking on existing trending topics related to the film revealed some marketing accounts already digging into the investors. When Zhou Zijing invested earlier, it was done under the guise of acquiring a media subsidiary, and a confidentiality agreement was signed, so netizens couldn’t see the public details of that investment.
Similar comments appeared under several marketing accounts’ Weibo posts. One wave suggested this semi-anonymous investment was fishy, while another pointed fingers directly at Xia Xiqing himself.
[@GossipFan1: Why is there always drama wherever Xia Xiqing is? He’s truly a “treasure boy.”]
[@WaitingForYou333: I suspect this is all tied to bringing investment into the production. Xia Xiqing, who studied painting, now gets to act—while professionally trained actors struggle to land roles. How ironic.]
Such comments were everywhere, their agenda blatantly obvious. To Xia Xiqing’s surprise, the production company reacted with astonishing speed. He had barely refreshed his feed when the film’s official Weibo account posted a clarification.
[@Official Movie Tracking Weibo: Recent online speculation regarding the investment in Tracking is entirely false and misleading. Below is the investment agreement. We will pursue legal action against those spreading rumors.”
The crucial sections of this investment agreement were redacted, but the amount of 85 million yuan and the full name of the investor, Xingye Media, remained visible. In addition to this document, investment agreements from the director himself and producer Jiang Yin were also included.
Disclosing the investors aims to counter rumors of “shady investments,” though frankly, it doesn’t prove Xia Xiqing’s innocence. He knew all too well that these marketing accounts could easily link his name to any of these investors—whether it was the major player Xingye and its backer Zhou Zijin, the director, or even Jiang Yin. Any of them could be portrayed as his financial backer. That was the real problem.
Jiang Yin’s call suddenly came through. Xia Xiqing answered promptly. He sounded composed, but it seemed he was also scrambling for solutions.
“Xiqing, reporters must be harassing you by now.”
“Yeah. A bunch showed up earlier, but I sent them away. Figured out who’s stabbing us in the back?”
Jiang Yin’s voice carried a hint of anger. “After the release was delayed, it clashed with a big-budget film. That one also has two male leads, but it can’t match our buzz. So they’re trying to ruin our reputation before release to scare people away.”
I knew it. Xia Xiqing stood by a window in the corner of the second floor, phone in hand, deep in thought.
No choice. Even though Xia Xiqing had always resisted doing this.
“How about this, Yin? You still have some marketing accounts under your control, right? Have them pretend to dig up my background. I’ll give you the materials—it’s all fabricated anyway.” Xia Xiqing’s tone was utterly nonchalant. “Just lay it all out for everyone to see. Let’s see who’s willing to sponsor me.”
Birthdays only come once a year, yet here he was, exposing his family background for a movie. The “self-exposure player” meme was something she’d never shake off.
Three hours later, a video went viral online. It was the funeral of Xi Hewei, the renowned sculptor. Standing at the forefront, carrying the coffin for the late master, was none other than Xia Xiqing—the controversial painter constantly in the spotlight.
[@GossipVisitor: Netizens dug up footage of the funeral for the sculpting master, Mr. Xi. Isn’t that young man carrying the coffin Xia Xiqing? Others found shares in Media Asia International (authenticity unverified), whose owner is Xia Yunkai. Now think about Xia Xiqing’s name… Holy crap, even novels wouldn’t dare write this kind of background…]
[@MyFavoritePersonIsAPainter: I should change my username [kneeling] Happy Birthday, Xiqing!]
[@FairyPassingBy: So Xia Xiqing is Media Asia’s crown prince? His maternal family is descended from an art titan too? Holy crap, why doesn’t he like women!]
[@12345GoHuntTigers: …Those claiming he’s a sugar daddy must be brainless haters. Media Asia? People would beg to be his sugar baby.]
[@SSS Alert: Now I suspect Xia Xiqing really brought his own investment into the production hahaha, his own capital.]
[@MySonIsTheCutest: Nope, Huanya didn’t invest in this film. The biggest backer is Xingye. Look up who acquired Xingye two years ago—you’ll thank me later.]
[@PushingYourTower replies to @MySonIsTheCutest: Holy shit I just looked it up—it’s Jingming! Isn’t Jingming’s major shareholder that guy’s brother? Damn, the real investor isn’t the second male lead, it’s the first male lead.]
[@MySonIsTheCutest replies to @PushingYourTower: The male lead is untouchable. His background isn’t something you lot can discuss. Shut up, shut up.]
[@Self-Study Girl is Cute: Happy Birthday Xi Qing! Holy crap, I’m shipping this divine CP now?? [ps I kinda smell self-destruct mode coming…]]
[@Happy Birthday Xia Xi Qing 1221: Self-destruct? Wait for me! Xi Qing: Keep spreading rumors and I’ll blow up!]
Now the public’s gossip focus has shifted to digging up Xia Xiqing’s net worth. Jokes are flying everywhere, and even a bunch of random sisters started shouting “Husband Xia Xiqing” on Weibo, practically taking over his feed. It left Xia Xiqing both amused and exasperated.
While refreshing his feed, Xia Xiqing spotted a Weibo post from Zhou Ziheng.
[@Actor Zhou Ziheng: For you.]
The post featured two images, each showing a hand holding a perfume bottle. Both bottles sported a minimalist prismatic design. The first bottle contained a deep, inky black liquid swirled with flecks of blue sand, instantly evoking images of the vast cosmos and its shimmering, minuscule stardust.
The second bottle contained a transparent liquid, also holding sand, but this time a rich, deep red. Its design was unique, anchoring the sand at the bottle’s center while concealing a tiny, preserved red rose within.
Xia Xiqing instantly recognized the hand holding the perfume bottle as Zhou Ziheng’s—not merely from familiarity, but from the faint outline of a small rose tattoo visible through the translucent glass on the inner side of his ring finger.
The repost featured the official Weibo account of the luxury brand collaborating on this project.
[These two fragrances will launch globally as our Christmas limited editions. @Actor Zhou Ziheng participated in every step of the fragrance creation and conceptual design. The main notes blend rose with pink pepper, complemented by the pure sensuality of white musk, evoking the ultimate romance of stars and roses. The fragrance names will be revealed tonight at 11:59 PM.]
They really went all out with this promotional push.
Just as I was complaining about the brand ambassador, I received a WeChat message from him.
Renaissance: “Finished? I’m waiting at your place.”
Regarding the so-called birthday surprise, Xia Xiqing didn’t really have high expectations, as that painting alone had already held immense significance for him. Yet upon seeing Zhou Ziheng’s message, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of longing. He wanted to return home sooner, to see him, to celebrate the day of his birth together.
His arrival in this world wasn’t something to celebrate. What was worth celebrating was that he had come to this world at all, and thus hadn’t missed Zhou Ziheng.
As he left the art gallery, many fans saw him departing and finally couldn’t resist calling his name softly. Xia Xiqing straightened his coat while walking out, smiling and saying goodbye to them.
“Happy birthday, Xiqing.”
“Happy birthday!” one girl asked, holding flowers. “Brother Xiqing, why did you buy pink roses?”
Xia Xiqing turned to face them, taking two steps back with a gentle smile. “Pink roses are the best adornment for young girls.”
Stepping out of the apartment elevator, Xia Xiqing walked straight to his door. But the moment he opened it, he felt a pang of confusion. The interior was pitch black—not a single light left on.
This wasn’t like Zhou Ziheng. If he were home, he’d always leave the entryway light on, or better yet, have every light in the apartment illuminated.
Could he not be back yet?
Though he now dared to recall the past, his fear of darkness remained almost a physical reflex. Xia Xiqing reached out, feeling for the switch to the living room light by the door. Click. He pressed it down.
Strange. The feel of this switch seemed different from before…
Before he could investigate further—or even realize the living room light hadn’t turned on at all—Xia Xiqing froze in place.
The empty, icy darkness of the living room suddenly swirled with countless tiny, dazzling specks of stardust, drifting through a vast cosmos. The silence was profound, like a vacuum. Yet he could hear his own heartbeat, accelerating relentlessly, pounding against his eardrums like a solitary radio frequency transmitted through the silent cosmos.
Taking a step closer, Xia Xiqing tried calling his name, as if attempting a transmission across light-years.
“Ziheng?”
The instant the words left his lips, a blindingly bright point erupted at the center of the serene stellar sea before him, like the heralding of a young star’s birth. The iridescent stellar winds twisted and compressed everything in the darkness. The beautiful floating points of light in his vision vanished and reborn, gradually coalescing into a crimson nebula that slowly unfolded.
It resembled a blooming rose.
He couldn’t describe what he saw. This profound shock seemed to stem from humanity’s primal awe and longing for the boundless cosmos.
Zhou Ziheng finally appeared at the other end of this rose nebula, a gentle, serene smile on his face, holding a small controller in his hand.
“Someone once asked me,” he began, a hint of hesitation in his voice, “with so many beautiful things in this world, if you could choose just one to give to the person most precious to you, what would it be?” He paused, then continued, “Before I met you, I believed the most magnificent beauty in the world was the cosmos itself. At our core, we are no different from these stardust particles—we are all children of the stars, children of the universe.”
He lowered his head and smiled. “But after meeting you, I realized that even a rose stained with soil is beautiful. Microcosmic beauty can be just as awe-inspiring.”
His tender gaze traversed the entire nebula, settling upon Xia Xiqing’s eyes, brimming with starlight.
“When this day finally arrived, I found myself torn. For I wanted to give you both the universe and the rose. So,“ he extended his hand, ”allow me to introduce you to the NGC 2237 Nebula. Or we could call her the Rose Nebula.” Zhou Ziheng’s footsteps traversed stardust, passing through magnificent star clusters, until he stood before Xia Xiqing and embraced him.
“It took me half a month to capture this image,” Zhou Ziheng said, placing a photograph in Xia Xiqing’s hand. “Then I collaborated with Zhixu to model it and create the hologram you see now.” He kissed Xia Xiqing’s forehead with a smile, his voice softer than the cosmos itself.
“Happy birthday. Thank you for being by my side.”
Xia Xiqing finally understood why Zhou Ziheng had hidden on the rooftop with all that astronomical photography gear. What he hadn’t imagined was that Zhou could truly bring a nebula billions of light-years away right before his eyes, allowing him to experience this solemn yet romantic spectacle with his own gaze.
He also finally grasped the meaning behind the two perfumes Zhou Ziheng had personally designed. The fusion of Black Quicksand and Eternal Rose was precisely what lay before them now.
He clutched the photograph, lifting his gaze to Zhou Ziheng, with a deep crimson, magnificent nebula unfolding behind him.
He wanted to speak, to express himself, but every signal he could send had been stolen away, woven into the heartbeat of another just inches from his own.
This rose, the most exquisite in all creation, nurtured by stardust soil and nourished by the Milky Way. It would never wither, forever blooming in the silent cosmos.
“This is what I give you—cosmic-level romance.”
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