At 8:30 a.m., Qin Wuyan was woken by his alarm. He groggily opened his eyes, blanked his mind for a few seconds to “boot up,” then successfully did so. He got out of bed.
While brushing his teeth, he browsed the news. He was still on the front page. Headlines for consecutive days read: “Say No to Domestic Violence! Zhou Qingge Speaks Out About Qin Wuyan: I Have Never Forgotten.”
Qin Wuyan: “…”
He swallowed toothpaste by accident and ignored it. Exiting the page, he opened Weibo. The top trending post was Zhou Qingge’s statement.
As one of Mainland China’s top female stars, her influence was extraordinary. She wrote a short essay responding to the viral video. Qin Wuyan skimmed it and saw that marketing accounts had taken it out of context. She never mentioned him by name. She spoke about how difficult life is for actors, how difficult it is for women, then said those events were in the past. She hadn’t forgotten, but didn’t want people to dwell on them. She also wished no one else would experience similar hardships.
Qin Wuyan looked at her profile picture, furious enough to want to report her account.
Who’s she mocking?! No need for her wishes—there was no one more shameless than her!
Slamming the phone down, Qin Wuyan stormed to the gym, channeling his anger into lifting weights. An hour later, Ban Yunfang arrived. Only then did he wipe the sweat and go downstairs to open the door.
Ban Yunfang stood at the door, taking in his current sexy, rugged appearance. She nodded. “Looks like you know what she said. Good. You didn’t have to get involved this time.”
Qin Wuyan: “I was worried I’d curse too harshly and get my account suspended in the Clean Web campaign.”
Ban Yunfang: “…”
She gestured to his outfit. “The production team will be here soon. Change out of this ‘punch-three-at-once’ attire. Put on something white, soft lines. Never mind, I’ll find it for you.”
While Qin Wuyan changed, Ban Yunfang loudly explained the process from outside the door: “First, showcase your home, talk about your hobbies, what you like to do privately. Then back to the living room. The director will ask you pre-written questions—just answer them. Finally, interact with fans. I’ve already informed them. Pick friendly, neutral replies. Ignore anything rude. Got it?”
Behind the door, Qin Wuyan humbly replied, “Mm.” Ban Yunfang pressed her ear to the door, and hearing it, she finally relaxed.
Though Qin Wuyan had a bad temper and often caused trouble for the company, he had one redeeming trait: once he agreed to something, he would follow through.
She knew that having someone like him do this was torture, so she gently reassured him: “Endure a little. Once this storm passes, it’ll be over. Zhou Qingge won’t dare mention your name. What does that mean? She’s afraid of a direct confrontation with you. She can’t be so confident. So just endure for now. Once she’s satisfied with her triumph, I promise she won’t laugh again.”
Speaking of which, she paused for a moment, then casually added, “By the way, you said yesterday that four years ago you were dating someone else. I thought you’d never dated anyone. Who was it? Can Second Young Master share with us?”
Whoosh! The door opened. Qin Wuyan appeared, wearing the essential warm-and-gentle white shirt, but his eyes were still cold enough to freeze someone. “Planning a career change?”
Ban Yunfang: “Nope.”
“Then why are you stealing the paparazzi captain’s work? That’s not fair. Be human.”
Ban Yunfang: “…”
When the production team arrived at Qin Wuyan’s house, Song Cheng had just gotten into the car. The little girl’s mother helped him put his suitcase in the trunk. Forty minutes later, he arrived and said goodbye to her. Pushing his luggage, he went to the security room to register.
Here, registration also required showing an ID. Seeing such strict security, Song Cheng suddenly had a deeper understanding of what it meant to be a celebrity.
The guard, seeing his obedient demeanor, immediately categorized him as a law-abiding citizen. Not only did he let him pass, but also helped lift his suitcase.
Smiling in thanks, Song Cheng stepped into the blazing sun, heart pounding, and walked toward his ex-husband’s house.
He had been awake since six in the morning, staring at the ceiling anxiously. He didn’t know if this was a good idea. He had amnesia; he remembered nothing. His diary might not even be true—it only reflected his feelings, not reality.
Moreover, it was clear he was someone who lived in the past. What if he was the only one doing so?
What if Qin Wuyan no longer had any feelings for him?
Although last night he had searched and confirmed that Qin Wuyan had been busy filming these past years, never dating anyone…
And that actress called Zhou Qingge—who was she, suddenly claiming Qin Wuyan abused her? Come on, the date on that video? Qin Wuyan was with him then. It had to be fake. Just hype.
The relationship might have been a marketing ploy, but Qin Wuyan’s behavior in the video was real. That was one reason Song Cheng felt so uneasy. Somehow, he felt that Qin Wuyan wasn’t as perfect as his diary made him out to be…
Could someone like that really do those embarrassing yet sweet things, like holding him close and calling him “baby”?
As he neared Qin Wuyan’s residence, Song Cheng’s normally confident stride faltered. Swiftly, he turned, ran a few steps away with his suitcase, then crouched under a seven-leaf tree, taking the shade to weigh the pros and cons one last time.
If he didn’t go, he’d lose the perfect excuse to return to his ex. From the diary, it was clear he wasn’t brave; if he didn’t take this step now, he might never take it again.
If he went, the outcome might not be the pleasant reunion he imagined, but a disaster.
Also, if he didn’t go, he’d have to use his few hundred yuan to find a place to stay. A few hundred yuan in this city wouldn’t last—at most two or three nights in a hostel.
He didn’t know why, but he felt completely out of place in this bustling metropolis, with no family and no home. He desperately wanted something—or someone—that could give him stability. So far, only Qin Wuyan could provide that feeling.
Taking a deep breath, Song Cheng made up his mind. He stood, resolved, and strode toward the distant residence with steady, purposeful steps.
Meanwhile, Qin Wuyan was already smiling faintly in front of the camera. Ban Yunfang, holding her phone to monitor the live feed, sat in the second-floor corridor, observing the filming below.
It had to be said: Qin Wuyan’s acting was the exact opposite of his personality. The worse his character, the more explosive his performance. Watching him, Ban Yunfang often forgot how many times she had wanted to smash his head.
The director chatted with Qin Wuyan amicably, while the live comments were far less friendly:
- “Disgraced male celebrity, get out of showbiz!”
- “Legal scholars, please check in to a cell yourself; don’t burden the police!”
- “If you could hit Zhou Qingge, bro, are you even a man?”
- “Teacher Qin, I love you! Ignore the haters, we know you’re innocent!”
- “Can this even be washed??? So the guy hitting someone in the video was wearing Qin Wuyan’s face??”
- “Celebrity abuse, fans defending, a whole blind swarm, smack smack.”
The Real 60min Celebrity was a live broadcast with fully equipped facilities. Qin Wuyan, sitting there, could see a 100-inch screen across from him scrolling through all the comments. He only glanced once and noticed a particularly harsh one. His expression darkened, storm clouds forming in his gaze.
The director was delighted. He immediately gestured to the cameraman to zoom in on Qin Wuyan’s face. Before the cameraman could react, there was a knock at the door.
Qin Wuyan froze. The production team froze. Ban Yunfang upstairs also froze.
The director quickly turned, stirring the atmosphere: “Who’s this? Teacher Qin, could it be your secret lover?”
Qin Wuyan smiled slightly. “No secret lover. But the cleaning lady has one today—it’s her day to come over. I forgot to tell her she didn’t need to come. She’s an ordinary person, not suitable on camera. Can we skip filming that part?”
The director nodded immediately. “No problem, Teacher Qin. You’re too kind. But since it’s live, we can’t interrupt. Xiao Liu, turn the camera away from the door.”
Qin Wuyan stood, smiled at the director, then turned gloomily toward the door.
It wasn’t the cleaning lady. If it were, she’d have rung the bell. It was probably one of his mischievous friends, who had heard the news and came to gawk. Either way, the camera couldn’t see, so today he would have to act as the cleaning lady.
Ban Yunfang hadn’t expected this. She craned her neck, puzzled, watching downstairs.
At the door, Qin Wuyan pressed the handle, pulled hard—and swish! the door swung open. Song Cheng raised one arm, stunned, staring at Qin Wuyan, who had suddenly materialized from a two-dimensional memory into a fully three-dimensional reality.
He had been about to knock again, but unexpectedly the door opened. Song Cheng’s face fell with frustration—he felt utterly foolish.
His entrance had gone all wrong. His nerves, already frayed, ratcheted up another level as he looked up into Qin Wuyan’s wide-eyed shock. Song Cheng felt like his heart was about to leap out of his throat.
No time to hesitate. Must seize the moment—while Qin Wuyan was still processing—charge!
Swallowing nervously, Song Cheng blurted out a line that could have shattered the sky: “I know we’re divorced.”
“But I really have nowhere else to go. Could you let me stay for a few days?”
Qin Wuyan’s expression went from controlled surprise to utter, uncontrollable disbelief. His eyes darted around the room at the production crew—seven of them all gaping at the doorway. If someone had filmed this moment, it would have been a viral comedy clip for years.
On the 100-inch screen, the live comments suddenly froze for a few seconds, then resumed like a washing machine on spin cycle.
Everyone—fans and haters alike—was spamming the same message:
“Why are you eating popcorn on the side while we’re staring at a wall?! Turn the camera over here, idiots!!!!”