Lu Xianqing’s voice was low. When pressing over him, the vibrations from his chest nearly touched Qin Sizheng’s spine. He used his back like this, protecting the two children.
His breath brushed from the neck to the ear canal, making Qin Sizheng’s pores feel as if they were opening. That single “be good” carried a magic that made him unconsciously nestle into his arms.
【Damn, I told you Qin Sizheng is a walking disaster! Wherever he goes, trouble follows! Fourth Brother, don’t protect him! Ahh, my heart hurts, Fourth Brother, get up!】
【Lu Xianqing protecting Qin Sizheng like this? If they weren’t involved, I wouldn’t believe it. So obvious, shielding him under himself, what instinct! True dumb couple energy!】
【Can we stop imagining, damn this CP! Fourth Brother, can you stop caring for this disaster? He’s been good to Xu Jinhang, got kicked by a horse, now stung by bees—seriously.】
【Fourth Brother’s status doesn’t require being on a variety show. First time coming down, and Qin Sizheng drags him into trouble like this. Can Qin Sizheng just leave the show?】
【Resist Qin Sizheng! Resist this bad actor! Qin Sizheng, get out of the entertainment industry!】
【Everyone find out who’s funding Qin Sizheng! Report to the authorities! Ban him forever!】
【Are you crazy? Didn’t you see Qin Sizheng instinctively protecting Little Tomato? He made Fourth Brother protect him? On the show, Fourth Brother is the one bullying Qin Sizheng, isn’t he? What did he even say? Still feeding Fourth Brother, the hardcore fans are blind?】
【Just because my treasure has a good temper, everything he does is wrong? Your Fourth Brother was invited to this show by Xu Jinhan, not my treasure—do you really think he wanted to film with him? Hilarious.】
【So annoying. Can the live comments just watch the show? The main cast hasn’t even said anything yet, and you’ve got a mouth? Are you trying to argue with Fourth Brother for Qin Sizheng? Who cares if someone protects him? You jealous because no one protects you?】
【Qin Sizheng has been very well-behaved on this show. What’s wrong with protecting him? He deserves it. If I were Fourth Brother, I’d protect him too. Some of you haters should just leave.】
A swarm of bees passed by, and a few inevitably landed on Lu Xianqing’s back. The stings burned, making him wince and struggle to breathe, yet he held the boy tightly in his arms, not letting the bees touch him even slightly.
After a long while, Lu Xianqing finally let go. Qin Sizheng anxiously asked, “Are you okay? Did any of the bees sting you?”
The crew rushed over as well. No one dared neglect Fourth Brother at the peak of his fame; everyone gathered around him, anxious. Qin Sizheng was pushed out of the crowd, holding Little Tomato helplessly.
He felt like he had caused trouble for everyone again.
Lu Xianqing turned and held out a hand. “Come here.”
Qin Sizheng moved closer. “Fourth Brother.” His lowered eyes brimmed with guilt, almost crying. The next second, his chin was lifted, and his slightly reddened eyes met Lu Xianqing’s.
“No stings. Don’t cry.”
Qin Sizheng couldn’t believe it. “Really?”
Lu Xianqing released his hand, his cool eyes fixed on Qin Sizheng’s. “Do I lie?”
Qin Sizheng searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deception, but found nothing—he hadn’t even shown the slightest pain.
Could it really be that he wasn’t stung at all?
“Xu Du just came looking for you; probably something to do. Go check it out.”
Qin Sizheng nodded, slowly letting go of his sleeve. Lu Xianqing brushed his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. Go.”
Xu Du wanted Qin Sizheng’s help to film a promo. After discussing it for a while, he decided it would be better to use local residents. As Qin Sizheng turned to leave, Xu Du called out, “I heard you got stung by bees. Are you okay?”
Qin Sizheng quickly stopped. “I’m fine. Fourth Brother protected me. I didn’t get stung.”
Xu Du paused, hesitated to speak, then just smiled. “Mm, make sure to thank him properly. Lu Xianqing is usually very proud. The fact he cares about you this much must…”
Qin Sizheng didn’t understand the unsaid half, but felt it wasn’t good. He instinctively protested: “Fourth Brother isn’t like that! I believe he wouldn’t hurt me.”
Xu Du, used to the circle, didn’t argue nor try to convince him. He glanced at the camera and said, “If you say he’s not, then he’s not.”
He left it at that. Whether Qin Sizheng believed it or not was his choice; if Qin Sizheng got closer to Lu Xianqing and ended up resenting himself, it would be too costly.
Qin Sizheng walked a few steps, then turned back seriously. “Director Xu, if you have time, you should care for Dou Dou. He’ll probably become rebellious in the future. You should spend more time with him.”
Xu Du frowned. “Are you lecturing me?”
Qin Sizheng looked at him calmly, neither humble nor arrogant: “I just hope you’ll watch over your son more, show him some gentleness. A father should be a support, not a threat. You should set an example, provide proper guidance, not just suppress him to force obedience.”
Xu Du froze. The boy’s words hit hard, sending chills through him.
Had he really been too harsh on Dou Dou?
Still uneasy, Qin Sizheng asked the crew for bee-sting ointment and sneaked into Lu Xianqing’s courtyard.
He gently knocked on the door. “Fourth Brother, are you asleep?”
“No. Come in.”
Qin Sizheng took a deep breath and entered, seeing Little Tangyuan already asleep. Lu Xianqing sat at the table with a thick stack of scripts.
He didn’t dare look directly, biting his lip. “I came to see… if you were stung.”
Lu Xianqing looked up in slight surprise, then smiled. “Why?”
“You didn’t need to protect me. I’m not afraid of pain. I—” A hand pressed on his forehead, cutting off the rest of his words. Qin Sizheng looked up, confused.
Lu Xianqing said, “Weren’t you here to see me?”
Qin Sizheng nodded blankly. Lu Xianqing turned his back, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it down. His entire back was a shocking sight: over a dozen red welts, already swollen.
“Will you put on the ointment?” Lu Xianqing asked.
Qin Sizheng hurriedly nodded. “Yes!”
Lu Xianqing sat with his back to him. Qin Sizheng placed the ointment on the table, ran to wash his hands, and returned. He carefully checked for any remaining stingers, squeezing them out first to prevent residual venom.
“Fourth Brother, I did it.”
Lu Xianqing murmured “Mm” and flipped a page of the script, seemingly feeling no pain at all.
Qin Sizheng, however, was far less calm, meticulously removing the remaining stingers. The mottled marks on his back made him feel even guiltier.
He shook his hands while applying the ointment, habitually blowing on it, as if that could ease the pain.
Lu Xianqing’s hand paused mid-script, sensing the gentle touch tracing his back like a feather.
His breathing scattered, carrying a faint, almost inaudible sound. Crying?
“Yanyan.”
Qin Sizheng muttered “Mm,” his tone so pitiful it made one want to tease him further, make him cry more.
Lu Xianqing’s hand clenched on the script, then relaxed. Back turned, he smiled and asked, “When I got hit last time, did you cry when you got home?”
Qin Sizheng was dumbfounded, softly sniffling. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”
Lu Xianqing chuckled softly. “Nonsense. That hurt much more.”
Back then, the pain was severe, unbearable even in sleep. He couldn’t resolve it even by looking at Qin Sizheng’s hand, so he sent him a private message—but Qin Sizheng blocked him.
His soul ached terribly, as if every nerve, every fiber of him wanted to imprison Qin Sizheng, to make those hands bear all his pain, to drag him down into the abyss of death, never to rise again.
His breathing grew heavy. He snapped the script shut and said in a low voice, “Enough. Stop.” Qin Sizheng froze, unsure of what he had done wrong this time.
Lu Xianqing put on his shirt and took the ointment from Qin Sizheng. “Go back. It’s late.”
“But—” Qin Sizheng began, only to have Lu Xianqing grip his wrist and guide him to the door. “It’s fine. Go back. Don’t tell anyone about this. Don’t even tell Anning or Jiang Xi, understand? You didn’t make me hurt, and I wasn’t stung.”
Qin Sizheng knew he was protecting him. If fans discovered that Qin Sizheng had caused him injury, it would create an uproar. So he nodded obediently. Lu Xianqing smiled faintly. “Mm, go back.”
He knew that if he stayed even a moment longer, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. He could only be safe once Qin Sizheng left.
Qin Sizheng left with frequent glances back, not daring to let the night-blind Fourth Brother escort him, yet thoughtfully closing the door for him. “Fourth Brother, rest early. I’ll help you apply the ointment tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Lu Xianqing didn’t mention the stings, avoiding any fan backlash toward Qin Sizheng. He couldn’t afford any drama from fan groups, let alone from his own.
Even so, the crew wasn’t secretive. That night, He Xing called. “I told you not to go on this show. You insisted on letting me contact Xu Jinhan for you to replace him for an episode. I see you’ve had a good life and want to suffer now?”
Lu Xianqing’s voice was weary. “It didn’t hurt much. I’ll be back in a few days.”
He Xing sensed his mood was off and restrained herself from scolding. “Shen Qing asked when you’d do psychological counseling. You can’t keep delaying. Have you felt unwell the past two days?”
Lu Xianqing glanced at the sleeping Little Tangyuan and left the room.
“Yes. I want him.”
That afternoon, looking into Qin Sizheng’s eyes, the subconscious licking of the milk and his “so milky” remark had nearly made him lose control. He had turned and left, unable to resist the effect of that gaze.
He Xing nearly panicked. “Fourth Brother, come back! I’m begging you, come back immediately. Stop filming! If you stay with him any longer, you’ll ruin yourself!”
Lu Xianqing looked up at the pitch-black sky, a void deeper than any abyss reflected in his eyes.
His mind wandered back to that soft guiding palm that night.
He Xing suggested, “I’ll have Shen Qing come to you. Use the filming breaks for psychological support. I’ll communicate with the crew so no one films it or exposes Shen Qing’s identity—just say he’s your younger brother visiting.”
Lu Xianqing chuckled softly. “What ugly brother? Let him get plastic surgery first; I’ll pay.”
He Xing had no mood to joke. “Be serious! I’m telling you: if you dare make a move toward Qin Sizheng on the show, I swear I’ll jump off the company building! I’m not joking!”
Lu Xianqing replied, “Got it. Emotional swings age you fast. Cheer up.”
He Xing was incredulous. “You really think you can be happy with me following you? If you even have that thought, the company building will lose one less ghost. Cheerful? You, cheerful?”
Lu Xianqing fell silent for a moment. “I really can’t be happy. You’ve worked hard.”
Anning, overhearing this half-hearted “comfort,” almost died laughing, shaking in her shoulders.
He Xing, voice full of tears, vented, “Ever since I started managing you, I haven’t had a single peaceful day! I’m afraid you’ll die, afraid you’ll make someone else die. Now I also have to worry you’ll imprison someone! What sin did I commit, tell me!”
Lu Xianqing, distracted by the word “imprison,” murmured after a long pause, “Filming ends tomorrow. I’m only covering Xu Jinhan’s episode; I won’t come again. I’ll try to let you live to old age. Satisfied?”
He Xing still didn’t trust him. “Then promise me. Use your lower body to promise.”
Lu Xianqing frowned. “Can’t I control myself?”
He Xing sneered. “Do you think I don’t know you’ve been secretly messaging Qin Sizheng? That stuff needs to be censored if released. Can you control yourself? If you can, why need Shen Qing? You know how much the company pays him for psychological counseling every year? Hundreds of thousands!”
Lu Xianqing stiffened. “Anning reported to you again. Whose salary is she taking anyway, feeding inside and outside? She’ll get fired sooner or later.”
He Xing ground her teeth, mocking, “A major matter kept from me, waiting for you to imprison and ruin Qin Sizheng, get arrested by the police, and then tell me? Really, Fourth Brother, one day I feel like I’ll be in court just handling your affairs. The company’s legal department’s biggest deal will probably be you.”
Lu Xianqing had no words.
He had been in the industry nine years, signed with Mingfei Entertainment since debut, and had never sought to leave and start his own company, even in a time when studios were fragmenting.
Mingfei Entertainment was founded by the once-celebrated actor Mingfei, who retired at his peak to work behind the scenes, enjoying a playboy life: indulge in talent when he wanted, lift careers on a whim.
He Xing had brought Lu Xianqing up personally, giving him the best management team under her command.
The company had grown larger in the past two years. Lu Xianqing didn’t need to compete for resources, and no one could take them from him.
He looked down on Mingfei’s small-star schemes. While he didn’t intervene, he ignored them entirely.
His team, though part of the company, was not wholly controlled by it. His future path, resources, and media narrative were all strictly managed. Minor social media disturbances didn’t affect him.
He Xing had one goal: keep him alive, and occasionally make him see a psychologist.
With the rise of talent shows, the company even invested in one.
“The boss asked if you’d go be a mentor,” He Xing added casually.
Lu Xianqing replied, “Is Mingfei going bankrupt? Even I’m being used. Which kid does he like this time? Wants me to personally promote them?”
He Xing let out a dry laugh. Mingfei really did have that idea—she had seen the person before: long golden hair cascading down his waist, blue-purple eyes like pieces of glass, fans calling him “Little Wildcat,” his name somewhat strange, Shi Jian Shu.
This was top-level insider knowledge, so she couldn’t say it outright. “Although the boss’s ways are… unconventional, you, Fourth Brother, came down from your pedestal for a pair of hands, breaking your own rule of doing one film a year, personally chasing after Qin Sizheng—isn’t that a form of consumption too? You can’t double-standard yourself.”
Lu Xianqing chuckled lightly, asking faintly, “And so?”
And so?
He Xing had never seen anyone treat double standards as so self-evident. She gritted her teeth. “Fine, never mind the rest, just don’t act obsessively over Qin Sizheng’s hands! Fans’ eyes are sharp—both of you already have a CP super topic. Can you rein it in a bit? And don’t talk about saliva to stop bleeding—”
Suddenly, Lu Xianqing heard a faint rustle. “Someone’s here. I’ll check.”
He Xing refused to be fooled. “Stop pretending. Who comes at this hour? And don’t go out yourself! Night blindness—do you even know your limits? If you leave, how will you find your way back? Stay in your room and call Anning if anything happens.”
“There really is someone,” Lu Xianqing replied with a hint of helplessness. “I’m not faking. Don’t worry; my night blindness isn’t so severe it’s like senility.”
He Xing, seeing he might be telling the truth and noting the late hour, said, “Fine, then I won’t send Shen Qing over. Take care of yourself and report to the director immediately if anything’s off. This damn live show—I don’t know which lunatic thought of this.”
Lu Xianqing hung up after a few perfunctory words. By the dim courtyard light, he could barely see the path. Using his phone’s flashlight, he carefully stepped outside, and through the door crack, he spotted a thin, lean boy crouched like a thief.
A plate of food, a bowl of soup, and beneath them, a small pile of coins.
Lu Xianqing pressed his hand against the door, gazing at the “carrot meal set” that could alleviate night blindness—two hundred yuan in “starting capital”—and a small bowl of tonic mushrooms for kidney and nerve health. Veins stood out on his hand as he released the grip on the door, and for a moment, the gloom in his eyes melted into softness.
This kid.
Actually, Lu Xianqing had seen Qin Sizheng the year he entered the industry. At that time, Lu Xianqing was already at his peak as the “Fourth Brother,” while Qin Sizheng was a small trainee.
Saint Entertainment was planning a boy group. Qin Sizheng trained alongside a group of children in uniform. His slender waist peeked from under his shirt, his forehead damp with sweat, beautiful in a way that clashed with the others.
Lu Xianqing glanced twice, noticing the boy’s eyes catching his reflection in the mirror. Startled, he turned to him awkwardly and handed him a bottle of water.
Lu Xianqing didn’t drink water touched by others, so the boy pressed his lips and took it back.
Later, for reasons unknown, he began clashing with Lu Xianqing. His reputation in the company grew: tossing fan gifts, diss-ing co-stars—one incident after another. Lu Xianqing didn’t care to respond.
Mostly, he disliked the expression in the boy’s eyes—a cold, dark indifference, filled with lingering resentment toward the world. So much so, it reminded him of his own darkness, and he avoided seeing similar temperaments in others.
“Qin Sizheng” had seemed like a miniature, mirrored version of Lu Xianqing—a reflection that provoked his strongest, hardest-to-control malice.
But now, this kid was completely different from the rumors: sincere, brave, kind-hearted. Carefully, he did good for him in secret, hiding the money under the plate so as not to claim credit.
He hid his identity, pretending to be a security guard, knowing Lu Xianqing’s night blindness, and even cooked him carrots.
He was like a small flame, stepping into Lu Xianqing’s hands, trembling, offering gestures of goodwill.
Lu Xianqing remembered the gym incident: the boy, full of energy, had balled his fists, warning him to “value life, stay away from Lu Xianqing,” yet now he couldn’t resist the boy’s sincere kindness.
Too bad—once he met Lu Xianqing, he could no longer stay away.
Lu Xianqing picked up the small pile of wrinkled coins and the food, releasing his emotions in the night, wildly baring his fangs, letting his soul rampage silently.
“Anning.”
Anning, just about to rest, hurried out at the call. “What is it?”