The voice-activated hallway light cast a glow behind him, slightly dimming Yu Qinzhou’s features, but not enough to hide his striking appearance. He stepped into the entryway and naturally bent down to change his shoes. When he stood up and saw Ming Qi still frozen in place, he raised a brow. “What, too happy to react?”
That one sentence instantly broke the atmosphere.
Just then, the microwave rang with a crisp “ding.”
Ming Qi hurried over to take out the chicken soup. The bowl was a bit hot; he hissed softly and quickly rubbed his ear with his hand before handing a portion to Yu Qinzhou.
“Here. For you.”
Yu Qinzhou looked at him. “If I remember correctly, this soup was brought by me.”
“But I heated it.”
Ming Qi looked completely righteous, like a little creature doing something mischievous but still walking proudly. Yu Qinzhou lowered his gaze and smiled silently as he took it.
He teased, “Then I’ll say thank you. And to show my gratitude, I’ll definitely warm your bed properly later.”
The rich aroma filled the air. Yu Qinzhou leaned casually against the small table, lifting the porcelain bowl to his lips and taking a sip. The cook’s skills were as good as ever, and he didn’t waste a drop.
He set the bowl down and looked at Ming Qi.
The young man was sitting cross-legged on a soft plush mat, holding a spoon in his right hand, eyes fixed on an iPad playing videos, eating slowly like a little snail.
Yu Qinzhou watched for a moment and felt that he was seriously unwell.
Even watching someone drink soup made him think they were cute.
“I’ll go shower first.”
Ming Qi was watching cute pet videos Meng She had sent him. He only gave a casual “mm” in response. After a couple of videos, he finally came back to himself and glanced toward the bathroom.
Through the frosted glass, steam was already rising, faintly outlining the man’s figure inside.
He didn’t dare look too long. Standing up, he went to wash the bowl.
When it was finally Ming Qi’s turn to shower, the mist in the bathroom had not completely dispersed yet. It clung to his exposed skin, carrying a soft, warm sensation. His entire body was wrapped in the flow of hot water, and he squinted comfortably.
A bowl of chicken soup had filled the emptiness in his stomach, and a hot shower had washed away the fatigue of the entire day. Ming Qi stayed in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes before slowly stepping out with a soft towel draped over his head.
The moisture on his body hadn’t fully dried, making his sleepwear cling uncomfortably to his skin. He lightly shook himself twice, letting the warmth sink into the fabric.
A hand reached over from behind and picked up the hair dryer placed in front of him. A flash of pale, jade-like whiteness passed before his eyes. Ming Qi followed the movement, and before he could react, the buzzing sound of the hair dryer filled his ears.
Yu Qinzhou hooked his damp short hair with his long fingers. His voice, mixed with the noise, sounded slightly distant. “I’ll dry it for you.”
In front of Ming Qi was a cabinet, and slightly off to the side was a full-length mirror tilted at an angle. He could clearly see Yu Qinzhou’s lowered gaze in it. The expression looked extremely focused—less like he was drying hair, and more like he was handling something precious.
That comparison flashed through Ming Qi’s mind, making him pause.
Strange.
He pressed his lips together. Waiting for his hair to dry felt unusually long. His eyes drifted toward the phone on the coffee table, and he resisted the urge to pick it up, sitting obediently like a puppet.
But the more he waited, the slower time seemed to move. His thoughts grew increasingly chaotic, until he finally spoke just to distract himself.
“You’re really skilled.”
“Mm. I worked as a Tony stylist for a few years.”
“Ah?!” Ming Qi turned in shock, only to immediately realize he had been tricked when he met Yu Qinzhou’s amused eyes.
His expression stiffened, but his head was already gently turned back by force.
Yu Qinzhou chuckled. “You believe everything.”
Ming Qi tried to regain some dignity and teased back on purpose, “But your technique really is good. If Yu Corporation ever goes bankrupt, I’ll open you a hair salon. You can be the manager.”
But Yu Qinzhou clearly had thicker skin than him. He didn’t even change expression.
“What is that? Keeping me?” he asked smoothly.
Ming Qi: “……Who uses a hair salon for that kind of thing?”
While they bantered, his hair had already dried. Yu Qinzhou turned off the hair dryer, and the sudden silence made the room feel much calmer.
The man casually put the dryer back, then placed a hand on Ming Qi’s lower back. Through the thin fabric, it pressed against his skin lightly. He patted once.
“Alright. Go sleep.”
Ming Qi glanced at the empty bed and didn’t move. “What about the bed-warming you promised?”
The room was warm enough, but the hotel blanket wasn’t particularly cozy.
And besides, it was Yu Qinzhou who had brought it up in the first place.
Yu Qinzhou found it amusing. He nodded. “Fine. You wait outside. I’ll go warm it up for you first.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ming Qi finished chatting with the screenwriter and walked toward the bedroom holding his tablet. Pushing open the slightly ajar door, he found Yu Qinzhou half-reclining on the side of the bed Ming Qi usually slept on.
The man had one leg bent, a laptop resting casually on his lap, scrolling lazily.
Noticing the sound of the door, he turned his head. “Come test if the bed is warm enough.”
Ming Qi didn’t stand on ceremony. He kicked off his slippers, and when Yu Qinzhou shifted to the other side, he quickly slipped under the blanket.
The inside was warm and soft. The faint scent of shower gel flooded his senses, mixed with Yu Qinzhou’s presence, wrapping around him bit by bit.
The inexplicable intimacy made the tips of his ears turn red, but he still pretended to be calm and closed his eyes.
“Good night,” he said softly.
“Good night?”
The slightly raised tone carried clear dissatisfaction.
Ming Qi opened his eyes again.
Yu Qinzhou had leaned closer, one hand pressing lightly against his lips, brows slightly raised. “Did you forget something?”
The touch on his lips was too real to ignore. Ming Qi subconsciously pressed them together, and Yu Qinzhou’s finger slipped slightly between them.
Warm and cool sensations tangled together, sending something strange straight into his mind. Ming Qi stiffened.
Before he could speak, Yu Qinzhou suddenly laughed.
The shadow above him deepened as Yu Qinzhou leaned down further, blocking the light. Their breathing intertwined, close and lingering.
The practice “goodnight kiss” nearly stripped Ming Qi of all rationality. In a dazed state, he only felt a slightly cool hand slip under his thin shirt and press against his lower back. He instinctively trembled, only to be pushed further into helpless retreat.
Just before things went completely out of control, Yu Qinzhou’s low, slightly hoarse voice finally sounded in his ear:
“Let’s practice tomorrow.”
Then he got up and went into the bathroom.
Listening to the sound of running water, Ming Qi slowly pulled the blanket over his head, covering his flushed face.
…
When Yu Qinzhou came out of the bathroom again, Ming Qi was already asleep.
The blanket that had been pulled up earlier had been lowered again to his chin, revealing a peacefully sleeping face. His features looked softer in sleep.
Yu Qinzhou moved very carefully back to his side.
The sleeping Ming Qi seemed to sense the faint coolness from him and shifted slightly away, but as time passed, Yu Qinzhou’s body warmed up again—and Ming Qi naturally rolled back into his arms, resting his face against his chest like it was the most comfortable pillow.
This kind of life—fans visiting during the day, fans warming the bed at night—continued for a few days before coming to an end when Yu Qinzhou went on another business trip.
That afternoon, Ming Qi had no scenes, but he still came to the set as usual. He sat in a small chair in the corner, watching Bu Hongfang and Huai Manyun’s scenes while taking notes by hand.
After one take finished, Bu Hongfang walked over with a drink. Ming Qi didn’t even notice him.
Bu Hongfang raised a brow. The notebook on Ming Qi’s lap was open as usual—but unlike before, there were no dense notes.
Instead, on the page was a bold, flowing single character:
“Yu.”
Oh—
Bu Hongfang, as if discovering a secret, pulled over a chair and sat beside Ming Qi, smiling teasingly: “Just left today, and you’re already like this?”
The sudden voice woke Ming Qi, who had been lost in thought. He came back to his senses, blinked once, and noticed Bu Hongfang was staring at his notebook. He followed his gaze and also looked over, then froze.
Very quickly, he closed the notebook and his eyes drifted slightly: “Brother Bu, why did you come over?”
“I saw you sitting here spacing out, so I came to check on you. And look at this—you were writing Director Yu’s surname.” Bu Hongfang shrugged, then sighed with feeling. “Back when I was dating too, my head was full of that idiot.”
Ming Qi stubbornly denied: “I didn’t write his name.”
Bu Hongfang had an expression that said he saw through everything but was humoring him: “Right, right, you just wrote the character ‘Yu’.”
Ming Qi: “……”
Unconsciously, he rubbed his fingers over the notebook, as if touching that simple surname through the thick pages.
Yu Qinchou had come to the set to visit and stayed for a few days. Now that he had left, Ming Qi really wasn’t used to it.
Pressing his lips together, he opened his phone and found Yu Qinchou on WeChat, asking where the other person had arrived. The message had just been sent when Bu Hongfang, who had unintentionally seen his screen, replied: “Didn’t you check Weibo hot searches? Some netizens took photos of Director Yu at Jing City airport an hour ago, transferring flights.”
After saying that, he sighed a little: “Director Yu’s popularity now is basically like a celebrity’s. Even transferring flights can make it onto the hot search.”
While Bu Hongfang was speaking, Ming Qi had already opened Weibo.
As expected, the hashtag #YuQinchouAirport# was sitting in the middle of the trending list. But when Ming Qi refreshed again, the tag had already disappeared without a trace.
Ming Qi: “……”
Why was it taken down? He hadn’t even finished looking yet.
Not willing to give up, he searched the keywords, and finally two airport photos of Yu Qinchou appeared. It was obviously just casual candid shots, but both Yu Qinchou’s appearance and aura completely overpowered other male celebrities. After looking for a couple seconds, when Ming Qi came back to himself, his finger had naturally tapped save.
The action was so smooth—so smooth that it even made him feel a little guilty.
“You two are actually quite similar.” Bu Hongfang suddenly spoke, scaring Ming Qi.
He asked: “What?”
Bu Hongfang: “Yesterday I even saw Director Yu browsing your Weibo super topic, saving a lot of your photos.”