Lu Xianqing smiled faintly. “It’s not that bad.”
Not that bad? He Xing wanted to grab his shoulder and scream that it was exactly that serious!
Injuries could heal, but like this… if Qin Sizheng ever truly rejected him, he might lose all hope to keep living.
“Go then.” Lu Xianqing leaned against the iron cage, closing his eyes, his face pale as paper.
He Xing found a blanket and draped it over him. Seeing he wouldn’t be persuaded otherwise, she reluctantly instructed, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Lu Xianqing remained silent. He Xing left the basement and started digging through news articles, tracing Wen Li’s career from her debut, hoping to find any connection between her and Qin Sizheng.
Wen Li debuted as a “jade girl” with a pure image, the dream of many at the time.
There were rumors that she had been involved with a wealthy man, even allegedly kept, but without concrete evidence, nothing became public. Now, though, it seemed easy enough for the rich to suppress such news.
Her looks were stunning, and her works numerous. Trained in dance, she moved gracefully even in costume. With naturally enchanting peach-blossom eyes, she quickly became one of the “Four Little Flowers” of her generation, dominating the spotlight.
Yet at the height of her fame, she vanished from the screen for almost a year. No one knew where she went, as if she had disappeared completely, leaving not a trace in the media.
She returned the following April with a high-profile realistic film, directed by Zhou Changjiang. They fell in love during the production and soon married.
After marriage, her works were fewer, but compared to her earlier blockbuster hits that were flashy but shallow, each subsequent project was of high quality, earning her considerable praise.
While others were still taking minor roles or maintaining image for fan growth, Wen Li seemed to leap ahead of peers effortlessly.
Her life appeared impeccable, yet He Xing, keenly observant, sensed something off. Someone like her wouldn’t willingly disappear for nearly a year in such a competitive industry.
In this field, new talents emerge daily, old ones fade, and three months without news can devastate one’s career. Exposure is lifeblood—someone as ambitious as Wen Li wouldn’t accept vanishing quietly.
Two years ago, she acted alongside Lu Xianqing in a film. Qin Sizheng publicly mocked her on Weibo, criticizing her acting and calling the award she won undeserved.
He Xing’s eyes blurred from fatigue as she scrolled, the pain behind her closed eyelids sharp.
Recovering slightly, she rubbed her eyes and resumed reading about Qin Sizheng. Compared to Wen Li’s straightforward history, his was far more complex.
Scandals of public diss toward co-stars’ surgeries, discarding fan gifts, mocking fans—these filled hundreds of pages, like a curse laid upon him.
Mechanically scanning the news, He Xing suddenly came across an old report of Qin Sizheng visiting an orphanage. The photos were clear, though the story had been buried under gossip at the time.
She noted the orphanage’s name and turned to investigate Jiang Zhen’s history.
He debuted with a youth literature magazine cover, his warm, gentle looks sparking minor fame, and a thirty-day “boyfriend challenge” stirred public interest.
Later, signed by his current company, his acting skill and fan base were nurtured, but he never broke past a plateau, hovering between moderate fame and obscurity.
Unlike Qin Sizheng, Jiang Zhen had impeccable reputation, treated fans with warmth and courtesy—almost the ideal “twenty-four filial” idol—and was well-liked in the industry.
Previously, a depressive Weibo post of his surprised He Xing, a reminder of how much pressure everyone faced in the industry, and how vastly different public image could be from reality.
But what if it wasn’t?
He Xing stared at the tiny recorder in her hand. What if he had found out about Lu Xianqing’s despair from some channel and was using it as a subtle hint, trying to draw closer to him? She had completely overlooked that possibility.
Her mind had been overloaded all day and night, drowning in information, while constantly worrying about Lu Xianqing’s mental state. She couldn’t even let Shen Qing come over right now, so she had to keep checking on him every so often to make sure he wasn’t harming himself.
By the time morning arrived, she confirmed that Lu Xianqing probably wouldn’t hurt himself before resolving this issue.
The last time she went downstairs, she saw that Lu Xianqing had freed himself from the handcuffs and gone upstairs.
“I’m going to take a shower, then meet Jiang Zhen at nine.”
He Xing nodded blankly.
Half an hour later, Lu Xianqing had finished washing and dressing. Shaved, his shirt crisp and white, cuffs neat, with even a faint hint of cologne—he looked nothing like someone who had locked himself up the night before.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No need,” he said. “I remember Qin Sizheng has an event today. You take him, and wrap some eucalyptus leaves with the flowers. Don’t say it’s from me; just say… from a fan.”
An Ning was already waiting at the door, cautiously glancing around, memorizing every word He Xing told her. Once in the car, she couldn’t hold back and began crying.
“You scared me to death yesterday. I thought… I thought you didn’t want us anymore. It took Sister He and me a long time to see you recover. Can we go wherever you want in the future?”
Lu Xianqing patted her head. “Stop crying. It hasn’t come to that yet. I’m still counting on you to coax the little one back. Don’t cry.”
“I will! I promise!” An Ning buried her face in her hands, tears flowing. She had truly feared seeing that Lu Xianqing from before—the one who had grabbed her neck, full of anger, eyes void of emotion.
Qin Sizheng watched Lu Xianqing leave, having barely slept through the night from worry. It was only when He Xing messaged him that he’d arrived home safely and rested that he could finally calm down.
After staying up all night, his eyes were red and rabbit-like. The moment he heard a knock on the door, he immediately lifted his head.
He Xing set down the clothes. “You have a charity event to attend. Wash your face, change clothes. Makeup will be done in the car—about half an hour.”
Qin Sizheng silently took the clothes back to his room, changing before returning. After hesitating for a long moment, he swallowed his words and said nothing.
Lu Xianqing had entrusted He Xing to him, but he could sense her subtle reprimand—though she tried to mask it, the trace of misunderstanding and disapproval in her eyes did not escape him.
He silently let the makeup artist work, while He Xing gave various reminders.
“You’ve signed under Fourth Brother. Every word and action represents Lu Xianqing Studio. Your career path differs from your time at Sheng Yu, and your style must adapt.”
“Understood.”
“Those quick-money, exploitative moves you did at Sheng Yu are absolutely not allowed anymore. How’s your singing and dancing practice?”
“The teacher said my acting is okay. Singing and dancing are a bit weaker. I’ll work extra hard and won’t disappoint you.”
He Xing wanted to say it didn’t matter if he disappointed her, but he mustn’t disappoint Lu Xianqing—he had gone through so much, yet still thought of protecting him. In the past, anyone like Jiang Zhen or Wen Li would have been crushed immediately.
Now he even went out of his way to meet people carefully, worried that even a hint of news could harm Lu Xianqing’s reputation. He had never been so cautious, so wronged.
The event had many people present. Alongside him on stage were two veteran actors: Xu Jinhan, a familiar face, and Su Xian, someone he’d only heard of.
He Xing introduced them, and Qin Sizheng shook hands with each.
Su Xian teased immediately: “Oh, He Xing’s with you now. Fourth Brother really cherishes you. But seeing someone so beautiful, no wonder he dotes on you. Where’s he? Didn’t come in person?”
Qin Sizheng looked embarrassed. Xu Jinhan assumed it was shyness and interjected to ease the tension: “If Lu Xianqing came, no one would leave the venue. The place would collapse.”
He Xing cleared her throat, hinting to Qin Sizheng, who forced a small smile. “Fourth Brother’s busy. I can manage on my own.”
After some polite exchanges, the event began. The host asked questions, and Qin Sizheng answered smoothly, occasionally glancing at Xu Jinhan for help, who would smoothly cover for him.
The charity event included a three-kilometer slow run. Qin Sizheng had good stamina and reached the finish first. Someone handed him a bouquet wrapped in eucalyptus leaves.
The host exclaimed, “I’ve never seen a bouquet wrapped only in eucalyptus. Your fan is very thoughtful!”
Qin Sizheng blinked, unfamiliar with the flowers.
The host winked. “Eucalyptus symbolizes a gift. Looks like you’re his gift.”
He Xing’s eyes pricked. Lu Xianqing truly regarded Qin Sizheng as a gift from heaven.
Xu Jinhan and Su Xian arrived, out of breath, waving their hands. “We can’t keep up with young people. Old arms and legs fail. Host, go hit him for us! Teach him respect for elders!”
Qin Sizheng hugged the flowers, laughing softly. “The host might not win. If I punch, this event might turn into a law program.”
The host shivered. “No fighting!”
Su Xian doubled over laughing. “Look at you, scared. But this kid’s tough. Last time on the jungle challenge, I couldn’t go because I was sick. He went instead and knocked the instructor flat! When I returned for later episodes, viewers said it was dull—said only if I smashed my chest on stones could it redeem the show.”
Qin Sizheng knew he was teasing, smiling slightly. Su Xian took the chance to demand, “Treat me to a top-tier meal, then I forgive you.”
“Absolutely!” Qin Sizheng agreed.
Su Xian didn’t mention Lu Xianqing this time—after all, this was a live charity event. Private matters remained private, and they all knew their limits.
Qin Sizheng relaxed, his fondness for Su Xian growing steadily.
He Xiang watched Qin Sizheng laughing and talking so freely, and a sudden heat of irritation rose in her chest. She turned her head sharply to avoid looking at him.
The second half of the event included a fan interaction segment. Qin Sizheng was holding flowers, which made it awkward for him to turn, so he handed them to a staff member. But during the handoff, he mishandled them and they fell to the ground.
For a moment, he felt as if his hands had turned transparent. Startled, he reflexively grabbed at them and accidentally pinched the staff member’s hand, causing a sharp “Ah!” of pain.
“Sorry!” he exclaimed.
The staff member, seeing his pale face, asked worriedly, “Mr. Qin, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Qin Sizheng said, bending down to pick up the flowers and hand them back. He squeezed his own hand briefly; aside from some weakness, he felt nothing else.
He hadn’t rested well and was a bit visually fatigued.
“Sizheng, come over here,” Xu Jinhan called. Qin Sizheng snapped out of his daze and jogged over, taking several deep breaths to steady himself, then smiled at the camera.
The event went on for a long time. By the end, several people were exhausted. Qin Sizheng leaned back against the car window with his eyes closed, his ankle throbbing, and his clothes soaked with sweat.
The last segment was tailored for him, similar to a child-centered variety game. A high platform held a hydrangea balanced on a wooden pole; he was supposed to kick the pole to drop the hydrangea and reveal a banner.
His first kick failed—the pole only trembled. He froze, feeling his strength had vanished. He hadn’t trained in martial arts for a while and assumed that was why. Testing his ankle strength with his toes, he realized it wasn’t the same as before.
The host hurriedly asked, “Are you tired?”
Xu Jinhan turned to check on him. Below, the fans stared up silently, creating a tense hush.
Qin Sizheng didn’t want the event to falter or disappoint the fans. He shook his head firmly. “It’s fine. I just misjudged it earlier.”
He summoned all his strength and kicked the pole. It snapped with a satisfying sound; the hydrangea fell, revealing the banner. The crowd erupted in screams. Under the host’s smooth narration, several participants posed under the banner for a photo, and the event concluded successfully.
He Xiang noticed the sweat streaming down his forehead and gently patted his shoulder. “Feeling unwell?”
“I’m fine, just a bit tired,” Qin Sizheng replied hastily.
He Xiang nodded. “Rest well when you get back. For the cover shoot, take it easy. There’s a variety show I think would suit you—an extreme escape challenge requiring both brains and brawn. Your skill set fits perfectly. Right now, there’s no one like you in the industry. The timing is ideal.”
Qin Sizheng paused for a moment. “Have the other guests been confirmed?”
“This was arranged back when you were with Mingfei Entertainment. The production team asked the company to send three people. Mingfei’s idea was to have Fourth Brother guide things, so now with the studio, you naturally have to go along.”
Qin Sizheng hesitated. Before he could voice a refusal, He Xiang cut him off decisively.
“You wouldn’t refuse just because Fourth Brother is there, would you?”
Qin Sizheng lowered his eyes. He really didn’t want to go, afraid he might lose control on the show. He wasn’t as strong as Lu Xianqing in managing his emotions and expressions.
Seeing his struggle, He Xiang couldn’t help but say, “Qin Sizheng, do you really think Fourth Brother is so unforgivable in your heart?”
Qin Sizheng looked up, puzzled. He Xiang’s cold smile hadn’t faded, and it pricked him, forcing him to look away.
“He’s night-blind. You wouldn’t even let him stay the night. Do you realize that when he goes back—” A phone call abruptly cut off He Xiang’s words.
It was Lu Xianqing.
“Made it home?”
“Yes. I’ll head back after dropping him off,” He Xiang said, though inwardly he wished he could pull Qin Sizheng to his own home to see how Lu Xianqing had trapped him!
Qin Sizheng looked out the window. He wasn’t unwilling to keep Lu Xianqing there, but the other had left decisively, almost as if he feared hurting him even more.
Lu Xianqing’s words, “I won’t force you anymore,” still echoed in his ears, tugging painfully at his heart. He knew the other was troubled, but wished he could be given a little more time.
He Xiang left quickly after dropping him home. Limping, Qin Sizheng began walking inside, but Shen Changfeng stopped him.
“You’re hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
Shen Changfeng grabbed his pant leg and noticed his ankle was swollen. “Fine? Go to the hospital!”
“I’ll be okay. Just ice it. I’ve been hurt before; it’s nothing,” Qin Sizheng insisted. He didn’t want to go to the hospital—if anyone photographed him, it would be troublesome, and he didn’t want Lu Xianqing to know.
Shen Changfeng couldn’t argue further. “If it doesn’t get better, you go immediately!”
“Mm,” Qin Sizheng replied.
He had felt unusually tired over the past few days, sleeping more than usual. After a few bites of dinner, he had started dozing off. Shen Changfeng felt uneasy and woke him to ask.
“Maybe I’m just too tired. I’ll sleep for a bit,” Qin Sizheng said, putting down his chopsticks and heading to his room, stifling yawns.
Shen Changfeng worriedly said, “I’ll make an appointment for a check-up tomorrow morning. Just a routine body check.”
Qin Sizheng waved his hand to indicate he understood.
When He Xiang returned home, Anning was pacing the living room. Seeing her, he leapt forward and grabbed her sleeve.
“Sister Xingxing, Fourth Brother—”
“I know,” He Xiang said, holding her hand. “Don’t make a sound. I’ll go see him.”
He looked a little better than yesterday, but He Xiang knew his condition was actually worse. Every day he sank a little further into the mire until there was no more room to stand.
“What did Jiang Zhen say?”
Lu Xianqing smirked faintly. “He confessed.”
Just being called by Lu Xianqing had already made Jiang Zhen excited. He had even taken leave from the set, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.
“Did you need to see me?” he asked, trying to stay calm.
“Yes. Did you meet the doctor I mentioned last time?”
Jiang Zhen quickly calculated how to answer in his mind. Had Lu Xianqing discovered the recorder he planted? If he didn’t admit it, would the other suspect he wasn’t really sick?
After thinking it through, he answered—but hesitated slightly, making his reply a bit late.
Lu Xianqing already had a sense of things. When the waiter came over to take their orders, he stepped slightly ahead, standing beside Lu Xianqing first. “Sir, may I take your order?”
“Ask this gentleman first. I’ll have the same as him,” Lu Xianqing said with a smile, subtly gesturing toward Jiang Zhen, a dual-layered hint.
Jiang Zhen understood immediately and smiled back.
He had done his homework on Lu Xianqing’s preferences, knew what Qin Sizheng forbade him to eat, and knew that Qin Sizheng always made him eat things like carrots.
He would never let Lu Xianqing eat something he disliked—he wouldn’t act spoiled just because he was favored, unlike Qin Sizheng.
As the waiter listened to Jiang Zhen’s order, which perfectly matched Lu Xianqing’s favorites, Lu Xianqing lowered his eyes and smiled. Only after the waiter left did he lift his eyelids and casually glance at Jiang Zhen’s hand. “How did you get hurt?”
Jiang Zhen tried to pose his hand elegantly, then, with mock suffering, said, “On set. I dislike using doubles, so accidents happen.”
Lu Xianqing appreciated people who were dedicated. Even if Jiang Zhen couldn’t immediately replace Qin Sizheng, it still earned him some points in Lu Xianqing’s eyes.
“Fourth Brother, did you call me out for a reason? If there’s anything you need, I’ll make sure it’s done!” Jiang Zhen’s eyes shone with impatience; though he had been summoned, he seemed almost like the one taking initiative.
Leaning back, Lu Xianqing stared at him, making Jiang Zhen’s scalp tingle. He silently reminded himself: Don’t panic. Stay calm.
Lu Xianqing wasn’t a god.
Jiang Zhen swallowed and tried to steady himself, listening as the clear, cold voice said, “He Xiang mentioned you’re quite serious and skilled in acting. There’s a project—are you interested?”
“Really?!”
Jiang Zhen’s hand trembled around his cup—Lu Xianqing was inviting him to act!
“Do I look like I’m lying? My reputation is really that poor?” Lu Xianqing smiled lightly, with a gentle, indulgent curl at the corners of his lips that left Jiang Zhen stunned and blushing.
“Your reputation isn’t bad.”
Lu Xianqing sighed softly, his gaze drifting to the cup before him, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. “In our position, we have to guard our emotions carefully. One slip and it’s a scandal. People say I’m arrogant because I aim high, but in reality, I can’t take on many projects.”
Jiang Zhen frowned slightly. “Sizheng… he doesn’t understand you?”
Lu Xianqing gave a bitter smile.
Jiang Zhen pressed his lips together, then boldly said, “Fourth Brother, no matter what, there’s always someone who understands you. I know you may never look at me, but as your fan, I’ll always support whatever you choose to do.”
Lu Xianqing looked up at him. Jiang Zhen nodded emphatically.
“He’s always causing trouble,” Lu Xianqing sighed, shaking his head as he briefly explained the situation with Yao Jinwei and Wen Li. “I always have to worry when he’ll mess up.”
Jiang Zhen’s expression shifted when he heard Qin Sizheng’s name, a mix of guilt and resentment. Lu Xianqing caught it all. “Thankfully, Wen Li was magnanimous and didn’t hold it against him in front of me. He even recommended him for the role of Chu Jing.”
Jiang Zhen’s jealousy flared—he had wanted that role!
Watching Jiang Zhen, Lu Xianqing sensed the right moment. “Wen Li said you planted a listening device at Shen Qing’s, discovered my condition, and then sent things to Qin Sizheng. Is that true?”
Jiang Zhen denied vehemently. “No! She’s lying! I was indeed mentally unwell and hospitalized for a while. The doctor even gave me proof of severe depression.”
Lu Xianqing smiled slightly. “Wen Li told me you were bitter that Qin Sizheng stole that role from you. You pretended to be sick on Weibo, even though you weren’t, and you hated me, wishing I’d die.”
“I didn’t! I never wanted you dead. I like you—yes, I like you!” Jiang Zhen shouted, then saw Lu Xianqing’s lips curl in a faint smile. “You don’t believe me?”
“Like me? So that means you wanted Qin Sizheng dead? Wen Li told you, so who am I supposed to trust? Qin Sizheng apologized to her; she wouldn’t act so extreme. You, however…”
Jiang Zhen cursed Wen Li silently. He knew she was untrustworthy! If she wouldn’t keep her word, why should he hold back?
He took a deep breath. “Wen Li did all this to prevent her illegitimate pregnancy scandal from coming out. She schemed against Qin Sizheng to push him out of the industry!”
Lu Xianqing raised a brow. “And why should I believe you?”
Afraid he wouldn’t, Jiang Zhen hurriedly pulled out evidence. “These are all the documents I collected—Qin Sizheng’s old orphanage, their DNA test reports, this is Han Zhang, Qin Sizheng’s second uncle, with photos from his recent meeting with Wen Li. Wen Li is Qin Sizheng’s real mother!”
Even Lu Xianqing was stunned for a moment. Wen Li was Qin Sizheng’s biological mother?
She had been ruthless, setting traps from the start that led to him being blacklisted online. If not for Lu Xianqing intervening, would Qin Sizheng already have been driven out?
Suppressing the urge to smash his phone, Lu Xianqing calmly looked at Jiang Zhen. “Listening devices, secret DNA tests, private investigations… you’ve done quite a lot.”
Jiang Zhen knew he was in a tight spot and decided to go all in. “You have no proof it’s me, right? If you did, you wouldn’t have come to confirm with me. And you didn’t come for that anyway. Did Qin Sizheng find out your secret? Are you still together?”
Seeing Jiang Zhen’s transformation from obedient to sly, Lu Xianqing gave him a disdainful glance.
Jiang Zhen leaned back, spreading his hands and giving an innocent smile. “It was all Wen Li. She’d do anything to make her son disappear. Maybe she’d even reveal your secret to show the world that the stoic, untouchable top-tier actor is secretly a….”
“Pervert,” Lu Xianqing finished flatly.
Lu Xianqing stood up and walked over to Jiang Zhen, lowering his head to hook a finger through Jiang Zhen’s collar. In a low, controlled voice, he warned him, “Go ahead and try, but if this leaks, I’ll make sure he…”
Jiang Zhen went pale. “What are you going to do?”
Lu Xianqing released him, letting out a faint, calm laugh. “You should know by now—I’m not afraid of death. Before I die, you’ll understand what it means to be worse off than dead.”
He then explained the situation to He Xing, who was slightly taken aback. “How did Wen Li agree to tell you all this? You didn’t do anything you shouldn’t have, right?”
Lu Xianqing smiled faintly. “Do you know what a Nash equilibrium is?”
When a person isn’t sure whether the other will betray them, they instinctively choose the option most advantageous to themselves.
Jiang Zhen’s mind wasn’t cold enough; trying to reason with a tiger naturally doesn’t earn much trust.
He Xing finally understood. No wonder Lu Xianqing had summoned Jiang Zhen and not Wen Li. She had thought he planned to lure Jiang Zhen into silence, only to marvel at why he had changed, but in truth, he was still the same cold, calculating Lu Xianqing.
“So… what’s next?”
“Jiang Zhen’s useless now.”
With that brief statement, He Xing understood immediately. “Alright, I won’t let him utter another word. And then Wen Li—she’s Zhou Changjiang’s wife… do we tell him about this?”
Lu Xianqing hesitated briefly, but instead of answering, he countered with a question: “Is he okay today?”
He Xing took a deep breath, wanting to shield him, but knowing he likely wouldn’t believe her, she spoke the truth. “Mentally he’s fine. He could manage his emotions well at the event, capable of handling things alone. He just doesn’t want to see me—probably because seeing me would remind him of you.”
Lu Xianqing smiled. “That’s good then.”