Ming Qi was half-trapped in Yu Qinzhou’s arms. The wide open outdoor space was instantly enclosed into a narrow one. The scent of ebony wood and incense gradually soaked into the air, tinting Ming Qi’s face red. Yu Qinzhou’s thin lips moved slightly as he asked him, “Practice or not?”
Ming Qi felt he was doing it on purpose. There was an obvious smile hidden in those narrow eyes.
His palm pressed against Yu Qinzhou’s shoulder. Just thinking that this was inside the film and television base—and that there might be a camera pointed at them from somewhere in the trees in the distance—Ming Qi’s mind instantly cleared. He shook his head decisively: “If we’re going to practice, it doesn’t have to be this time.”
As he spoke, he reached out to pull Yu Qinzhou’s hand: “Don’t do the wall slam thing. Someone might see us.”
The moment he finished speaking, a girl who looked to be in her early twenties suddenly emerged from a dark, narrow alley off to the side. She was wearing a mask, her hair and clothes slightly disheveled, as if she hadn’t expected anyone in this remote corner either. The moment Ming Qi and Yu Qinzhou came into view, she froze and stepped back in shock.
Then she took a closer look and finally realized what they were doing. The red flush under her mask spread all the way to her ears. She quickly bowed deeply to them and ran off.
Ming Qi silently covered his face, his voice carrying a hint of collapse: “……I told you someone would see.”
Yu Qinzhou also seemed a bit surprised that someone could pop out of such a hidden corner. His gaze swept through the narrow gap, his brows slightly furrowing. In the end, he still withdrew his hand and straightened his tall, elegant posture.
His fingers brushed through the ends of Ming Qi’s hair as he comforted him: “It’s fine if she saw us. As long as your husband didn’t see it.”
At a time like this, he was still teasing him!
Ming Qi completely flared up, pushing him away: “Stop talking. Go do your thing already.”
…
The crew members were curious when they saw Ming Qi and Yu Qinzhou leave together but only Ming Qi came back. Huai Manyun was biting a chewing stick to control her appetite, half-leaning on her hand as she teased him: “Where’s your fan? Hidden away?”
Ming Qi felt embarrassed and quickly explained: “He has his own things to take care of this afternoon.”
Huai Manyun clicked her tongue twice: “We were even thinking of using your free afternoon to try and get close to your fan and maybe poach him. What a pity.”
Bu Hongfang knew exactly what was going on but deliberately nodded in agreement in front of Ming Qi: “Yeah, a fan that generous is rare.”
Ming Qi: “……”
Ming Qi slowly turned his face toward Bu Hongfang.
Then said, “Actually, he’ll be back later. Brother Bu, you still have plenty of chances to get close to him.”
Bu Hongfang: “……”
Good grief, even Ming Qi learned to counterattack now.
He decisively covered his face with the script and threw out a line: “Actually, I’m not that interested in this corner anymore,” before closing his eyes to rest.
Huai Manyun raised an eyebrow. Although she said nothing, with her experience in the entertainment industry since age eighteen, she could more or less guess Bu Hongfang already knew that Ming Qi’s fan had a background.
Interesting.
The break passed quickly amid the cast’s joking and banter. Ming Qi once again immersed himself into the role of Shen Yushan. His condition today was especially good, his acting even more outstanding. Zhang Cong kept filming while sighing inwardly, thinking he had really picked up a treasure by accident. More importantly, this “seedling” was humble and steady, with good temperament—truly rare among the younger generation.
As the sun tilted westward, it was time for the police station to close. The members of the criminal investigation team and Shen Yushan appeared together at the entrance, but as if guided by some premonition, they walked toward two completely different directions.
“OK, break first. Prepare for the next scene.”
The next scene was a nighttime one, also a confrontation between Ming Qi and Huai Manyun. In it, Huai Manyun’s character Zhou Ting had disappeared in public, and no one except Shen Yushan knew where she actually was.
As night fell, everything around sank into dead silence. Shen Yushan returned near the police station, pushed open the door of a small restaurant, and walked familiarly to the back courtyard. With a creak, he opened the gate leading to the underground cell. He didn’t turn on the lights. A faint tune drifted through the air along the flow of wind, spreading into every empty corner until it landed on the woman lying on the ground, seemingly already without breath.
Zhou Ting looked dazed and numb. Moonlight from the stairs could only barely illuminate half of her body. Her thin, broken frame instinctively curled up in self-protection at the eerie sound, though it was useless.
Shen Yushan walked to her side, lit a candle with a match, and pushed the candlestick aside with his long, pale fingers. He greeted her gently: “Ms. Zhou, how are you feeling today?”
Zhou Ting’s eyes reflected Shen Yushan’s face. Fear had gradually turned into numbness. She buried her head again without making a sound.
Shen Yushan didn’t mind her silence and continued on his own: “Today Zhou Yuan’s parents came to the police station. They cried very hard, kneeling and begging us to find the murderer and avenge their daughter. Do you remember Zhou Yuan’s mother? Half her hair has turned white. While speaking, she even coughed up blood. I heard from the criminal investigation team that due to extreme shock, she might not survive much longer—”
Shen Yushan slowly lowered his head.
The woman’s dirty, blood-stained fingers clutched tightly at his pants. She had originally refused to look at him, but now she stared directly at him. If hatred could take physical form, he would have been pierced by ten thousand arrows.
Yet Shen Yushan merely curled his lips. Slowly and methodically, he put on gloves, peeled her fingers off one by one, and then stepped on them, pressing down hard.
“I like seeing prey on the brink of death reignite their fighting spirit. It’s very interesting. Otherwise… what’s the difference between this and dissecting a corpse?”
In the candlelit corner, a row of surgical knives gleamed with silver light.
“Cut.”
Huai Manyun got up from the ground, and her assistant quickly wrapped her in a thick down jacket. The weather was still cold. Especially since she had been lying on the freezing ground in thin clothes, her pale face was half due to makeup and half due to the cold.
She leaned into the warm coat, her eyes still on Ming Qi, who had not yet fully exited the role and was resting nearby. Recalling the scene just now, she couldn’t help but laugh softly: “That really had a psychopathic vibe.”
Although Huai Manyun had always known Ming Qi was an extremely talented actor—someone who simply hadn’t yet found the best opportunity to shine—when Ming Qi, as Shen Yushan, picked up the surgical blade and met her gaze, those pitch-black, lifeless yet intensely excited eyes still filled her with fear. It was a kind of fear that had already stepped beyond the script and turned completely real.
Youth is something to be feared.
After today’s filming ended, she stood up to remove her makeup.
On the other side, Ming Qi, who had finally come back to himself, felt a warm touch against his slightly chilled face. He instinctively looked up and met Yu Qinzhou’s gaze. After a brief daze, he asked in surprise, “When did you come over?”
“Two hours ago.”
“So early?” He hadn’t even noticed.
Yu Qinzhou nodded. “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I watched from the side.”
Ming Qi felt there wasn’t much to watch anyway. In the cold night air, the wind alone was enough to make a person lose their senses. He didn’t linger and quickly said goodbye to Zhang Cong and Huai Manyun, then led Yu Qinzhou toward the hotel.
Before leaving, he suddenly realized he seemed to have forgotten someone, and quickly turned back. In the crowd, he found Meng She standing there with a stiff face, his expression clearly saying: “I’ve been forgotten.”
Ming Qi: “……”
So he turned back again to look at Yu Qinzhou.
The man glanced at him and let out a low chuckle. “Got it. I’ll go back to my own hotel.”
He deliberately emphasized the words “my own.”
Ming Qi praised him for truly deserving to be the boss of the Yu Corporation—his brain worked faster than ordinary people. Then, lowering his voice, he casually explained in a tone that suggested some kind of “lover roleplay”: “Understand him a bit. He’s my husband’s person. It wouldn’t be good for you if he finds out.”
Yu Qinzhou, who seemed strangely enthusiastic about this “secret affair game,” didn’t say much more. When Meng She approached, he took the initiative to say goodbye.
Meng She casually asked where Yu Qinzhou was staying. Ming Qi immediately broke into a cold sweat—this was an area full of hotels, and Meng She knew them all. One slip, and Yu Qinzhou would be exposed.
The man, however, calmly stated a name completely unfamiliar to Ming Qi.
Ming Qi looked confused, as if asking, “Is there even such a hotel?” But Meng She nodded repeatedly.
After they parted ways, Ming Qi still couldn’t help but ask, “That hotel name… why haven’t I heard of it?”
Meng She didn’t think much of it and explained, “It’s not a hotel. It’s a residential property near the film base. I think it’s also under a real estate company owned by the Yu Corporation.”
Then he added with emotion, “Rich bosses really are different. Properties everywhere. Just move in with a suitcase.”
So that’s why.
“Are you hungry? Dinner should’ve been digested by now,” Meng She asked. “Boss Yu brought chicken soup earlier. I put it in your room. You can microwave it if you want.”
Ming Qi touched his nose.
Yu Qinzhou had personally brought him chicken soup, yet he had sent him off to stay somewhere else in the middle of the night.
No matter how he looked at it, it seemed ungrateful.
Suppressing the faint guilt rising in his chest, Ming Qi returned to his hotel room. Sure enough, there was a thermal container on the coffee table. After checking the temperature, he still chose to heat it in the microwave.
While waiting, he took out his phone and sent Yu Qinzhou a message: Are you at Winter Bay yet?
Y: Do you want me to be there or not?
How was he supposed to answer that?
Ming Qi pulled back the dark curtains. Spring had arrived, no longer bringing snow, but the night wind was still biting cold. Under the streetlights, the air seemed faintly white.
Given the weather, he naturally hoped Yu Qinzhou would go home early to rest.
Just as he was about to reply, his phone suddenly rang. The call came from Yu Qinzhou.
After he answered, the man’s lazy voice came through: “Is your husband coming tonight?”
Ming Qi: “……”
This “secret affair” theme really wasn’t going away.
He kept a straight face. “Hard to say.”
“Oh?” Yu Qinzhou deliberately drawled, laughter hidden in his tone. “Then I’ll come warm your bed first. When your husband arrives, I’ll go back to Winter Bay. Is that okay?”
Ming Qi glanced at the empty bedroom and thought to himself that he wasn’t sure who was warming whose bed.
“You’re already back at Winter Bay?” he asked, but before he could finish, Yu Qinzhou interrupted him.
“Open the door.”
Ming Qi walked over suspiciously and opened the suite door.
The man stood outside holding his phone, smiling faintly. “Surprise.”