Song Cheng still couldn’t place why the man looked familiar. The next day, as a nurse took him out for a checkup, he suddenly stopped in the hallway.
The nurse asked, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Song Cheng shook his head, bewildered: “No… that person… do you know who he is?”
He pointed at a public service poster on the wall. The man in it wore a white coat, and beneath it was printed in red: “Regard the people as your parents, treat patients as family.”
The nurse: “Of course. That’s Qin Wuyan. Why are you asking? Do you remember him?”
Song Cheng shivered. The diary mentioned a special identity that needed to be kept secret. He realized that’s why his diary had been so vague about the man’s life, while his own experiences were described in vivid detail.
If even his diary had to be cautious, how could strangers be told the truth?
He gave a faint smile: “I don’t remember… just think he’s handsome.”
The nurse laughed too: “Many people think so, but you shouldn’t fangirl over him—he’s got… some personal issues.”
Song Cheng froze.
Qin Wuyan was at home, no longer wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Without them, his last traces of refinement were gone, replaced by a rebellious aura. Without makeup, he could pass for a warlord from the Republican era. His manager, Ban Yunfang, watched him with frustration, her heart aching.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” she asked.
Qin Wuyan: “Nope.”
Ban Yunfang wanted to slam the table, but there was only a coffee table. She bent down and made a noise by hitting it: “Do you know that if this keeps up, your career is finished?”
Qin Wuyan glanced at her: “I don’t know about my career, but if you hit a few more times, your lumbar discs will be finished.”
Ban Yunfang: “…It’s now, and you’re still joking with me?!”
Qin Wuyan didn’t speak, just stared at the floor lamp nearby, using silence to express his stance.
Ban Yunfang felt a headache coming on. “You two really haven’t been together?”
The previously silent Qin Wuyan suddenly exploded like a firecracker: “How many times do I have to say it! I like men. She’s a woman. Even if she were a man, I wouldn’t go for her!”
Ban Yunfang thought the same way, but the rumors circulating were so detailed, and they had been going on for so many years. Compared to just claiming a female celebrity, this story of a past romance seemed far more believable.
Since it was all fake, where did the video come from?
The video was from several years ago, and yesterday a marketing account suddenly posted it. Unlike paparazzi footage, the people in this clip were crystal clear. In the video, Qin Wuyan was with a female celebrity. She blocked his way and tried to grab his hand. Qin Wuyan raised his head, looked annoyed, and pushed her away, causing her to bump into the wall before sitting down on the floor.
Qin Wuyan watched the whole thing coldly, then walked off.
Once the video surfaced, “Qin Wuyan domestic abuse” trended instantly. Many people came forward to criticize him, and industry insiders took sides—because that female celebrity was Qin Wuyan’s only rumored girlfriend since his debut.
Qin Wuyan: “This video is four years old. Four years ago, I was dating someone else—what does she have to do with it? She tried to use me for publicity, and I thought no one would believe it, so I didn’t clarify.”
Back then, they were just rising stars, not yet top-tier. A rumor would only last a day or two before fading. But who knew one would become a Best Actor, the other a popular rising star? That old news kept being recycled, and today it finally came back to haunt Qin Wuyan.
Ban Yunfang: “Then why did you push her? And why was it filmed?”
Qin Wuyan sneered lightly: “I pushed because I wanted to. What’s wrong with that?”
Ban Yunfang: “….”
Qin Wuyan: “As for how it was filmed, you should ask her. She hid it well—four years later it comes out. I almost want to applaud her.”
By this account, Qin Wuyan was fairly innocent. But how was Ban Yunfang supposed to clarify it? Only the parties involved could confirm whether they had been together. If the other side implied a relationship, without proof to the contrary, it was impossible to argue. And the domestic abuse claim—even if technically incorrect—looked like blunt violence. In such situations, the audience tends to believe the weaker party.
Ban Yunfang paced back and forth in front of Qin Wuyan, then stopped abruptly. “I’ll go back to the office and draft a statement. Be ready to apologize.”
Qin Wuyan tilted his head. “I’m not apologizing.”
Ban Yunfang’s expression turned terrifying. “You must apologize!!!!”
Qin Wuyan: “…Fine, I’ll apologize.”
Seeing him finally comply, Ban Yunfang relaxed. “I’ll line up a few image-rebuilding gigs for you. Forget the red films for now—the scandal has affected them, and they won’t call you. Do some public service projects, like the hospital one last time. As for variety shows, last week ‘Celebrity’s Real 60 Min’ contacted me. I wasn’t going to have you do it, but I’ll arrange it for you.”
Qin Wuyan frowned. “You mean that live broadcast at home?”
Ban Yunfang: “Yes. When the time comes, behave! Be the warm, at-home type. Absolutely no showing your true personality!”
Qin Wuyan snorted: “Only now deciding to build my image—aren’t you a little late?”
Ban Yunfang looked at him, wanting to hit him.
The live broadcast was booked with no further questions. Others in the industry watched from the sidelines, but they didn’t matter—this was a small online program that might not even air. Originally, inviting Qin Wuyan would have been expensive, but now the cost was halved, and he brought his own heat.
Imagine it: the Best Actor finally speaking after a domestic abuse scandal. This episode would explode! Plus, Qin Wuyan’s personality was well-known—he would speak quickly and bluntly. Together, they would go viral. The director laughed in his sleep that night.
The production team scheduled him to go to his home two days later. Meanwhile, Song Cheng’s checkup results came in: he was recovering very well. After two more days of observation, he could be discharged.
Song Cheng used the next two days to think carefully and decided—he would go find his ex-husband.
He went through the restored phone several times, but every app required an account, and every account required a password. He wondered why, then realized the phone was seven years old.
A product that old should have been obsolete. He had kept it but hardly used it. All accounts had security measures and needed passwords to access.
Thus, what he could see on the phone were the photos, music, a bunch of spam messages, and a few saved phone numbers—class teacher, class monitor, vice monitor…
Judging by the dates, he seemed to be in high school—or maybe vocational school, since he was a delinquent.
In the photo album, he found a courier slip. The sender was him, and the recipient had only the surname Qin.
He entered the address into the browser. A real estate price trend chart appeared.
Seeing the numbers clearly, Song Cheng nodded. Only a celebrity could afford a place this expensive.
Song Cheng: Found it.
Tomorrow he would be discharged. That afternoon, the little girl’s mother came by again to offer money, thanking him for saving her daughter. Song Cheng politely refused. She looked at the suitcase by his bed and understood.
She didn’t need the money. Besides, some debts of gratitude can’t be repaid in cash.
She asked Song Cheng, “No family came to see you these past few days. Tomorrow when you’re discharged, do you need me to take you?”
Song Cheng reflexively wanted to refuse, but after thinking for a moment, he smiled. “Then thank you. Can you take me to this address?”
He handed her a slip with the address he had written himself—what he would show the taxi driver tomorrow.
The little girl’s mother looked it over, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow morning?”
“Alright, thank you.”
She said, “You’re welcome,” and left the hospital room.
Once outside, she stood at the door, eyes wide, mouth exaggeratedly open in a silent “wow.”
She had thought her own family was fairly well-off, but on the streets, even a random person could afford a top-tier luxury apartment. No comparison—truly no comparison.
She resolved to work even harder so that one day her daughter could enjoy a life like this too.
Meanwhile, Ban Yunfang called Qin Wuyan. His schedule had been cleared for the past couple of days, and he had been staying home. Upon hearing that the production team would arrive at ten in the morning and the live show would officially start at eleven, Qin Wuyan muttered, “Troublesome,” before adding, “Got it.”
Ban Yunfang said, “I’ll come too. I’ll watch you personally. Tomorrow, behave. Do not let your true nature show—understand?”
Qin Wuyan: “Always forgetting what I’ve said—is this an early sign of senility?”
Beep beep. Ban Yunfang hung up.
Mission accomplished. Qin Wuyan smirked wickedly. He was standing by the window, and the night reflected his face. His expression paused, then slowly the corners of his mouth drooped.
Through the glass, he gazed at the quiet night outside. The villa district resembled a reserved beauty, radiating calm and solitude everywhere.
He thought back to four years ago, the viral video online, and the person who hadn’t appeared in it but had indirectly caused it—a third party.
At the same time, Song Cheng stood at his window. Across from the hospital’s inpatient building was a block of residential apartments. Below, all the shops were lit up, and a row of street food stalls lined the road. People bustled about; this was true, living, breathing humanity.
Looking at the windows, Song Cheng suddenly raised his hand. Across the way, Qin Wuyan did the same. At separate windows, they each wrote the other’s name, stroke by stroke. When they finished, the windows looked unchanged, yet they could somehow see the names they had just written.
Song Cheng pressed his lips into a smile, a spark of excitement in his expression, full of hope for the unknown life ahead.
Qin Wuyan, however, silently stared at the window, then raised his hand again. Over the two characters he had just written, he slowly drew a large “X.”