Zhao Wenxiu sat calmly on the sofa, dressed in a sharp suit, with his hair neatly parted and slicked back, revealing a smooth forehead. His demeanor was calm and composed. He slightly nodded, saying, “Long time no see.”
“Brother! Sit here,” Chu Zizhe, unwilling to be ignored, interrupted, grabbing the sleeve of Xia Yan’s shirt and pulling him to sit beside him, his tone sticky and playful.
The man across from them scoffed, “Childish.”
Chu Zizhe, with his puppy-dog eyes half-lowered, appeared innocent and pitiful. But beneath that, a similarly cold gleam shone in his eyes. ‘Childish? So what? As long as it works.’
The tension between the two was palpable. Their exchanged glances were like an unspoken battle.
Xia Yan, however, was oblivious to all of it.
He picked up a glass of fruit wine in front of him, taking a light sip. The burst of fresh fruit sweetness and the sharpness of the alcohol hit his tongue, clearing his muddled thoughts.
First of all, he needed to maintain his persona.
Every point in the mission was precious. He had been playing this role for over a year now, and there was no way he could give up at the last minute.
Secondly, Tu Xi’s scandal couldn’t be exposed.
Not to mention that he had been constantly pushing boundaries and flirting to maintain his character, which caused Tu Xi to feel insecure and hire someone to follow him.
Then there was the world pillar task.
If Tu Xi were to be ruined by scandals and miss out on becoming Film Emperor, the whole world would collapse.
All his points would be gone!
Absolutely unacceptable!
On another note, Xia Yan didn’t want to see Tu Xi fall into a pit of no return. For someone who loved acting, losing everything would be too cruel.
He took another sip of the wine. The transparent glass, filled with pink liquid, swayed slightly.
As time passed, the heat of summer began to fade, replaced by the northern winds of autumn. The private room, without air conditioning, felt slightly stuffy.
Xia Yan casually unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, revealing a small, delicate patch of collarbone. He rolled up his sleeves with a relaxed and efficient motion.
“Where’s the information?”
Zhao Wenxiu slid a folder across the table. “Right here.”
Xia Yan took it and began reading from the first page.
The contents were detailed and clearly expensive to obtain. Every interaction between Tu Xi and Huang Jiancheng was meticulously documented—from the first time Tu Xi hired him to the dates and times of all their meetings, including transaction records. Everything was laid out clearly.
Knowing the outcome, it became much easier to retrace the process.
Why would a former flirt go online to clear his name? How could he produce photos that even the bar owner didn’t have to prove his innocence? Why was he so sure that he hadn’t cheated…?
Because, all along, he had been watching him.
He knew everything about him.
With that realization, Xia Yan opened his phone, and as expected, someone online had already spoken up for him, offering evidence that he had been using a secondary account.
There had been too many rumors about Xia Yan online, with countless twists and turns over time, and the netizens had learned to be more cautious.
Even though he had said some scandalous things during a livestream, the backlash wasn’t as severe as expected. After someone had clarified the situation, the public was relieved.
It was like they could smugly say, ‘See, I knew it.’
Xia Yan thought to himself, “…Well, as expected.”
Zhao Wenxiu observed Xia Yan carefully. Throughout the entire exchange, Xia Yan’s expression remained calm, his lips curved in a lazy smile, and his eyes held a sense of smug satisfaction.
It was as though he wasn’t looking at a report on his boyfriend’s surveillance, but rather reviewing an excellent script proposal.
For some reason, Zhao Wenxiu had a bad feeling about this.
Chu Zizhe, unable to contain his frustration, let his usual playful expression slip, revealing a hint of anger: “Brother! Tu Xi was really too much. How could he not trust you?”
Xia Yan chuckled softly. “Isn’t this good?”
“?”
“All of this is because he loves me. He’s obviously completely obsessed with me.” Xia Yan’s smile deepened, almost indulgent, as if looking down from above. “He’s just a naughty boy who loves to act spoiled.”
“???” Chu Zizhe’s throat tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled with his words. “But… he did something wrong.”
“As my boyfriend, Tu Xi is entitled to certain privileges.”
Xia Yan pulled the file out of the folder, and to the surprise of both men, lit it on fire with the lighter provided in the private room. The flames flickered against his face, reflecting in his eyes. He was like that fire—knowing it would burn, yet still drawn to it.
“This matter,” Xia Yan said calmly, “is something I don’t want anyone outside of this room to know about. You’ll keep it that way, won’t you?”
He tilted his head slightly, his smile never wavering, but there was a veiled threat in his gaze as he looked between the two men.
Zhao Wenxiu’s face darkened, and his expression turned cold.
Chu Zizhe couldn’t maintain his playful façade any longer, revealing his true, predatory nature. He spoke in a teasing tone, but his words were deadly serious: “Brother, what if I say I can’t do that?”
“Oh? That could be a bit troublesome.”
“…”
“But aren’t you my fan? As a fan, don’t you think it’s cruel to make your idol suffer?” Xia Yan grabbed Chu Zizhe by the hair, forcing his head closer, their faces inches apart. “You should behave and make me happy, shouldn’t you?”
His tone was even and unflinching, as if he were casually commanding others.
“Brother, you’re going too far.” Chu Zizhe’s smile vanished completely. His years of training and natural physical strength allowed him to easily overpower Xia Yan, pinning him down on the sofa, his hands held above his head. “I really hate it when people grab my hair. You’re the only one I’ve tolerated it from.”
Xia Yan: “???”
Crap! He had gone too far!
He struggled fiercely, causing his shirt to ride up and expose a strip of his slender waist. The pale skin stood out starkly against the dark leather sofa, almost glowing in contrast.
But the man on top of him didn’t budge, as immovable as a mountain.
Despite Xia Yan’s considerable strength, the people in this world seemed to possess unnatural levels of power.
With no chance of winning through force, he’d have to rely on his wits.
He just needed to follow the plan.
Xia Yan reassured himself and outwardly remained as calm as ever. Even though he was physically pinned down, his aura didn’t falter in the slightest. “So, you’re planning to make me submit by using force?”
“I…” Chu Zizhe hesitated, his fingers twitching as his expression wavered.
It was too tempting. Just a little lower, and he could kiss him. Close the door, and he could have him. But wait—there was someone else in the room. Chu Zizhe glanced toward Zhao Wenxiu.
Zhao Wenxiu held a glass of wine, looking as if he didn’t care about anything.
But Chu Zizhe knew that if he truly went further, Zhao Wenxiu would stop him.
Zhao Wenxiu had sent him to test Xia Yan’s limits. He wanted to drag Tu Xi down but didn’t want to offend Xia Yan directly, so he sent Chu Zizhe to play the bad guy.
Sneaky bastard.
Chu Zizhe found himself caught between two difficult choices.
“I really hate fans like you,” Xia Yan murmured. His voice was soft, as though he were merely talking to himself, but both men heard him clearly in the quiet of the room.
Xia Yan continued, “For some strange reason, you’ve fallen for someone you don’t even know. You project your admiration onto me, impose your hopes on me, and when I don’t meet your expectations, you get disappointed all on your own.”
“I’m not— I just… I like you.”
“What do you like about me?”
“…”
“Can’t you say?”
“…”
“Your so-called love is worthless.” Xia Yan’s tone dripped with contempt. “The relationship between Tu Xi and me doesn’t need outsiders like you meddling. Even if we break up, what does that have to do with you?”
“You don’t seriously think you could ever be my boyfriend, do you? How ridiculous.”
As Xia Yan’s sharp words continued, Chu Zizhe’s strength waned. His eyes grew red, and the mist of unshed tears clouded his green eyes.
Chu Zizhe didn’t know why he liked Xia Yan. It was as if, the moment he saw him, he felt as though the fate he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Seizing the moment, Xia Yan pushed him off.
The man stumbled and fell to the ground, looking pitiful like a puppy that had been abandoned by its owner.
“Brother.”
“Shut up. You’re annoying,” Xia Yan said as he stood up from the sofa, his clothes disheveled and giving off a sultry air. “Chu Zizhe, I’m no longer interested in you.”
He pulled out a tissue and meticulously wiped his fingers.
After wiping all ten fingers, he disdainfully tossed the tissue into the trash.
“You sent me countless messages on Weibo, and I ignored every single one. Didn’t you understand that? Or did you think I hadn’t seen them?”
“…”
“One last warning: stay out of my relationship with Tu Xi.”
Xia Yan pushed open the door after tucking his shirt back into his pants and tidying his appearance. He glanced back at the two men in the private room one last time. “Don’t make me hate you.”
With that, he turned and left.
The room fell into a heavy silence.
After what felt like an eternity, Zhao Wenxiu lit a cigarette, the faint scent of smoke filling the air. “We lost. We lost to Tu Xi.”
Chu Zizhe didn’t respond.
“I always thought he didn’t love Tu Xi.”
If he loved him, how could he flirt with others? But now, it seems clear… Xia Yan did care about Tu Xi.
He had called Tu Xi a naughty boy who loved to act spoiled, but to Zhao Wenxiu, it seemed like Xia Yan was the one being playful. Because Tu Xi was often busy with work, Xia Yan deliberately went to the bar, hoping to get his attention.
In that light, everything made sense.
Their timing… was simply too late.
Zhao Wenxiu wasn’t the type to gossip, and Xia Yan probably knew that, which was why he had focused on warning Chu Zizhe, forbidding him from ruining Tu Xi’s life.
As for the outcome…
How could Chu Zizhe refuse Xia Yan’s request?
“I’m leaving.”
Zhao Wenxiu left the bar, driving aimlessly. It was Wednesday, but he didn’t feel like attending the office. An inexplicable fatigue welled up from within. He thought about the clothes he had lent to Xia Yan. Could that be an excuse to see him again?
By noon, Zhao Wenxiu had returned to the villa.
It was lunchtime, but no one was in the dining room. The butler took his coat and whispered, “The young master is painting in the greenhouse.”
“I see.”
Since their last confrontation, the relationship between the two brothers had become somewhat strained. Zhao Wenhan no longer chattered incessantly during meals; instead, he was now quiet.
Reality was a cruel joke.
The two brothers had “fallen out” over Xia Yan, yet neither had won him over.
Zhao Wenxiu walked into the greenhouse, where the warm sunlight streamed in. Deep purple orchids were in full bloom, and the sky was clear and blue. Under the sunlight, his younger brother was focused on his painting.
The painting was a cluster of flowers, blooming vibrantly. The colors blended harmoniously in his brother’s hands, so beautiful it seemed almost unreal. Yet upon closer inspection, hidden in the corners were traces of blood, a shattered heart, and torn fabric.
Underneath the bright exterior, there was a lurking darkness.
Just like their tense relationship.
Zhao Wenxiu remembered his brother’s earlier paintings, which were soft and serene. In many ways, the artwork reflects the artist’s state of mind.
He stood there for so long that Zhao Wenhan eventually noticed him. “Brother, why are you here?”
“The butler said you hadn’t eaten lunch.”
“Sorry, I got too caught up painting. We can have lunch together now.” The younger man smiled obediently. “But why aren’t you at the office today?”
Zhao Wenxiu hesitated for a moment. “I had something to take care of.”
“Does it have to do with Brother Xia Yan?” Zhao Wenhan blurted out, then immediately looked panicked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“…”
“…”
The two of them stood in an uncomfortable silence.
Zhao Wenxiu looked at his brother. He kept saying he’d given up but couldn’t help paying attention to every little detail about Xia Yan, constantly on alert.
Perhaps it was time to speak frankly, Zhao Wenxiu thought.
“Yes, it’s related to him.”
“Did something happen?”
“I’ve realized that Xia Yan and Tu Xi’s relationship won’t be easy to break apart.” Zhao Wenxiu said lightly, though it hurt him. “From now on—”
Before he could finish, Zhao Wenhan stood up abruptly, bumping into his easel. The painting fell to the floor, the still-wet paint smudging into a mess. His voice was sharp. “Brother, are you giving up?”
Zhao Wenxiu frowned. “Wenhan.”
“I let you have a chance because you’re my brother. You and Brother Xia Yan are the two people I care about most, so it’s okay if you’re together. I can give you my blessing. But how can you let him go to Tu Xi?”
Zhao Wenxiu remained silent for a moment before responding, “Xia Yan isn’t an object. He has his own feelings, and he likes Tu Xi.”
“Then take him back!”
“…”
“Who is Tu Xi? An abandoned son of the Tu family!” Zhao Wenhan yelled. “Threaten him, bribe him, shower him with money. Are we really no better than him?”
Zhao Wenxiu replied calmly, “Xia Yan doesn’t care about money.”
“That’s because you’re not offering enough.”
Zhao Wenhan threw back the words his brother had once used to persuade him.
“Wenhan.” Zhao Wenxiu’s voice was stern, snapping his brother out of his frenzy. He sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling a deep sense of guilt. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault for assuming Xia Yan was just after money and filling your head with bad ideas, making you like this.”
“Brother.”
“Wenhan, Xia Yan is a person, not a toy.” Zhao Wenxiu spoke carefully, his voice gentle but firm. “We can pursue him, but we can’t force him.”
Zhao Wenhan bit his lip hard, drawing a hint of blood. “But what’s wrong with being bad if it means we can have him?”
“…”
“We could lock him up, make sure he only sees us, relies on us…” The boy’s pale face flushed with excitement at the thought.
Zhao Wenxiu was silent for a moment. “I’ve considered it too.”
“Then why don’t we—”
“Desire makes you want to hold onto the person you love, to possess them. But what’s more important is controlling that desire.” He thought of how he had almost taken a darker path, manipulating circumstances in the bar to remove Xia Yan from Tu Xi’s life.
It would’ve been easy to convince Chu Zizhe to go along with it, to claim he hadn’t seen anything when Tu Xi inevitably came looking. But in the end, he had stopped himself.
He preferred seeing Xia Yan as he was now: radiant and free, playing with people’s hearts with a smugness in his eyes and a playful smirk on his lips.
A leopard belongs in the wild, not a cage.
Zhao Wenhan’s voice broke his thoughts. “Brother.”
“Don’t think about it anymore. Let’s have lunch. The future is long; there will be other opportunities.”
“Okay.” Zhao Wenhan nodded obediently, though he couldn’t shake the discomfort in his heart. The future felt too far away.
He wondered what his brother had gone to see Xia Yan about earlier. He wanted to know.
–
After leaving the private room, Xia Yan hurried to the parking lot, got into his car, shut the door, and rolled up the windows. Only after confirming that no one had seen him did he finally relax.
Like a deflated balloon, he slumped lazily against the steering wheel.
His car was still at the café, so he had driven one from Tu Xi’s garage.
[How was my acting?] Xia Yan asked the system.
[It was great,] 999 responded, not holding back its praise.
[Chu Zizhe suddenly losing his temper really scared me,] Xia Yan recalled the sensation of running his fingers through the man’s hair. [But I said enough. Hopefully, he’ll listen.]
On his way to the bar, Xia Yan had been thinking about how to convince the two men. Zhao Wenxiu was straightforward, rarely speaking much. After being rejected, there was no way he would gossip like some nosy person.
It was Chu Zizhe who was harder to read.
Chu Zizhe wasn’t in the original storyline. He was chatty, constantly vying for attention like a puppy that hadn’t been weaned, always craving his owner’s gaze.
It would be bad for Tu Xi if he impulsively leaked the story.
So when Xia Yan discovered Chu Zizhe was a fan of his, he immediately came up with the idea of using his status as an idol to restrain him.
Everything Chu Zizhe did was to save his idol from sinking into scandal.
As long as Xia Yan made it clear that he didn’t care about the incident and warned Chu Zizhe that he didn’t want to be disliked, a fan should be terrified of upsetting their idol, right?
Xia Yan had done his best. If it didn’t work, he’d have to devise another way to clear Tu Xi’s name.
After resting for a while, Xia Yan started the car and headed home.
During the drive, the director called, reminding him that the first Heartbeat episode would air tonight at 8 p.m. on Maozhu TV, and that the eighth guest had been confirmed. Filming on Love Island will resume the day after tomorrow.
Xia Yan acknowledged, saying he understood.
Reflecting on his time on the variety show, he hadn’t done much except relax. Even if it aired, it wouldn’t affect him much.
However, he was shocked when the scene of him cooking midnight noodles for Tu Xi entered the episode.
Xia Yan: “???” What the hell?
The viewers were even more excited than he was.
【If this doesn’t count as love…】
【Tu Xi just secured his place as the official love interest. I never thought I’d see Xia Yan being so sweet. I’m so touched, I’m crying.】
【 I want to eat noodles made by him too. They look so delicious.】
Xia Yan sat there expressionlessly, clutching a pillow, his mouth twitching.
The fact that he hadn’t left the entertainment industry yet was mainly due to these fans constantly trying to whitewash him.
