“What a vicious business rivalry!” the director said indignantly.
“We have to find the best chicken head rice too!” After saying that, he snorted coldly again. “Even if they get it first, it won’t matter. Not everyone gets to see Celestial Master Qiao. They’d be wasting their time.”
As soon as he’d heard that Qiao Qingshuang was coming, he’d told the crew not to spread the word. But he knew the news wouldn’t stay secret for long—too many powerful people wanted to meet him.
In that short time, the director’s phone had rung off the hook. Everyone calling was asking about Qiao Qingshuang’s visit to the set. They framed it as questions, but their tones left no doubt they expected confirmation. Once they got it, they all said they wanted to come by too.
In this world, even the most powerful people were just ordinary folks in front of Qiao Qingshuang.
Some feared the strangeness and had suffered greatly from it. Only a glance from the world’s greatest celestial master could put their minds at ease.
Others chased profit. The terrifying opportunities hidden behind the strangeness could fall into their laps with just one word from him.
And some sought fame. Politicians wanted to cozy up to this human hero—a single photo with Qiao Qingshuang could win them hordes of supporters.
The director was lost in these thoughts when his phone rang again. He glanced at the screen and hung up abruptly. “I’m sending someone for chicken head rice right now—make it a hundred pounds!”
Bai Chen blinked in a daze. “…I think it’d be better to brew some chicken soup for Celestial Master Qiao to nourish his body.”
The director was busy making calls and didn’t look up. “It’s not about what you think. It’s about what Celestial Master Qiao thinks.”
“Fine.” Bai Chen asked him, “Director, are we done shooting for the night? Can I take off and head back to the hotel to sleep?”
The director looked up in surprise. “You’re not staying to meet Celestial Master Qiao? This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. He might even say a few words to you—give you some pointers on handling the Vascular Strangeness.”
“You might never get another shot at meeting him in your life,” Ning Yuanshui added with a frown. “And you want to go sleep? Can’t you do that any other time but tonight?”
“Yeah.” Bai Chen nodded. “My head’s all fuzzy. If I meet him like this, he might get upset. Better if I just go back and sleep it off.”
It wasn’t that he might get upset—it was certain, and it had nothing to do with his condition.
The director shrugged. “Alright then. Go get some proper rest.”
Bai Chen’s sudden request to return to the hotel actually lightened the director’s load for the evening. He hadn’t told Bai Chen, but the president of Starlight Entertainment had just called, saying he wanted to visit the set tonight.
Everyone in the industry knew about the bad blood between Bai Chen and Starlight Entertainment. They’d blacklisted him before, only for him to claw his way back with Faraway Group’s endorsement. If those two crossed paths here—especially with Qiao Qingshuang present—it could spell disaster. The director didn’t want to deal with that headache.
“Thanks, Director.”
Under their watchful eyes, Bai Chen left without a backward glance.
His two assistants and manager were buzzing with excitement, clearly dying to meet Qiao Qingshuang. Even the driver of his RV kept craning his neck to look around. Bai Chen didn’t call for his assistants or take the vehicle. Instead, he walked toward the nearby hotel on foot.
He hadn’t gone far when he sensed someone following him.
“You’re not sticking around to see Celestial Master Qiao?” Bai Chen asked.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, tall as a model at over six feet, with broad, straight shoulders that turned his casual clothes into something sharp and tailored. But there was an effortless looseness to him that most runway types lacked—he didn’t look like a man on the verge of burning up.
Chu Xuzhou was the calmest person on the entire set. “No.”
Bai Chen took a few steps back until he was behind Chu Xuzhou. He placed his hands on those broad shoulders, jumped up, and wrapped his legs around the man’s waist. Stiff but swift hands caught him, and Chu Xuzhou hoisted him effortlessly onto his back.
Heat radiated from the palms on his thighs and the broad chest pressed against his back. Bai Chen shifted uncomfortably, only to be held steady by those large hands.
“You should’ve stayed to meet Celestial Master Qiao,” Bai Chen murmured, resting his chin in the hollow of Chu Xuzhou’s collarbone as he adjusted to the feverish warmth. “Maybe he could’ve cooled you down.”
Chu Xuzhou carried him slowly toward the hotel. “Even he couldn’t.”
“Mm.” Bai Chen’s voice was faint, as if he were already drifting off.
A few steps later, Chu Xuzhou caught an even softer murmur. If his hearing weren’t far sharper than a normal person’s, he might have missed it: “Don’t eat the chicken head rice.”
Fresh off the high-speed train, Xiao Li still hadn’t woken up.
Sliding into the driver’s seat of another car, Su Xuan asked, “Uncle Master, should we head back to the hotel so Xiao Li can get a proper sleep, or go straight to the set?”
Of course they should go back to the hotel and let Xiao Li sleep properly.
The people on set could wait. Nothing was more important than Xiao Li resting. Xiao Li wasn’t feeling well and needed looking after. Did they think they were any better off?
Su Xuan figured as much, and he was sure his uncle master—the ultimate doting guardian—would prioritize the hotel.
“Head to the set immediately,” Qiao Qingshuang said. “That’ll be quick to handle. It won’t cut into Xiao Li’s sleep—he doesn’t need to meet anyone anyway.”
“…”
Su Xuan instantly understood that “anyone” meant the actor named Bai Chen.
The Dark Blood crew’s set was housed in a sprawling manor estate. Normally vast, it now felt cramped. The director felt like he barely had room to stand.
A crowd had gathered at the entrance, all craning their necks expectantly. The director sucked in his round belly, ignoring the VIPs ahead of him, and shoved forward. “Everyone, Celestial Master Qiao prefers quiet. Mind giving some space at the gate?”
“He’s here! He’s here! Is that Celestial Master Qiao’s car?”
The director whipped around to see a sleek black vehicle pulling up slowly. He glanced back to confirm the entrance had cleared, then hurried forward to greet them.
The first to step out was a young man of striking poise. His features were calm, but a sharp edge lurked beneath. In the winter chill, he wore only a thin white athletic jacket—clearly no ordinary guy. Had he not emerged from the driver’s seat, people might have mistaken him for Qiao Qingshuang himself.
As soon as he was out, he pressed a finger to his lips and made a smiling shushing gesture.
The words on the tip of the director’s tongue died instantly.
What was this? Was Celestial Master Qiao still sleeping in the car?
While the director and others puzzled over that, the little celestial master hopped out of the passenger side and opened the right rear door. A young man emerged.
One look at him, and no one would mistake anyone else for Qiao Qingshuang. It could only be him—not because of his stunning looks or the frosty aura clinging to him, but simply because it had to be.
He wasn’t particularly tall or burly. The wind tugged at his overcoat, making it billow emptily around him. His exposed wrists and hands looked almost delicate, yet they exuded an inexplicable, terrifying power—as if a mere flick could upend the world.
For the first time, the director felt both tense and awestruck by one person, a wave of helpless gloom washing over him.
Ning Yuanshui’s acting was top-tier—no peer could touch him. But now the director realized Ning Yuanshui couldn’t capture even a tenth of Qiao Qingshuang, no matter his skill.
The site fell utterly silent. By the time they snapped out of it, Qiao Qingshuang had already strode through the manor gates.
The two little celestial masters bowed their heads nervously. “Ancestor Master.”
They’d braced for a scolding, but Qiao Qingshuang only asked, “Where’s the Vascular Strangeness?”
They quickly led him to the attic, explaining its erratic behavior in detail along the way.
Qiao Qingshuang wasn’t pleased. It was connected to that Bai Chen again. The guy must be his nemesis.
When Qiao Qingshuang reached the attic, the “berserk” and “uncontrollable” Vascular Strangeness the little celestial masters had described was now a soft, wimpy tendril, sprawled on the floor and wagging its tail at him.
“…”
The pitiful display left Qiao Qingshuang unmoved. He picked it up without mercy and poured his power into it, probing its condition regardless of its protests.
It was somewhat surprising. Half of the Vascular Strangeness was rigid with deathly aura, eroded and lifeless, while the other half brimmed with abnormally vigorous vitality—enough to push its power to the next level without issue.
Qiao Qingshuang didn’t care about the details. It had been attacked by someone and gained a lucky break. All that mattered was that it carried no trace of Strangeness King Yin Bujie. The rest wasn’t worth his attention.
“It’s fine.” Qiao Qingshuang tossed the Vascular Strangeness to the floor and took the damp towel An Yu offered to wipe his hands. He said this for the crew’s benefit, then added offhandedly, “If it acts up again, I’ll kill it.”
“…”
Hearing that from Celestial Master Qiao put the director’s mind at ease. He beamed and offered an exquisitely packaged thermos cup. “You’ve had a long trip.”
Qiao Qingshuang hadn’t planned to take it, but his gaze flicked to the contents. He accepted the still-hot cup. “Thank you.”
The director’s face split into a grin.
The tension in the air eased, diluted by the gesture and those two words. Several people itched to speak up.
“Celestial Master Qiao, I’m Qi Ming, CEO of Starlight Entertainment.”
“Where’s Bai Chen?”
Qi Ming and Qiao Qingshuang spoke at the same time.
No one had expected Qiao Qingshuang to know Bai Chen—and to ask for him right after inspecting the Vascular Strangeness. Shock rippled through the crowd, hitting Qi Ming hardest. He froze, especially under the knowing stares turning his way.
“Bai Chen… Bai Chen wasn’t feeling well, so he went back to the hotel to rest!” The director hurriedly pulled over Bai Chen’s bewildered and panicked manager. Unsure of Bai Chen’s connection to Qiao Qingshuang, he figured the manager was a safer bet. “This is his agent. Whatever you need, just tell him.”
Everyone saw a flicker of displeasure in Qiao Qingshuang’s eyes at the news of Bai Chen resting at the hotel. Then, just as suddenly, his brows relaxed.
His brows relaxed!
It was the first time Celestial Master Qiao had shown such ease since arriving—and it was because of Bai Chen!
The crowd’s thoughts churned in different directions. Meanwhile, Bai Chen’s manager stood dumbfounded. Had Bai Chen really met Qiao Qingshuang before?!
He couldn’t process it, merely echoing the director: “Just tell me!”
Qiao Qingshuang reached into his pocket and pulled out several photos. He’d held them for a few seconds before handing them to the manager. “Sign them.”
“Huh? Huh?!” The manager’s eyes bulged.
Qiao Qingshuang shoved the photos into his hands and turned to the man who’d introduced himself. “And who are you?”
Qi Ming: “…”
After struggling for dozens of seconds, just as Qi Ming was about to speak, someone interrupted their exchange again.
Qiao Qingshuang, who’d been looking at him, suddenly turned toward the figure below. The frost around him melted into spring waters.
