Zhu Huai hadn’t slept well last night. In the haze between waking and dreaming, he’d had a rather unpleasant dream, but by the time he opened his eyes, he couldn’t remember what it had been about—only the stifling weight on his chest remained.
He lay in bed, his muddled thoughts churning for a long while before a fragment surfaced.
He’d dreamed that Jiang Sheli had officially announced his marriage.
Zhu Huai jolted, his foggy brain snapping mostly awake. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand and caught sight of an unread message, sent late last night.
From Jiang Sheli.
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [Bro, you play Sword Shadow Mobile too?]
JSL: [Occasionally.]
Just two plain words, the tone not exactly warm, but the gloom that had been gathering in Zhu Huai’s chest all morning dissolved all the same. His head cleared completely, and he withdrew the finger that had been about to open Weibo.
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [Bro, which server are you on? Are you entering the Hero Cup?]
Morning sunlight slanted through the curtains that hadn’t been pulled fully shut, laying a thin coat of gold across the floor.
He checked the time—only seven in the morning. If Jiang Sheli didn’t have an early shoot, he probably hadn’t even woken up yet.
Zhu Huai got out of bed. Mother Zhu and Qi Baojia weren’t home. The couple had left a note and breakfast; they’d gone to the big market for groceries, and in the evening they’d invited a few of Qi Baojia’s old friends over.
After breakfast, Zhu Huai tidied himself up, put on a mask, and headed to the most bustling mall in the city. He’d searched online earlier—there was a cake shop here that was famous and well-reviewed.
When Jiang Sheli replied, Zhu Huai was still agonizing over whether to get the viral money-draw cake or the chicken-soup-for-the-soul cake.
JSL: [Server 6. Not participating.]
Zhu Huai stared at the first two characters and froze. What a coincidence—same server as Li River.
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [I’m on Server 8. I wanted to do 5v5, but we don’t have enough people, so I only registered for the 3v3.]
JSL: [Mm, good luck.]
This was the second time Jiang Sheli had told him good luck. Zhu Huai sent back a cute sticker, then cautiously asked:
[Bro, are you free right now? Can you help me with something?]
[?]
Zhu Huai photographed the cakes he had his eye on and sent them over.
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [Which one’s better?]
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [[Image][Image][Image]]
JSL: [Your birthday?]
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [Not mine—my stepfather’s. His fiftieth.]
Jiang Sheli, sitting in a shaded chair on set with a script in hand, paused.
This was the first time they’d talked about anything family-related.
That was the kind of private thing only friends closer than ordinary acquaintances would discuss.
“Real ordinary, huh.”
Li Yun’s words from the night before replayed in his head.
Jiang Sheli frowned slightly.
He opened the photos Zhu Huai had sent and went through them one by one.
Liu Qi, still in costume, walked over with a smile. “Brother Jiang, I’m not sure how to play this next scene. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to walk me through it?”
As he spoke, his gaze inadvertently flicked to the phone Jiang Sheli was typing on. In that instant, his feet felt nailed to the ground, and the smile on his face stiffened into an unnatural angle.
JSL: [The second one.]
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [[Obedient Baby OK.jpg]]
Liu Qi had been on the same team as Zhu Huai for two years, and they shared the same agency. There was no way he could mistake that WeChat name.
Zhu Huai’s WeChat ID had never changed.
A thin layer of hot sweat broke out on Liu Qi’s back. His breathing quickened as his cardiovascular load spiked—if you listened closely, you could even hear the heavier exhalations.
It was an involuntary physiological response to anger and jealousy.
When he’d learned that the acclaimed actor playing opposite him would be Jiang Sheli, the company had already laid out detailed plans for everything to come. These days, male-male CPs were much easier to sell than male-female ones. He didn’t need any ambiguous interactions with Jiang Sheli—in fact, he knew he had no chance anyway, and Jiang Sheli wouldn’t have deigned to bother.
Fortunately, the script of 《The Disloyal Minister》 was enough to let CP fans conjure up a whole angsty, tragic love story of mutual destruction. All he needed to do was occasionally manufacture a few off-screen shots with Jiang Sheli, and naturally, some crew member would “accidentally” capture them.
But he’d never expected Zhu Huai to be this familiar with Jiang Sheli.
Who the hell was he?
After sending his reply, Jiang Sheli looked up at the man before him. “Which part?”
After replying, Zhu Huai’s lips curved up slightly. Pointing at the cake with a little house and a tree beside it, he told the clerk, “I’ll take this one. Can it be ready by the afternoon?”
—
After leaving the cake shop, Zhu Huai didn’t hurry out of the mall. Instead, he browsed a few clothing stores. He rarely came back home, and he hated lugging extra luggage around, so rather than bringing gifts from out of town, he decided to buy some clothes for Mother Zhu and his stepfather here.
He sent the styles he liked to Jiang Sheli, and the two chatted on and off.
After he sent another photo, Jiang Sheli suddenly video-called him.
Startled, Zhu Huai fumbled and hit the answer button. At least his wireless earbuds were still connected, so the audio didn’t play out loud.
On the other end of the video, Jiang Sheli wasn’t visible—just an open area with people occasionally walking past. He must have still been on set.
Zhu Huai’s heart climbed into his throat. “Bro, you scared me. I’m at the mall right now—if someone saw you, that would be trouble.”
Fortunately, he’d switched to the rear camera, so his face wasn’t in view.
Jiang Sheli moved his thumb away from the red end-call button. “Am I really that presentable-shy?”
An ordinary sentence, but Zhu Huai’s imagination painted it with the sulky tone of a pampered lover hidden away in a golden house.
His face flushed. “No, no—I just didn’t want to cause you trouble…”
A light laugh came through the video. “What trouble could you cause? If anyone’s in trouble, it’s you. It’s not like they can crawl through the internet to get to me… Why is your face so red?”
Zhu Huai turned to look at the brown glass display cabinet on his left. Under the lights, he could clearly see the color on his face. Even with the mask on, it couldn’t hide the flush spreading across the skin above it.
He tugged the mask up higher, his voice a little hoarse. “The mall’s too stuffy.”
“Drink more water.”
“Mm.” The little idol obediently accepted the Movie Emperor’s painfully straight response.
Jiang Sheli didn’t have many scenes today, so for once, he had the leisure to chat with Zhu Huai about trivial little things, and he could even give solid advice when Zhu Huai couldn’t make up his mind about clothes.
“This one with a beige scarf would suit your auntie’s age.”
“What about this suit?”
“Too formal. Uncle won’t wear it to drive. The one next to you works.”
“Then I’ll get that one too—he can wear it to Dad Qi’s company annual meeting.”
“Mm. This one can go with G Brand cufflinks.”
Zhu Huai smiled. “Yours? The endorsement?”
“Yeah. Support the business, Little Friend.”
Little Friend asked, “Any perks?”
Jiang Sheli: “Isn’t me wasting an entire afternoon on you enough? Do you know how high my appearance fee is?”
Zhu Huai walked toward the cash register and said softly, “Then… can I pay on credit?”
Jiang Sheli found it amusing. “If I say yes, what are you planning to do?”
Zhu Huai’s eyes sparkled, dazzling under the mall’s brilliant lights. A little nervous, he said, “Can I… buy a few more hours of you?”
The sales associate trailing behind him, arms full of clothes, stumbled.
The voice on the other end of the video went silent—seemingly stunned by him.
After blurting it out, Zhu Huai felt unbelievably embarrassed. He was searching for an excuse to take it back when Jiang Sheli spoke, his tone perfectly natural:
“Sorry, Little Friend. No credit.”
Jiang Sheli’s distinctive, mellow voice played through the phone’s speaker in 360-degree surround sound, echoing throughout the store. Several nearby customers turned to look.
Only then did Zhu Huai notice that his wireless earbuds had died at some point, and the Bluetooth had automatically disconnected.
Jiang Sheli had no idea what was happening on Zhu Huai’s end. Just then, Li Yun happened to walk over, saw what was on his phone, and said in his grating, raspy voice with heavy innuendo, “Video-chatting with Zhu Huai?”
Before his boss could fire off a glare, he quickly added, “Ordinary friends, ordinary friends. I get it, I get it.”
Jiang Sheli only gave him one look—
Get lost.
When he looked back down at his phone, the video call had already been disconnected.
“…”
As Zhu Huai frantically ended the call, the cashier had already swiped his card and politely handed him the receipt to sign.
Zhu Huai had no choice but to steel himself and sign his name in neat, square strokes.
The sales associate from before suddenly got excited. “Excuse me, are you Zhu Huai from SYA?”
Zhu Huai pulled his mask up higher. “No, you’ve got the wrong person.”
“But—”
Before she could finish, Zhu Huai grabbed his bags and bolted out of the store.
Only after he made it down to the first floor did he pull out his phone again. His heart hammering, he typed: “Ahhh, the clerk almost recognized me just now!”
JSL: [Head home early. Stay safe.]
It Is Zhu Not Pig: [Okk.]
Before turning off his phone, Jiang Sheli stared at the WeChat chat screen, lost in thought.
Voice call and video call, one above the other, pressed closely together.
The Movie Emperor, as aloof as an inaccessible flower, cursed in his heart for once:
Shitty WeChat. This app is doomed.
Zhu Huai walked out of the mall with his head down, and his gaze happened to sweep past a luxury jewelry store. He stopped in his tracks.
A sales associate stood at the door welcoming customers, wearing a professional smile. “Sir, would you like to come in and take a look?”
Seeing the big G Brand logo, Zhu Huai turned and walked in.
“Mm.”
“Are you buying for yourself, or as a gift?”
Zhu Huai had been wearing his mask for a while, and the mall’s air wasn’t circulating well. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he pulled the mask down to reveal the bridge of his nose.
“For someone else.”
He was carefully examining the items in the display case, so he didn’t notice the clerk’s startled expression when he lowered his mask.
“Would you mind telling me what kind of person it’s for?”
“For someone who’s been very good to me—” Zhu Huai stopped mid-sentence as the words “thermos cup,” “massage chair,” and “soaked goji berries” flashed through his mind. He changed tack. “—a friend who’s been very good to me. Male.”
“Right this way, then.” The clerk led him to a counter. “These are all our men’s styles.”
Zhu Huai looked through them one by one, until his gaze stopped at a certain point.
It was a pair of Swarovski crystal cufflinks. Three Starry Diamonds were set into the middle of the main body’s side, and the black base was understated and luxurious, glittering under the lights like a vast, dazzling sea of stars.
Jiang Sheli’s cool, aloof eyes instantly surfaced in Zhu Huai’s mind.
“I’ll take this one.”
The clerk followed his finger. When she saw which style he’d chosen, a strange, knowing smile flickered in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but her sales quota made her close it again.
“Certainly, sir. These cufflinks come with a matching tie clip. Would you like to take a look?”
Zhu Huai hesitated. The cufflinks weren’t cheap for his current financial situation—and if he added a tie clip…
The clerk encouraged him. “This month is the brand’s twentieth-anniversary event. If you buy the set, it’s twenty percent off.”
“We’ll also throw in a membership card.”
“…”
“You can also enter a lucky draw.”
“…”
“The first prize includes an autographed life-size standee of Jiang Sheli, on top of the other gifts.”
Zhu Huai pulled out his bank card with a blank expression.
“I’ll buy!”
