“So you mean… all over the internet, people are saying this is real?” The low voice outside carried a barely restrained edge, as if trying not to be overheard. Yu Junqing, still groggy, quickly realized—it was Rui Ge speaking.
He sat up abruptly, and the silky blanket slipped off in a rush, revealing a broad expanse of bare skin. Smooth abdominal muscles traced down along the V-line…
Yu Junqing silently o(╯□╰)o, thinking, Rui Ge, why are you stripping me again?
“Someone’s hyping this up behind the scenes?” Bo Rui’s voice rose slightly, tinged with surprise.
Yu Junqing blinked, disoriented. That… sounded like he was talking about him.
“Keep digging. If you find anything, tell me immediately.” Bo Rui’s voice carried a faint undertone of anger as he hung up.
After the Weibo incident, Bo Rui had called Liang Xin to keep tabs on developments, not expecting things to escalate so fast.
Yu Junqing’s fan base was too small. He hadn’t starred in any notable work for a long time, so his exposure was minimal. Most of his fans were casual followers, not die-hard supporters.
Compared to Zhu Wen, Yu Junqing didn’t even have an official fan club. Zhu Wen, on the other hand, had risen rapidly over the past two years, his exposure high, and as the hottest young actor now, his fanbase was fiercely active.
When Zhu Wen posted that Weibo, his fans were concerned, but unsure of the details, they could only quietly comfort their troubled idol.
Then came the next Weibo post. Many of Zhu Wen’s fans assumed they had uncovered the truth, resharing it widely. Soon, a wave of criticism flooded Yu Junqing’s own Weibo.
One so-called die-hard Zhu Wen fan had screenshot numerous expressions from the video showing Yu Junqing. The comment section exploded.
In the footage, Director Wang had instructed Yu Junqing to guide Zhu Wen’s performance. Yu Junqing portrayed the arrogant, spoiled traits of the second male lead to perfection. The fan posted detailed screenshots with captions, framing it as Yu Junqing “dominating” Zhu Wen, which infuriated Zhu Wen’s supporters even more.
Bo Rui had seen the video too. Unlike the fan frenzy, he immediately understood: Yu Junqing had been earnestly inhabiting Zhu Wen’s role, fully embodying that arrogant, condescending essence in every micro-expression.
Normally, Bo Rui would have enjoyed watching such a performance. But at this moment…
He frowned. He scrolled through several comments; people only saw the screenshots and became more convinced that Yu Junqing was “bullying” Zhu Wen.
It gave him a headache. Fans were utterly irrational. Anyone with a bit of sense could see Yu Junqing had seriously immersed himself in the role he was asked to portray. Were their brains made of tofu?
Scrolling further, Bo Rui found a familiar screenshot.
It was posted by Yu Junqing’s manager, Xu Zong, who had tweeted before the incident, mentioning a celebration with Yu Junqing. He had accidentally left location services on, revealing Yu Junqing’s apartment. Though Xu Zong quickly deleted it, after Zhu Wen’s incident blew up, a fan had reposted it.
That single post sent the situation spiraling to another peak.
Yu Junqing, still carrying the title of “Best Actor,” became a prime target. With the crew unable to locate him, paparazzi staked out near his apartment, determined to capture first-hand material. Xiao Yitong was also alarmed; he had intended to pick up Yu Junqing but found the Weibo chaos made it impossible to navigate safely.
Sorting through the situation, Bo Rui removed his apron. No matter what, food came first. Yu Junqing looked even thinner than last time. Did actors not need to eat?
As he walked to the bedroom, ready to open the door, the lock clicked—someone had opened it from inside.
“Rui Ge.” Yu Junqing was surprised. He had thought the room was empty, only to find Bo Rui standing there.
“Awake? Come eat.” Bo Rui nodded, not even looking at him, and turned away.
Yu Junqing hurried to call after him. “Rui Ge!”
“Hm?” Bo Rui turned his head.
“My… clothes…” Yu Junqing said sheepishly, silently thinking, Why did Rui Ge strip me again, even though he’s not sleeping here?
“Pick whatever you want,” Bo Rui said, though his gaze lingered on Yu Junqing’s bare chest. Unlike Bo Rui’s tanned skin, Yu Junqing’s pale figure revealed sculpted pectorals, abs, and V-line, yet Bo Rui’s eyes drifted to his delicate collarbone, smooth as white jade, irresistibly inviting a touch.
“Sigh…” he murmured, turning to the kitchen. Recently, he hadn’t eaten enough—he was hungry!
Yu Junqing, not expecting such freedom, handled dressing himself as before.
Still, he noted Rui Ge’s taste in clothes was excellent. Last time, Yu Junqing observed Bo Rui’s wardrobe: styles ranged from mature elite, innocent warm-boy, to quirky eccentric—everything was there.
Yu Junqing chose a comfortable home outfit, sensing that he might be spending a lot of time with Rui Ge this round.
“Done yet? Stop dawdling, pick something comfy and come eat!” Bo Rui called from the dining room, efficiently placing dishes on the table.
“I’m coming.” Yu Junqing hurried over, the dishes instantly catching his eye:
- Eggplant casserole
- Steamed fish
- Braised lion’s head meatballs
- A plate of greens
Not much variety, but generous portions.
“Sit. I promised to treat you. These were on Baidu, so I made them. Try them.” Bo Rui served himself a large bowl of rice first—he had a big appetite, burning tons of energy daily, so he needed to start with a few bites.
Yu Junqing, moved by Bo Rui’s thoughtfulness, watched him… Why are you so different from those vulgar, flashy people outside? I don’t even know how to deal with someone so pure and natural. He silently approved the thought in his head.
Yu Junqing filled his bowl like Bo Rui and sat down.
“Try the eggplant casserole first. I hadn’t done it well before, just learned the right way recently. It should be okay… it’s hot, so be careful.” Bo Rui put a portion in front of him, pushing the sizzling casserole pot toward Yu Junqing.
Yu Junqing felt something awkward, though he couldn’t pinpoint what. The eggplant looked slightly different from what he was used to—bright green without much sauce—but for some reason, he instinctively believed it would taste better.
He carefully took a bite. The heat shot from throat to stomach, unmistakable. Yu Junqing had to admit: it burned!
“Hahaha, you’re eating it just like I did before. Don’t be stubborn—mix it with rice. Won’t burn, won’t be greasy.” Bo Rui wolfed down a lion’s head meatball. He liked to cook to taste—he didn’t soak the meatball in broth but stir-fried it with chili. Spicy and strong, but deeply savory.
Yu Junqing took a bite of rice to cool his stomach, then mimicked Bo Rui, mixing eggplant with rice. Surprisingly, it was perfect—the eggplant wasn’t greasy at all.
“Good, right? Try the lion’s head meatball, stir-fried spicy. I’ll get you some water.” Bo Rui placed the meatball in front of Yu Junqing, then fetched a bottle of mineral water from the fridge.
Yu Junqing bit into a corner of the meatball, laughing slightly. Bo Rui usually ate meat in big bites; this was the first time Yu Junqing had seen such a huge one, perfectly cooked.
The meatball, spiced and stir-fried with chili, released a rich aroma, nearly overwhelming the senses. Yu Junqing quietly shoveled rice, enduring the spiciness.
“Too spicy? Here’s water.” Bo Rui saw his reddened, slightly swollen lips and laughed—so the reports were true, Yu Junqing couldn’t handle spice.
Yu Junqing sipped a little water and set the bottle down.
“Why stop? The food’s great. Too much water and you won’t have room.” Yu Junqing shook his head, obediently answering Bo Rui while continuing to tackle the giant meatball.
Bo Rui paused briefly, watching Yu Junqing eat obediently, lips reddened and slightly swollen from the spice, yet still speaking so cutely.
“Director Wang?” A sudden phone ring at the table startled Yu Junqing. He glanced at it and picked up.
“I’m asking you—did your manager buy that video? Do you know about this?”