For a brief moment, Wen Li’s facade cracked, but she quickly recovered, pulling a hand-embroidered handkerchief from her bag to pretend to wipe her eyes.
“How can you speak like that? Don’t you know how malicious this industry can be toward women?”
Qin Sizheng calmly looked at her. “So?”
“Men cheat—it’s a common mistake. Even scandals like domestic abuse can be glossed over with an apology, and they continue to thrive. Women, though? One tiny misstep and they’re erased from this circle, nailed to the pillar of shame, endlessly scrutinized!”
Tears streamed down Wen Li’s face. “When I was pregnant with you, I wasn’t much older than you are now. What could I do? Tell the circle I was taken advantage of? Your father rejected me! How was I supposed to live?”
Qin Sizheng blinked. Outwardly calm, inwardly he couldn’t help thinking—did his mother back then feel the same?
If you fear your career being affected, don’t have children. Why bear one for selfish reasons only to abandon him?
Wen Li had once won Best Actress, but Qin Sizheng had seen greater acting, leaving her performance unimpressive to him.
She gritted her teeth; this scene had to continue. Jiang Zhen was unreliable, and she couldn’t sit idly by. She needed to prepare thoroughly, leaving herself a final escape route.
“For all these years, I’ve been trying to find people to take care of you. But you’re part of this circle too—you know how impossible it is to really acknowledge you,” Wen Li sighed, reaching to grasp Qin Sizheng’s arm. Her voice trembled slightly. “I’ll tell you a story. Will you listen?”
Qin Sizheng made no response, calmly watching her act.
Wen Li said, “When I was a child, my family was poor. The wild herbs on the mountain—you’ve never seen them—were our most delicious food. I fought my way out of that little mountain village to go to university, only to arrive in the big city and realize… even someone spitting could drown me.”
“The people in my dorm looked down on me. I knew I had to climb higher. One day, I would make them all look up to me! Those who bullied, humiliated, or insulted me—I would make them respect me.”
“Then I met your father. I thought it was love. But in the end? He still submitted to status and wealth, marrying a woman of equal standing. I didn’t even get a title.”
Her makeup began to smear; the white silk handkerchief was now a riot of colors. She poured out her grievance in sobs, then lifted her head to Qin Sizheng. “I had my hardships, and I’ve suffered all these years.”
“I tried countless times to tell Zhou Changjiang that his wife had been pregnant before marriage, but I was too afraid to hurt him. You know his temper—he wouldn’t handle it.”
Wen Li knew Qin Sizheng respected Zhou Changjiang greatly. She first placed herself in a disadvantaged position, playing the sympathy card, then used Zhou Changjiang as a shield. Even if he hated her, he would at least give Zhou some consideration.
“I’m not doing this for myself. You know, given Zhou Changjiang’s status, if this were exposed, his reputation would plummet. Even if I acknowledged you now, I should consider him—at least… wait until I divorce before acknowledging you. Okay?”
Qin Sizheng nodded. “Fine.”
Wen Li was stunned.
Qin Sizheng glanced at her coolly. “When will you divorce?”
Wen Li, thrown by his unexpected bluntness, stammered, “You’d really ruin me? You really hate me that much?”
“Yes.”
Qin Sizheng’s frustration bubbled inside—his love and hatred for Lu Xianqing had nowhere to go, and here Wen Li was, coming to express these false emotions. He didn’t need to think to know her purpose.
“You came here because you’re afraid I’ll expose your premarital pregnancy and ruin your reputation. You don’t care about Zhou Changjiang—you care about yourself. If you can protect yourself using his name, you’d do it without hesitation.”
“Last time at the Mid-Autumn rehearsal, you hinted at me vaguely. Now you come here saying all this, thinking that since I signed with Fourth Brother, he might use his influence against you?”
Rarely had Qin Sizheng spoken so forcefully. Wen Li, disoriented, saw the once defiant young man before her and instinctively stepped back.
“I just… heard you had an argument with Lu Xianqing, and I was worried you might do something rash.”
Qin Sizheng sneered. “You’re secretly hoping I do, aren’t you?”
“Ridiculous!”
Qin Sizheng’s expression was cold. He looked at her disheveled, smeared makeup and felt nothing but disgust. “I hate you. You gave birth to me and then abandoned me. All these years, I wanted a mother. I envied seeing others freely cling to their moms, whining, getting comforted, taking refuge when they make mistakes, holding her hand walking in the sun. Do you know how much I envied that?”
“You’ve suffered in this circle, but what about me? From the moment I have memory, I lived in cramped spaces with many others, fighting for food, for sleep. If I was late, I went hungry.”
“Orphans after orphans were adopted, finding their moms and dads. I refused to leave—I thought my mother would come for me! I was afraid that if I left, she wouldn’t be able to find me.”
“I waited at the door every day. I remembered the exact date I was left at the orphanage. Every night, I recited it, afraid I would forget, afraid you wouldn’t find me!”
Qin Sizheng’s eyes reddened as he poured his emotions into the words, letting the grievances he had toward Lu Xianqing mingle with the pain from his past.
“Did you ever… think about me?”
Wen Li was struck dumb by the intensity of his words. Qin Sizheng’s lips curved into a sorrowful smile as he wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath to hold back the tears, then looked down at her.
“You were high above, and my hopes were just ticking time bombs, stains on your refined life that you wanted to erase. But I never wanted to destroy you!”
He choked on his words, swallowing hard, eyes burning red as he stared at Wen Li. “I just wanted to call you ‘mom,’ to feel your hand on my head, hear you say, ‘Child, I’ve come for you. Mom is here.’”
“I just wanted to hear that mom didn’t abandon me. Even if you saw me once and left me again, telling me to live on my own—I wouldn’t fear being abandoned. I just wanted to know what my mother looked like, and if she was gentle like other mothers.”
“You see me as a monster, but I only wanted to be close to you. I wanted to protect you more than anyone. Even if it cost me my life, I would protect the one who gave birth to me.”
“Did anyone—did you or he—ever ask me if I wanted to come into this world? If I liked being abandoned?”
Wen Li could no longer endure it. The sense of losing control filled her with panic.
Qin Sizheng’s piercing questions left her unable to face the truth. She had expected verbal attacks, indirect jabs—but not this.
The atmosphere felt like a weightless balloon, ready to drift into the unknown if released even slightly.
Wen Li gritted her nails into her bag to stay calm, but his words reverberated in her ears, unbearable.
Finally, she mustered the strength to lift her head and wrap her arms around Qin Sizheng’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. Mom is sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry.”
Qin Sizheng let her hold him, feeling the trembling on her shoulders and the catch in her voice.
“I was wrong. I really was wrong. I didn’t realize how much grievance you carried in your heart. I’m sorry.”
Qin Sizheng didn’t know whether he hated Wen Li or not—he wasn’t the original, so he had no deep-seated feelings—but in this moment, he only felt sadness. If the original had really wanted to destroy her, it would have happened when he entered this circle. Back then, his temper was notorious, yet he only taunted Wen Li with indirect barbs. Deep down, he had hoped she would admit her faults, even hold him.
Qin Sizheng lowered his head. Since he now occupied the original’s body, he allowed himself to fulfill that wish.
Feeling his softening, Wen Li pressed on, wrapping her arms around his back and rubbing his head. “Don’t be afraid. Mom will stay with you from now on, every year as you grow up, okay?”
Qin Sizheng remained silent.
Wen Li suppressed a trace of triumph. No matter how wild or hateful he is, he’s just a boy. How much cunning could he have? And now, after seeing what Lu Xianqing did to him, he’s at his most fragile.
She was seizing the opportunity, hoping to break his psychological defenses. If she could make him conceal this completely, all the better. If not, once Lu Xianqing left the circle, who could protect him then?
Qin Sizheng took a steadying breath, then, after calming himself, pushed Wen Li away.
“The performance is over. You may leave.”
Wen Li froze. “?”
Qin Sizheng smiled faintly. “You came today just to perform this scene, right? Honestly, your acting is terrible.”
He had no parents, and “Qin Sizheng” had none either. He had taken this opportunity to vent for both himself and the original. From now on, it would be a clean break—he would no longer expect anything from someone who had never loved him.
As You Si said, he had grown up without parents or family. That obsession needed to be let go; it wasn’t worth it for her.
After He Xing left, Lu Xianqing went upstairs alone, returning to the spot where Qin Sizheng had sat that morning.
He didn’t turn on the lights. Night blindness robbed him of all vision once the door closed; only the projection screen emitted a faint blue glow.
The footage began to play—clips he had recorded before, segments cut from shows, and others he had personally edited.
He closed his eyes and listened, imagining Qin Sizheng’s reactions in the darkness: fear, disgust, a whirlwind of emotions twisting together.
“Fourth Brother.”
Lu Xianqing’s eyes snapped open.
On the screen, Qin Sizheng was cornered at the set, nowhere to run, soft and pleading, calling out, “Fourth Brother,” then daringly touching his nose with a finger before lifting his head to plant a kiss.
“Stop fooling around. I’ll kiss you when we get home tonight.”
Lu Xianqing gazed at the boy on the screen with possessive obsession. The overlapping voices pierced his nerves, each one chipping away at his fragile grip on reason.
“Fourth Brother, I like you too.”
“I’m… sorry. I need to think.”
“…I’ll show you.”
“Do you think I’m ridiculous? I made these two holes for you… Do you think I’m despicable?”
Once, he had allowed abuse without limit. Now, crying and belittling himself, from bright and lively to tearful and heavy-voiced, it was he who had shattered this connection.
Lu Xianqing’s fingers clenched the chair’s armrest, wood hard beneath him, drawing blood from his nails.
“Yanyan.”
“Yanyan…”
In his life, he could win at anything, but with Qin Sizheng, every encounter was all-or-nothing. Losing meant ruin, nothing left.
He grabbed his car keys and went downstairs. Normally chauffeured, combined with his mental state and night blindness, He Xing wouldn’t have allowed him to drive. Even now, gripping the wheel felt unfamiliar.
He favored sports cars with rapid acceleration; a slight press on the gas sent him leaping forward.
It was late, the streets nearly empty. Lu Xianqing reached Qin Sizheng’s building in just twenty-eight minutes.
He didn’t go up, parking below instead, tilting his head toward the apartment. A shape at the window—hard to distinguish, like a tree shadow—caught his gaze.
For the first time, his night blindness felt unbearably inconvenient.
Night had fallen. Lu Xianqing killed the engine, staring at the reflected silhouette on the window like a statue, a contented, tender smile brushing his lips.
He Xing had just left Jiang Xi’s home when she received a panicked call from An Ning. Lu Xianqing was missing.
“What do you mean missing?”
An Ning, frantic and crying, reported, “I… I don’t know. I came home and the front door was open. I searched upstairs and downstairs—he wasn’t there. And… and one car is gone. Could Fourth Brother have driven off?”
He Xing rubbed her forehead, trying to stay calm. Stay calm… how the hell do I stay calm?!
Lu Xianqing had night blindness. Driving alone at night was suicidal.
Her mind raced: him crashing into guardrails, hitting a cliff, plunging into the void. She shivered in terror.
Even if An Ning kept crying, she would break down herself.
He Xing couldn’t take it. She hung up and focused—there was only one place Lu Xianqing would go now: Qin Sizheng. His emotions had just been restored by Qin Sizheng and then thrown into chaos. She knew he might lose control.
If he harmed Qin Sizheng… it would be a disaster.
No.
He Xing decisively called Qin Sizheng. The moment he answered, she asked urgently, “Sizheng, where are you?”
“At home.”
“Alone?”
Qin Sizheng’s low, subdued “mm” tugged painfully at He Xing’s heart. This was Lu Xianqing’s fault—anyone would struggle to accept it, especially someone so young.
“Has Fourth Brother come to see you?”
“No.”
Hearing that Lu Xianqing hadn’t gone to him, He Xing felt slightly relieved. The priority now was to let Qin Sizheng calm down. “Alright, then get some rest. You have a magazine cover shoot in a couple of days—take care of yourself and get your energy back.”
“Okay.”
Qin Sizheng couldn’t shake the feeling that this call from He Xing was a little strange. Lu Xianqing had night blindness, and any outings usually involved a driver and An Ning. Why wasn’t she checking with An Ning, and why was she asking him?
Was Lu Xianqing coming to see him?
Qin Sizheng instinctively glanced at the door, then quickly pulled back his gaze. If he showed up now and forced him to make a decision, what should he say?
Break up with him?
His instinct resisted letting such a decision take over, but if he had to face him now, he was afraid to see Lu Xianqing’s face and couldn’t interact naturally like before.
He felt useless. If it were Lu Xianqing, he would have made a decision quickly, choosing a path he wouldn’t regret.
After thinking for so many days, he still had no answer.
Qin Sizheng sat in a daze until midnight. When he finally stood, his peripheral vision caught a car outside—a stranger’s vehicle, which he faintly recognized as Lu Xianqing’s. He pressed a hand against the window.
He watched for a long time. The headlights suddenly came on—was he leaving?
Panic rose in Qin Sizheng’s chest. Lu Xianqing had night blindness. Even with headlights and streetlights, anyone driving a winding mountain road would need to be cautious, let alone him!
Without thinking, Qin Sizheng slipped on his slippers and ran downstairs.
Seeing someone rushing down, Lu Xianqing, though unable to clearly see the face, instantly recognized him. His chest swelled with overwhelming emotion as he flung open the car door and stepped out.
The two faced each other.
Unable to restrain himself, Lu Xianqing grabbed Qin Sizheng’s arm, his grip like steel, holding him tight.
The embrace was like a blazing fire, overwhelming, threatening to consume everything.
Qin Sizheng’s worry instantly turned to resistance. He struggled violently.
“Don’t… don’t touch me!”
Instinctively, Lu Xianqing didn’t want to hear refusal. He became ruthless, trying to suppress all denial.
Qin Sizheng’s struggle intensified. He even landed a fist against Lu Xianqing’s eye, his voice harsh and unfeeling: “You’re not allowed to say you don’t want me!”
At that moment, Lu Xianqing seemed like a plant long starved of nutrients, finally absorbing sustenance, determined to drain every drop of blood to sustain himself.
It was a clash without finesse or tenderness, only full-on tearing and grappling.
He seemed mad.
Qin Sizheng was dazed, unsure which Lu Xianqing was real—the one who had let him go in the daylight with sorrow in his eyes, or this one who only wanted to rip him apart.
“Fourth Brother…” Qin Sizheng could no longer bear it. Tears slid down his cheeks as he murmured again and again, “I don’t want you. I don’t want you.”
I don’t want this version of you.
Hearing the repeated “I don’t want you,” Lu Xianqing regained a shred of reason. Since that morning, he had been tense, giving He Xing orders, analyzing what had happened, anticipating possible outcomes, and planning how to fully protect Qin Sizheng.
He hadn’t said it: I’ve deleted everything you saw. All the frightening, repulsive parts of me—you don’t need to fear me, you don’t need to despise me.
Calming himself, Lu Xianqing tried to comfort him, but Qin Sizheng avoided him, his hand hovering in the air before retreating.
“I’m sorry.”
Qin Sizheng shook his head unconsciously, refusing. “Don’t force me. I beg you.”
He was on the verge of collapse, shaking his head, desperately pleading for a lifeline. His fragile state made Lu Xianqing ache with heartache, and he wrapped him into his arms.
“Alright. Don’t cry, don’t cry.” Lu Xianqing gently patted his back. After a pause, he added, “I know you don’t want me. I know… I know. Don’t cry.”
Qin Sizheng buried his face in his chest, crying while berating himself for being useless and scolding Lu Xianqing for not giving him more time to think, adjust, and maybe accept him again.
“I won’t force you. Don’t be afraid.”
Lu Xianqing continued patting his back, exhaling a slow, steady breath into the night, and gradually closed his eyes.
I will control myself. I won’t come looking for you again.
He Xing and An Ning had searched half the night—Qin Sizheng’s building, his other residence—there was no sign of Lu Xianqing anywhere!
She was drenched in sweat from worry. At dawn, she returned home, spotting a car parked in the courtyard. Relief washed over her.
She searched every floor, finding nothing, until she suddenly remembered the basement. Her heart sank, and she muttered over and over: Please, please don’t…
Step by step, she descended, discovering a massive cage.
Lu Xianqing’s right wrist was shackled, the other end attached to the cage, yet he made no sound.
He sat inside, still as a carved puppet, pale, utterly devoid of life.
“Fourth Brother…”
He Xing’s knees weakened, almost collapsing before him.
Earlier that morning, she had believed Lu Xianqing had recovered, capable of keeping calm and reasoning. But he had been deceiving her, simply holding it all in.
She could almost see him return from outside, walking step by step toward the cage, locking himself in with the handcuffs.
She could barely breathe, clutching the cage as she crouched slowly, forcing herself not to cry.
“Did you go to see Sizheng?” She noticed the injuries at his mouth and eyes, clearly signs of being hit.
Lu Xianqing nodded. “Mm.”
“He hit you?”
Lowering his eyes, Lu Xianqing said, “No… just accidentally.”
Tears immediately spilled from He Xing’s eyes. “What is there to hit you for! You’ve tortured yourself like this for him! I’ll go get him and lock him in with you!”
Lu Xianqing reached out and gripped her wrist, his touch so cold that He Xing shivered. She instinctively lowered her head, staring at his icy knuckles before turning her face away.
“How did things go? Jiang Xi should have told you the truth. He feels guilty toward Qin Sizheng—otherwise, he would have denied it when I faked the audition with the promo footage.”
He Xing struggled to hold back her sobs. “Jiang Xi admitted it was Wen Li’s orders. She funded his university education, treated him like her own son, and she was the one who sent him to Qin Sizheng, making him take that hand photo—just to make him unable to stay in this industry.”
“Later, he realized Qin Sizheng wasn’t as bad as Wen Li claimed, so he couldn’t bring himself to help her anymore. This time, it’s because Wen Li wanted her to use this incident to hurt Qin Sizheng again, so he finally spoke up.”
Lu Xianqing’s face was grim, lips dry. When He Xing tried to free his hand from the cuffs, he stopped her. She could only hand him a cup of water, half-crouched in front of him.
“So far, we still don’t know why Wen Li is targeting Sizheng so intensely. Her taunt during the Best Actress awards wouldn’t justify such deep hatred. It’s the same with Yao Jinwei—she hinted that Qin Sizheng is allergic to mango, but she herself is allergic. Beyond that, I don’t know.”
“I’ve already hinted to Jiang Zhen about the conflict between you and Sizheng. One contract at the studio is on hold; I asked if he’s available, and he said he needs to consider it.”
Lu Xianqing nodded. “Arrange for Jiang Zhen to come out.”
He Xing didn’t question further, only said, “Okay,” and took the cup back, resuming her attempt to reason with him. “Fourth Brother, stop tormenting yourself. You’ve barely recovered. Even if not for yourself, think of Sizheng—he’d be heartbroken.”
Lu Xianqing tilted his head and smiled faintly. “If I don’t do this, I might lose control and go find him. Let it be for now. Maybe in a few days, it’ll pass.”
Hearing him speak so casually, He Xing’s tears threatened to fall again. She thought it might have been better if he had acted out openly before—threatened to hurt himself like before—than slowly pushing himself to the brink like this.
“It’s okay. Go rest. You’ve worked hard, He Xing.”
When Lu Xianqing spoke formally, it was like giving orders about business. Occasionally he would tease her, call her “Sister He,” or buy her pink diamonds to coax her. But this—smiling gently at her for the first time—was almost suffocating in its warmth.
“Lu Xianqing, you’re going to die at Qin Sizheng’s hands one day!”
He Xianqing’s shout was half in jest.