Since being with Lu Xianqing, Qin Sizheng had seen him less and less. If not for this sudden incident, it might have been months before they could meet again. He suggested sending him to the airport.
He also wanted to hear Shen Qing’s guidance.
He had a rough understanding that Lu Xianqing was struggling psychologically. Lu Xianqing had vaguely confessed this to him, but Qin Sizheng didn’t realize it was severe enough to require professional intervention.
On the outside, Lu Xianqing looked normal—strong, invincible.
“Don’t go,” Lu Xianqing said, patting his head.
Qin Sizheng held his hand, about to tell him he didn’t mind, but Lu Xianqing cut him off: “I’ll be gone soon. If you follow me to the airport, you’ll get blocked on the way back. Don’t trouble yourself.”
Feeling his refusal, Qin Sizheng didn’t insist. An Ning had packed her things and waited in the car with He Xing. Lu Xianqing held him briefly before letting go.
Once in the car, He Xing asked: “Did you do it?”
Lu Xianqing frowned. “Do what?”
He Xing, holding back her frustration, recalled how she had barely slept since this whole ordeal began, napping only briefly at the office, waking at the slightest sound. She was nearly exhausted.
Finally, she had hoped to meet Xu Zhiliang to discuss Qin Sizheng’s contract, but Lu Xianqing hadn’t signaled her. That morning, she heard Xu Zhiliang had been attacked—both hands broken—and was now in the hospital, fed by others.
Qin Sizheng, though seemingly violent, didn’t strike without reason. Even if he did, it wouldn’t be this brutal. Otherwise, Lu Xianqing’s bones would have been shattered hundreds of times.
Only one person could act so lawlessly.
“Don’t play dumb,” He Xing said, tossing a tablet onto his lap. The news reported clearly: Shengyu’s boss got into a drunken altercation and ended up with both hands disabled.
Lu Xianqing scrolled through the images: Xu Zhiliang lying unconscious deep in the alley, then in the hospital with casts on both arms, glaring furiously. He lightly curled the corner of his mouth and returned the tablet.
He Xing stared at him. “You didn’t do it?”
“Fine, I did it,” he said.
She scrutinized his face, uncertain if he was telling the truth. “If you didn’t do it, don’t admit it. You’ve been with Sizheng the past few days—no time for this.”
Lu Xianqing sighed. “Admit or not, can’t win either way. He Xing Jie, you’re even harder to handle than Qin Sizheng.”
She rolled her eyes at him and looked back at the tablet. “There’s no surveillance there. It was late at night, hardly anyone around, and he was drunk. He couldn’t even see his attacker’s face. Just rotten luck.”
An Ning chimed in, “Serves him right! Bullying my treasure gets karma. Maybe it’s people he wronged coming back for revenge—or people he owes money to venting their anger!”
He Xing agreed. “His two movies weren’t fully self-financed. Shengyu doesn’t have that much money for co-productions. With this happening, there’s no way they’d release them. He’s lost billions. Any action he takes is understandable.”
Lu Xianqing said calmly, “Debt must be repaid. Xu Zhiliang can’t just step outside that rule.”
He Xing finally understood. From the start, he never intended to negotiate. He forced Xu Zhiliang into a dead end, ensuring he’d have to come begging to buy Qin Sizheng’s contract.
Everyone thought Lu Xianqing couldn’t sustain a drawn-out battle, but by cutting off the opponent’s options, he never needed to.
Shen Qing hadn’t seen Lu Xianqing for a while. The moment he did, he noticed a light in his eyes—he no longer needed psychological intervention.
He remembered their first meeting: Lu Xianqing smiled, but his eyes were full of dark despair, chilling even during conversation.
Shen Qing believed human emotions were sacred, capable of healing ailments no medicine could. He worked quickly.
These past days, even with all the news, the medicine had not failed him.
Qin Sizheng, preferring to be hurt himself than drag Lu Xianqing into it, had kept him from withdrawal struggles. Shen Qing apologized to Lu Xianqing for his previous bluntness.
“It was too hasty of me.”
Lu Xianqing leaned back in his chair, in his usual lazy posture. “It’s okay. Dad forgives you.”
Shen Qing adjusted his professionalism, suppressing the urge to scold him, and talked for a while. He found Lu Xianqing’s temperament had changed considerably.
Previously, his “perverse” tendencies had been normalized among those who knew him. His misanthropy seemed to have vanished. Shen Qing could even sense a gentleness in his speech now.
The session lasted two hours. It was less “guidance” and more like Lu Xianqing feeding Shen Qing a full two hours of affection. When it ended, he was still unwilling to stop, suggesting they continue talking.
Shen Qing pointed at the door. “Get out.”
Lu Xianqing said, “You really want me to get out?”
Shen Qing snapped, “Starting today, you don’t have to come here anymore! I never want to see you again!”
Lu Xianqing curved his lips into a smile and stood up. Shen Qing thought he was finally leaving and let out a long breath, leaning back in his chair—only to realize Lu Xianqing was reaching toward him. His smile faded, replaced by a serious look in his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Lu Xianqing extended his right hand in a gesture for a handshake. Shen Qing, feeling a mix of nervousness and caution, cautiously got up and shook it, his mind racing—what trap could this guy possibly have set?
“Thank you for everything,” Lu Xianqing said. “For these past nine years, for taking care of me. Without your perseverance, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”
Shen Qing lifted his chin and smiled proudly. “That’s more like it!”
Lu Xianqing grinned at him, then patted his shoulder. “I’m leaving now.”
Shen Qing watched his back and couldn’t help but smile. The sense of relief he felt was unmatched by anything else, like personally nurturing a fragile sapling that had rotten roots, finally watching it grow into a towering tree.
“Never come to my room again, Lu Xianqing.”
Lu Xianqing heard it, didn’t turn back, just pulled his hand from his pocket and waved it behind him.
Over the past couple of days, Qin Sizheng had fully experienced just how… relentless Lu Xianqing could be. From the kitchen to the bathroom to the sofa and coffee table, there was no place he didn’t take advantage of.
At first, he held back a bit—just kisses and hugs while cooking or washing dishes—but over time, it became more extreme. Especially in the kitchen: he insisted on keeping an apron on Qin Sizheng, and even the carrots he didn’t like ended up being used in ways that forced him to engage.
“You like carrots, right? Here, eat as much as you want,” Lu Xianqing teased, holding a carrot for him to bite. Whatever he didn’t finish was immediately redirected elsewhere, leaving Qin Sizheng unable to look at carrots without flinching.
He gave him a ring-shaped accessory matching their rings and insisted it not be removed for days, hooking it so that Qin Sizheng had to stay close to him.
The bathroom was even worse—every towel rack was somehow used for his schemes.
Qin Sizheng ground his teeth, muttering inside, this man was like a maniac who loved hearing him beg, yet sometimes made it impossible to actually beg, stubbornly refusing compliance.
“Drama queen!” Qin Sizheng yelled into the empty room, the spacious acoustics giving back a faint echo—but it suddenly made him feel a little lonely.
He had originally thought it was no big deal, but after these past few days, he realized the pang of parting was real. He regretted not going to the set with him, letting pride get in the way.
Qin Sizheng spent a moment regretting, then returned to his room to remove the ring he had been forbidden to take off, leaving the doll on his bed. Just then, Lu Xianqing’s voice echoed in his ears.
“The doll’s a bit small, but it should suffice,” Lu Xianqing said, lightly touching it with his fingertips, tracing the entwined patterns along with Qin Sizheng’s hand. “Well-made. Next time, have Yusi make a bigger one. Strive for perfection.”
Qin Sizheng begged him to stop, worried that He Xing or An Ning outside might overhear.
He felt relieved—if anyone else saw, he’d die on the spot.
The doll trembled, splashing some “milk” onto his hand. It had probably gone bad after sitting too long. Lu Xianqing frowned, then laughed. “This is quite meticulous. What is it?”
Qin Sizheng almost fainted, hurriedly grabbing a tissue to wipe his hand. “Maybe some kind of milk-like liquid. I’ll pour it out later.”
Lu Xianqing extended his hand for him to clean, then suddenly had an idea. “Wash it, get fresh milk, and tonight I’ll teach you how to act in a scene.”
Qin Sizheng tossed the tissue in the trash, lowering his voice. “I’m not filming that kind of scene! I’m a proper actor.”
Lu Xianqing smiled. “You are, I’m not.”
“…?”
He leaned close to Qin Sizheng’s ear, voice lowered, mimicking the doll’s tone: “Baby, you’re amazing…”
Qin Sizheng panicked, shoving him away, face burning red as he clung to the wardrobe to make him stop.
Lu Xianqing’s laughter lingered in the room. Qin Sizheng felt his ears heat up again, frantically shaking his head to push him out of his mind, muttering internally: “Bastard.”
The phone rang outside. Thinking it was Shen Changfeng, Qin Sizheng threw the doll under the covers and went to answer. It was Xi Ling.
“Sizheng, come to my concert tomorrow night. You promised—you can’t back out!”
After the recent incident, Xi Ling had also come to support him—not for clout, but genuinely.
Though the outside world said he was arrogant and difficult, Qin Sizheng liked him. He was real.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. But I don’t sing well—if I scare your fans away, I’m not taking responsibility!” Qin Sizheng laughed.
Xi Ling snorted. “Then cry for them!”
Qin Sizheng giggled. “No way, if they see you cry, they’d feel too sorry for you. I’ll try to sing well, make sure they don’t abandon you.”
“Alright, I’ll go rehearse. Make sure you come!”
Xi Ling was decisive, fast, and efficient—hanging up as quickly as he spoke.
Qin Sizheng, having practiced singing for the Mid-Autumn Gala, figured it would finally come in handy. Shen Changfeng had even arranged a vocal coach for him from scratch, so he had made some progress.
With Lu Xianqing gone, Qin Sizheng planned to use the time to practice. But then, the doorbell rang again.
He opened the door to find a person bundled so tightly in a package that only two unmistakable eyes peeked out, rolling like a cat’s, staring straight at him. Without waiting for him to speak, the figure pounced.
“Si Zeng!”
“…Shi Jianshu?”
Shi Jianshu squeezed past the doorway, draping an arm over Qin Sizheng’s shoulder. He tossed his hat and mask onto the coffee table, pulled out a wooden hairpin, and let his golden hair cascade like a waterfall—like a newly formed elf in human shape.
“You okay?”
Qin Sizheng poured him a glass of water. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Shi Jianshu made himself at home, sitting cross-legged on the carpet as his hair spilled around him. Qin Sizheng, worried he might get caught in it, reached over to tidy him a little, but Shi Jianshu casually brushed it aside and settled in.
“Even though Senior Brother Lu said I’m a little cat spirit and made fun of me for mumbling! I hated it, but when he went public with you, it was just… too cool! I forgive him for a minute! Si Zeng, I really like you, hehe!”
Qin Sizheng stifled a laugh. “Alright, I’ll help you teach him a lesson later.”
Shi Jianshu nodded vigorously, throwing mock punches left and right for a while. Then he looked around, seemingly searching for something. Qin Sizheng asked, “What is it?”
Shi Jianshu rubbed his stomach. “I’m hungry. Last night at the boss’s place, I forgot to eat even once! Si Zeng, do you know? The boss’s abs are so hard, his chest muscles feel amazing—it’s all his fault!”
Qin Sizheng raised an eyebrow. “Ming Fei?”