The young man’s name was Zheng Yi, though his appearance hardly suggested justice or righteousness.
Song Cheng negotiated with his cameraman for a bit, sent a message to the director on his phone, and then, with Zheng Yi, bypassed the lobby to the manager’s office at the back.
Seeing how familiar he was with the place, Song Cheng was surprised and asked as they entered: “Are you a staff member here?”
Zheng Yi replied, “No, I’m still in college. But, well… my family owns this park.”
Song Cheng: “…”
So that middle-aged man who had insisted outside his hospital room on paying his medical bills was actually the owner of this amusement park!
It was entirely unexpected. In his memory, the man had a sharp, agitated voice, hardly sounding wealthy at all…
Zheng Yi spoke casually, though he was secretly waiting for Song Cheng to show more surprise. In his less-than-twenty-year life, every time he mentioned his family owned a theme park, people always fawned over him, envious.
But this time, he would be disappointed. Song Cheng only blinked slightly and asked, “Are there many shareholders in this park?”
Zheng Yi hesitated. “Not many. Just four. My dad holds the largest share, and he calls the shots on major and minor matters.”
Mentioning his father reminded Song Cheng of that powerful, booming middle-aged voice. He smiled politely. “Your dad looks very healthy.”
Zheng Yi: “…”
What did he mean by that?
The director had told him to go quickly and return quickly. Song Cheng also wanted to get back to Qin Wunian soon; he had been away too long, and Qin Wunian would surely ask what had happened. So he pressed Zheng Yi to recount the events of that day. Knowing that Song Cheng had amnesia, Zheng Yi, who usually lacked patience, this time carefully recalled every detail—from how Song Cheng had driven along that road to when the ambulance had carried him away.
Song Cheng blinked. “You mean… before my accident, I was on the phone with someone?”
Zheng Yi nodded.
In his memory, as soon as Song Cheng put the phone to his ear, that little girl darted out from behind the van. Zheng Yi slammed on the brakes in panic, but it was too late. There was a loud crash. Zheng Yi himself was thrown into confusion and barely noticed anything else.
Curious, Song Cheng asked, “Do you know who I was calling?”
Zheng Yi looked confused. “How would I know? You only said a few words to me, nothing about a call.”
Song Cheng fell silent.
He didn’t know who he had intended to call, or whether that person had tried to reach him back. Once this show was over, he really would need to get a new SIM card. At first, he hadn’t thought changing numbers would be troublesome—but after joining this reality program, he realized how inconvenient life could be. Other people could log in with just a password, while he had to register from scratch. Even when registration worked, some required real-name verification. After inputting his ID number, a message popped up: “This ID has already been registered”, leaving him staring at the screen, helpless.
Even if he could recover the phone number, he couldn’t recover the contacts. How would he know who he had called that day?
Lost in thought, Song Cheng frowned. He didn’t notice Zheng Yi observing him intently, as though examining a living alien.
Zheng Yi had seen Song Cheng briefly before. After the ambulance ride, when he relaxed among the steady medical staff, he let his guard down and fainted. When he woke, his father had already driven over from miles away, pointing and scolding him harshly.
Later, the little girl’s parents arrived, and his father stormed out to argue with them.
Zheng Yi feared nothing in the world—except his father’s fiery temper. Under strict orders, he didn’t dare leave the hospital room. Once he recovered and his father left, he tried to find out where Song Cheng had gone, only to learn he had already been discharged.
Zheng Yi still carried this incident in his heart. He had planned to secretly get a few friends to track Song Cheng, but before he could act, photos of Song Cheng appeared online—now identified as Qin Wunian’s ex-boyfriend.
Zheng Yi knew he didn’t truly understand Song Cheng. What his life had been like in the past had nothing to do with him. Yet seeing Song Cheng standing alongside a celebrity with a mixed reputation, and who was also embroiled in a domestic abuse scandal, triggered an uncontrollable fury within him.
Impossible!
That was his first reaction.
Song Cheng wouldn’t date a celebrity!
That was his second reaction.
How he deduced this from just a few words, no one knew. But Zheng Yi was convinced: Song Cheng must have been coerced by Qin Wunian or involved in some secretive deal. He came this time for two reasons: to see Song Cheng alive and well, and to make amends for his own past mistakes, using his resources to save Song Cheng from a dangerous situation.
So, when Zheng Yi heard that the variety show Song Cheng was participating in would be filmed at his family’s theme park, he had immediately rushed over, shaking off his usual crowd of friends and camping out there for three straight days. Three days without going out to mess around—his father found it remarkable, suspecting that Zheng Yi might finally be turning over a new leaf.
But now, seeing him in person, all those righteous notions Zheng Yi had nurtured seemed to shrink.
He studied Song Cheng with a hint of suspicion. How to put it… something felt off.
The Song Cheng in front of him now—so composed, so different—carried a subtle, almost imperceptible, yet sharp distinction from the one who had lain on the ground pleading for help.
It didn’t feel like the same person.
Zheng Yi found himself at a loss for words. He wasn’t good at describing things, but he wanted to articulate it somehow, so he just kept staring at Song Cheng.
Until Song Cheng finally lifted his head, giving him a peculiar look.
Zheng Yi: “…”
He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve never properly apologized… I’m sorry for hitting you.”
Song Cheng’s expression softened slightly. “It’s fine. You didn’t do it on purpose.”
Zheng Yi: “Of course I didn’t. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that little girl, Chuchu—no, her parents. Not watching her properly, letting her run into the road from nowhere. Even a saint would have had bad luck.”
Song Cheng: “…”
He had heard this same conversation on the day he woke up. After a moment of silence, he asked, “At that time, your dad said he’d sue her mother, and her mother said she’d sue your dad…”
Zheng Yi: “Hmph, I don’t know about them. But at our place, the lawyers were already preparing to file. Honestly, if they had just apologized, I wouldn’t have pursued it. But her mother insisted it was my fault! Why should I swallow that?”
Song Cheng thought silently: wasn’t it always you speeding anyway?
He didn’t voice it—after all, they weren’t that familiar yet.
Having asked all he wanted, Song Cheng stood and said his goodbyes, mentioning he had to return to filming.
Zheng Yi stopped him briefly. “Hey, wait… you—”
Song Cheng turned back.
Under Zheng Yi’s patient gaze, the young man stammered, “Q-Qin Wunian… really your ex?”
Song Cheng blinked. “Yeah. Why, doesn’t it look like it?”
Zheng Yi nodded honestly. “Not really.”
Song Cheng: “…”
It was the first time someone had said that to his face. Deep down, he knew the gap between him and Qin Wunian was significant; it was understandable that others might think he didn’t deserve him.
But hearing it out loud still stung a little.
He said tactfully to Zheng Yi, “Appearance and status are external. In a relationship, what matters most is how the two people feel about each other. At least for me, I think we’re very compatible.”
He smiled at Zheng Yi and then walked out, leaving the manager’s office. Zheng Yi’s expression was strange.
In the empty room, even a low mutter could carry across the space:
“Compatible… what? Big temper, arrogant… the only thing worth looking at is the face.”
“Can’t understand how you gays think.”
When Song Cheng emerged, the cameraman signaled him forward. He nodded and quickly headed toward the elevator.
The hotel still had other guests today, but during filming, staff blocked the entrances so guests would use other doors.
Some curious onlookers lingered near the staff to catch a glimpse of the celebrities. When Yang Qing and Zhao Feifei arrived together, Song Cheng heard the girls stifling squeals, their excitement evident—they wanted to get closer.
Yang Qing smiled at them kindly, prompting another round of squeals. Song Cheng found it amusing—until he realized some of the attention was directed at him.
Those onlookers were just as excited, raising their phones to take pictures, and a few comments drifted toward him—they said he looked even better in person than in videos.
Song Cheng felt a flush creep up his face. He lowered his gaze, quickened his pace, and entered the elevator, almost slamming the doors on the cameraman.
Once the elevator finally closed, he exhaled in relief. Arriving at their floor, he kept his head down and stepped forward—but after just a few steps, he collided with a hard chest with a clang.
Song Cheng clutched his forehead and looked up in shock. It was Qin Wunian, standing in the elevator doorway, his expression stormy.
Song Cheng, bewildered: “What are you doing standing here?”
Qin Wunian looked at him with an innocent expression, holding up his phone. On the screen was a photo—Song Cheng and Zheng Yi walking toward the manager’s office.
He asked, “Who is this?”
Song Cheng blinked. “Just an acquaintance.”
Qin Wunian countered, “Who sent you this photo?”
Song Cheng: “Liu Yanchu.”
No sooner had he spoken than a nearby door, slightly ajar, slammed shut with a bang.
Song Cheng: “…”
Qin Wunian asked again, “Who’s the acquaintance?”
Song Cheng opened his mouth, then remembered the cameraman was still there. He muttered, “Can we talk about this back at the room?”
He tugged Qin Wunian’s sleeve to step aside and whispered, “Let’s wait until ten tonight…”
Qin Wunian: “…”
Not everything can wait until ten o’clock, you know?!
Now, Qin Wunian didn’t even want to go back to the room. “No. We’re talking here. Or do you think this person’s identity can’t be revealed?”
Song Cheng, slightly irritated, replied, “Exactly. It can’t be revealed, so I planned to tell you.”
The cameraman couldn’t help but chuckle, then quickly assumed a serious expression when Qin Wunian looked at him.
Qin Wunian: “…”
He stared at Song Cheng in silence for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, “Is he your ex?”
Song Cheng: “…………”
He stared at Qin Wunian in disbelief. After a long moment, he turned and walked off. Before leaving, he even snatched the room keycard from Qin Wunian’s hand.
Swipe. Door open. Bang—door slammed shut.
Song Cheng completed the whole sequence in one smooth motion. Now only Qin Wunian and the two cameramen were left standing in the hallway, staring at each other. The cameramen said nothing. Qin Wunian simply pressed his lips together, embodying silence.
At that moment, the door that had just been shut slowly opened a crack again.
Liu Yanchu’s voice came from the gap. “Idiot, go coax him—”
He deliberately dragged out the last word, but before he could finish, an orange smacked the back of his head.
“Ow!”
The door crack shut again.
Qin Wunian: “……”
Song Cheng sat on the sofa, sulking. Suddenly, someone knocked gently on the door.
Very gently. Just two knocks, with a slightly long pause between them, as if the person knocking was hesitating, unsure whether the person inside would respond.
Song Cheng didn’t really want to deal with him. But those two knocks felt like they landed directly on his chest, making him shift his sitting position unconsciously. By the time he thought about adjusting again, he had already stood up and walked over to open the door.
The door opened.
Qin Wunian’s tall figure stood in the doorway. He glanced at Song Cheng but said nothing. Under Song Cheng’s direct gaze, he shifted his eyes away. Yet before long, he looked back again, sneaking cautious glances at him.
Like a big dog that knew it had done something wrong, but didn’t know how to apologize because it couldn’t speak human language.
Song Cheng turned around and walked back into the room. Qin Wunian immediately followed and shut the door behind him, blocking the cameramen’s curious eyes outside.
Returning to the single armchair he had been sitting in earlier, Song Cheng continued to say nothing.
Qin Wunian knew this was the moment for him to perform.
He looked around and realized there wasn’t another chair for him to sit on. After a brief pause, he took two steps forward and slowly, cautiously, sat down on the armrest of Song Cheng’s chair.
When Song Cheng didn’t shove him off with a slap, Qin Wunian quietly let out a breath of relief.
Hearing the sudden increase in the volume of his exhale, Song Cheng almost laughed out loud. But he kept his face straight, staring coldly at the electric kettle beside them.
“I saw the two of you walking so close together, and you even sent me away, so I thought…”
Qin Wunian began apologizing, though it didn’t sound especially remorseful or sincere.
Song Cheng listened for a moment and realized there didn’t seem to be anything after “I thought.” He abruptly turned his head.
“Can’t I have people I know? I never said I wouldn’t tell you who he is, but you came at me right away like you were interrogating me. Do you know that the person in that photo is only nineteen? He’s just a kid! Your guess was way too ridiculous!”
Qin Wunian froze.
Only nineteen???
From that guy’s appearance, he would have believed he was twenty-five.
Still in college and already dressing like some street tough.
The little bit of hidden worry in Qin Wunian’s heart finally disappeared. Lowering his head, he became genuinely sincere.
“It won’t happen again.”
Song Cheng glanced at him. “I don’t believe you.”
Qin Wunian hummed. “I don’t believe me either.”
Song Cheng: “……”
Lifting his eyelids slightly, Qin Wunian glanced at the camera in the room. After thinking for a moment, he decided to tell the truth in front of it—or rather, he deliberately chose to tell the truth in front of it.
“Song Cheng, I don’t know the people around you.”
Song Cheng looked up.
With his eyes lowered, Qin Wunian continued, “So in my eyes, every person around you could replace me.”
After a pause, he corrected himself.
“Replace what I once was.”
Song Cheng fell silent.
This was a leftover problem from the past. Because he had lied to Qin Wunian before, the people he knew from those “street connections” were people he would never introduce to Qin Wunian. What he hadn’t realized was that this behavior made Qin Wunian feel insecure.
Song Cheng couldn’t help leaning a little closer. Tilting his head up, he said seriously,
“That’s impossible. No one can replace you. And… I would never find someone to replace you.”
Aware that the cameras were filming, Song Cheng felt a little embarrassed. But the atmosphere had reached this point, and he couldn’t avoid saying it.
So he lowered his voice and said very softly,
“After all, all these years… you’re the only person I’ve ever liked.”
Song Cheng looked up at him, his eyes bright, as if they were glowing. No—that wasn’t just a metaphor. When he said those words, his eyes truly were shining.
Qin Wunian was the award-winning Best Actor, yet in front of Song Cheng, he felt he couldn’t compare.
He repeated Song Cheng’s words.
“Only liked me?”
Song Cheng nodded. The corners of his mouth lifted uncontrollably, looking almost innocent.
Qin Wunian looked at him. After a moment, he smiled too.
The smile made Song Cheng feel uneasy. He watched Qin Wunian silently, not daring to say anything more.
After smiling, Qin Wunian let out a long sigh. Turning his head, he brought the topic back again.
“Since he’s someone you know, will you go see him again in the future?”
Song Cheng shook his head. “We’re not that close.”
Realizing his own words sounded contradictory, he thought for a moment and added,
“Compared to him… I’m probably more familiar with his dad.”
After all, when his dad had been ranting non-stop, Song Cheng had listened to every single word.
Qin Wunian: “……”
He didn’t understand.
The only thing he realized was that after Song Cheng left him, he had met a lot of people Qin Wunian didn’t know—young and old alike, covering every age group.
He stayed silent. Song Cheng thought to himself that this probably counted as making up.
Standing up, he was about to go to the bathroom to take care of some personal hygiene when suddenly Qin Wunian grabbed his hand.
Song Cheng turned back and felt Qin Wunian’s grip tighten slightly.
“If you run into someone you know again in the future, don’t send me away.”
Qin Wunian smiled lightly.
“After all, I’m a celebrity. I shouldn’t be that embarrassing.”
Song Cheng froze for a moment, then nodded firmly. “I won’t do it again.”
His promise sounded far more convincing than Qin Wunian’s, giving Qin Wunian a bit of reassurance. But he still felt the need to confirm. “You’re not lying to me?”
Song Cheng: “……”