Chapter 9: Doctor Bottom x Celebrity Top

Jing Chi glanced at the calendar and realized only one day was left.

His lifelong competitive spirit flared up—if he was going to do this, he’d do it right. So he eagerly grabbed the script and hurried off to consult Teacher Ye Shumo.

“Teacher Ye, I don’t get this part.”

Jing Chi pointed to the lines in the script where Ye Qianxing gripped his sword and slit his own throat. “Why would he kill himself for the female lead?”

Ye Shumo shot a sidelong glance at the young man with his brows furrowed tight. He smiled and asked, “Do you have someone you really like?”

Someone he really liked? Not exactly… but someone he kind of liked, yeah…

Feng Qinghan’s cool, handsome face immediately floated into Jing Chi’s mind. He shook his head in a hurry.

“No wonder you don’t understand. Let me put it this way: imagine someone you really like—someone you could even say you love—wants to kill you. Wouldn’t that break your heart completely?”

Jing Chi blinked, his face still full of confusion.

Ye Shumo rubbed his forehead, a touch helpless, and pressed on. “You need to think about the original story’s background and Ye Qianxing’s experiences. By this point in the script, the female lead is the only reason he’s still alive.”

“When he realizes she wants him dead, that last thread snaps. Life means nothing to him anymore. People like that either destroy the world or destroy themselves—so he chooses to grant her wish. Understand now?”

【Isn’t it either destroy the world or destroy yourself?】

Ye Shumo’s words suddenly sparked a thought in Jing Chi’s mind about Feng Qinghan, the novel’s villain. In his previous life, hadn’t that man been in exactly this position?

After getting his revenge on the protagonist top and bottom, hadn’t he destroyed the old version of himself—the cool, moonlit doctor who’d been purely devoted to medicine?

Jing Chi suddenly felt grateful he’d given that man, who’d endured so much, a chance at rebirth. A chance to reclaim who he used to be.

Ye Shumo noticed the shift in Jing Chi’s expression and knew some of it had clicked.

He clapped Jing Chi on the shoulder encouragingly. “Keep working on it. I’m looking forward to your performance tomorrow.”

Jing Chi pulled himself from his reverie, his features easing. A genuine, grateful smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks for the guidance, Teacher Ye.”

As expected from a Film Emperor—pure professional.

What they didn’t know was that their friendly exchange had been perfectly captured by the camera lurking behind them.

.

Ever since Feng Qinghan recovered from his illness, Jing Chi sensed a change in their relationship. Things had grown much more harmonious.

For instance, when Jing Chi greeted him with a good morning, the man would actually reply—cold and curt, sure, but still.

Or if Feng Qinghan was coming home late, he’d give Jing Chi a heads-up.

That said, with Jing Chi tied up practicing his acting and Feng Qinghan swamped at the hospital, they hadn’t talked much lately.

But they’d made massive progress on one front: Jing Chi had finally moved from the guest room into the master bedroom.

He could still picture that night crystal clear.

It was deep into the night, utterly still except for the soft rustle of leaves in the wind outside.

Then footsteps echoed down the hallway, drawing closer… closer… until they halted right outside Jing Chi’s door.

After what must have been some fierce internal debate, a steady rhythm of knocks finally sounded on the door.

A knock in the dead of night—who wouldn’t think it was straight out of a horror flick?

Jing Chi snapped awake from his dream, stumbled out of bed in a daze, and yanked open the door. There stood Feng Qinghan, clutching a pillow.

The man looked awkward as hell, but the instant their eyes met, he schooled his face into that impenetrable mask and lifted his chin coolly.

Jing Chi took one look at the man in his pajamas and woke up fully.

He scanned him from head to toe, eyes landing on the pillow hugged to his chest.

He pointed at it, puzzled. “What’s that?”

Feng Qinghan tilted his chin a fraction higher, his gaze sliding past Jing Chi to the bed behind him.

Jing Chi: “？？？”

Feng Qinghan ignored the utter bewilderment on Jing Chi’s face. He shot him a flat look and said coolly, “Move.”

Jing Chi stepped aside on instinct, clearing the way.

Then he watched Feng Qinghan march in with the pillow and climb straight onto his bed.

Jing Chi blanked for a second. Then his mind raced, a flood of steamy fantasies parading through his head. After a beat, tinged with shyness, he murmured, “This isn’t such a good idea, is it?”

Feng Qinghan settled the pillow and looked up to find Jing Chi staring at him all weird. He shot back, baffled, “What’s so bad about it?”

Jing Chi edged toward the side of the bed, eyes fixed on the cool beauty now tucked into his sheets.

His heart beat a little faster. They’d already kissed, sure, but he hadn’t planned on things moving quite this quickly. Then again… it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Jing Chi took two seconds to steel himself mentally before he heard Feng Qinghan say, “I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. When you slept next to me before, my insomnia eased up a bit, so I thought I’d give it another try tonight.”

Jing Chi’s face froze. “…”

Well, so much for getting ahead of himself.

“Oh. Got it,” he mumbled, a touch glum as he climbed into bed—keeping a good distance from Feng Qinghan—before lying down and shutting his eyes.

Feng Qinghan was baffled by the young man’s odd mood swings, but with Jing Chi’s eyes closed, he let it drop.

After all, he’d been the one to drag him out of bed so late.

Breathing in that soothing scent, he gradually drifted off to sleep.

Yet the nightmares returned all the same. Feng Qinghan jolted awake with a start.

He rubbed his brow.

Maybe it wasn’t Jing Chi after all. Maybe he’d just been worn out from his illness that one day?

Something still felt off, though.

His gaze drifted to the young man sleeping soundly at his side, his breathing deep and even.

Feng Qinghan’s eyes traced from Jing Chi’s brows down to his lips, and he couldn’t resist reaching out. His fingertip hovered just shy of the younger man’s cheek.

Right then, Jing Chi rolled over. The doctor yanked his hand back, breath catching in his throat.

A moment passed. Nothing else happened.

When he glanced up again, Jing Chi’s hand had slipped out from under the covers, landing right in front of him.

Feng Qinghan stared at those long, well-defined fingers and remembered earlier moments. Hesitant, he slid his own right hand into Jing Chi’s grasp. The warmth enveloping his fingers finally lulled him back to sleep.

Once Feng Qinghan’s eyes had fully closed, Jing Chi cracked his own open. He gazed at the doctor’s awkward sleeping position—all to hold onto his hand—and let out a helpless sigh.

Scooting closer, he adjusted them both into something more comfortable, tucked their clasped hands under the blanket, and closed his eyes.

From that night on, Jing Chi slept with Feng Qinghan for good. They simply upgraded from the guest room to the master bedroom.

They’d achieved the pure bliss of sharing a bed without a hitch.

~~~

When Feng Qinghan got back to the villa, he spotted Jing Chi lounging in the living room.

The guy must’ve wrapped up filming early today.

Feng Qinghan had started to recognize the flutter in his chest for what it was, but he wasn’t the type to take the initiative. Career came first, always.

Besides, with Jing Chi so swamped lately, he’d had no reason to bother him.

The moment he walked in, Jing Chi sprang up and hurried over, taking his coat with eager hands and hanging it on the rack. All the while, he chattered away, “How was your day, Brother? Anything get you down?”

Look at you, all pitiful before. Let big bro take care of you this time, Jing Chi thought.

Feng Qinghan arched a brow, intrigued by the uncharacteristic attentiveness.

Jing Chi was lazy as they came—minimum effort whenever possible. Sure, he grinned and called him “Brother” every day, but it was all talk.

The doctor had grown used to it. Lifting his gaze to meet Jing Chi’s, he peered into those eyes that were usually so easy to read. Now, though, they held some inexplicable emotion.

Sympathy.

Sympathy? Feng Qinghan’s calm expression chilled in an instant. He didn’t need anyone’s pity, least of all this condescending brand of it.

“Drop that idiotic look,” he said coolly, his stare icy.

Any trace of the sympathy Jing Chi had nurtured on set evaporated under that glare.

He flopped back onto the sofa, sulking. “What do you mean, idiotic? I’m just practicing my acting skills, okay?”

Jing Chi was sharp as a tack. He’d poked the bear and knew it, so he covered with the perfect excuse.

“Is that right?”

Feng Qinghan’s fingertip brushed thoughtfully against itself as his eyes narrowed in skepticism.

Jing Chi shot him a glance, saw the doubt, and hopped to his feet with mock outrage. “Now I’m mad. I’m sleeping alone tonight.”

He turned to storm off.

Feng Qinghan’s face darkened further. “You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes grew stormy as his hand shot out, clamping around Jing Chi’s wrist. His knuckles whitened with the force of his grip.

“You’re the one bullying me! Now I’m even madder.”

Jing Chi whipped his head away, refusing to look at him.

The man’s face stiffened, but in the end, he couldn’t outlast Jing Chi’s stubbornness. Softening his tone, he said,

“You know I can’t sleep without you.”

Jing Chi snorted coldly. “Just pop some sleeping pills. Heh, so that’s all I’m good for?”

He said it mockingly.

Deep down, though, he was snickering to himself. Finally, a chance to turn the tables—he had to make the most of it.

Watching the young man keep his cold expression, stripped of his usual smile, Feng Qinghan remembered how Jing Chi always reacted whenever he pulled this face in the past.

He let go of Jing Chi’s hand and instead tugged lightly at the young man’s shirt. A hint of loneliness crossed his face as he lowered his gaze, his long lashes casting shadows, and murmured in a low voice, “I’m sorry.”

Jing Chi felt his resolve to stay stone-faced crumbling. Feng Qinghan was actually showing vulnerability to him, of all people.

And seeing the beauty furrow her brows like that tugged at his heartstrings a little.

Of course, the real key was knowing when to press his advantage. Putting on a magnanimous air, he said, “Fine, I forgive you—as long as you run lines with me tonight.”

Inwardly, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He had been terrified the guy might lose his temper and throw him out.

Feng Qinghan frowned faintly and hesitated for a moment. But those sparkling eyes staring back at him won out in the end, and he nodded in agreement.