Chapter 46

Wen Chaosheng had no idea how he made it back to his hotel room.

His expression blank, he placed Kuai Kuai back into the room’s habitat tank. The little guy seemed to sense his low mood and huddled motionless inside its turtle shell.

Wen Chaosheng simply didn’t have the energy to coax it out to play. His mind kept replaying the scenes he’d witnessed on set that day, the words he’d overheard, and those all-too-convincing gossip tidbits from the car ride. The ache in his heart steadily intensified.

His stomach, which hadn’t acted up in days thanks to regular meals, now twisted into another round of spasms.

What a mess.

He needed to take his meds again.

In the past, every flare-up—mild or severe—Wen Chaosheng had always endured it, kept it in check, and instinctively hidden his uglier side. But now, he suddenly didn’t want to anymore.

Because no one gave a damn whether he lived or died. Not even him.

With a touch of self-mockery, Wen Chaosheng thought as he bent down and pulled every canned beer from the mini fridge. It was the welcome amenity the hotel provided to every guest.

He’d been holding back before, mindful of the movie shoot and the fact that Xi Zhui was staying right across the hall. He didn’t dare risk getting drunk and doing something stupid. But now, he desperately needed alcohol to numb the pain.

Down went half a glass in one go.

The excessive chill amplified the agony in his stomach in an instant.

Wen Chaosheng didn’t care. He kept chugging, mouthful after mouthful, until the pain dulled to numbness.

Over the past two years, whenever things got too rough overseas, he’d lock himself in his room and drink beer just like this, one can after another.

He’d pit himself against the booze and his inner demons every time, losing more rounds than he won.

His tolerance had improved a little—he wouldn’t drop after one drink anymore.

But not by much. Once sober, he’d still black out, left with only scattered fragments of memory.

Wen Chaosheng picked up his phone and opened the long-dormant Weibo alt account.

Over the years, he’d used it to quietly follow Xi Zhui’s main account, single-mindedly focused on him and ignoring everything else in the industry.

He knew he shouldn’t pry, but he couldn’t help himself.

He searched for Xi Zhui and Nainai, of course. And there it was—that lawyer’s letter he’d once overlooked. The seal at the bottom matched Xi Zhui’s agency’s legal team perfectly.

How strange.

This blatant show of protection and favoritism didn’t fit Xi Zhui’s style at all. No wonder netizens had pieced it all together and pegged them as a couple with some juicy romance gossip.

“…”

Wen Chaosheng miserably shut off the screen. A glint of teary haze flashed in his eyes amid the drunken blur, but he didn’t even have the courage—or the right—to sob out loud.

Unnoticed, he’d drained the last can.

Fueled by the booze, Wen Chaosheng hauled himself up from the floor, swaying like a marionette as he stumbled into the bathroom.

He showered haphazardly and collapsed numbly onto the bed. Under the pillow lay the jacket he’d gotten on the first day of the script read-through.

Wen Chaosheng pulled it out again, pressing it close to take a deep breath, seeking some unique emotional balm. But time had faded the scent he craved almost entirely.

Along with its original owner, who was slowly but surely slipping out of Wen Chaosheng’s future entirely.

“…”

His emotional walls came crashing down.

Wen Chaosheng buried his face in the jacket, weeping silently. Only the constant trembling of his shoulders betrayed his utter vulnerability in that moment.

The accumulated pain of the past few years paled in comparison to this onslaught.

Wen Chaosheng had once thought that just returning home and catching another glimpse of Xi Zhui from afar would be enough.

Later, when he wrote the Rotten Mud script, he’d secretly hoped Xi Zhui might star in his movie again.

And then he’d grown greedy: If only they could get along normally as friends during the shoot.

“…”

Only now did Wen Chaosheng realize how insatiable he truly was.

He knew there was no future for it, but he still yearned for more—always more.

Human desire was a quagmire, an abyss. Once the movie wrapped and they parted ways again, he might really have only one path left: death.

Ding-dong.

Amid the persistent ringing in his ears, the doorbell chimed.

Once, twice, three times.

Wen Chaosheng lay motionless on the bed, lost in an endless sea of agony. He lacked the strength to even discern it clearly.

Until that all-too-familiar voice came from beyond the door. “Wen Chaosheng.”

In an instant, his wits pierced through the layers of torment. He flung the jacket off his face and stared in disbelief at the closed door, wondering if it was a hallucination.

It had happened before during an episode—he’d imagined Xi Zhui flying overseas to find his lodging, calling his name from the hall. Opening the door to emptiness had revealed it as a symptom of his illness.

“Wen Chaosheng, if you can, open up.”

The voice from outside rang out again, familiar and unmistakably real.

Before Wen Chaosheng could process it, his body’s raw craving overrode everything. He bolted to the door.

—

In the hotel’s hushed corridor, Xi Zhui stared down at the sliver of light seeping from under the door, his brows furrowed tight.

Front desk said Wen Chaosheng had returned ages ago and hadn’t left since. No takeout had been delivered via the smart robot, either.

No answer at the door, no dinner on time—was he really sick? Collapsed from feeling unwell?

The more Xi Zhui thought, the worse it seemed. He was about to call hotel staff for a spare key card when—

Bang!

The door flew open.

“…”

“…”

Their gazes collided without warning.

Xi Zhui’s frown eased for a split second before tightening even more.

Wen Chaosheng stood in the doorway, but he looked all wrong.

His eyes bloodshot, lashes still wet with tears—he’d clearly been crying. An unnatural flush mottled his cheeks, but his lips were deathly pale, like he might keel over any second.

Xi Zhui’s eyes slid past him to the carpet, where empty beer cans lay scattered haphazardly. More than one.

He asked, “You drank? Alone, or with someone?”

Wen Chaosheng stared blankly at Xi Zhui, unable to parse his tone. “Alone.”

“…”

How impressive.

Drinking four or five cans solo now.

And here Xi Zhui had worried he wouldn’t eat dinner properly. He’d left the group meal early, packed food to go, and rushed back.

Xi Zhui’s expression darkened. He fell silent for a moment.

Wen Chaosheng read an odd resentment in his eyes and found it unreasonable. “Y-you… why are you back so early?”

His emotions unsteady, his voice trembled on the first words.

He already had someone else to care about. Why bother with his drinking? Or who he drank with?

“…”

It was indeed early— not even eight yet.

Xi Zhui saw no point in arguing with a drunk who might black out later. He simply thrust the takeout bag forward. “You’re not sleepy from the booze yet. Eat first, then crash.”

Wen Chaosheng’s nose stung. “I don’t want it. Stop looking out for me.”

The veins on the back of Xi Zhui’s hand stood out faintly as he gripped the bag. “What?”

Wen Chaosheng dropped his gaze to avoid the interrogation in Xi Zhui’s eyes. He mustered all his strength to reject the kindness. “From now on in the crew, I won’t eat lunch or dinner with you anymore.”

“We can discuss the script before shooting starts. After wrap, when work’s done… we shouldn’t have any more contact.”

Wen Chaosheng resolved to start detoxing now. Otherwise, when the movie wrapped, he wouldn’t survive it. “It’d be bad if people got the wrong idea.”

“Wen Chaosheng, you better make yourself clear tonight—”

Flames of unnamed anger surged in Xi Zhui’s chest. He flung the food at his feet. “What the hell did I do to piss you off now?”

“So you bailed after wrap this afternoon not because you felt sick, but just to dodge me?”

Why?

Hadn’t they agreed before filming started?

Hadn’t this month already settled into this routine of “meals together, script talks together”?

Out of nowhere, why bring it up again? Why decide to keep distance now?

Six years ago, Xi Zhui had thought he understood Wen Chaosheng perfectly. Six years later, he knew he’d been dead wrong—

Because he’d never know what Wen Chaosheng was thinking, never pry a single honest word from his mouth!

The silent standoff was a nameless blaze, scorching his heart.

Drunk and aggrieved, Wen Chaosheng faced Xi Zhui’s barrage of questions with grievances of his own.

He pressed his lips together, summoning courage from somewhere. “It’s your issue. I-I already heard from the crew…”

Xi Zhui gritted out his confusion. “Oh? Heard what?”

Wen Chaosheng’s shattered breaths quivered. “You and Nainai… you two…”

“…”

Xi Zhui went still for two seconds, piecing together the truth from the fragments.

The anger bubbling up inside him evaporated in a puff. An incredulous laugh escaped his throat. “Wen Chaosheng, you think Nainai and I are dating?”

Wen Chaosheng didn’t answer. He just wanted to shut the door and flee.

But Xi Zhui was faster, shoving inside and whipping out his phone from his pocket.

He barely used his phone during shoots. He’d just gotten it back from his assistant tonight, planning to WeChat Wen Chaosheng on the way back. But now it had another purpose.

“…”

The door slammed shut again.

Wen Chaosheng’s ears were already ringing; the jolt made it worse. “W-what are you doing?”

Xi Zhui shoved the phone screen in his face, cutting straight to it. “Wen Chaosheng, take a good look. Who’s in this photo!”

Wen Chaosheng’s gaze, blurred with alcohol, slowly came into focus. It took a good while before he could make out the people in the group photo, lined up from left to right—

Xi Zhui, Shen Zhaoye, Nainai, and Xia Fengyi.

This was a birthday post Nainai had shared on her Moments in the past, captioned: “With the brothers.”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng froze, as if some long-buried truth was on the verge of revelation.

Even though he knew the man before him was drunk and would likely black out with no memory come morning, Xi Zhui still offered an explanation. “Nainai’s real name is Shen Jialan. She’s Zhaoye’s biological sister! My cousin! Fengyi and I treat her like family!”

Those words instantly dissolved half the pain that had been building inside Wen Chaosheng.

Only then did he vaguely recall Xia Fengyi mentioning it back in high school: “Zhaoye’s parents had another little sister for him. She’s super cute.”

It was just that he and Shen Zhaoye had never been close, so he had never actually seen what the other man’s sister looked like.

Xi Zhui went on. “Jialan was pampered by the Shen Family from the moment she was born. Last year, she got a whim and decided to dip her toes into the entertainment world.”

The Shen Family doted on their precious daughter, and Shen Zhaoye spoiled his baby sister rotten. The first person they thought of was Xi Zhui, who was grinding away in the same cutthroat industry.

Hua Country’s entertainment scene wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. Newbies often faced unfair treatment and got locked into exploitative contracts. Luckily, Xi Zhui had his own studio and was on track to become Quansheng Entertainment’s next big leading man—

So at Shen Zhaoye’s request, Xi Zhui had signed Shen Jialan to his studio, piggybacking off Quansheng Entertainment.

“You must know how massive the Shen Family’s jewelry empire is overseas, and just how influential Shen Zhaoye is. The family’s happy to throw money at resources for her to play around with, and Jialan couldn’t care less about the online chatter. That’s how she’s kept going this long.”

Whenever the little princess got bored, she could walk away clean.

As for those lawyer letters that had netizens buzzing, Xi Zhui had been tied up filming at the time. Shen Zhaoye couldn’t stomach the rumors besmirching his sister and trusted his buddy’s entertainment-law specialists enough to foot the bill for top-tier ones.

“Netizens jumped to conclusions about me and her before. My studio shut that down immediately. You seriously had no clue?”

“I’d like to know which crew member fed you that. Aren’t you buried in filming all day? Got time for gossip but not the guts to ask me straight up?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng was speechless.

What right did he have to meddle in Xi Zhui’s love life anyway?

Just the thought of even a sliver of romantic potential made his chest ache like it was caving in!

Seeing the man fall silent, Xi Zhui snorted as if he’d claimed the high ground. “What, gone mute for good?”

Wen Chaosheng knew he was in the wrong and mumbled, “Sorry.”

Xi Zhui felt both exasperated and amused. He shot back on purpose, “Too late. Apology not accepted.”

Wen Chaosheng choked up, the alcohol-fueled petulance he’d been holding back finally bubbling over. “…I’m apologizing to Nainai.”

Before confirming a damn thing, he’d let his emotions run wild, assuming she and Xi Zhui were dating—or on the verge. That was straight-up disrespectful to her.

He was wrong. Suspecting like that was shitty.

Xi Zhui countered, “Nainai’s not here. What’re you apologizing to, the air?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng had nothing.

That lingering half of the pain still churned inside him, trapped with nowhere to go.

After a long stretch of silence, unable to hold back the bitter swell of emotions—his tongue even going numb—Wen Chaosheng finally blurted, “Even if it’s not Nainai, you’ll end up dating someone else someday.”

Maybe a year from now, maybe five. Xi Zhui would find someone better suited, and the two of them would build a life together, hand in hand.

Xi Zhui dropped his gaze, his tone probing. “That what you want? To see me with someone else?”

“…”

A fishbone lodged in Wen Chaosheng’s throat. He couldn’t answer.

If that day ever came, he figured he’d probably be gone from the world by then. No need to witness the scene that would shatter him.

Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to offer blessings ahead of time.

Once you’d loved someone, letting go wasn’t that easy. Who could sincerely wish their ex and ex’s new love a lifetime of happiness?

Not him. His heart was rotten through.

“…”

It was their usual silence, but Xi Zhui caught the subtle shift. In this relationship built on constant concessions, he took another step back.

“Wen Chaosheng, I’m not planning to date anyone else for the rest of my life. You dumped me out of nowhere once already—I’ve got trauma. No guts left to try again.”

The words slammed into Wen Chaosheng, filling him with guilt.

“Sorry,” he said again.

What else was there besides those three words? He had no idea how to make up for the hurt.

Xi Zhui pressed him. “Verbal sorry’s all you’ve got? No other way to make it up to me?”

No explanation?

Or hell, something stronger than “sorry”—

Admit he’d gotten jealous tonight in his drunken state. Say he couldn’t let go, still cared too much. Confess he regretted calling it quits back then. Hell, say he wanted them back together.

Just one thing he ached to hear, and Xi Zhui would shelve every grudge, hand over his heart anew.

But the drunken fog in Wen Chaosheng’s eyes had thickened, his thoughts slogging along.

Unclear on what kind of “compensation” the other man meant, he could only ask, “What do you want me to do?”

Xi Zhui didn’t budge, echoing his answer from six years ago. “You figure it out.”

In all the years since, Wen Chaosheng had pored over their shared memories, dissecting every moment. It hit him in a flash—

That night in the Haishi City hotel room, Xi Zhui had blocked his path, laughed and called him a scumbag, then told him to figure it out himself.

“Wen Chaosheng?”

“Hm?”

Drawing a thread of long-lost courage from the memory, Wen Chaosheng tilted his head up, leaning in for a kiss like old times.

But at that intimate distance, Xi Zhui turned away in an instant. “Kisses are for when you both like each other. What’s this supposed to be?”

“…”

No feelings, no kiss?

Of course. Xi Zhui didn’t like him anymore.

The truth he’d long accepted struck him anew. His heart drowned in sour ache. They weren’t friends. Couldn’t go back to being lovers. What “compensation” was even left?

Lost in the tangle of his thoughts, Wen Chaosheng suddenly flashed back to the night they’d reconnected—

Xi Zhui had gone along with his one-night stand idea.

And now, here he was in Wen Chaosheng’s room, door shut behind him.

Emboldened by the booze, Wen Chaosheng ventured a reckless hunch. “Xi Zhui, do you want to sleep with me?”