Chapter 42

The city streets at night remained crowded.

Yu Xi sat in the passenger seat as the night scenery flowed past the car window.

So… what exactly had Yi Chen meant when he said, “I understand,” earlier?

Hiss…

His thigh still ached a bit.

He needed to do something to distract himself.

Yu Xi lit up his phone, opened WeChat, and tapped into Yi Chen’s profile.

The profile picture had changed to another new emoji pack of Yu Xi—one that was even more punchable.

Yu Xi: “…”

What a dog. He shouldn’t have looked.

He exited WeChat with a blank expression, paused, then opened another yellow app and logged into his alt account.

He tapped into the chat with the rich lady sister [Geng Shanglou].

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: Sis.]

The rich lady sister replied instantly.

[Geng Shanglou: What’s up, sis?]

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: Instant reply?]

[Geng Shanglou: Of course. All CP shippers are family, and family has to help each other out.]

Geng Shanglou’s tone made Yu Xi chuckle. He thought for a moment and typed.

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: Hey sis.]

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: Do you ever obsess over an ex?]

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: Not exactly obsessing, but… I keep feeling like he’s hinting at something, and lately we’ve been having unavoidable physical contact. Sometimes it’s pretty…]

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: Okay, I don’t even know how to put it.]

[Geng Shanglou: Yeah, totally!]

[Geng Shanglou: Your ex is hinting at you? Lucky.]

[Geng Shanglou: I don’t even know why my ex broke up with me.]

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: ??? You don’t know the breakup reason?]

[Geng Shanglou: He was off for a while, then when we met, he brought up breaking up. Not long after, he blocked me whether I agreed or not.]

[Zhen Bu Chi Yumi: Sis, after treating you like that, you’re still hung up on him?]

[Geng Shanglou: But if I don’t get answers, I’ll regret it forever. Wuwuwu, I really loved him so much. And just now I found out he still likes me—you have no idea how happy I am!!]

[Geng Shanglou: Sis, I think sometimes you shouldn’t overthink. A lot of things are simple at heart. The more you think, the more stuck you get. Romance is messy by nature—kiss when you should, hug when you should, go with the flow. Who knows, maybe it’ll sort itself out naturally with more contact.]

[Geng Shanglou: Come on, deep breaths, stop thinking. Let’s ship some CP. I commissioned some art, and the artist is super fast! It’s done already! Check it out!!]

The rich lady [Geng Shanglou] sent over a dozen CP fan arts in a row, more than half featuring Yu Xi in drag.

Yu Xi: ?

The rich lady sister was relentlessly shipping.

He wondered what her face would look like if she ever found out that the object of her CP commissions and endorsements was one half of the actual pair.

“What are you chatting about?” Guan Zifan noticed Yu Xi had been silent the whole ride, just furiously typing on his phone, so he asked curiously.

“Nothing, just chatting with some netizens.” Yu Xi chatted idly back and forth with the rich lady sister.

“Chat all you want, just don’t start fights.” Guan Zifan paused. “If you’re fighting, use the alt. Make sure you don’t mix up accounts.”

Yu Xi: “Am I that kind of person?”

Guan Zifan said seriously: “Yes.”

Yu Xi: “…”

“By the way, something to tell you.” Yu Xi said, “Wang Hui—you know, Director Wang—he came to our company this afternoon for investments. Honestly, I glanced at the script he brought, and it’s pretty good. Just doesn’t quite fit the current mainstream market.”

“The Boundless?” Yu Xi had heard plenty about Wang Hui and this script that was doomed before filming even started. Everyone lamented his wasted talent, but no one truly stepped up to help. Even those willing to chip in money could only offer a drop in the bucket—not enough to run a full crew. “Any results?”

Guan Zifan shrugged. “None. Our boss turned him down.”

Yu Xi: “!”

“He’s back? Turn around—head to the company. I want to terminate my contract!!”

Guan Zifan: “Too late. He got on a plane ten minutes ago.”

Yu Xi: “…”

“Oh, and how about Chasing Shadows? The director’s been hounding me again. If you think it’s okay, I’ll schedule it for you. From my view, it’s a good fit—solid follow-up momentum too. You should go.”

“No.” Yu Xi refused outright.

With Ruan Yan Shan’s attitude, the set would definitely get toxic.

The production quality was one thing, but the atmosphere would be awful.

“Got it.” Guan Zifan nodded.

The car continued on as a notification popped up in the Weekend Go Where production group chat.

The location and theme for the next episode were set.

Wilderness survival.

[Director: This time, we’re heading to K City, S Rainforest for wilderness survival.]

[Director: We’ve got local guides lined up, and supplies are fully secured.]

[Director: I’ll send the schedule soon.]

[Director: But due to weather, the live stream’s moved up. Get ready, everyone.]

Rainforest weather was unpredictable, and the rainy season was about to hit nonstop. To pull off a smooth live broadcast, they had to squeeze it in these next few days.

After coordinating with the guests’ agents, the production team locked in the third episode’s live date: two days from now.

[Director: Eight PM the night after next, meet at the designated spot.]

[Director: [Location info]]

[Director: Thanks, everyone.]

[Fu Le: What if it rains?]

[Director: No worries, we have Plan B.]

[Director: Reply to confirm you’ve seen this @everyone.]

The group started buzzing one by one.

Yu Xi replied that he’d seen it, then opened his chat with Ji Ruiou.

Their conversation was still stuck on that morning’s exchange, where he’d asked how the director meeting went. Ji Ruiou hadn’t replied all day.

What was going on?

Ji Ruiou’s phone buzzed.

A message from Yu Xi popped up.

[Yu Xi: Busy?]

[Yu Xi: Why no reply?]

Ji Ruiou stared at the white chat bubble for a long time before finally doing nothing and turning off the screen.

He was in a room.

A pitch-black room with curtains drawn tight, not a sliver of light getting in.

That day, he’d gone to the director’s office again, and Ruan Yan Shan was there too.

Ji Ruiou was a bit surprised to see Ruan Yan Shan, but then he thought, as an investor, it made sense for him to be there.

What he hadn’t expected was for the director to leave first after everyone gathered, leaving just him and Ruan Yan Shan in the office.

Ruan Yan Shan had lost a huge order overnight and didn’t look great. When he saw Ji Ruiou, he sized him up with a scrutinizing gaze, then chuckled lightly: “You’re indeed no match for Yu Xi.”

Ji Ruiou froze.

Some emotion surged uncontrollably from the depths of his heart.

How dare he say that?

Ruan Yan Shan saw right through Ji Ruiou’s thoughts and leisurely lit a cigarette: “You’d better know your place. In the industry, everyone’s worth is priced clearly. The same thing holds different value for different people.”

“For me, it doesn’t matter if Chasing Shadows’s lead is you or Yu Xi. For Yu Xi, he can take the role if he wants or toss it to whoever like scraps. But for you, this is the opportunity you have to seize.”

Ji Ruiou hadn’t understood what Ruan Yan Shan meant at the time—not until Ruan Yan Shan exhaled a puff of smoke and said, “See? Your debut project, and you couldn’t compete with Yu Xi.”

Ji Ruiou stiffened.

“You… how do you know…”

Back in university, he and Yu Xi had been roommates.

They’d auditioned for the same project.

No—he’d spotted it first. He thought it was a great production, kept it to himself, pulled strings through layers of connections to get the audition script early, and rehearsed quietly into the night after classes.

But that day at the audition site, he ran into Yu Xi.

Yu Xi didn’t even know the material, hadn’t prepped specifically. He’d just stumbled on the audition notice a couple days prior and showed up on a whim to see what a big production was like.

Ji Ruiou—he’d gone first. He’d prepared meticulously, nailing every psychological shift in the lead role, delivering lines brimming with emotion.

The director had been pleased with him.

But after seeing Yu Xi, the director wasn’t so pleased anymore.

He wanted the fiery charisma Yu Xi had, that effortless looseness.

Back home, Ji Ruiou watched the audition tapes over and over.

What was the difference in their performances?

They’d studied under the same teacher, the same system. Why had the director zeroed in on the unprepared Yu Xi?

That drama skyrocketed Yu Xi’s fans, landed him tons of resources—enough that he could share some, save scripts for Ji Ruiou, scout variety shows for him.

But him? What about him?

After busting his ass, scraping by, all he got was the director’s “No longer needed” and Ruan Yan Shan’s “Indeed no match for Yu Xi.”

Why?

He’d always envied Yu Xi—envied him to the point of hating his help.

But he wouldn’t show it. He’d buried that jealousy deep, for years.

Yu Xi was his good friend.

Until now.

They’d stumbled into the same production again.

And the director picked Yu Xi again.

Why?

Wasn’t he working hard enough? Did he lack experience? What made him different from Yu Xi? Even their backgrounds were similar—why always Yu Xi?

For Ji Ruiou, he didn’t fear failure itself.

He feared wracking his brains, giving his all, and still not understanding why he failed—why he always fell short of Yu Xi.

“Of course I know. I also know you’re Yu Xi’s good friend.” Ruan Yan Shan laughed, his smile full of allure. “Now, I can share a bit of my fondness for him with you.”

“You’d better seize the chance.”

He placed a room key card on the table and slid it toward Ji Ruiou. “If you want to outdo Yu Xi, if you want to be the lead—come here tonight.”

Boom—

Lightning split the sky, thunder crashing down.

Bluish-purple flashes traced the curtain edges, heavy raindrops slamming the window.

Ji Ruiou was in a pitch-black room.

—A pitch-black, chaotic room strewn with discarded clothes.

He hugged his knees on the bed. The sheets were stained with red and purple bloodstains. A signed, thumbprinted contract lay tossed aside.

Boom—

In the thunderous rainy night, he laughed wildly, but tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes.

Ji Ruiou laughed and cried in the stormy night.