Chapter 24

Ji Yunzhang posted on Weibo and then stopped paying any attention to the online buzz, leaving it entirely in An Jiaming’s hands. He also forbade Jing Li from checking it, worried it might sour his mood. Once Jing Li had posted his own official announcement, Ji Yunzhang confiscated his phone.

It was the first time Jing Li’s phone had ever been taken away. He couldn’t help protesting, “Tyrannical.”

Ji Yunzhang simply agreed. “Mm.”

He raised a hand and gently patted Jing Li’s forehead, gazing at him with tenderness. His voice was as soft as a summer night’s breeze. “Be good. There’s nothing worth seeing.”

~~~

For Jing Li, there really wasn’t anything worth seeing. Hot Search Plaza, personal feeds, comment sections—none of it was safe. Private messages were completely off-limits.

But after Ji Yunzhang’s Weibo went live, followed by Jing Li’s, and with the lunch break bringing more people online, the blessings started flooding in.

An Jiaming’s water army went into action at that point, fanning out to steer the conversation toward CP sweetness. The bigshot fan who had single-handedly kept the Yunjing CP alive dove in too, dropping several posts and images all at once to celebrate the event with fellow shippers—a feast rivaling New Year’s.

She followed up with a Yunjing CP retweet giveaway on Weibo, splashing out two hundred thousand in one go. Money talks, and combined with the water army’s efforts, it buried the nonstop hate flooding the plaza homepage under an avalanche of giveaway reposts.

An Jiaming took note and promised the bigshot fan—Wen Mian, one of the studio assistants—a bonus, while reminding her to get her reimbursement receipts ready.

Wen Mian’s face lit up with joy. Shipping her CP and getting paid for it? Pure bliss!

A few netizens who’d scored some wedding candies that day posted pictures of them, painting vivid pictures of the scene at the Civil Affairs Bureau: Ji Yunzhang and Jing Li holding hands, leaning in close to whisper sweet nothings.

Videos and photos followed in a rush—moving or still, all of them captured the couple’s intimacy, sweetness, and warmth in crystal-clear detail.

The comment sections this time were a far cry from the initial backlash. Passersby, CP fans, and water army posters mixed in, diluting the haters’ dominance and cleaning things up considerably.

【Some blogger dissected the wedding candies—each one from a different big brand, custom-made no less. The brands themselves even posted blessings. Teacher Ji really went all out.】

【Just formalities, or straight to shipping?】

【Holy shit, my CP is real!!! I’m rolling around on the bed like a maggot.】

【My mom heard me scream and thought a flying cockroach had invaded my room. She charged in with a slipper, ready to smash it.】

【??? Since when do cockroaches fly?】

【Northern roaches and southern ones aren’t the same. Tears all around.】

【Hey upstairs, quit derailing! Let’s get back on topic and send our sincerest blessings to the happy couple!】

【Guilty as charged: I’m a total face-con. But they match so perfectly!】

【Saw that top comment up front: “What does Ji Yunzhang even see in Jing Li?” Go browse Jing Li’s Weibo. Do your homework. This guy’s a genuine treasure.】

Jing Li was the type who loved sharing his daily life. Out of his hundreds of posts, nearly all were slice-of-life moments, with promotional ones few and far between.

Even after signing with Kerry, he kept using his personal account—no new one created.

He’d registered it a decade ago, back when his days were packed solid and friends were scarce. He’d posted about everything back then. Mu Ge had reviewed his content and made him delete only a handful that risked exposing his privacy; the rest stayed untouched.

The internet got a front-row seat to the real Jing Li.

Selfies. Scenic views. Mouthwatering meals. The highlights and oddities of everyday life.

He also shared shots of his feet, bloodied and swollen from dance practice; blistered fingertips from his early guqin lessons; trophies from his first-place wins; his own artwork…

Hardworking. Proud. Fun. Every facet of him came alive, raw and vivid, for the world to see.

【A breath of fresh air—no half-year visibility lock.】

【What a sweetheart. So cute he posts crying emojis when he’s hurt. Suddenly I want painless motherhood.】

【Turns out pretty people have always been pretty. Anyone claiming he got work done can crawl back under their rock. Selfies this crisp, zero filters, random angles—and he still looks flawless. Why bother with surgery?】

【Fresh from the Anonymous Section next door. Someone tried digging dirt on Jing Li—no skeletons, just how ridiculously accomplished he is. Defense thoroughly broken.】

【A University grad. Annual scholarships, volunteer gigs, National Youth Dance Award, National Youth Piano Award. Closed-door disciple of guqin master Elder Yu. I’m just… wow.】

【I just spent an hour scrolling his Weibo. How does daily life get this entertaining?】

The radical fans were gradually overtaken by passersby, CP fans, and rational Ji Fans. Though the storm hadn’t fully died down, it was no longer as fierce.

An Jiaming kept steering the conversation, and all the major entertainment influencers scrambled to ship the couple. They pulled up timelines, everyone peering through a magnifying glass to unearth sweet moments from the smallest details.

The once-deserted “Yunjing” super topic suddenly flooded with hundreds of thousands of users, shooting straight to the top of the CP rankings. The numbers were still climbing at an alarming rate.

An Jiaming breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up his coffee from the desk and stood to stretch his stiff limbs after sitting for so long.

Someone knocked at the door. He glanced back and saw his assistant, so he waved her in.

She placed a file on the desk. “Here’s the data on Teacher Ji and Jing Li’s unfannings and new followers.”

An Jiaming nodded. “Just leave it there.”

Once she was gone, An Jiaming returned to his seat, settled back down, and flipped open the file.

In recent years, celebrity scandals had become commonplace, and fans unfanning trending on Hot Search wasn’t anything new. But this was the first time, in such an atmosphere, that new fans had outnumbered the ones who left.

Beyond the different nature of the scandal, Ji Yunzhang was an actor—one who could pull in box office and ratings—with a fanbase unlike those of traffic-driven idols.

Sure, he had his share of aggressive fans who’d slapped the idol playbook onto him, but they were a minority. Most were laid-back, casual supporters.

For them, as long as his talent held strong and he didn’t cross moral lines or break the law, there was no reason to unfan.

Ji Yunzhang had simply gotten married. What kind of scandal was that? A thriving career alongside a balanced marriage—they saw no issue at all.

That was why, despite the massive uproar that day, the actual unfannings were minimal. With CP fans piling in besides, his follower counts had even risen across platforms.

Jing Li needed no mention. He hadn’t had many fans to start with, so unfannings weren’t even a factor. His gains were real—from the couple sweets with Ji Yunzhang, and from people discovering him through the drama and being genuinely won over by his excellence.

True gold always shines; it just needed the dust brushed away.

~~~

By afternoon, as online sentiment began to shift, Ji Yunzhang and Jing Li had just returned home from the supermarket with bags of groceries. He’d promised earlier to cook for Jing Li, and tonight he was making good on it.

Jing Li pitched in with the prep work, just like last time. But when it came to the actual cooking, he stuck to handing over bowls, plates, or seasonings.

With four dishes and a soup finished, Jing Li helped carry them to the table. Then he pulled out a bottle of champagne—courtesy of Jiang Mengshan the day before, to celebrate their marriage certificate and their new family.

“Want some?” Jing Li asked.

Ji Yunzhang finished setting the tableware and fetched a pair of tall glasses. “A little won’t hurt.”

With a soft pop, the cork flew free. He poured the clear, sparkling liquid into the crystal flutes, its golden hue catching the light beautifully.

Jing Li raised his glass and clinked it against Ji Yunzhang’s.

They weren’t a real couple, and the marriage was fake—nothing to truly celebrate. After a moment’s thought, Jing Li said, “To Grandpa’s health.”

That was the whole reason for their sham wedding. He hoped the wish could somehow reach the old man, slowing his illness just a bit longer.

Ji Yunzhang’s gaze softened. “To Grandpa’s health.”

Jing Li took a sip, then couldn’t wait any longer. He snatched up his chopsticks to dig in. The aroma had filled the entire apartment while Ji Yunzhang cooked, and it had his mouth watering.

He speared a Lion’s Head Meatball and took a bite. His taste buds lit up—delicious!

He flashed Ji Yunzhang a big thumbs-up.

Ji Yunzhang smiled around his own bite and ladled a spoonful of Longjing Shrimp onto Jing Li’s plate. “Try this one too.”

Jing Li hummed in agreement. After popping a shrimp into his mouth, his eyes sparkled as he looked over. “Teacher Ji, how are you this good?”

He’d figured Ji Yunzhang could cook at a basic level, but this was master-chef territory.

Ji Yunzhang explained, “A few years back, I was location scouting in Province X and ended up living in a village for half a year. I couldn’t stomach the local food, and round trips to the county seat took three hours—too much hassle. So I hired a local chef to teach me.”

Province X. The name sparked a movie title in Jing Li’s mind. “Was that prep for Flowers Blooming Towards the Sun?”

“You watched it?”

“Of course.” Jing Li propped his cheek on one hand, grinning. “Teacher Ji, I’ve seen every one of your movies. I even collect the Blu-rays.”

Something flickered in Ji Yunzhang’s expression. He gazed at Jing Li and smiled. “So you really are my fan.”

Jing Li’s eyes curved into smiling crescents as he bobbed his head enthusiastically. “Yes, yes!”

“Should I pamper my fans a little? Maybe with a hug?” Ji Yunzhang’s lips quirked up, a spark of amusement lighting his pale eyes, his teasing tone unmistakable.

Jing Li caught the joke right away. He shifted his position, clasping his hands around his wrists to steady his racing pulse, then shot Teacher Ji a sidelong glance with prim restraint. “Teacher Ji, I’m a fan of your work—only your films and TV shows.”

Ji Yunzhang regarded him with gentle warmth. “Mm, got it.”

The champagne wasn’t strong, but Jing Li’s tolerance was truly abysmal. After just two glasses, dizziness set in, and it was Ji Yunzhang who cleared the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher.

Jing Li always flushed easily when he drank, his cheeks now tinged a soft pink. He sat obediently on the sofa, hugging a throw pillow with his face nestled against it, his eyes tracking Ji Yunzhang’s every move.

Only when Ji Yunzhang finally sat down did his gaze finally relax.

Ji Yunzhang pressed a glass of honey water into his hands, chuckling. “Tolerance for a whole bottle of red wine?”

Jing Li lifted his head and straightened up, cradling the glass as he took a sip. “I always flush like this. I’m not drunk.”

“Really not drunk?” Ji Yunzhang asked.

“No.” He was insistent—and it was the truth.

Ji Yunzhang didn’t argue the point. Instead, he asked, “Can you manage on your own?”

Jing Li blinked. “You’re leaving? But you can’t drive.”

Ji Yunzhang had been about to mention that someone was coming to pick him up when Jing Li added, “Stay.”

He tilted his face up with a slight smile. “We can pretend it’s a preview of living together.”