Qin Sizheng’s mouth hung open, utterly stunned. He looked helplessly between Lu Xianqing and Lu Mingxun, feeling the full weight of social death.
“U-uncle…”
Lu Mingxun shook his head, exuding authority without anger. “Enough nonsense.”
Qin Sizheng panicked inwardly. Could he still salvage the situation? Or had it already died completely in this man’s mind, beyond redemption?
Saying he was reading lines? Too fake.
Saying he hadn’t fully woken up, so it was nonsense? Even faker.
Help.
He wanted to bury himself. Fingers hovered over the hang-up button, but that might make things even worse. Could a bolt of divine lightning strike and end him already?
Lu Xianqing said, “Come on, call him ‘Dad.’”
This time Qin Sizheng played it safe. Unlike last time with Ye Xu, he cautiously greeted him, hoping to salvage what he could. “Uncle, hello. I’m Qin Sizheng, Fourth Brother’s friend.”
Lu Mingxun glanced at him. Qin Sizheng instinctively wanted to stand and kowtow in apology.
“From now on, don’t say such things aloud. If others hear, it’s improper. You’re public figures; your words and actions must be careful. Don’t embarrass the country.”
Qin Sizheng quickly apologized, promising he would remember and not do it again.
Seeing his attitude, Lu Mingxun nodded. “Knowing it’s wrong is enough. You represent more than yourselves; act with restraint.”
Lu Xianqing teased from the side: “Embarrass the country? Out there, I’m earning glory for the nation. You know how many foreign awards I’ve taken? Not enough to lift our flag high?”
Lu Mingxun shot him a look. Lu Xianqing fell silent.
“Being young means stricter self-discipline. Don’t indulge in luxury, don’t speak recklessly. Know what’s appropriate and what isn’t.”
Qin Sizheng, on the other side of the screen, was blushing with shame, wishing he could bury himself.
Lu Xianqing couldn’t take it anymore. “Dad, stop schooling him! You’re turning him into a little monk of rules. Can’t even say flirty things to me now—are you compensating? I still want to spoil him after filming; stop brainwashing him!”
Lu Mingxun glared. “What’s wrong with reciting the oath? At least it teaches discipline and law-abiding conduct.”
Lu Xianqing threw up his hands. “Fine, fine. Go back to the bureau and protect the law. Let me make the most of my indulgences.”
Qin Sizheng frantically waved him off. “Stop it!”
Lu Mingxun left with a stern face. Before exiting, he asked if Lu Xianqing had hung up. Seeing he hadn’t, he took the phone to give Qin Sizheng another word of advice.
“What more is there to say? Save your breath. I like playful things; a little flirtation is normal.” Lu Xianqing said, but obediently handed the phone over.
Qin Sizheng straightened instinctively to listen to the moral lecture.
Lu Mingxun could read people well. He saw the boy’s embarrassment. If it weren’t for courtesy, he’d have hung up long ago.
“You’re Qin Sizheng, right?”
Qin Sizheng nodded immediately. “Yes, uncle.”
“Since you two are in a relationship, take it seriously. Don’t treat it as a game. Unlike others, once public, it can stir controversy, so be aware. Also…”
Qin Sizheng hadn’t finished digesting the first part before Lu Mingxun added, prompting him to sit even straighter.
“…Keep those kinds of words private. Don’t say them aloud.”
Qin Sizheng: “….”
Lu Mingxun had wanted to tell Lu Xianqing not to mention past events to Ye Xu, but with Qin Sizheng present, he swallowed the words.
“Alright, I’m leaving. Your status makes it inconvenient to see me off.”
Lu Xianqing closed the door, laughing. “Little guy, big appetite—you said you could handle two.”
Qin Sizheng buried himself under the blanket, muttering muffled complaints: “You’re the problem! You knew my uncle was here and still said that.”
Lu Xianqing hadn’t meant to provoke him; he hadn’t expected the boy to follow along. He had only meant to tease, yet Qin Sizheng not only replied but did so enthusiastically.
“Uncle must think I’m ridiculous… I’m done for.” Qin Sizheng threw off the blanket, staring up at the ceiling in despair. “I might as well be sentenced to death. You can collect my body.”
Lu Xianqing grinned. “Fine. Once you’re collected, I’ll die with you. We’ll be buried together.”
Qin Sizheng felt a warmth stir in his chest at the thought of dying together with him, muttering softly, “I’m not being buried with you.”
The alarm went off, and he suddenly remembered he needed to visit An Ying today. He hurriedly said, “I can’t chat anymore. I’m off to get ready. Hope your filming goes smoothly.”
Lu Xianqing didn’t even get a chance to reply before the call ended, leaving him blinking at the screen in disbelief.
Lu Mingxun sent him a WeChat message.
[Don’t tell your mother. I came to see you. The things from back then—if possible, don’t mention them to her. She’s smart; she knows what happened, but not all the details. Don’t make her suffer again.]
Lu Xianqing replied simply with a “Got it.”
The secretary, who had never seen Lu Mingxun use his phone, couldn’t help but ask, “Were you chatting with Mr. Lu? You two really have a good father-son relationship. I was surprised when Miss An came to call me yesterday.”
Lu Mingxun nodded. “Yes, my son is very well-behaved.”
The secretary, a fan of Lu Xianqing, had been bored during the long drive, but hearing him speak warmly of his son sparked her curiosity.
“That day, your wife really startled me. She’s so young, so poised. If this were ancient times, she’d be Mulan—truly stunning.”
Lu Mingxun lowered his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
The secretary froze. Was this really the same stern, no-nonsense Director Lu? Praising his ex-wife so proudly? She couldn’t hide her smile.
Meanwhile, Qin Sizheng finished washing up and hurriedly changed. Shen Changfeng had also arrived.
“Heading out?”
Qin Sizheng recounted bits of last night’s events, and on the way, they bought a bouquet of green lisianthus.
An Ying’s studio was downtown. Before they arrived, Shen Changfeng confirmed the time with her assistant. Upon arrival, a tall woman in dance attire stood at the door.
“That’s An Ying,” Shen Changfeng whispered.
Qin Sizheng hadn’t stepped forward before a group of girls swarmed him. “Ahhh, Little Kite! I finally see you in person!”
“Babe, you’re even more beautiful than on camera!”
The girls were relentless. Shen Changfeng was pushed aside as they thrust notebooks at Qin Sizheng. “Sign for us!”
Qin Sizheng obliged, signing one by one and thanking them. An Ying cleared her throat from behind. “Everyone, scram. Are you in the way? I’ll fire all of you for trying to steal my star.”
The girls quickly scattered, leaving Qin Sizheng smiling. He took the flowers from Shen Changfeng and handed them to her. “Teacher An, I’m Qin Sizheng. I heard you like lisianthus, so I brought some for you.”
“Don’t bother with formalities. I’ve liked you for a long time.”
“I watched your skiing video and the one where you kicked the wooden stick—it was amazing. I thought if I added some martial arts elements to my dance, it would be spectacular.”
An Ying, bold and energetic, immediately led him upstairs to the dance studio. On the way, she excitedly shared her creative ideas. “I could dance solo, but it wouldn’t have the balance of strength and grace. Soft yet dynamic, elegant yet free-flowing—one person can do it, but two will express it better.”
Qin Sizheng didn’t know much about professional dance, but after watching An Ying’s performance last night, he was captivated.
She opened the door, pointing to clothes on a chair. “I prepared a dance outfit for you. Change in the left-side dressing room. Ready to start after that?”
Qin Sizheng changed into the loose outfit and returned. An Ying’s eyes lit up. “You have a great figure.”
“You flatter me,” he said shyly, stepping forward as she explained the technique moves again. He noted them carefully, confident that his martial arts background would help.
Three minutes in, a problem arose.
“Feeling shy?” An Ying squinted, smiling.
Qin Sizheng’s ears turned red. He had never been this close to anyone except Lu Xianqing. Dance required physical contact, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist, he instinctively loosened before fully embracing her.
“Sorry, Teacher An. I’m just not used to this.”
An Ying reassured him. “It’s fine. Treat it like acting. Dance has no gender—only emotional investment brings out the best performance. Don’t worry about feeling like you’re taking advantage.”
Qin Sizheng took a deep breath, clenched his fingers to ease his nerves, and resumed the moves.
After one full run, An Ying pointed out numerous mistakes. “You haven’t danced much before, have you? You’re starting to mirror movements too closely. Relax. Treat dance as acting—you are the character; express it through movement.”
Qin Sizheng nodded, taking notes. After two more runs, he had roughly memorized the choreography and positioning.
“Take a break. There are still a few days of rehearsal,” An Ying said, tossing him a water bottle. She twisted the cap and asked, “Little Kite, you and Xu Zhao… don’t get along too well?”
Qin Sizheng evaded with a vague, “It’s okay.”
An Ying smiled. “You’re still young. This kind of thing isn’t a big deal in the industry. I’ve been planning this dance long before you joined. Back then, Xu Zhao told me you were still considering, and then you stopped answering calls. I was furious—it confirmed the rumors that you’re troublesome.”
But seeing Qin Sizheng today, before going through Xu Zhao, she realized the truth: these two are about to part ways.
Xu Zhao, a bit older and wiser, had noticed Qin Sizheng’s intent to leave. That’s why recently he had been frantically arranging work for him—even those grueling, low-paying commercial gigs.
An Ying asked, “Enough rest? Shall we practice again?”
Qin Sizheng set down the water bottle. Halfway through, he suddenly stopped. “Teacher An, I think adding a move here would work better.”
An Ying tilted her head slightly, and Qin Sizheng hurriedly said, “I’m not a professional; I’m just giving random ideas.”
“No, no, no, speak freely. Dance is about storytelling—technique and soul don’t conflict.”
Qin Sizheng shared his thoughts, and An Ying’s eyes lit up. “This is perfect! It’s the finishing touch. Forget acting—come dance with me instead. Join my studio, I’ll make you my co-owner.”
Qin Sizheng practiced all day. After dinner at An Ying’s studio, he returned home nearly exhausted.
“Dancing is harder than martial arts training,” he muttered.
Shen Changfeng said, “You coordinate well with her. This style suits you perfectly—soft and hard. I believe the stage performance will surpass your solo work.”
Qin Sizheng was pleased too. That afternoon, he even had Shen Changfeng record a video to send to Lu Xianqing.
That evening, Lu Xianqing finally replied, full of playful grievance:
[Was her waist soft when you held her? You look like you enjoyed it. And you still remembered to send me a message—I thought you’d completely lost your mind.]
Qin Sizheng, afraid of another social death, carefully replied: [It’s just dance. Nothing else. Anyway, have you commented on whether I danced well?]
Lu Xianqing: [Who can tell through a screen? Dance in front of me.]
Before Qin Sizheng could react, a sudden stop slammed him against the back of the car seat. The driver quickly apologized: “Are you okay? Someone ran across the street—didn’t hit you, right?”
Qin Sizheng held his forehead and looked up. “I’m fine.”
The driver rushed out to check the other person. A drunk man waved him off: “Get out of my way. Are you blind? Can’t you drive?”
Qin Sizheng rolled down the window. “Is he alright?”
The man looked up at him, squinting, studying him for a long moment, then shoved the driver aside and staggered across the street through ongoing traffic.
Shen Changfeng whispered nervously, “Drinking this much is dangerous. He’s asking for trouble.”
Qin Sizheng couldn’t shake the memory of the man’s gaze—it felt as if he recognized him.
The driver got back in the car, now even more careful.
When they returned home, it had taken ten extra minutes. Xu Zhao was waiting at the door, looking a bit annoyed.
“Why are you only back now? Where have you been?”
Qin Sizheng asked Shen Changfeng and the driver to leave first, then invited Xu Zhao in and poured him some tea.
“I went to see An Ying,” he said calmly.
Xu Zhao sprang up. “You went to see An Ying? What for?”
Qin Sizheng replied, “It’s for the Mid-Autumn Gala program. I’ve decided to dance with her.”
Realizing the truth, Xu Zhao dropped the pretense. “Why not register for a solo performance? Dance programs rarely get high ratings, and you’re pairing with her? What level is she, and what level are you? Are you looking for trouble?”
Qin Sizheng furrowed his brow slightly but patiently explained, “I’m not good at singing. I like her dance, and I’m satisfied with the outcome. Ratings don’t matter.”
Xu Zhao’s expression hardened, as if Qin Sizheng had been bewitched. He used to be obedient; ever since that variety show, he had become harder to control.
“You think I’m trying to harm you? Did Lu Xianqing tell you to do this? Who is he, an acting king? Who can compare? You think just filming a drama with him makes you his equal? Wake up! You don’t have that right!”
Qin Sizheng said calmly, “I will have it someday.”
“What will you have? You barely survived in the industry before, and now you think you can be the next Lu Xianqing? Don’t be unrealistic.”
“You need to maintain your popularity now. Opportunities will come later. You’re only eighteen—you have plenty of time. Don’t be afraid.”
The entertainment industry moves fast. Stars rise and fall every day. Only a few can truly stand at the top—like Lu Xianqing. But how many Lu Xianqings are there?
He was born ahead of others, backed by Mingfei Entertainment, with resources at his disposal. Qin Sizheng’s situation was different. Right now, what he needed was attention. Popularity brings money; a career pivot can happen anytime—even at twenty-eight.
Xu Zhao tried to reason gently: “Sizheng, next time, discuss things with me before acting. Don’t make decisions on your own. If something goes wrong, I might not be able to help, and you won’t know what’s right.”
“Discuss? Did you ever discuss anything with me before? I’ve never refused your work. But why didn’t you tell me when you rejected An Ying so many times?”
Qin Sizheng, fed up with his pretense, pressed on. “When you visited me at the hospital and asked me not to sign with Mingfei, did I not keep my word and stay where you were?”
Xu Zhao ignored the point and got angrier. “So what? You promised not to leave, then went ahead and did everything behind my back. Do you know how much effort I put into supporting you? And this is how you repay me?”
Qin Sizheng’s patience finally snapped. For the first time, he said Xu Zhao’s name directly. “Xu Zhao.”
“Don’t you remember how reckless you were? Obsessed with Lu Xianqing, pasting his posters, hiding his things like a creep? Didn’t he find that disgusting? What was the point of all that? Look at Jiang Zhen’s fate!”
Xu Zhao had spoken out of turn, and only realized his mistake too late.
Qin Sizheng watched him calmly. “You finally told the truth. Yes, I like Lu Xianqing. I’m obsessive. I stick close to him. So what?”
For half a year, Qin Sizheng had been gentle, smiling even while talking. Xu Zhao, seeing him so calm, felt a twinge of hesitation.
“Think, Sizheng, I’m not saying this to hurt you. I just want to tell you, don’t trust Lu Xianqing so blindly. If one day he finds out… would he dislike you? I’m telling you this for your own good.”
“Do you even realize what kind of contract you signed with me?” Qin Sizheng asked.
Xu Zhao frowned and glared at him. “What do you mean? You signed it yourself. Don’t tell me you’re only realizing now that it’s unfair?”
Qin Sizheng let out a light, slightly mocking laugh. Xu Zhao caught a hint of Lu Xianqing’s tone in it.
“What are you laughing at?”
Qin Sizheng said, “I admit I’ve been reckless all these years and brought a lot of trouble on myself. But since the kids’ variety show, have you ever really cared about what happened to me? That hand photo—we all know it wasn’t an audition. If it weren’t for that promotional clip, how exactly did you plan to fix things for me?”
Xu Zhao was frustrated. “What are you trying to do, dig up old grievances now? Haven’t I cleaned up the mess for you? And now that you’ve gotten close to Lu Xianqing, you think you’re safe? Let me tell you, there’s no way you can terminate this contract! You can check it yourself—see what it says!”
He didn’t wait for Qin Sizheng to open it and continued: “The contract is twenty years. Termination isn’t allowed within that period, and any violation extends it by one year.”
Qin Sizheng was dumbfounded. What kind of servitude contract is this? Not even Huang Shiren would dare write that.
He had only heard Xu Zhao mention the twenty-year term and had no idea where the original contract was. He never expected to terminate it or even think of checking it.
“I advise you to stay with Shengyu and not think about leaving. I don’t believe even Lu Xianqing can change this contract. Even if he could…” Xu Zhao stopped, stepped forward, and tapped Qin Sizheng’s face with the back of his hand. “You should also consider if you deserve—ah!”
Qin Sizheng grabbed his hand and twisted it viciously. Xu Zhao even heard the sound of his bones shifting, and the pain brought tears to his eyes.
“Let go! What are you doing?”
Qin Sizheng held his hand, cold and unyielding: “If worst comes to worst, I’ll just leave the entertainment industry. You can’t threaten me. And I suggest you stop yelling—I might not be able to resist punching you.”
Xu Zhao’s forehead was slick with cold sweat, his bluff collapsing. “You dare!”
The next second, he felt his hand being twisted like a rope, pain making him almost vomit. “Let go! Let go first!”
Qin Sizheng finally released him, brushing his hand off indifferently. His tone carried a hint of icy detachment that made Xu Zhao feel strangely reminiscent of Lu Xianqing, and he shivered a little.
“I am your signed artist, not your puppet. You’ve taken so much from me for the juniors, and I don’t care. Even if you’d asked me properly at the time, I would have agreed. But you shouldn’t have hidden things from me.”
Xu Zhao said, “Think honestly—have I ever treated you badly? Haven’t I always been there when you needed me? Haven’t I limited your work opportunities over the years? Did I assign your work to juniors instead of Si Qianqiu? Yes, I didn’t tell you—my mistake. But Sizheng, consider my position too—I have my own hardships.”
Qin Sizheng didn’t want to hear him justify himself. “I know you meant well, and I’m grateful. I never intended to leave. Mingfei Entertainment did approach me, but I refused. I said I wouldn’t go. But when it comes to business, do I really need to explain what choice you made in the end?”
Xu Zhao was speechless. Of course he cared about money—but who in this industry doesn’t?
Si Qianqiu worked tirelessly to remove the shadow Qin Sizheng cast, yet clung to him for publicity. Why? Because it gave them attention.
The kids’ show crew knew Qin Sizheng’s temper but still hired him for the buzz.
“Sizheng, I’ve always thought you were obedient and had great potential. Don’t ruin yourself for Lu Xianqing.”
Qin Sizheng shook his head. “I’m obedient, and that’s why you treat me well. But all of it was based on me making you money. You assumed I wanted to go to Mingfei Entertainment, so you made decisions without even asking me.”
Xu Zhao fell silent for a moment, then looked up at him. “I sincerely cared for you. Didn’t you secretly contact Mingfei Entertainment too? How could my care matter? If I let you go, after all the effort I put into you over the years, shouldn’t I look out for myself? Consider me too!”
Qin Sizheng closed his eyes briefly, then opened them slowly, his voice heavy: “Am I just a tool, Xu Ge?”
“If it’s come to this, there’s nothing more to say. Signing with an agency means you’ve lost the right to make decisions. I arranged a survival-in-the-jungle show for you—get ready for that tomorrow.”
“After that, there’s a teaching experience, commercial events in three cities…” Xu Zhao rattled off a list without caring whether he remembered, then left.
He paused at the door, exhaling. In the end, he was raising an ungrateful wolf. He had poured so much effort into Qin Sizheng, who was even Shengyu’s most profitable artist—what more could he ask for?
Yes, Mingfei Entertainment was enticing, but he had given his all. Could Mingfei do the same? With so many big names in his company, what opportunities would Qin Sizheng have if he went there?
Big productions wouldn’t touch him; small ones wouldn’t even consider him. Better to be the head of a small circle than the tail of a phoenix—how could he not understand? Two flattering words, and he thought he would be boosted?
He’d fall back to the bottom sooner or later.
Qin Sizheng stood in the living room for a while, then noticed his phone lighting up—Lu Xianqing calling.
He rubbed his face to compose himself before answering. “Finished filming? Back at the hotel?”
Lu Xianqing asked, “Why did you answer so late? Lost interest?”
Qin Sizheng squinted and smiled. “No, I love you—especially you.”
Lu Xianqing was pleased by his sweet words and handed the phone to An Ning. “Say it again for your old fan, An Ning—how much you love me.”
An Ning recoiled. “You’re lucky I’m not possessive, or I’d have poisoned your food by now.”
Lu Xianqing took the phone back. “What were you busy with just now? Ignoring me so long—haven’t even showered, went to train?”
Qin Sizheng nodded vaguely. “Mm, training.”
Xu Zhao had said one thing correctly—he couldn’t rely on Lu Xianqing to solve everything for him.
There was a long silence.
Qin Sizheng walked toward the kitchen, smiling, and asked, “What do you feel like eating? I’m going to cook. Even if you can’t taste it, I can eat it for you so you feel a little involved.”
Lu Xianqing replied, “Oh? Making me hungry, huh? Wait until I get back—I’ll put you in a pot and slowly eat you.”
“I’m afraid you won’t finish,” Qin Sizheng said, placing his phone on the stand and reaching for his apron. A glimpse of his waist, sharp as a knife in Lu Xianqing’s eyes, looked deadly.
“No such thing. I’ve got a big appetite—enough to eat two of you.”
Qin Sizheng couldn’t even look at him. He raised his knife in mock threat. “Say that again and I’ll chop you into zeroes.”
Lu Xianqing leaned back in his chair, smiling, his eyes full of warmth and mischief. “Alright, then I’ll cook myself and serve it. Service guaranteed. If that’s not enough, I can cooperate—I’m quite good at acting.”
Qin Sizheng couldn’t stand it. “Why do you always turn everything like this? I’m not your one! I like being myself.”
“What? Don’t want to be one, so you want to be zero? People say being zero has its benefits, but most do it with tears. I haven’t tried—I’m still a poor old virgin, so I’ll only suffer to care for you.”
Hearing this from Lu Xianqing, with his teasing tone, made Qin Sizheng’s heart warm. This Lu Xianqing, who no one else had, belonged to him alone.
“Hey, do you really think you can finish all that? You saw me the other day—I’m worried you can’t keep up. Your acting isn’t great either. What if it goes wrong? Maybe I’ll suffer a little and practice with you for a while? When I finish filming in two months, we’ll check if you’ve improved.”
Qin Sizheng chopped a cucumber fiercely, biting into it. “Has your skill really gotten so bad that it needs my acting to compensate?”
Lu Xianqing exclaimed, shaking his shoulders with laughter. Qin Sizheng realized he’d been tricked again, irritated and about to hang up, only for Lu Xianqing to quickly stop him.
“Don’t hang up, don’t hang up. My bad, I won’t tease you anymore.”