The man was silent for a moment, then said, “Wait a moment.”
Qin Wunian waited.
The person he called for help was his elder brother, Qin Yinian.
They had an eight-year age gap. Qin Wunian was twenty-six, and Qin Yinian was thirty-four. Because of the age difference, they never really got along as kids—not that they fought constantly, but they ignored each other as if the other were invisible, growing up as if they were each from an only-child household.
Since they weren’t close as children, their relationship as adults wasn’t any better. Qin Wunian had only called Qin Yinian a handful of times, but whenever he did, Qin Yinian never refused him—even when Qin Wunian’s tone clearly meant he was about to dive into some trouble.
Qin Yinian forwarded the matter to his secretary, then went back to soothe his twins at home. Five minutes later, the younger Qin got a call back from his brother, whose eyes were dark from fatigue.
“Royal Impression Hotel, room 2208.”
Qin Wunian nodded, his expression icy. “Thanks.”
Qin Yinian nodded as well. “Keep it quiet while you talk. Dividends at the park are high lately. If you cause a scandal, I won’t cover your lawyer fees.”
Qin Wunian: “…”
The Royal Impression Hotel was where the production crew was staying, though they only booked two floors. Room 2208 was a top-floor presidential suite, outside the crew’s activities.
Qin Wunian entered the elevator, pressing the button for the twenty-second floor, inwardly scolding Zheng Yi—the indulgent rich kid.
…
Zheng Yi was the type who never slept at night. At his worst, he went over half a month without seeing the sun, sleeping in the day and partying at night—a low-budget version of a vampire.
After being hospitalized and forced to rest for a while, his schedule had improved slightly. Now he slept at two in the morning and woke at twelve noon—finally human.
When Qin Wunian arrived, Zheng Yi was lying on the bed playing games. Though the theme park was his father’s, his family didn’t live in this city. Song Cheng’s city was his hometown, where his friends were plentiful. Here, he barely knew anyone.
Having met Song Cheng and knowing he wasn’t coerced by Qin Wunian, Zheng Yi planned to sleep through the night and go home tomorrow. As a young man in his prime, he preferred hanging out with friends rather than staying cooped up alone.
Engrossed in his game, Zheng Yi ignored everything else. Then came a knock on the door.
The first knock went unnoticed. The second, he heard but ignored. The knocking stopped briefly. The third time, it was no longer polite—more like a battering, as if a mob enforcer had come to collect debts.
Startled, Zheng Yi dropped his phone and rushed to the door. Seeing Qin Wunian outside through the peephole, his mind went blank, but he still obediently opened it.
Not opening the door promptly was another strike against him in Qin Wunian’s mental ledger. Then Qin Wunian sized up Zheng Yi from head to toe, like inspecting merchandise.
Realizing the visitor was not there for a friendly chat, Zheng Yi’s slow-witted mind finally caught up. He blocked the door, puffed out his chest, trying to look taller. With a rough tone, he asked, “What do you want? If you break the door, you’re paying for it.”
Zheng Yi was about the same height as Song Cheng, maybe even slightly shorter. Song Cheng was at least 1.8 meters tall, whereas Zheng Yi might only be 1.78. Even standing on tiptoe, he still couldn’t match Qin Wuyan. Seeing his little gesture, Qin Wuyan didn’t even try to hide his mockery. “A person whose cerebral cortex has been shrinking for three years couldn’t have come up with such a brilliant idea. Your brain would stay silent, your cerebellum would weep. I admit, your hunchback is textbook, but do you really think that just by straightening your neck, you’re taller than me?”
Zheng Yi: “…………”
His mouth opened, but no words came out. He was still trying to figure out what “cerebral cortex shrinkage” meant. Qin Wuyan, on the other hand, grabbed him and pulled him aside, leading him into the room. Turning his head, he frowned at Zheng Yi. “Still not closing the door?”
The instinctive fear of an elder immediately took over. Zheng Yi reflexively shut the door—but only then did he remember that Qin Wuyan wasn’t his father. Why was he obeying him?
Realizing this, Zheng Yi nearly jumped. “What exactly are you doing here? Coming in and yelling at me—what did I ever do to you?!”
Qin Wuyan looked at him, expressionless, and said two words: “Song Cheng.”
Those two words pierced Zheng Yi like a needle, deflating him instantly like a popped balloon. He dared not shout again.
In a small voice, he stammered, “Y-You… you were sent by Song Cheng?”
Seeing this, Qin Wuyan’s mood finally softened slightly. “No. He’s already asleep.”
Zheng Yi went “oh” and was about to nod, when he suddenly widened his eyes. “How do you know he’s asleep? Do you two live together?”
Qin Wuyan shot back bluntly: “None of your business.”
Zheng Yi: “……”
His voice dropped even lower. “I was just asking.”
Then he raised his eyes. “So… why did you come to find me?”
Recalling the online gossip, a chill ran through him. “You’re not here to beat me up, are you?”
Qin Wuyan neither confirmed nor denied. He slowly rolled up his sleeves and asked, “Did you apologize to Song Cheng?”
Zheng Yi nodded repeatedly. “I did! Song Cheng said it’s okay, he knows I didn’t do it on purpose. I… I really didn’t! No matter what, I wouldn’t intentionally bump into someone!”
Qin Wuyan said nothing in response, but continued, “Who paid for the medical fees?”
Zheng Yi explained, “Originally, that woman was supposed to pay too, but my father stepped in first. Later she bought Song Cheng lots of supplements, and we bought some too, but Song Cheng said he couldn’t take them, so he didn’t accept anything.”
Qin Wuyan asked again, “He didn’t take it, but you didn’t force it on him?”
Zheng Yi hesitated. Is he here just to pick a fight today? Song Cheng didn’t accept them; is that really our fault? “But Song Cheng really didn’t want them…”
Qin Wuyan lifted his eyelids. “Didn’t others want them either?”
Zheng Yi blinked, confused. “Others?”
Qin Wuyan calmly lowered his hand. “The person providing care.”
Zheng Yi was more confused. “Care…? Song Cheng woke up soon after, he could get out of bed, the hospital said he didn’t need a nurse, and when he woke up, he was very anxious—not willing to stay in the same room with a stranger. So my father didn’t hire one. When he was discharged, my father was supposed to escort him, but that woman got there first.”
Hearing this, Qin Wuyan gradually realized something, his expression blank for a moment. “You’re saying… during those days in the hospital, no one was by Song Cheng’s side?”
Zheng Yi nodded. “Yeah. He said he had no family. Technically, the hospital should have contacted his relatives, but because he said that, they didn’t.”
Qin Wuyan froze, absorbing the staggering news, standing there as if he were a different person from the one who had just stormed in moments ago.
After two seconds, he looked at Zheng Yi again. “I heard your license was revoked.”
Hearing this, Zheng Yi felt a mix of frustration and resignation, nodding with a bitter expression. Then Qin Wuyan said, “Good. Leave it that way. Don’t try to get it back.”
Zheng Yi: “……”
With that, Qin Wuyan left—his visit as abrupt and inexplicable as his arrival. Zheng Yi felt he had come to question Song Cheng, yet before any confrontation even began, Qin Wuyan had only asked a few perplexing questions and gone.
Closing the door and standing in his room, Zheng Yi muttered again, “Honestly, I can’t understand how you gays think at all.”
…
Qin Wuyan stood silently in the elevator, utterly still.
Even he didn’t know what he was feeling.
He had always assumed that, whatever brought Song Cheng back, he had been accompanied during the days before. Even a car accident—if Song Cheng hadn’t contacted him, surely someone else would have: family or newly acquainted friends. He had thought Song Cheng was never truly alone.
But Zheng Yi had just told him he had been.
Qin Wuyan couldn’t imagine it.
Because of his chronic stomach issues, he had been a regular at hospitals over the years, even shooting a public service ad for one. Still, he disliked the atmosphere: white walls, cold chairs, everyone moving hurriedly, expressionless. A place meant to fight for life, yet every corner was filled with loss and silence.
Even he needed someone with him during hospital visits—whether Xiao Zhao or Ban Yunfang, anyone. Now, society glorified solitude: eating alone, watching movies alone, but no one encouraged being alone in a hospital.
What must it have felt like for Song Cheng, waking up in a hospital bed, alone? From day to night, alone; waking alone, sleeping alone—what must that feel like?
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Qin Wuyan stepped out slowly, head bowed, walking down the corridor of their floor.
A few steps in, he spotted a familiar figure standing outside a door, ears pressed to the gap, listening.
Qin Wuyan: “……”
It was almost eleven at night—he hadn’t expected to come across this scene. He paused, observing the person’s back and what he was holding. Then he spoke up: “Why not just have a server bring it up?”
Liu Yanchu froze for a moment. Luckily, he was calm by nature—anyone else in that spot would have jumped at the sound. He was holding a small pot with a lid, hiding its contents. Hissing softly, he said, “Keep your voice down. Xiao Su and the others are arguing. If they hear us, it’ll be awkward.”
Qin Wuyan: “Awkward? I’m just passing by. You’re the one sneakily holding a pot and eavesdropping.”
Liu Yanchu: “……”
True enough.
In fact, he hadn’t heard much—this building’s soundproofing was far better than the resort. Standing there for a few minutes, he only caught a single line: “Can you not make a mountain out of a molehill?”
Stepping back, Liu Yanchu cleared his throat. “Why are you out here?”
Qin Wuyan replied, “Couldn’t sleep, went for a walk. What are you carrying?”
Liu Yanchu glanced down at the borrowed pot. “Just a little beauty soup. You know Lü Ruosi’s issues—every day it’s face masks and all kinds of beauty tonics, like a compulsion. I can’t manage the masks, so I made this for her. Helps her not have nightmares of being chased by dogs at night.”
Qin Wuyan hummed softly, standing still for a moment before asking, “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead,” Liu Yanchu said.
Qin Wuyan’s expression carried a hint of puzzlement. “Why did you two get divorced?”
Liu Yanchu chuckled. “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing. Why did you two break up?”
Qin Wuyan said nothing.
“See, everyone has their own story. Only we truly know and understand our own reasons.”
He raised a hand, patting Qin Wuyan gently on the back. “Alright, let’s head back. Xiao Song should be asleep by now. Move quietly so you don’t wake him.”
…
Qin Wuyan opened the door, leaving the lights off. He lingered at the entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, then approached Song Cheng’s bed.
Song Cheng was sleeping soundly, the covers kicked aside. Even with the air conditioning on, he refused to cover himself while asleep.
Qin Wuyan watched him for a moment, then sat beside him, straightening the twisted blanket and gently covering his stomach.
This wasn’t just for Song Cheng—Qin Wuyan had developed this habit over the years. Covering the stomach while someone slept was something he had learned from frequent hospital visits.
Song Cheng didn’t notice. Qin Wuyan brushed the strands of hair near his eyes and whispered softly in the quiet, dark room:
“Why didn’t you call me?”
He asked the sleeping young man beneath his hand.
“Since you decided to come back, why didn’t you tell me? So I could have come to find you?”
No response. Qin Wuyan lightly pressed the corner of Song Cheng’s eye, half in exasperation, half in grievance. “Too much, Song Cheng. You have no idea how worried I was.”
Unusually, the next morning at six, Song Cheng still hadn’t woken.
A few minutes later, around 6:10, he opened his eyes.
Stretching, he turned to see Qin Wuyan asleep in the other bed. He jumped out, leaning on his hands, appreciating the beauty of his ex-husband for a moment before heading to the bathroom to wash up.
Yesterday they had won several buffet vouchers, but Song Cheng had no intention of using them for breakfast. Self-service breakfasts never had much that was good anyway.
He didn’t plan to cook either; now that they were rich, being part of the “four-member big-spender combo,” they could order everything without worry.
The morning air at the park was heavy with humidity, being by the sea. But by seven, the sun had risen high, dispersing the moisture. The sky was bright, the sea magnificent, and seagulls occasionally streaked past, leaving white trails.
Just as everyone was in high spirits, Gan Yawen appeared, smiling, leading them to a new venue.
Many had explored the area yesterday, so they could guess what lay ahead.
Yang Qing exclaimed excitedly, “Are we going to the haunted house? I love haunted houses!”
Song Cheng shrank back. “No… I’m a little scared…”
Yang Qing looked amused. “Scared, Xiao Song? I bet the ghosts are more afraid of you! One punch and they’re done.”
Song Cheng: “Yang Jie, that’s exaggerated.”
Zhao Feifei added, “Not at all. Right now, in our minds, you’re like Song Xiaolong. If you suddenly started leaping across rooftops, we wouldn’t be surprised either.”
Song Cheng: “……”
Yue Yuran glanced ahead and said, “Probably not the haunted house. That opened yesterday. If today’s competition were there, the crew would have closed it off.”
Liu Yanchu nodded. “Makes sense. Then what’s ahead?”
Yang Qing recalled, “The Christmas Night Grand Theater, the Gingerbread House, and a few shops selling merchandise…”
Then she paused, suddenly shouting, “I know! It’s the castle!”
Qin Wuyan raised an eyebrow, interested in the Gothic-style architecture. “Dracula’s Castle?”
Yang Qing: “Hmm… I don’t think that’s its name.”
As for the reason… they’d understand as soon as they saw the castle.
Its walls were pink, the roof creamy white, and khaki-colored giant cookie decorations adorned every corner. Gan Yawen led the group forward and pulled the red cloth off the introduction plaque.
“All right, everyone, this is today’s first competition venue—welcome to Dorala’s Dream Castle!”
Qin Wuyan: “……”
He felt a little disappointed. Noticing this, Song Cheng tried to comfort him: “It’s actually not that bad.”
Qin Wuyan turned to meet his gaze, and Song Cheng said earnestly, “Maybe Dorala is just a distant cousin of Dracula.”
Qin Wuyan: “……”
Gan Yawen handed out glowing wristbands to everyone, each one a different color. Song Cheng, Liu Yanchu, Su Yu, and Zhao Feifei had green, while Qin Wuyan, Lü Ruosi, Yue Yuran, and Yang Qing had red. Only after some questions did Gan Yawen smile and explain the rules.
“Dorala is a very cute little girl who invited you to her castle to play hide-and-seek. The wristband colors indicate your roles: green can catch, red can only be caught. Catching a red adds one point for your team; if the red avoids being caught the whole time, three points go to their team. Keep an eye on your wristband color—if it changes… hahahaha!”
Guests: “……”
You might be laughing a little too loud.
Gan Yawen continued, “Although the scoring is still by team, even your partners can earn points if caught. Red players have three minutes to hide again once caught; during that time, the wristband won’t light up. After three minutes, the process repeats. Whether you want the red’s three points or the green’s one point is up to you.”
“Now the castle gates are open. Red players, you may go in and hide—don’t get caught!”
Curious, Song Cheng craned his neck, wanting to see inside, but only red players could enter now. The green ones would have to wait three minutes.
The game looked fun, mainly because of the thrill. Even standing outside, Song Cheng and the others chattered non-stop, guessing where people might hide.
Three minutes later, Song Cheng dashed inside first—and was immediately stunned.
The interior was Rococo style: tiny teacups, cloud-shaped chairs, arched doors, small sofas—all impossibly cute.
Everywhere were thousands of plush toys—every color, every kind. Small ones could fit in a hand; the largest were taller than Yue Yuran, easily big enough to hide three people inside.
Some, like Yang Qing, loved this style—but she had already hidden. The four who remained… weren’t exactly fans of all this cuteness.
They exchanged a glance and silently spread out, searching through the mountain of plush toys.
Passing a particularly tall toy, Song Cheng squeezed it and found it filled with cotton. Disappointed, he moved on. Of course—such an obvious toy would be too conspicuous to hide inside.
He scanned the surroundings and thought hard. Three minutes seemed long, but under pressure, the instinct was to move upward. The most likely hiding spots were upstairs.
Thump-thump-thump—Song Cheng ran up, checking each room.
He entered a small bedroom: nothing under the bed, nothing in the cabinet. He was about to leave when his instincts told him something was off. He turned and examined the room.
Across from the bed was a triangular desk. He had already checked under it—empty. But against the left wall, a half-meter-long hidden cabinet extended partly beneath the desk, blocked by boxes. Song Cheng hadn’t noticed the full length.
He reached out, slowly pushing open a two-centimeter gap in the sliding door.
Inside, Qin Wuyan sat hugging his knees, expressionless, turning his head to look at him.
After a moment, he asked, “Are you going to do the noble thing and sacrifice family loyalty?”
Song Cheng: “……”