On the way to the restaurant with Ming Qi, Meng She was so stiff and restrained he looked nothing like himself.
Only now did he finally understand how right Ming Qi had been to run away so quickly right after wrapping up filming back then.
He also had no face left to see Yu Qinchou or Min Zhengyue.
“I think this breakfast is fine but unnecessary,” Meng She said very seriously. “It’s not that I don’t want to eat with Mr. Yu and Young Master Min, it’s mainly because I’ve got a whole family to take care of. If I stay here too long, my own son will go hungry.”
Ming Qi found it amusing listening to him.
The “son” Meng She referred to as “bringing the whole family along” was actually a little turtle he had randomly bought from a bird-and-flower market three months ago.
“Don’t worry, Meng-ge. It’s already ten o’clock. Mr. Yu has finished breakfast and is in the study,” Ming Qi said.
Perhaps because his mind was entirely occupied with last night’s drunken embarrassment, Meng She didn’t even notice how familiar Ming Qi was with Yu Qinchou’s daily routine. When they stood at the steps, he stretched his neck to look toward the dining area. Sure enough, he didn’t see Yu Qinchou, and he immediately relaxed.
“You two are awake?” Cen Jing noticed them sharply and smiled as he brought milk and soft purple sweet potato buns to Ming Qi’s side. Then he turned to Meng She and asked, “What would Mr. Meng like for breakfast?”
Meng She was surprised that breakfast could even be ordered freely, then pointed at Ming Qi’s plate. “I’ll have the same as Qi-zai.”
“Alright, please wait.”
Halfway through breakfast, Min Zhengyue drifted in like a ghost, his grayish-white hair styled like it was blooming in chaos. He sat down across from Meng She, eyes slightly swollen as if he had stayed up all night. He called for Cen Jing, downed an entire cup of coffee, and then greeted them weakly before turning to Meng She.
“Meng-ge, are you okay? Does your head still hurt?”
That single sentence dragged Meng She straight back to last night. He quickly shook his head.
Min Zhengyue muttered “that’s good,” then suddenly seemed to think of something. He jerked his head up, staring straight at Meng She.
Meng She instantly sensed something was wrong and internally thought: bad news.
Before he could even escape, Min Zhengyue asked, “So in the end, did you and that girl get together?”
Meng She: “……”
He knew it.
…
After breakfast, Meng She ran.
Before leaving, he asked Ming Qi if he wanted to come with him, but Ming Qi shook his head. “I’ll tidy up the house next door. Meng-ge, you should go back and rest first. Call me anytime if you need anything.”
Meng She didn’t say much after hearing that.
After he left, Min Zhengyue was still lounging on a sun chair with his legs crossed, wearing sunglasses and looking lazy. Wrapped in a soft blanket, he sipped a drink brought by Cen Jing while talking to Ming Qi, who was sitting nearby teasing a cat in the sun.
“Sure enough, men change once they settle down,” Min Zhengyue said lazily. “Even my brother knows to put a blanket on the chair now. So comfortable—”
Before he could finish his sentiment, a hand had already taken off his sunglasses. Yu Qinchou stood beside him, looking down with a faint expression.
“Then you should know who this chair is for.”
Min Zhengyue: “……”
Those who know the situation adapt quickly.
When Min Zhengyue interacted with Yu Qinchou, this was the phrase he remembered best.
He immediately stood up without a second thought, patted the blanket flat, and politely said to Ming Qi, who was sitting on a small stool and holding a teasing cat wand, “Qi-ge, please go ahead.”
Ming Qi was amused by his quick-witted behavior, but Xiao Ba the cat had already seized the opportunity. It jumped up, rolled itself into a comfortable ball, and took the center spot to lie down.
Yu Qinchou glanced at the cat and said casually, “The son sleeping there is fine too.”
Min Zhengyue: (▼ヘ▼#)
Understood. So he alone wasn’t allowed.
The rejected Min Zhengyue then received another critical strike from his cousin: “Are you planning to stay here long-term?”
Min Zhengyue looked speechless.
“Fine. I won’t interrupt your little world.”
Forget it, he wouldn’t argue with Yu Qinchou.
After all, he was a man without even an official status.
He drained his glass in one go, waved at Ming Qi, and said, “Qi-ge, bye.”
“Drive safely,” Ming Qi said with a gentle smile. “Take it slow on the road.”
As Ming Qi said goodbye to Min Zhengyue, Yu Qinchou stood not far away with his arms loosely folded, watching quietly.
For a moment, he felt as if he were seeing a warm scene of a family of three sending off a younger brother. Something like this had never existed before.
When he lived abroad, Min Zhengyue would occasionally visit his estate. But back then, he was always busy dealing with endless matters and rarely had time for him. Min Zhengyue didn’t mind, entertaining himself—sometimes chatting with the horses, sometimes riding. When leaving, he would casually say, “Brother, I’m heading back,” and stroll off without hesitation.
That familiar “drive safely” was the most he ever said, but it had never come with the same quiet attention as today, watching the bright red Ferrari roar away.
“Mr. Yu and A-Yue have a good relationship,” Ming Qi said, turning to the man beside him.
“You can tell?” Yu Qinchou raised an eyebrow. “I was just criticizing him.”
“There are a lot of details,” Ming Qi replied softly.
For example, that villa next door—Min Zhengyue had mentioned it offhandedly while drunk, yet Yu Qinchou had actually set one aside for him.
Or how Min Zhengyue had entered the guest room last night like he knew the place well.
Or how Cen Jing had already prepared coffee this morning.
Listening to Ming Qi’s calm voice listing those “details” one by one, Yu Qinchou lowered his gaze slightly and let out a faint laugh.
“When I first went abroad, I didn’t have many familiar people around. A-Yue would come find me every few days.”
He had been independent since childhood. His ties to family were thin; Min Zhengyue was an exception.
“So that’s how it is.”
“Mr. Ming.”
“Hmm?”
Ming Qi turned back to look at the man’s eyes, confusion showing on his face. “What is it?”
“Isn’t it a bit unfair?” Yu Qinchou said as he slightly leaned down. His striking features moved closer to Ming Qi, along with the woody scent he had just changed into. It wasn’t strong, but it still made Ming Qi feel a little unsteady. He blinked quickly twice and took a small step back, then said, “You call Min Zhengyue ‘A-Yue,’ but you call me ‘Mr. Yu.’”
Yu Qinchou’s lips curved faintly. “That doesn’t quite add up, does it?”
“You even call me ‘Mr. Ming.’”
—He had just done it moments ago.
“So if I change how I address you, shouldn’t Mr. Ming change how you address me too? A married couple shouldn’t be this distant.”
That did make sense.
But—
Ming Qi immediately recalled that time at Min Zhengyue’s place, when he had deliberately tried to show how close he and Yu Qinchou were and blurted out “A-Qiu” in front of everyone. His lips moved slightly, but when he looked at Yu Qinchou, he still couldn’t say it properly.
So he settled for a compromise and said softly, “Qinchou?”
The smile on Yu Qinchou’s lips deepened. He straightened slightly and patted the back of Ming Qi’s head. “Good boy, Qi Qi.”
Ming Qi: “!”
He was treating him like a child again!
In the afternoon, Ming Qi was pulled into a group chat called [Undercover Cast] by Bu Hongfang. He also received the script sent by director Zhang Cong, and the script reading was scheduled just two days later—an astonishingly fast turnaround.
Ming Qi immediately put aside the “Qinchou calling him good boy” incident and used Yu Qinchou’s study to print out the script before heading back into the flower house.
Cen Jing saw this and found it amusing. He said to Yu Qinchou, “At first I thought that since you’re usually busy, after marriage you might not be able to take care of Mr. Ming all the time, and that he might feel wronged. But now it looks like I was overthinking it—Mr. Ming is even busier than you.”
Yu Qinchou only curled his lips at the teasing. His gaze returned to the figure inside the glass-walled flower house, and he said with a faint smile, “He’s always been very independent.”
Cen Jing nodded and followed Yu Qinchou’s gaze for a moment, then smiled. “He looks like he’s glowing.”
Yu Qinchou turned back and said lightly, “You’re quite good at talking today.”
Cen Jing adjusted his glasses.
Fine. Complimenting Mr. Ming meant he was “good at talking.”
…
The script reading for Undercover was held in a small villa on the outskirts of the capital that belonged to Zhang Cong. It was scheduled for nine in the morning, but Ming Qi arrived early. At that time, only Zhang Cong and the screenwriter were present.
The screenwriter was a woman in her thirties. Zhang Cong introduced her: “This is the screenwriter of Undercover, and also my wife, Qu Xiang.”
Ming Qi paused for a moment, as if something had crossed his mind. After a brief beat, he smiled and greeted her, “Hello, Miss Qu.”
Qu Xiang was straightforward by nature. She waved her hand. “Just call me sister.”
Then her gaze fell on Ming Qi’s leg, and she asked with concern, “How is your leg?”
Ming Qi rubbed his nose.
To match his character setting of having a fractured lower leg, he had arrived today in a wheelchair. But even though he showed up like that, he intended to be honest with Zhang Cong.
So he got out of the wheelchair and even did two small hops in place.
Qu Xiang couldn’t help but laugh.
Zhang Cong was a stricter personality. Though he didn’t laugh as openly as Qu Xiang, his expression clearly softened, and he added, “No wonder that rumor reached me within a few hours.”
Within the next fifteen minutes, several lead actors arrived one after another, including Bu Hongfang.
The cast of Undercover was strong. Besides Bu Hongfang, there was also veteran actor Zhao Wenbin playing the leader of the criminal syndicate—Ming Qi’s superior in the story.
There was also award-winning actress Huai Manyun playing Bu Hongfang’s wife, as well as main supporting characters Jiang Pengyi and Fu Yu.
“Lao Xu isn’t available, so we’ll start by going through the plot together,” Zhang Cong said with a nod. “Everyone, thank you for your hard work in the next few days.”
Bu Hongfang, completely different from his public image, hadn’t even shaved his beard. He lifted his eyelids lazily. “Why are you being so polite? It’s not like you’re the only one making money.”
Zhang Cong was speechless.
But there was truth in the rough words. If the actors could fully bring out a good film and the audience responded, everyone benefited. That was especially obvious in Ming Qi’s case.
“Then let’s begin.”
The story of Undercover was actually quite simple.
Huai Manyun’s character had a younger sister who was an art student. One day, she went with her teacher and classmates into the mountains for a sketching trip, but she accidentally fell off a cliff.
When the police found her body, it was already severely damaged. There were bite marks from wild animals on her arms and legs. However, after forensic examination, the cause of death was neither the fall nor animal attacks.
It was a deep wound in the abdomen.
Many internal organs were missing, and after removing them, the perpetrator had used excellent suturing skills to stitch the body back together before dumping it into a dense forest below the mountain.
When veteran officer Lao Xu saw this, he was shaken to his core and immediately realized something was wrong. He turned to find Huai Manyun—only to discover that she had also gone missing.
Only then did they realize: Bu Hongfang’s undercover identity had been exposed. Both Huai Manyun’s sister and Huai Manyun herself were now caught in a violent revenge campaign by the criminal organization.
What the group needed to do now was sort out each character’s storyline and determine whether it made sense—or if better choices existed.
This was not easy work. By the end of the day, everyone looked exhausted. Bu Hongfang didn’t even bother going home and directly found a guest room in Zhang Cong’s house, then dragged out a suitcase from his car.
Zhang Cong: “…You planned this already, didn’t you?”
Bu Hongfang sighed. “You’ve got plenty of rooms anyway. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb you and your wife.”
Ming Qi was amused listening to them. Then Bu Hongfang turned back and asked him, “What about you, Ming Qi? Want to stay here too? He still has spare rooms.”
Ming Qi quickly shook his head.
Just a few minutes earlier, he had received a message from Yu Qinchou saying he had finished work and was stopping by the small villa to pick him up and take him home.
“I’ll just go home. The place I’m staying at isn’t far from here.”
Bu Hongfang looked a little regretful when he heard that, but there was nothing he could do. He could only wave them goodbye.
Most of the others had already left. Ming Qi simply stood up from the wheelchair on his own. Qu Xiang watched the scene and laughed again.
“Once you start filming, just tell people it’s a medical miracle,” she teased.
Ming Qi felt a little embarrassed by her joking and waved goodbye before leaving.
But the moment he stepped out, the door to a second-floor guest room opened. Bu Hongfang leaned out, scanning the living room and asking, “Where’s Ming Qi?”
Zhang Cong pointed toward the entrance. “He’s gone.”
Through the open doorway, they could all see a car parked by the roadside. A man in a black overcoat had been speaking with Ming Qi with his head slightly lowered. Noticing the gaze from afar, he raised his head slightly, revealing a face that was unfamiliar yet strikingly well-structured.
Qu Xiang, who didn’t know Ming Qi very well, asked curiously, “Is that Ming Qi’s agent?”
Zhang Cong replied, “No. His agent doesn’t look like that.”
Then he turned to Bu Hongfang, who was still staring straight out the door. “What’s with your expression?”
Bu Hongfang rubbed his face and sighed. “Another man more handsome than me.”
Zhang Cong ignored him and asked again, “What were you looking for Ming Qi about?”
Bu Hongfang held up his phone. On the screen was a Weibo page. He casually tapped a couple of posts and said, “There are suddenly a lot of posts saying Ming Qi doesn’t take his role seriously, that he’s sloppy with acting, and that he wastes the director’s and actors’ time.”