His vision was filled with the red of fine silks and satins, blinding, vivid.
The reflection in the mirror wore wedding attire, long hair tied with a red ribbon woven from Shu brocade, thin lips tinted with rouge—the jawline slender and distinct, a visage of untouchable beauty.
The maidservant beside him bowed slightly. “Young Master Lin, it is time.”
There were whispers, unclear.
“Look at him, a righteous Tanhua, reduced to the state of marrying as an imperial consort.”
“Truly pitiful. Young Master Lin has always been upright and kind; how could he suffer such hardship?”
“Young Master Lin, so pure and noble, who knows how hard his life will be? That Prince Chengxuan is moody, with blood on his hands.”
“Shh, do you value your life? How dare you discuss the master without permission?”
“Ah, he has no choice. The word ‘power’ brings only harm.”
“Who would disagree? The skies over Tranquil City are about to change.”
Drums and gongs resounded, guests filled the gates.
With the crackle of firecrackers, the bridal sedan landed at Prince Chengxuan’s Mansion. The matchmaker waved her handkerchief, grinning merrily. “The newlywed is here, the newlywed is here! Come welcome the newlywed!”
Everywhere, guests were seated and standing, their faces bearing strange smiles. The moment they saw the newlywed, their eyes widened like hungry dogs spotting a feast.
“Come, be careful, step over the brazier!”
“By His Majesty’s decree, we joyfully receive the son of the Lin family, Lin Qinghe, to bind in union with Prince Chengxuan. May the two share one heart and one mind, and may their blessings be ever-lasting!”
The crowd craned their necks, their movements stiff.
“Aiyo, hahaha, His Highness can’t wait any longer.”
Dressed likewise in wedding attire, Prince Chengxuan was tall and imposing. Despite his regal bearing, he could not conceal the tyranny and gloom in his eyes born of years of bad temper.
He strode forward, having finally gotten his wish, a surge of satisfaction in his heart. Those who opposed him came to no good end.
The Tanhua beloved by the people and respected by many court officials would tonight be branded as the Princess Consort of Prince Chengxuan. Dignity, pride—all would cease to exist at any moment.
The seats for the elders were empty, no one seated there.
As if rushing off to reincarnate, someone started yelling, “First bow to heaven and earth!”
Only Prince Chengxuan knelt, looking somewhat impatient.
The matchmaker’s expression changed slightly as she prompted, “Young Master Lin, first bow to heaven and earth.”
“First bow to heaven and earth!”
She smiled at the crowd, her grin like a flower. “Perhaps the newlywed is too happy and forgot the etiquette. Young Master Lin, it’s time to bow with His Highness.”
Young Master Lin gave no response. The onlookers fell silent, exchanging glances, like pale paper cutouts. For a moment, only the sound of a child’s crying remained, and the candle flames flickered as if about to go out.
Prince Chengxuan said, “Since the Princess Consort doesn’t know etiquette, find two attendants to assist.”
Attendants suddenly appeared, pressing down on Lin Qinghe’s shoulders from both sides with irresistible force. After the bow to heaven and earth, the next step was to bow to the elders.
“Second bow to the elders!”
“Husband and wife bow to each other!”
The candle flames wavered more violently, adding a layer of eeriness. Lin Qinghe refused to bend at the waist. The two attendants’ grim faces were revealed, their mouths wide as they called out.
“Young Master Lin, bow to each other.”
“Young Master Lin, it’s time for the husband-and-wife bow.”
“Young Master Lin…”
…
Only a small nightlight was left in the room, casting a warm yellow glow. Under this glow, Lin Qinghe’s brows were tightly furrowed, his sleep uneasy.
Su Rong placed hot water and medicine on the cabinet and softly called, “Xiaohe.” Realizing it was futile, she raised her voice. “Xiaohe, take your medicine before sleeping.”
“No…”
“No…”
Lin Qinghe mumbled lowly, his whole body trembling slightly.
Su Rong, unsure if Lin Qinghe was awake, leaned in to listen, assuming he was refusing. With some difficulty, she looked at Cen Han.
“Lin Qinghe.”
Who was calling him?
“Lin Qinghe, wake up and take your medicine.”
A familiar voice. In the dream, Lin Qinghe stopped struggling. The pressure on his shoulders instantly gave way to nothing. Opposite him, Prince Chengxuan smirked sinisterly, the scene causing intense discomfort.
Just when there was no retreat, the rows of candlelight were suddenly snuffed out. The surroundings plunged into darkness, the guests vanished, and the urging voices faded away.
When he opened his eyes again, he was in a warm, comfortable bedroom.
“Had a nightmare?”
The deep voice pulled his thoughts back. Lin Qinghe placed the back of his hand to his forehead, focusing his gaze. Cen Han stood by the bed looking down, and behind him, Aunt Su watched him, hesitant to speak.
He was a bit slow from the fever, his hair disheveled, a few strands damp with sweat, making his face appear gentle and languid.
The dream was terrifying, whether the course of the dream or the people in it. He grunted in a muffled tone and tried to sit up. His disheveled pajama collar revealed delicate collarbones, his appearance truly disheveled. He had never shown himself so untidy before. He said unnaturally, “Sorry.”
Unbeknownst to him what kind of nightmare it was, it was the first time Cen Han saw such an expression on Lin Qinghe’s face—obvious aversion.
Without pressing further, he handed Lin Qinghe the cup and opened his palm to reveal several pills. Tactfully changing the subject, he said, “Li Ran praised your impressive record of NG-ing over forty times in the water.”
Lin Qinghe was stunned, feeling completely exposed. His fingers clenched the cup, the pads of his fingers turning pale. “Yes, my performance wasn’t up to par in that part, so I kept repeating it.”
It couldn’t be helped. Actors weren’t always glamorous. There were those in the industry who used stand-ins, but being in Li Ran’s crew, using a stand-in would seem unprofessional.
This was still fine. If it were winter shooting and an outdoor water scene, it would test stamina even more.
Cen Han’s lips curved imperceptibly. “Don’t blame yourself. No one blames you. They just asked about the cause of the fever.”
“I’ve gotten you a leave of absence.” Cen Han waited for Lin Qinghe to take the medicine from his hand, then sat on a small stool by the bed, the sleeves of his black robe rolled halfway up, revealing a sturdy forearm. “Rest more tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Lin Qinghe hesitated to put the pills in his mouth, not because he feared bitterness but because his mouth was tasteless from illness. “But is this all right? I’m worried about Director Li Ran…”
“It’s not impossible for you to work while sick.” Cen Han interrupted, leaning back in the stool and raising an eyebrow, reminding him coolly. “But you need to understand, if it gets worse, it won’t be as simple as just taking medicine.”
Lin Qinghe thought Cen Han’s words reasonable. He should recover first. “I’ve troubled you, Mr. Cen.”
“No trouble.” Cen Han sat firmly, saying no more, like a teacher supervising a student finishing homework.
Lin Qinghe belatedly realized the man was waiting for him to take his medicine. He gulped down the capsules with a mouthful of hot water, wiped the corner of his mouth, and lowered his long eyelashes.
Cen Han’s gaze fell on the outer corner of his eye, his expression indiscernible.
“Qinghe.” Aunt Su came back in, holding a thermos. “The doctor said to drink more water to help sweat. I’ll leave it here; remember to hydrate.”
Since Madam Liu passed away, Lin Qinghe had never experienced such careful care. On one hand, his position didn’t allow him to show vulnerability in front of others; on the other, he was accustomed to enduring, so natural it seemed he was born indomitable.
For the care from Aunt Su and Cen Han, he felt warmth in his heart.
Su Rong said, “Go back to sleep. Call me if you need anything.”
Lin Qinghe nodded.
Before leaving, Cen Han glanced at him, reassuring, “Li Ran won’t overthink it. Rest well.”
Once the two left, Lin Qinghe rubbed his temples. His head still ached. He hadn’t expected to encounter such a setback right at the start. He hoped to recover soon, or it would delay the filming schedule.
.
The fever finally subsided close to noon. Lin Qinghe had slept poorly, half-dreaming all night, faint dark circles under his eyes, his body covered in sweat. Unable to stand it, the first thing he did after waking was bathe.
After changing into fresh clothes, he felt much more refreshed. Since Sherry’s last visit, the wardrobe had changed drastically, with more vintage elements. In front of the wide, shiny mirror, Lin Qinghe adjusted his collar and tied his hair back.
His WeChat had several messages of concern. He replied to each, expressing thanks for everyone’s care.
Just after replying to Xi Nian, the indicator showed the other person was typing.
Nian Nian Go!: Brother Qinghe, how are you feeling now?
Lin Qinghe: Much better.
Nian Nian Go!: (Emoji of rows of little people celebrating) Guess where I am?
Before Lin Qinghe could guess, Xi Nian sent another: That’s right, I’m in the kitchen watching Aunt Su and Uncle Chen cook. I’m in for another treat at lunch.
Infected by her energy, Lin Qinghe smiled helplessly: Then you should eat a few extra bowls.
Since Cen Han was home at noon and with Xi Nian as a guest, lunch was prepared more lavishly. But no matter how lavish, it had nothing to do with Lin Qinghe, for he was under special care, able only to have plain congee with side dishes—truly pitiful.
The atmosphere during the meal was quite good. Xi Nian could chat with anyone and had Aunt Su laughing heartily.
Not long after the meal ended, Cen Han went to the office. The household supplies were delivered to Xiangtan, and Aunt Su busied herself.
Lin Qinghe and Xi Nian stayed in the living room, the screen playing shallow commercials.
“So full. Aunt Su and Uncle Chen’s cooking is amazing.” Xi Nian leaned back on the sofa, pressing her stomach. “If I ate their food every day, my weight-loss mission would definitely be on the agenda.”
Lin Qinghe had no comment on her weight-loss mission but deeply agreed with the first half.
“Brother Qinghe.” Xi Nian hugged a pillow. “I’m actually quite curious, how did you come to know Brother Cen Han?”
She had wanted to ask this question ever since her first visit to Xiangtan. She had originally thought that the talented and distinguished Lin Qinghe was an artist, but it turned out not so. She also thought he was a young master who decided to enter the entertainment circle for fun, but that wasn’t true either.
Most people who dealt with Cen Han had status. Knowing Cen Han’s personality, he wouldn’t reveal anything to her, so she could never figure out where their paths crossed.
Clearly, Lin Qinghe was stumped. How he and Cen Han met was a long story, full of accidents. He automatically omitted the first half of the story, starting from a rainy night: “I was walking halfway, no one around, feeling unwell. I happened to encounter Mr. Cen’s car, and he sent me to the hospital.”
“Later, Assistant Zhang asked if I wanted to enter the entertainment industry. Because the terms were tempting, I agreed.”
Xi Nian drawled an “Oh,” and said, “That can be considered fate.”
There were too many gossip stories in the entertainment world. Her cousin Xi Yan and Jiang Nian were lovers, and same-sex couples were not uncommon in this circle. From what she knew, there were several couples, so preconceptions led her to initially misjudge the relationship between Lin Qinghe and Cen Han.
Later, she realized she was overthinking. When they interacted, there was no intimacy of a couple. It couldn’t be called friendship, that was too close, but it also couldn’t just be described as an artist and the company head. What normal artist and boss lived under the same roof? Moreover, Cen Han gave an expensive pipa and spent tens of millions to help him out—all of that crossed the line. So it was truly complicated.
“Fate?” Lin Qinghe thought it was true. If he had met someone else that night, he might still be stuck in some quagmire. “Probably fate.”
Xi Nian laughed a couple of times, finding his admission very frank. Anyone else would not so directly say they had fate with Cen Han, as it would seem sycophantic.
After chatting for a while, the commercials ended on the TV, and a previously popular xianxia drama began playing.
“Pavilion Master Xie Lintian of the Continuous Jade Pavilion bids farewell to the elders here. The sky is high, the waters vast; we shall meet again another day!”
The speaker was clad in white, holding the Seven Star Lying Rose Sword, valiant and handsome. With his black boots stepping on leaves, his figure flew past the pavilions and towers.
That line was a bit jarring in the quiet pause, and Lin Qinghe’s gaze fell upon it.
“Brother Qinghe?” Xi Nian’s eyes flickered, her expression suddenly indescribable.
“Hmm?”
Xi Nian saw that Lin Qinghe didn’t seem out of sorts, and slowly asked, “Do you know him?”
“No.” Lin Qinghe looked at Xi Nian, his sixth sense kicking in. “Which actor is it?”
Xi Nian said, “Xu Anyu.”
It wasn’t Lin Qinghe’s fault for not knowing. Apart from Teacher Pan Li briefly mentioning Starlight Entertainment’s artists, no one around him had ever volunteered information about Xu Anyu. The little he knew was pieced together online, like Xu Anyu’s huge momentum, high popularity, about to play Celine in Dream of the Blue Moon Night, and also that Xu Anyu had injured a mother and child in a drunk driving incident, causing severe losses to Starlight Entertainment, and would be detained for a while. Fans were waiting for his return.
Cen Han didn’t mention it because it wasn’t necessary; Aunt Su and Xi Nian didn’t bring it up out of consideration for Lin Qinghe’s feelings. Lin Qinghe himself hadn’t deliberately searched either, so it could be said his thoughts mirrored Cen Han’s exactly.
Lin Qinghe answered calmly, “Oh, so it’s him.”
Xi Nian had originally thought something of it, mainly because Lin Qinghe had been cursed off the livestream by Xu Anyu’s fans, and then on Weibo topics were stirred up, causing even the Best Actor and Best Actress fans to join in. If it were her, she would unavoidably hold a grudge against Xu Anyu. But Lin Qinghe’s attitude was so indifferent that she opened up: “Xu Anyu won the Best Actor award for this drama. At the time, Weibo held some ‘Most Popular TV God’ vote, and his vote count was double that of the second place.”
“He does sound impressive.” Xi Nian brought up the discussions she’d had with her sisters in the Starlight Entertainment break room: “But his character is flawed. On the surface, he’s a sunny boy, but behind the scenes, he plays dirty.”
“You know Zhong Yu? He was targeted by Xu Anyu, got caught in a heavy rain and ended up in the hospital. And there was this actress who just had a bad day on set and caused him to NG over ten times, so he set up a close-up photo with her. Netizens cursed her for being a clout-chaser, spreading rumors with no proof, and in the end, she quit the industry.”
On a roll, Xi Nian added, “And also, at last year’s company annual party, Xu Anyu toasted Brother Cen alone. Everyone else kept it short, but he made a special show to leave a good impression. But Brother Cen Han didn’t react at all, didn’t even drink.”
“He caught someone mocking him behind his back, and if Chen Dong hadn’t intervened, there would’ve been a conflict.”
“Anyway, stay far away from him, Brother Qinghe. You earned the role of Celine fair and square, but you can’t guarantee Xu Anyu’s thinking won’t be abnormal.”
From Xi Nian’s account, Lin Qinghe grasped several points: Xu Anyu’s character didn’t match his talent, he was good at disguising, held grudges, and was ruthless. The people he had met so far were kind and lovely, but the court he was in was not short of people like Xu Anyu. He pressed his lips into a smile. “I understand. Your warning is very useful.”
“Mmhmm.” With Xu Anyu’s return, who knew what trouble might arise. Xi Nian felt it was necessary to give a heads-up.
Lin Qinghe still couldn’t rest at home the whole day. He was mostly recovered and decided in the afternoon to go to the filming site. Despite his usual gentle nature, once he set his mind on something, no one could sway him.
Aunt Su saw off the workers and, when she had a moment, checked her phone and learned he had gone to work. With some helplessness, she said, “This child.”
Not long after, Cen Han called back, saying an assistant would come to the villa to pick up some documents and asked her to go to the study.
“Is it the reddish-brown paper envelope?”
Cen Han was flipping through papers and signing his name. “Yes.”
“Alright, when the assistant arrives, I’ll hand it over personally.”
Maybe it was a casual question, Cen Han asked, “Where’s Lin Qinghe?”
Aunt Su sighed. “Oh dear, Xiaohe went to film the drama. He left while I was busy.”
The pen paused. The next moment, Cen Han said meaningfully, “That’s his style.”
