On the room one floor below, Ming Qi, holding the rarely well-behaved Xiao Ba, looked at the screen showing Yu Qinzhao and froze.
Yu Qinzhao’s interview was being broadcast.
In the dim environment, the light from the video flickered. Ming Qi’s confused gaze landed on the man, and in the shifting light he caught a glimpse of those deep, dark eyes—looking unlike his usual casual indifference.
Ming Qi was curious: “Why would I abandon you?”
Yu Qinzhao glanced from the corner of his eye at the camera still searching for the best hidden angle in the dark, lowered his head slightly, and let out a silent laugh. Then he spoke slowly and gently: “They said you ran off with a junior student.”
[???]
[I confirm it. Yu Qinzhao is a tattletale.]
[If you have the guts, turn on the lights before reporting.]
Ming Qi only now reacted belatedly, then felt a bit helpless. He muttered softly: “They’re just stirring trouble for fun. Why are you believing everything.”
Yu Qinzhao said: “If it were a senior student, I might not believe it.”
But that “Xhang Feng junior” had already appeared once before. That overly sweet, obedient “senior” still echoed clearly in Yu Qinzhao’s ears. Although Yu Qinzhao knew very well that Ming Qi didn’t fall for that kind of thing, he still felt unhappy.
Ming Qi couldn’t help pinching his face, then remembered how he had spent several tens of thousands in Xhang Feng’s livestream and laughed out loud: “Xhang Feng came to me because of tomorrow’s school anniversary celebration.”
The centennial anniversary of Beijing No.1 High School had been trending two weeks earlier. The reason was that the school had invited several outstanding alumni. One young entrepreneur accidentally slipped during an interview, and although the celebration hadn’t even arrived, the hype had already gone up.
And Ming Qi’s livestream collaboration with Xhang Feng had been seen by his former homeroom teacher, who then contacted him to invite him back for the celebration. Ming Qi agreed, but he didn’t expect the timing to overlap with the filming of the show.
“The program group said they’ll split into two teams then. One follows you at work, the other follows me to the school to film.” As for filming, Meng She had contacted the school in advance, and the school did not refuse; it was a free promotional opportunity.
“Baby, tomorrow is Sunday.” Yu Qinzhao raised his brow. “Even capitalists can’t make employees work on Sunday.”
Ming Qi: “……”
Right.
He thought about it. “Then they’ll film you working at home.”
Yu Qinzhao: “If the study room door is closed, are they going to film the door?”
Although they couldn’t see the footage clearly, the livestream audience could clearly hear their conversation:
[…]
[I won’t allow it!]
[Who wants to look at a door, I want to look at people.]
[A door is not interesting!]
[Can’t you two just go together?]
When Ming Qi asked “Then what should we do,” Yu Qinzhao gave the same answer as the comments. He buried his face into the young man’s slender neck, warm breath brushing over him, and asked softly: “Do I have to work? Can’t I go with you to experience the charm of that century-old school?”
Behind them was the camera. Even though the room was dim and the camera might only capture two faint silhouettes pressed together, Yu Qinzhao’s sudden closeness still made Ming Qi’s breathing tighten. He resisted the sensitivity on his neck and the subtle trembling, and said in a slightly hoarse voice: “Then we’ll ask the program group how to arrange it.”
“Okay.”
After resolving the issue of Ming Qi being “taken away by the junior student,” Yu Qinzhao did not return to the study room. Instead, he stayed in the media room and watched films previously shot by Ming Yun together with Ming Qi.
For viewers, the scene might seem simple and plain, but it was not boring. When the light brightened, they could see two figures sitting close together; when it dimmed, they could still hear their low conversations—mostly Ming Qi speaking, telling childhood stories.
Some fans keenly noticed hidden information in Ming Qi’s words, but it was quickly brushed past and not given much attention.
[…]
The interview segment was arranged for the afternoon.
The interviewer for the Zhou Qi couple at West View Bay was a female director surnamed Liu.
Director Liu held her script and, guided by Qin Ren, entered the tea room. Along the way she curiously asked Qin Ren: “Mr. Qin, have you ever said something like ‘it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the young master smile’?”
Qin Ren: “……Director Liu, read less CEO novels. Also, Mr. Yu actually likes smiling.”
It’s just that his smile in front of Ming Qi is completely different from his usual one.
The first to enter the tea room for the interview was Yu Qinzhao.
But the camera first swept to a corner of the tea room. The space was wide, with a rosewood table and chairs at the center, and four rows of wooden shelves against the right wall holding decorative vases. Just a quick glance was enough for knowledgeable viewers in the livestream to identify the price of the vases.
“Sit.” Yu Qinzhao held a teapot in his long fingers and poured tea for Director Liu.
His movements were elegant and noble, his features clean and refined. Even simple actions were visually pleasing and full of presence.
Director Liu looked at the tea placed in front of her and widened her eyes slightly, then smiled: “Everyone, you probably haven’t had tea personally poured by Mr. Yu before. I’ll drink this cup first then.”
[…]
Director Liu did not notice that the comments had already gone off track.
The camera was aimed at Yu Qinzhao, and only her voice was used as narration. Since this was more of a casual chat than a serious interview, there was no strict tone.
Before the interview began, she explained: “These questions weren’t pre-discussed with Mr. Yu. But don’t worry, they won’t be too sharp.”
Yu Qinzhao said: “It’s fine, ask anything.”
[…]
Director Liu lightly coughed and immediately dropped a big one: “First question—how did you and Ming Qi meet?”
This question had already been widely discussed among fans of the Zhou Qi couple. The most popular theory was that they met at some dinner party. After all, one was capital, one was an actor, and dinner parties seemed like the only intersection point. But that explanation also felt off—Yu Corporation hadn’t even entered the entertainment industry, so it didn’t quite fit.
Now the official answer was coming, and everyone watched eagerly.
Yu Qinzhao slightly curved his lips. Facing the camera, he smiled: “It might be different from what you imagine.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Many years ago, on a street in Country C, I met a little boy who had gotten lost.”
A forgotten memory resurfaced, as if Yu Qinzhao was standing at that street corner across time. Back then, Ming Qi had just been adopted by Ming Yun’s couple and was small and thin, standing alone in a foreign crowd, lost and confused.
Yu Qinzhao felt that sometimes fate was truly strange.
The younger him, who thought he had already built an iron wall from a distorted family environment, still felt a moment of softness. So he walked over, and by chance stopped a hawthorn seller from his home country, and handed a skewer to Ming Qi.
But Ming Qi still cried.
So he bought a second, a third, all the way to the sixth skewer before Ming Qi finally stopped crying.
Recalling the red-rimmed eyes like a little rabbit, Yu Qinzhao smiled faintly.
“He said thank you, and chose for a long time before picking a strawberry one.”
Then they sat on a bench by a flower bed and quietly ate hawthorn together.
“Did they finish eating?” Director Liu asked.
“Yes, but I ate most of them.” Yu Qinzhao smiled. “After he finished the first strawberry one, he said his teeth hurt and that he couldn’t waste it.”
In the end, Ming Qi cried again saying his family didn’t want him anymore. Yu Qinzhao thought, they were quite alike—his own parents didn’t want him either. But that tiny softness made him reassure Ming Qi: your family won’t abandon you.
To prove it, he said: after finishing the hawthorn, your family will come pick you up.
After five skewers were finished, Ming Yun’s couple finally found him in panic.
And then, in that unfamiliar country and unfamiliar street, his thin figure disappeared before they even reacted.
At that time, Yu Qinzhao thought it was just a minor episode in his long life.
Until years later, on a path at Beijing No.1 High School, he heard the echo of fate and met Ming Qi again.
[…]