Nothing brings people closer faster than gossip.
Min Zhengyue and Ming Qi huddled together like two sneaky hamsters. The former pulled out his phone and opened a group chat called [What’s Wrong With Eating Gossip]. After scrolling for a while, he finally found a video that a paparazzo had shared a few days ago about Qiu Tuo.
Each swipe sent a flood of chat messages flashing past Ming Qi’s eyes. Even though they moved too fast to read clearly, one thing stood out—
So many familiar names!
The video soon captured his full attention.
It showed a private clinic, with four bold characters above the entrance: Specializing in Men’s Health.
Then a man in casual clothes, wearing a baseball cap and mask, hurried inside. Perhaps worried about being recognized, he kept his head lowered the entire time—but the paparazzi equipment was too good. The camera zoomed in sharply, focusing on a scar where his neck met his shoulder.
That scar confirmed his identity.
It was from an accident during the filming of a crime-action movie. Back then, during a stunt scene, he had slammed into a metal structure, and a sharp steel edge had cut into his flesh—just a little deeper and it could have severed his neck. The incident had caused a huge uproar, with the public fiercely criticizing the production team. But Qiu Tuo had simply said: accidents are normal in action scenes.
Since then, whenever the topic came up in interviews, he would even point to the scar and say: “This is my medal.”
“A patient snapped a photo of the medication he got—it’s basically confirmed what it’s for,” Min Zhengyue said with a grin. “My paparazzo also mentioned that someone claiming to be his girlfriend tried to leak information to the media before. But Qiu Tuo reacted quickly and spent a lot of money to suppress it. So the ‘can’t perform’ part is probably true. As for juggling eight relationships, who knows.”
After hearing all this, Ming Qi couldn’t help but sigh.
In his memory, Qiu Tuo had always been gentle and refined, completely unpretentious. On set, he was either studying scripts or holding a thermos, researching health tips.
“Wait.”
Min Zhengyue suddenly slapped the table, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “He’s into health maintenance too? Then it’s probably true—must be from overdoing it. Way too weak!”
Ming Qi: “……”
When you put it that way… it actually made sense.
The gossip about Qiu Tuo came to a pause, but the thrill of sharing juicy rumors hadn’t faded from Min Zhengyue at all. Ming Qi was still interested too. Just as they were about to move on to someone else, a heavy knock suddenly sounded on the table.
Min Zhengyue looked up and saw Yu Qinzhou tapping the tabletop with his fingers, his gaze cold enough to make it seem like he was looking at a dead man.
Min Zhengyue instinctively glanced at the distance between himself and Ming Qi, then at the distance between Ming Qi and Yu Qinzhou.
Min Zhengyue: o(Д)っ!
At a table meant for eight, the three of them already had plenty of space—yet Ming Qi had unknowingly leaned closer and closer to him while watching the video.
Remembering how Yu Qinzhou hadn’t even liked him grabbing Ming Qi’s arm earlier, Min Zhengyue suddenly felt his eyelids twitch.
“Uh, how about we eat first, Ge Qi,” he said, quickly pulling back his phone and retreating from his new gossip buddy with a bleeding heart.
Although Min Zhengyue was the young master of the Min family in Suzhou, he had never had many close friends growing up. And the few he did have were people like Yu Qinzhou and Cheng Yuanshi—always busy making money. It was rare to meet someone who enjoyed gossip as much as he did. He had been ready to talk for three days and nights straight.
What a pity. Such a pity!
Ming Qi also felt it was a pity. He glanced at the table—there weren’t even any dishes yet. What was there to eat?
Besides, compared to gossip, even Chunqiu Residence’s food suddenly felt bland.
Following his gaze, Min Zhengyue clearly realized the same thing. His eyes darted around before he quietly scooted back toward Ming Qi and quickly added him on WeChat, whispering, “I’ll pull you into our studio group chat.”
Ming Qi: “!”
The moment Ming Qi entered the group, Min Zhengyue gave him a grand introduction and even tagged someone named World’s Number One Paparazzo Xiao He, announcing that this was the guy who had photographed him and Yu Qinzhou registering their marriage.
Ming Qi recalled how the man had seriously told him his partner was stuck in traffic. His expression went blank for a second before he typed: Thanks for your hard work.
On the other end, the paparazzo stared at his phone in silence for a long time.
A bit of cold sweat broke out.
After more than ten years in the business, he had exposed countless celebrities—big and small. He had seen people pay to suppress stories, but never this: someone who not only got the story taken down without paying a cent, but also joined their group chat to enjoy gossip for free!
Was this even reasonable?!
Then again, considering the person Ming Qi had married was the newly appointed head of the Yu family… it somehow made perfect sense.
He forced a laugh and replied: Not hard at all, not hard at all. Congrats on your marriage, Ge Qi! Wishing you and Boss Yu everlasting love and a lifetime together!
Min Zhengyue loved hearing that. With a wave of his hand, he sent out over a dozen red packets. “Love that. Say more.”
The previously silent paparazzi all popped up, lines of congratulatory messages flooding the chat. In his excitement, Min Zhengyue sent out dozens more red packets.
Ming Qi stared, a little stunned, and hesitantly asked, “Shouldn’t I be the one sending red packets?”
Wasn’t he the one who got married?
Min Zhengyue waved it off. “It’s fine. I just like throwing money around.”
Ming Qi: (▼ヘ▼#)
He wanted to throw money around too.
…
The paparazzo happily grabbed dozens of red packets—adding up to quite a sum—and leaned back in his chair, humming a tune.
Unfortunately, his good mood didn’t last long. Fang Qing’s agent came knocking.
Wang: So? Did you get anything?
The paparazzo clicked his tongue. He had gotten something—but he couldn’t release it.
Still, he wasn’t bothered. Min Zhengyue had already compensated him with another million as a “hardship fee.”
Fang Qing really had terrible luck—of all people to mess with, he had to kick the hardest iron plate.
The paparazzo thought to himself, then lied smoothly: He didn’t even leave his house. What was I supposed to shoot?
The agent clearly hadn’t expected Ming Qi to be this low-profile. Fang Qing had already rushed back to filming after the Spring Festival, despite the backlash, yet Ming Qi—who had nearly been hyped to the heavens—was still at home doing nothing?
Ridiculous!
The agent cursed nonstop—at Ming Qi, at Meng She, at Qi Chuang Media—before finally stopping. No matter what, you took my one million. You have to get dirt on him.
The paparazzo brushed him off: Don’t worry, I’ll get it.
The contract didn’t specify a deadline anyway. He could drag it out as long as he wanted.
After dealing with the agent, he narrowed his eyes, kicked off from the floor, and rolled his chair over to a colleague’s desk. Knocking on it, he said with a sly grin, “Want to do some business?”
“What kind of business?”
The paparazzo glanced at the computer screen, where news about Fang Qing joining a production had just popped up. He tapped his finger on Fang Qing’s photo.
The colleague frowned. “Not a good idea. Fang Qing has the Changfeng heir backing him.”
The paparazzo looked fearless. “So what? We’ve got Young Master Min backing us.”
They exchanged a look—and broke into knowing smiles.
…
After lunch, Ming Qi went to pay the bill, only to be told that Yu Qinzhou had already taken care of it.
He turned around—Yu Qinzhou was standing right beside him.
“I thought I was treating?” Ming Qi asked.
Yu Qinzhou reached out and lightly pressed down on his soft black hair. His posture was casual, his tone even more so. “What’s the difference between you paying and me paying? It’s all family money anyway.”
Without giving him a chance to argue, Yu Qinzhou asked, “What next? Want to walk around, or go home?”
Min Zhengyue had already been called away by his mother, leaving just the two of them. Thinking of what Min Zhengyue had told him—that Fang Qing had grown dissatisfied with him because of recent rumors and had even hired paparazzi to dig up dirt—Ming Qi decided that, to avoid any trouble on the very first day of his marriage, it was safer to go home.
Yu Qinzhou followed his wishes and drove him back to the entrance of his residential complex.
But just as Ming Qi was about to get out of the car, the man suddenly called out to him. Meeting Ming Qi’s puzzled gaze, Yu Qinzhou curved his lips slightly and asked, “When does Mr. Ming plan to move in with me?”
Ming Qi: “?!”
Yu Qinzhou rested his fingers on the steering wheel, explaining calmly, “Otherwise, if the old man drops by unannounced and finds me living alone, won’t our lie fall apart?”
…That made sense.
Ming Qi thought it over seriously, then asked tentatively, “How about tomorrow? I’ll pack my things today and move over tomorrow. Is that okay?”
Of course, Yu Qinzhou wouldn’t refuse. He had expected Ming Qi to delay a bit longer, but it seemed using the old man as an excuse had been absolutely the right move.
In a better mood, even his voice softened slightly. “Then I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”
This time, Ming Qi didn’t refuse. He nodded, got out of the car—but instead of leaving, he lingered at the entrance. When the window rolled down, he took out the pair of sapphire cufflinks he had prepared earlier and handed them over.
“Mr. Yu, happy wedding.”
Then he turned and ran off at full speed.
Yu Qinzhou felt the weight in his hand and lowered his gaze to open the jewelry box.
A moment later, he let out a quiet laugh.
Ming Qi ran all the way back to his door, patting his slightly flushed face. When he took out his phone, just as expected, there was already a message from Yu Qinzhou:
I like the gift very much. Happy wedding, Mr. Ming.
Having his carefully chosen gift appreciated put Ming Qi in an especially good mood. By the time Meng She called, there was still a smile in his voice.
Meng She sounded suspicious. “You’re in a good mood?”
“Yeah. Did you need something, bro?”
This time, Meng She laughed too. “Good news—you’ve got a new job.”
Ming Qi’s eyes lit up. “What job?”
As comfortable as staying home was, he still preferred acting.
“Director Zhuo Jin reached out,” Meng She said. “He’s preparing a thriller and asked if you’re interested. If you are, we can set up a time to discuss it.”
After a moment, he added, “Zhuo Jin’s thrillers are pretty solid. From what I hear, the role prepared for you should have some weight—probably around fourth or fifth male lead. And the cast lineup is impressive too. One of your co-stars would be that triple-award Best Actor you’ve worked with before—Qiu Tuo.”
Ming Qi’s eyes widened instantly.
Holy crap—eight relationships!