Chapter 10: Doctor Bottom x Celebrity Top

In the bedroom.

Jing Chi blinked, gazing at Feng Qinghan’s impassive face. With a touch of hesitation, he said, “Do you need me to give you a rundown?”

He pulled out the script and set it down in front of the man.

Feng Qinghan shook his head. He merely flicked through the pages with his fingertips, skimming the entire thing in five minutes before lifting his gaze. In a flat tone, he asked, “What do you need me to do?”

Jing Chi stared at him in surprise. “You’ve already finished reading it? And memorized it?”

Feng Qinghan nodded and shot Jing Chi a glance. Calmly, he replied, “It’s very short. Easy to remember.”

Fine. The world of straight-A students was beyond a slacker like him.

Jing Chi set the script aside with a grin. “All right, then. Let’s run through the final scene.”

“Ready?”

Seeing Jing Chi dawdling, Feng Qinghan prompted him, “Hurry up. I have a meeting tonight.”

“Got it, got it, Mr. Big Shot.” Jing Chi pouted.

Rehearsal, take one.

Jing Chi gazed deeply at Feng Qinghan. “A-Yao, if I’d known you wanted my life, you could’ve just told me.”

In a cold, mechanical voice, Feng Qinghan delivered the narration: “Shu Yao didn’t dare meet Ye Qianxing’s eyes. With great difficulty, she said: [A-Xing, I… I didn’t want things to be like this, but… you’ve killed… too many people.]”

Jing Chi burst out laughing at the man’s robotic, word-by-word delivery.

All the emotion he’d mustered vanished in an instant.

“Brother, could we maybe add a little feeling to it?” Jing Chi blinked at him.

Feng Qinghan looked up, met his eyes, and let out a simple “Mm.”

Rehearsal, take two.

Jing Chi poured his heart into his lines.

Feng Qinghan remained as flat as ever.

Jing Chi: “…”

Forcing a smile, he gestured emphatically. “We could try a bit more inflection, you know—ups and downs.”

Feng Qinghan’s already thin patience snapped. If it had been anyone else nitpicking after the first try, he would have lost his temper right then.

His expression darkened, and with irritation flaring, he said coldly, “If I’m doing it wrong, practice by yourself.”

He stood up to leave.

It was simply too humiliating. Feng Qinghan, who had always been showered with praise, was being harshly critiqued for the first time—and twice over at that.

Jing Chi grabbed his hand, realizing he’d gone a bit too far.

He clasped Feng Qinghan’s hand and guided his fingers to his own face, then gently rubbed his cheek against the man’s palm. Looking up with earnest eyes, he pleaded, “Come on, I was wrong. One last time, okay, Brother?”

As he spoke, he nuzzled closer, blinking obediently.

Feng Qinghan’s fingertips trembled faintly against the youth’s soft cheek. Those coquettish words made it impossible for him to utter a refusal.

He yanked his hand back, turning his face aside. His long lashes quivered as he feigned composure. “Last time.”

Even after his fingers had left Jing Chi’s cheek, Feng Qinghan inexplicably felt them burning. Unable to resist, he rubbed them against his thigh.

Jing Chi beamed and nodded eagerly. Noticing the man’s slightly evasive gaze, the corners of his lips curved upward.

~~~

【A-Yao, if I’d known it was you who wanted my life, you could’ve just told me.】

Ye Qianxing looked at the person before him. His lips still bore that old roguish smile, but his peach-blossom eyes brimmed with endless sorrow and a hidden well of affection.

Shu Yao couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. She turned her face away, her eyes filled with reluctance. “A-Xing, I didn’t want it to come to this either. But you’ve killed too many people.”

“They all deserved to die.”

The man’s lips twisted downward in an instant. Memories of those hideous faces darkened his expression, bloodthirsty light flickering in his eyes like a demon risen from hell.

Shu Yao recoiled in fright at Ye Qianxing’s visage—she had never seen this side of him. She took an instinctive step back.

He noticed the motion immediately.

“You’re afraid of me? You actually fear me?”

Incredulity filled Ye Qianxing’s eyes, his heart clenching as if gripped in a vise.

He bowed his head and let out a cold laugh. The laughter grew louder, edging into madness.

“Fine, then. Kill me.”

He jerked his head up, his peach-blossom eyes now heavy with desolation. He stared intently at Shu Yao.

Step by step, he closed in on her. The woman’s sword hand trembled, yet she raised the blade without hesitation.

“You—you stay back.”

Ye Qianxing advanced until the tip of Shu Yao’s sword hovered before him. One more step, and the sharp edge would pierce his chest.

He lifted his gaze and looked quietly at the person before him. Seeing nothing in that person’s eyes but fear toward him, he let out a mocking sneer, disappointment filling his own gaze.

He gripped the sword blade with one hand, blood dripping down drop by drop.

He glanced at Shu Yao, then without the slightest hesitation plunged the sword into his own chest. With a squelch, the blade pierced through flesh.

Blood trickled from the corner of the man’s mouth as his gaze lingered on the woman’s tear-filled eyes. He smiled, a sense of release washing over him, and in the end, he called out to her softly one last time. “A-Yao.”

The man’s eyes turned toward the sky as memories flooded his mind.

That glaring red robe fluttered in the wind. Slowly, the man closed his eyes, his body plummeting downward.

~~~

Just as Jing Chi was about to crash to the ground, Feng Qinghan instinctively grabbed his arm.

Jing Chi let out a soft breath, pulling himself out of the scene.

Truth be told, Feng Qinghan’s recitation had been utterly devoid of emotion, which had pulled Jing Chi slightly out of the moment. But then he looked into the man’s eyes, and immersion hit him all over again in an instant.

He thought back to the first time they had met, when the man had awakened filled with murderous intent—that extremely gloomy expression, those lifeless eyes.

Paranoid and vigilant, harboring deep suspicion toward everyone around him.

If anything, Jing Chi wasn’t so much acting as Ye Qianxing as he was channeling Feng Qinghan’s mindset from back then.

Of course, he could never truly empathize.

But he truly admired the Feng Qinghan of today, who was gradually, bit by bit, striving to escape the shadows of his previous life.

Seeing Jing Chi staring at him, Feng Qinghan poked his forehead and frowned in confusion. “What are you looking at?”

Jing Chi snapped back to reality and shook his head, quickly adjusting his emotions.

He reverted to his usual cheeky grin, looping his arm around the man’s and asking with a smile, “Brother, how was my acting just now?”

Feng Qinghan arched a brow, unusually playful as he replied, “Do you want the truth or a white lie?”

Jing Chi pouted in exasperation. “The truth, obviously.”

The man pretended to ponder deeply, then said with utmost seriousness, “The truth? Meh. Pretty average.”

Jing Chi eyed his earnest expression and nearly started doubting himself. Had his performance really been that lackluster, despite all the raw emotion he’d poured in? Did he truly have no talent for acting?

“That can’t be right. I even consulted Film Emperor Ye about it,” he muttered under his breath.

Watching Jing Chi sink into self-doubt, Feng Qinghan couldn’t help but curve his lips. He cleared his throat lightly and said with a smile, “Actually, it wasn’t bad at all.”

Jing Chi’s head shot up, catching the smile that still lingered on the man’s lips.

He froze for a moment.

This wasn’t the empty, emotionless smile from before.

It was a warm one that lit up even his eyes and brows, gradually spreading across that handsome face. Those pale brown eyes curved slightly, and the faint smile felt like a feather brushing lightly against Jing Chi’s heart, stirring a faint, tingling itch.

But the smile vanished just as quickly.

Jing Chi felt his face heat up. Pretending to be annoyed, he lunged forward and tackled the man onto the bed.

Before Feng Qinghan could react, he found himself pinned beneath the young man.

He felt that warm, vibrant breath—uniquely Jing Chi’s—drawing closer to his ear, heat rising uncontrollably.

Then came Jing Chi’s voice, low and laced with ambiguity: “Brother… would you ever give up your life for me one day?”

Even as he spoke, the young man’s hand grew restless, his fingertips deftly undoing the top button of Feng Qinghan’s shirt to reveal a glimpse of the pale, flawless skin that had been hidden beneath.

Just as he reached for the second button, his hand was caught.

He blinked up at the man innocently, as if he hadn’t been the one trying to undress him moments ago.

Feng Qinghan met Jing Chi’s eyes calmly and uttered two words: “No.”

That answered the question.

With that, he removed the offending hand, pushed the young man off him, straightened his disheveled clothes, and strode out of the room.

Propping his head on one hand, Jing Chi lay on the bed and watched the man’s retreating figure.

If not for the telltale flush creeping up the side of his face, Jing Chi might have believed he was as unflappable as he appeared.

Jing Chi chuckled and called out loudly while Feng Qinghan was still within earshot, “Hmph, as if I care!”

Feng Qinghan paused just outside the door but quickly regained his composure and headed to the study.

Once there, he opened his laptop and joined the video conference.

“We can begin,” he said.

The intern inside began reporting on recent work.

The person who should have been paying close attention to the report was lost in thought.

Feng Qinghan recalled the question Jing Chi had asked him just moments ago.

He knew his answer might have dampened the mood.

But if given another chance, he would respond the same way.

If he ever truly fell in love with someone, he doubted he’d be generous enough to step aside and let them be with another.

No, he would bind that person tightly to his side. Even if they didn’t love him back, as long as they stayed with him, that would be enough—even until death.

“Teacher, I’ve finished my report. Teacher?”

The interns on the video call stared at their seemingly distracted teacher, wondering if their eyes were playing tricks on them.

After all, Teacher Feng was always meticulous and serious about his work. Daydreaming? Impossible.

Feng Qinghan snapped back to reality. He acknowledged them with a calm hum, ignoring their shocked gazes. He glanced at the list and called out in a flat, emotionless tone:

“Next, Li Shuo.”

The next intern quickly picked up their report, but the group chat among the interns blew up in an instant.

“Heavens, did you guys see that? Teacher actually zoned out!” Xiao A typed in astonishment.

Xiao B hammered out a reply: “Saw it, saw it! A once-in-a-lifetime sight. I’m dying to know what problem he’s dealing with. Must be some huge surgical dilemma.”

Xiao C cautiously chimed in: “Drawing from my years of dating experience, that look on Teacher’s face? He’s definitely lovesick.”

A unanimous string of replies popped up: “No way.”

Xiao C bolted, hiding under a pot lid.

On this topic, they were all in perfect sync. No one believed Feng Qinghan could ever tumble into the whirlpool of romance—unless it was medicine itself that swept him away.

Which was why, when Jing Chi later showed up at the hospital showering them with PDA, the interns could only exchange awkward glances. “Guess we underestimated things back then.”

Xiao C, meanwhile, wore a smug grin. “Told you I nailed it.”