Hu Chen’s temper was infamous in the industry. It was said that even Lu Xianqing gave him some leeway.
Xu Zhao was terrified that if Hu Chen got angry and walked off, the deal they had in hand would slip away. He hurried over with a cup of water. “Sizheng is shooting a magazine for the first time. He’s not familiar with it. Please teach him.”
Hu Chen waved him off irritably. “Move.”
Xu Zhao frowned, forced a dry laugh, and set the cup down. “I’ll step out to take a call. You two take your time.”
“Again. Do you understand that wild, unrestrained arrogance unique to eighteen? The kind where you think you can conquer heaven and earth?” Hu Chen said.
It was Qin Sizheng’s first time doing something like this. He had already been nervous. After being scolded, he stiffened completely.
“No! Are you a puppet? Even a puppet has more soul than you! Your shoulders are stiff! Relax!”
Qin Sizheng immediately loosened up, biting the bandage and looking at the lens, lifting his chin into what he thought was a bold expression.
“Conquering heaven and earth doesn’t mean trying to conquer me! What, you want to fight me? You’re shooting this for the whole world to treasure, not to tear apart for stress relief!”
Sweat broke out on Qin Sizheng’s forehead. Hu Chen paced in circles, raking his fingers through his hair, stomping in frustration. “I’ve never seen anyone this dumb. What a waste of that face.”
A soft laugh came from the doorway.
Qin Sizheng looked up. Ming Fei stood there with his arms crossed against the doorframe. “Hey. You dare scold him?”
Hu Chen rolled his eyes, his tone sharp as gunpowder. “So what if I do? Does he have three heads and six arms? If he can’t produce a good shot, he’s the same as anyone else to me.”
Ming Fei said lightly, “If your cousin finds out, he won’t let you off.”
Hu Chen froze for a second. He turned to look at Qin Sizheng, who was flustered from being berated, then back at Ming Fei—who gave him a knowing smile.
Hu Chen let out a cold snort. “Even if it were Lu Xianqing himself and he couldn’t deliver, I’d scold him just the same. If he wants to play favorites, he can do it at home.”
Qin Sizheng blinked. “You know Fourth Brother?”
Ming Fei beat Hu Chen to it, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Lu Xianqing is his cousin. If he bullies you, once you’re done shooting, call your Fourth Brother and complain. Have him avenge you.”
Hu Chen scoffed. “Complaining to anyone won’t help. Stop stirring things up.”
Only then did Qin Sizheng notice that Hu Chen’s eyes did resemble Lu Xianqing’s a little. Even their tempers carried a similar, inexplicable edge. No wonder the makeup artist had said they traded barbs during shoots.
He pressed his lips together, thinking carefully about what “casual with a hint of ruthlessness” might look like. Then he ventured, “Would it work if it felt like I just stepped off a boxing ring and haven’t fully calmed down yet?”
Hu Chen’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s it! Can you do it?”
“I’ll try.”
Qin Sizheng closed his eyes and imagined himself fresh from an intense match. His opponent had been far stronger. His brow bone and nose were broken, and he had barely scraped out a victory.
He was exhausted, in pain, worn out—yet people were chasing him for photos. That faint irritation, that lingering adrenaline.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and swept a glance at the camera.
“That’s it! Exactly!”
Hu Chen shouted excitedly. The shutter clicked rapidly as he moved frantically for angles, firing off instructions like bullets. “Don’t change that expression! Yes! Don’t move! Keep the gaze! Good! Lower your eyes slightly—don’t close them, just a little! Lift your chin!”
Ming Fei leaned against the doorframe for a while, then pulled out his phone, snapped a behind-the-scenes photo, and sent it to Lu Xianqing.
[Stuck on set. Feeling uncomfortable?]
Lu Xianqing replied quickly. [Get lost.]
Ming Fei wasn’t annoyed. He smiled, bit down on a cigarette, lit it, and typed back leisurely.
[Seriously. If I were you, could I tolerate such a beautiful kid attracting attention outside? Even a garden full of spring can’t hold back one red apricot branch leaning over the wall.]
As a top graduate from a reputable university, Lu Xianqing had zero tolerance for literary butchery.
[Do you have any culture at all? It’s “The spring scenery fills the garden and cannot be contained; one red apricot branch leans out over the wall.” Ye Shaoweng would be furious if he were alive.]
Ming Fei replied, [Who’s Ye Shaoweng? Some new young idol? Which company?]
Lu Xianqing sent a string of ellipses to express his disdain before replying, [You’re quoting someone’s poem and don’t even know his name. Embarrassing.]
Ming Fei was entirely unbothered and even concocted his own twisted logic.
[Fine, whoever Old Master Ye is—you said it yourself, the spring scenery can’t be contained. At least he had a wall. You haven’t even installed a door. How are you going to contain yours? You’re a twenty-five, twenty-six-year-old man. He’s eighteen, a flower in bloom. Sooner or later he’ll lean over the wall for you to see.]
[My red apricot knows where home is. That little wildcat of yours might not even find the door once it goes out. Besides, my little apricot has already been claimed. The relationship is settled. Worry about yourself, President Ming.]
[And take good care of him. I’ll be back for Mid-Autumn Festival. If he’s thinner when I see him, you’re dead.]
Ming Fei fell silent for a moment, then sent a voice message through clenched teeth. “Lu Xianqing, you’re such a damn dog.”
On Hu Chen’s side, the shoot was going beautifully. He beckoned Qin Sizheng over to review the photos. “Absolutely incredible! Your camera presence is insane. You’re way better than Lu Xianqing. That guy’s personal aura is too strong—hard to shape. You’re much more flexible. Whatever I shoot, you become.”
Qin Sizheng could not help laughing at Hu Chen’s mood swings. “That’s not what you were saying when you were scolding me earlier.”
Hu Chen grinned now that he had good shots and winked at him. “Holding a grudge, Fourth Sister-in-law?”
Qin Sizheng’s face turned red instantly. He waved his hands in flustered denial. “Please don’t call me that. Fourth Brother and I… we haven’t gone public. It wouldn’t be good if someone heard.”
Hu Chen snorted lightly. “He’s just full of quirks. All right, hurry and change into the second look. We’ll keep shooting.”
Afraid of more teasing, Qin Sizheng hurried off. As he reached the door, he happened to hear Ming Fei’s voice message calling Lu Xianqing a dog.
“Mr. Ming, have you ever been hit before?”
“Huh?”
Qin Sizheng looked at him seriously and asked again.
“I mean… have you ever been beaten up?”
Ming Fei: “?”
By the time he realized what Qin Sizheng meant, the boy had already walked off. What’s with that? Just want to hit someone, and no manners at all? Is this how the new generation in the village behaves?
The second outfit took more time. When Qin Sizheng returned, it was already an hour later.
Hu Chen, having learned from the first set, carefully went over each requirement with Qin Sizheng, making him repeat his understanding. They communicated back and forth three times before finally agreeing.
This shoot went relatively smoothly, finishing in half an hour, and they moved on to the third outfit, which involved working with Shi Jianshu.
Hu Chen scrolled through the raw shots a few times and couldn’t help but complain to Ming Fei. “This kid’s been spoiled at Shengyu Entertainment.”
Ming Fei crossed his arms, recalling the situation with a gnawing irritation. “Lu Xianqing, that bastard… I had to cancel my contract just to sign him. You think he’s human? I nearly gave him everything… and now he has another man and doesn’t want me at all.”
Hu Chen, expressionless: “That’s exactly the kind of thing he would do. What’s so strange? First day you meet him? Also, stop fantasizing—I’m straight.”
By then, Qin Sizheng was already in the third outfit, standing side by side with Shi Jianshu—one in black, one in white.
The twin concept.
Qin Sizheng’s black outfit made him look cool and handsome, with a quiver and bow on his back. Shi Jianshu’s white outfit made him look pure and bright, like an elf who’d wandered into the human world. The stylist even added elf ears and a branch-shaped accessory clipped near his ear.
Hu Chen checked with each of them individually. Shi Jianshu’s broken Mandarin gave him a headache, but finally, he gave up and said, “Fine, shoot.”
Shi Jianshu lay on the ground, and Qin Sizheng, kneeling on one knee with his bow and quiver, helped him up. Their eyes met and held.
“Qin Sizheng, pat his head—like you’re fond of him as a younger brother. A little smile, but don’t grin, no dimples. Keep it subtle.”
“Shi Jianshu, don’t seduce me. Look a little lost and innocent. He’s the one who saved you. You don’t know what patting a head means, but you like it. Confused, surprised, and uncertain. Got it?”
Qin Sizheng gently patted Shi Jianshu’s head and called, “Little brother.”
Shi Jianshu froze, mouth slightly open in surprise. Hu Chen snapped the shot, slapping his thigh and calling it perfect. “Step back, Qin Sizheng—draw the bow, load the arrow.”
Qin Sizheng drew an arrow from his back, nocked it, and pulled the string. Hu Chen exclaimed, “Wow! Nice! Great stance, steady hands, no shaking.”
“Fourth Sister-in-law, not bad,” Shi Jianshu added.
Hearing that, Qin Sizheng blushed and almost shot the arrow at Shi Jianshu’s forehead. Shi Jianshu immediately covered his chest. “Brother, why are you shooting me?”
Hu Chen was stunned. Could someone really use words like that? The lighting crew also struggled to keep still, barely breathing.
Qin Sizheng sincerely suggested, “Honestly, if you don’t know Chinese, you shouldn’t just say random things.”
Shi Jianshu looked innocent. “But you were going to shoot me! That… such a long arrow came flying at me! I was so scared, no hug could make me feel better.”
Qin Sizheng really suspected he was trying to take advantage, but with that innocent look and the outfit, it was impossible to be angry.
He reminded him with a helpless smile, patting his head. “Okay, okay. That’s enough patting, alright?”
Shi Jianshu, like a cat that had just been patted, tilted his head up. Under the lights, he truly looked like an elf. Hu Chen immediately captured the shot—perfect natural camera presence.
“All right, wrap it up.”
Hu Chen’s mood lifted completely. He invited Qin Sizheng to eat later, knowing a great private restaurant and adding that Lu Xianqing also liked it.
Qin Sizheng wanted to go but had work in the afternoon, so he politely declined.
“I’ll go remove my makeup first. Thanks for your help today.”
“Don’t hold grudges,” Hu Chen said, glancing around and lowering his voice. “Next time, come to my place with Lu Xianqing. There’ll be a surprise—your jaw will drop.”
Qin Sizheng felt embarrassed. “You’re busy. I’ll go remove my makeup.”
Shi Jianshu insisted on going to the same makeup room, chattering endlessly. Luckily, having gone from calling him “idol” to “brother,” Qin Sizheng didn’t bother correcting him.
“Let’s exchange WeChat. It’ll be easier next time at the department,” Shi Jianshu said, showing his QR code.
Qin Sizheng scanned it and added him. Shi Jianshu typed a note while mumbling, “I… don’t know how to write… Qing Si… can’t find it… this input method is weird.”
“Here, I’ll type it for you,” Qin Sizheng said, inputting his name and returning the phone. Then he casually asked why Shi Jianshu had been alone at the airport that day—wasn’t his assistant with him?
Shi Jianshu said solemnly, “Probably to fight alongside you.”
Qin Sizheng: “…”
The makeup artist nearby couldn’t help laughing, her hands trembling slightly as she removed his makeup.
Seeing her struggle, Qin Sizheng sighed. “I really shouldn’t have been so heroic that day—rescuing a girl and, on top of that, saving a dramatic young boy. Not worth it.”
Shi Jianshu frowned. “I’ve practiced, but… it’s hard to get good muscles. I saw your Weibo—boxing, so cool! Did you practice in a gym? Next time, take me with you. I’ve always wanted to train.”
Qin Sizheng couldn’t help correcting him. “I’ve been practicing for a long time… tuition.”
Shi Jianshu spun in circles, still confused, so Qin Sizheng gave up.
“I didn’t train in a gym either. I just watched boxing online and practiced casually. You can do some simple exercises at home too—just don’t hurt yourself.”
“Then I’ll just practice when I get home tonight!”
After removing his makeup, Qin Sizheng had to rush to another engagement, and Shi Jianshu was heading back to the company to record a song. They parted ways at the door.
Xu Zhao had already left, but Shen Changfeng was still waiting at the entrance. He handed Qin Sizheng two pieces of candy. “You haven’t eaten all day. Be careful of low blood sugar.”
Qin Sizheng popped them into his mouth and dashed off to his next assignment. It wasn’t until he returned home that night that he truly understood what it meant to have “feet barely touch the ground.”
The whole day had been spent either in a car or traveling between cars.
Qin Sizheng guessed that his schedule had intensified because of Between Good and Evil. Beyond the usual exhausting commercial performances, he had also been invited to perform at the Jiangcheng TV Mid-Autumn Gala.
The TV station treated him with great respect, but they needed to confirm the program lineup during rehearsals a week in advance. Xu Zhao told him to just sing a song casually, something he had performed before.
Qin Sizheng opened Weibo to look up songs he had sung previously. He wasn’t sure where Xu Zhao’s confidence came from, but he practiced a bit and recorded himself.
It wasn’t that the performance was bad—just that it didn’t quite match Lu Xianqing. Together, their voices couldn’t even hit five complete notes.
Leaning on his hand, Qin Sizheng scrolled through Weibo. Someone had leaked news of his Mid-Autumn Gala invitation, and a past performance mishap had resurfaced, pushing him onto the trending list again.
He had long been accustomed to frequently appearing on hot searches, so he scrolled past the first few items and stumbled upon a video of pickled radish. He watched it with great interest, thinking to himself: Next time, I’ll make this for Fourth Brother.
After an hour or more of browsing and learning dozens of recipes, he realized he still hadn’t figured out what he could perform for the gala. Exhausted, he sprawled out on the bed like a starfish.
Suddenly, his phone rang. It was He Du calling, and Qin Sizheng answered immediately.
“Brother He.”
On the other end, Dou Dou’s enthusiastic voice greeted him, interspersed with He Du trying to get him to focus while Dou Dou played around. The father and son bantered back and forth for a while before things settled down.
He Du chuckled. “Dou Dou’s much better behaved now, thankfully you reminded me. Otherwise, there’d still be a gap between us.”
Qin Sizheng quickly insisted he hadn’t done anything special.
After some polite chatter, He Du asked, “Have you prepared your performance for the Mid-Autumn Gala yet?”
Qin Sizheng, fretting over it, complained honestly to his longtime fellow performer: “Not yet. I spent all night thinking and still have no clue. I heard you’re going too? Singing with Dou Dou?”
He Du replied: “Yes. Three other families are participating, and Little Tomato isn’t suitable after that incident. Si Qianqiu isn’t eligible yet. You, on the other hand, are quite fortunate.”
Qin Sizheng leaned on his hand and sighed. “Maybe it’s just dumb luck.”
He Du smiled briefly before steering the conversation back. “I’m going to recommend someone. You’ll like them, but if you end up collaborating, you’ll have to thank me.”
Sitting up, Qin Sizheng asked, “Who?”
“An Ying.”
Qin Sizheng immediately opened Baidu and was stunned by her credentials—so many awards, clearly a highly respected choreographer, and most importantly, her works were original.
Her style was versatile: ethereal, exotic, humanistic, and romantic. Each style was portrayed with striking depth.
He was captivated at first glance but worried that he might ruin her choreography, since he couldn’t dance at all.
He Du seemed to hesitate for a moment. Qin Sizheng called out twice before he snapped back: “Sizheng, An Ying reached out to you before—you knew?”
Qin Sizheng hadn’t received any message. “When?”
He Du paused, feeling this shouldn’t be hidden. During the variety show recording, he had sensed that Qin Sizheng’s situation didn’t match public rumors. Now it was clear someone had interfered.
“She contacted you once before you joined the crew—after you finished the game promo, she saw it online. I think she reached out to Xu Zhao.”
Qin Sizheng froze. “You mean Xu Zhao deliberately kept An Ying from me?”
Impossible. Xu Zhao had always been kind to him. When he first arrived, he saw Xu Zhao’s eyes light up with excitement and relief—that wasn’t an act.
He Du said, “Whether someone treats you well isn’t the same as whether they’re using you. Affection can be influenced by self-interest. I heard Ming Fei wanted to sign you? Xu Zhao probably knew. If he knew, do you think he might have tried to push you away?”
Qin Sizheng was silent for a moment. He had never thought of pushing Xu Zhao away.
It wasn’t Ming Fei signing him now—it was Lu Xianqing. His studio hadn’t been established yet, so he still needed an agent when the time came.
He Du abandoned his usual subtlety and said sharply: “Don’t think too highly of people. When it comes to interests, human nature is worthless.”
“These past weeks, his two new talents suddenly got busier—where did the idea come from if not from you?”
Qin Sizheng thought back to past events—the photos, the creepy messages, and how Lu Xianqing later mocked Jiang Zhen on Weibo but didn’t touch him at all.
Considering the abilities of He Xing and An Ning, Xu Zhao wasn’t exactly competent. Qin Sizheng now realized what Xu Zhao meant the first day he arrived: the “black and red” remark.
Back then, Lu Xianqing told him not to overconsume his commercial value—probably seeing Xu Zhao’s mishandling. But at that time, Qin Sizheng had been at rock bottom and had no better options.
After hanging up, He Du sent An Ying’s contact info via WeChat.
Qin Sizheng was stunned. He had never imagined Xu Zhao would treat him purely as a tool. But after He Du’s words, he knew that contacting An Ying himself would reveal the truth.
Just then, Lu Xianqing finished work and sent him a message.
Qin Sizheng immediately video-called him. Lu Xianqing answered instantly, smiling. “Oh my, in such a hurry?”