Yu Qinchou didn’t feel the slightest bit offended by the teasing.
After returning to Xi Jing Bay, with Ming Qi already asleep in his arms, he slowly replied to Xi Yixiu: Better than being single.
Xi Yixiu: “……”
As expected of Yu Qinchou—he had to be one step above him in every possible way.
But Xi Yixiu was not above threatening people: Careful. I might expose your partner’s identity and make life difficult for both of you.
Yu Qinchou: You can try.
Ming Zhengyue jumped in and laughed without mercy: Brother Xi, try it and you’ll die trying.
Xi Yixiu: “……”
He rolled his eyes and simply exited WeChat.
But when he opened a short-video app, the first thing that popped up was the grand fireworks show near Jingshi Shizuo Mountain. Xi Yixiu stared at it for a moment and couldn’t help but click his tongue inwardly.
It really was beautiful.
If he were holding someone he liked, it would probably look even better.
The next morning, Ming Qi slowly climbed out of bed.
He was wearing Yu Qinchou’s shirt. The oversized sleeves were casually rolled up, hanging loosely and revealing a pale wrist, along with faint red marks that hadn’t yet faded.
Hearing movement at the door, he pulled his wrist back, letting the sleeve fall as he looked up.
The man who had exhausted him the night before came in looking refreshed and satisfied, walking to his side.
“You’re awake? How are you feeling?”
Ming Qi pushed away his face as it leaned in. “You’re talking after the fact. I said no at the time and you didn’t listen. Now you’re asking how I feel.”
Recalling the intensity from the night before, Yu Qinchou couldn’t help but lower his gaze and chuckle softly. “Next time I’ll listen.”
…That sounded extremely unconvincing.
Ming Qi decided to ignore it.
While Ming Qi was having breakfast, Ming Zhengyue came to Xi Jing Bay to pay a New Year visit—and happened to run into Meng She at the entrance.
He first greeted Yu Qinchou and Ming Qi, then turned to Meng She.
“Is Brother Qi taking on new work again?” he asked.
Meng She waved his hand. “No, I’m here to pay New Year visits.”
“Oh, perfect. Me too.” Ming Zhengyue’s eyes lit up. Grabbing Meng She’s arm, he smiled at Yu Qinchou. “Bro, mind if we stay for a meal?”
Yu Qinchou glanced at him and immediately saw through his intentions. With a faint smile, he said, “Meal’s fine. Alcohol’s not.”
Ming Zhengyue: “……”
Then staying didn’t seem that meaningful.
Still, the moment he saw Little Eight, his heart melted completely. He held the cat and took many photos with Meng She, then even took Little Eight for a walk in the garden. The two got along quite well.
Ming Qi watched them for a while, then curled up on the sofa like a small animal and looked down at his phone.
He had received a New Year greeting from Jiang Jiannian.
Before the holiday, Jiang Jiannian had already asked whether he wanted to spend New Year together. He had repeatedly promised nothing would go wrong this time, but Ming Qi had still declined. Jiang Jiannian hadn’t insisted, only saying that Jiang’s mother had prepared a red envelope for Ming Qi and would give it to him later.
Ming Qi lowered his eyes, replied “same to you,” then put down his phone and leaned over to whisper to Yu Qinchou.
After lunch, Ming Zhengyue and Meng She left with the red envelopes Yu Qinchou gave them.
Not long after, Ming Zhengyue sent Ming Qi a screenshot.
It was from his short-video account. A few hours earlier, he had uploaded a video of himself playing with Little Eight. In the video, Little Eight was still wearing its expensive accessories, but more importantly, the background included parts of Xi Jing Bay’s interior—and a hand that viewers immediately found suspicious.
Ming Qi opened the app and searched for the account. As expected, the video already had tens of thousands of comments.
[Whoa, isn’t this the crown prince?]
[I checked again and confirmed it’s not the crown prince’s caretaker account. Could it be his dad? Looks super rich.]
[Forget “looks”—he’s obviously insanely rich. PS: feels like a godfather vibe.]
[Everyone’s focusing on the luxury cars, but I noticed something at 36 seconds: a hand in the corner. Guess whose hand that is? No prize.]
Below was a cropped screenshot showing the hand.
Ming Qi: “……”
The ring on Yu Qinchou’s finger really was a bit too eye-catching.
As expected, the comments quickly followed suit.
[Holy—this ring is identical to the one in the airport incident with Ming Qi and Yu Qinchou!]
[More than that, the reflection in the cup shows his face. That’s Yu Qinchou.]
[Sis, your eyes are insane / crying]
[So… the crown prince is Yu Qinchou’s cat?]
[Who even named it “Crown Prince”? That was prophetic.]
[No wonder the cat wears such expensive stuff. If its dad is Yu Qinchou, I get it / eyes closed]
[Is anyone even paying attention to the uploader? The uploader can casually play with Yu Qinchou’s cat… must also be a big shot.]
Ming Qi bent down and picked up Little Eight, rubbing its face gently while it meowed.
“It looks like we need to be more careful when taking you out,” he murmured. “After all, everyone already knows your dad is Yu Qinchou.”
That said, he didn’t really have many chances to take Little Eight out anyway, except for vet visits.
So Ming Qi didn’t take the video too seriously.
After the Spring Festival, he filmed two commercials. Once shooting ended, Meng She handed him a stack of scripts for him to choose from. Ming Qi looked through them carefully for a long time, then shook his head.
“Not good enough.”
Meng She wasn’t surprised by his choice at all. He shrugged helplessly.
“I also think it’s not great. The costume drama is basically a custom-made project just to promote the female lead, and they approached you just to have you play a supporting role. As for the others, there’s even less to say—yes, they have male leads, but the scripts themselves and the investors behind them aren’t that strong.”
Meng She had already thought it through before coming.
“If you want scripts like Undercover or Frozen Winter, that’s probably not realistic right now.”
“Even though you were personally selected as the male lead by Zhou Xingxiu, and even Huo Chengtong played a supporting role for you, your actual performance still has to wait until Frozen Winter is released to be judged. I’m guessing those ambitious, capable directors are all waiting to see.”
“That’s fine. No rush. Quality over quantity.” Ming Qi took it very calmly. He was never someone who got anxious easily, and with two unreleased films in hand, he could afford to wait.
And so he waited—until May, when Undercover was released.
At the end of April, Ming Qi joined Zhang Cong, Bo Hongfang, and others on promotional roadshows across multiple cities as an important supporting actor. Wearing the crew’s custom outfit with the bold “UNDERCOVER” printed across his chest, he stared at it with a slightly strange expression.
He turned to Zhang Cong, who was admiring himself in the mirror, and couldn’t help asking, “Director Zhang, do you really think this outfit looks good?”
White base, black text—it looked odd no matter how you looked at it.
Zhang Cong replied, “You look good in it.”
Bo Hongfang, who had overheard him, couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, of course he looks good. That face and that body—he’d look good even in a sack. But have you looked at yourself? You look like a white-haired potato!”
Zhang Cong immediately kicked him in the shin.
“Watch your mouth. Or Huo Chengtong might dump you.”
Bo Hongfang: “?”
What a joke. Huo Chengtong dump him?
More like he would dump Huo Chengtong.
“Enough, enough. Are you two kids or what? You can argue about anything,” Zhang Cong’s partner, Qu Xiang, said amusedly. Then she added, “It does look like a white-haired potato though.”
Zhang Cong: “……”
Despite the chaos in the rest room, the roadshow itself went very smoothly.
Especially after several influential Weibo bloggers watched the film and praised it wildly in front of the cast, boldly predicting, “I think Undercover can easily break five billion.”
Zhang Cong paused for two seconds and asked the blogger—whose ID was “Little Beauty and Little Handsome”—“Are you sure you’re not a jinx?”
The audience burst into laughter.
The host then turned to the cast and asked, smiling, “What do you all think? Is that possible?”
Bo Hongfang, never one to hold back, said, “Thanks for the good words. If it hits five billion, I’ll treat you to a meal.”
The blogger’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can Bo-ge bring Huo Chengtong too? And can Ming Qi bring his partner?”
Bo Hongfang: “……”
Ming Qi: “……”
After the clip went online, it stayed trending for a long time. No one expected someone to directly ask them that to their faces.
And then, a few minutes later, Huo Chengtong reposted it: Let’s aim for five billion.
Comments exploded.
[Good lord, I can only say—good lord.]
[Huo Chengtong reposted it! He just wants a meal with Bo Hongfang! He’s so into him!]
[@Ming Qi’s partner, your turn now]
[LMAO Bo Hongfang’s expression looks like he wants to kill that blogger]
Bo Hongfang scrolled through the comments and snorted.
“This is the first time I’ve thought five billion isn’t that appealing.”
Ming Qi thought about it and concluded that five billion was still very appealing. He sat cross-legged on the carpet next to Bo Hongfang and reasoned patiently.
“Brother Bo, one meal is just two hours, but five billion is a lifetime thing. Besides, you’ve already eaten with Senior Huo before.”
Back during Frozen Winter, the four of them often ate boxed lunches together.
Bo Hongfang thought about it and realized it kind of made sense.
Just as he was about to speak, Ming Qi’s phone rang. He looked down, then let out a soft “huh.”
“What is it?” Bo Hongfang asked. “A message from your man?”
Ming Qi nodded—and in full view of everyone, he reposted the same video as Huo Chengtong and added:
He said he’ll treat you to a meal @Little Beauty and Little Handsome.