Chapter 8: Teasing the Protagonist

The agency was on the verge of going crazy.

“So Quan Heng has dirt on CEO Wang, Manager He, and the others?”

“That’s right, but…” Manager He Nan dodged the teacup the head of Xinghui Entertainment had thrown at him and smiled ingratiatingly. “He’s only using it as a threat. I’ve had people monitor Weibo, and nothing’s shown up. I doubt he’d really dare to take us all down with him.”

After Quan Heng threw the evidence out the window, all the CEOs had gone nearly mad looking for it. They’d searched the entire night and still hadn’t found the familiar bag.

The commotion had drawn plenty of attention.

To keep word from getting out and inviting ridicule, CEO Wang and the others had pretended nothing was wrong and left separately. In private, though, they hadn’t let up on the search.

Everyone who’d been in the private room had been paid to keep quiet.

The young stars who’d witnessed the CEOs’ embarrassing behavior and dirty secrets were all in the same boat. Some stayed quiet and obedient, terrified they’d become targets for someone’s anger. Others hoped to find the evidence so they could curry favor with the CEOs and earn a reward.

“Did you pull the security footage?” The head of Xinghui Entertainment pressed a hand to his throbbing temple.

He’d never imagined Quan Heng, whom CEO Wang had singled out to keep him company over drinks, would be so capable. If he’d known the man could somehow get his hands on the CEOs’ dirty secrets, he never would have agreed to it so casually.

Quan Heng was just a minor actor the company had shelved for six months. How had he managed something like this?

He Nan looked grim. “We checked. Nothing useful.”

The man with Quan Heng wasn’t from the entertainment industry. He’d been wearing a delivery uniform and helmet, so no one could see his face. The window where they’d thrown the evidence was also in a blind spot.

And the private room at the restaurant was even worse. The cameras had been “under repair” for years to make it easier for the CEOs to conduct their private affairs. No one was going to find anything there.

“What about his phone? His social media accounts?” The phone on the desk buzzed several times. The head picked it up and glanced at the messages. His face darkened as he glared at He Nan. “Do you have any idea how badly you’ve screwed this up?”

He Nan was miserable, but even more than that, he was furious.

What Quan Heng had done in the private room had destroyed years’ worth of connections. Now, whenever the CEOs saw He Nan, they glared at him with terrifying hostility.

If he couldn’t come up with a perfect solution, he’d be the first one they made an example of.

“Are you useless?” The head slammed his hand on the desk. “Find it! If you don’t, you’re finished!”

Quan Heng blocked every number that had called him over the past few days and deleted every social media app his manager might use to reach him. Then he spent the next few days lounging around Wen Congrong’s apartment like a pampered freeloader.

Wen Congrong continued delivering food during the day. At noon and again in the evening, he brought home takeout for Quan Heng. He was always in a rush. He’d set down the food and hurry out again to pick up more orders. Quan Heng watched him go but never tried to stop him.

At noon the next day, the familiar sound of the front door opening rang out. A tall figure in a helmet hurried inside.

Quan Heng had already worked out when Wen Congrong would be back. He emerged from the kitchen with a rag in hand.

“You’re back.” He smiled gently at Wen Congrong, who was still dusty from the road, and stepped forward to take the food from him. He set the rag aside, grabbed a tissue, and began wiping the sweat from Wen Congrong’s face.

Wen Congrong wasn’t used to being touched. His body tensed, but he didn’t refuse the attentive gesture.

His face stiffened as Quan Heng leaned closer. He caught the faint scent drifting from Quan Heng.

While taking out the trash, he’d seen the clothes Quan Heng had thrown away. He hadn’t said anything. Out of sight, out of mind.

There was no way he was washing clothes Quan Heng refused to clean himself. He’d already told him that the man only had one set of clothes and could do what he liked with them.

Quan Heng had apparently understood. He hadn’t asked again. Every day after showering, he washed the clothes by hand and hung them up overnight. In summer, they dried quickly.

His freshly washed clothes carried the familiar freesia scent of the fabric softener Wen Congrong used. On Quan Heng, though, the scent seemed to blend with something deeper, something Wen Congrong couldn’t quite identify.

The mingled scents slipped into his nose, subtle and strange. Stranger still was the way they’d been getting along these past few days.

Wen Congrong stood stiffly, his mind elsewhere.

Ever since he’d agreed to be Quan Heng’s fan, Quan Heng had treated him completely differently.

He was gentle and attentive, and he always looked at Wen Congrong with a quiet, lingering affection.

He was always offering to do things for Wen Congrong. Whenever Wen Congrong declined, looking uncomfortable, Quan Heng would gaze at him with a wounded, sorrowful expression.

His lashes would tremble, and he’d speak in a soft, hesitant voice. “I guess people still don’t like me.”

Every time that happened, Wen Congrong was at a loss. He didn’t know how to comfort Quan Heng, so he racked his brain for every compliment he could think of until Quan Heng finally smiled again.

After it happened a few times, Wen Congrong learned how to handle him. He did his best to avoid anything that might stir up Quan Heng’s sensitive feelings.

Wen Congrong held his breath as Quan Heng wiped the sweat from his neck, one drop at a time.

Quan Heng lowered his eyes, his gaze resting on Wen Congrong’s dark hair. He could tell how uncomfortable Wen Congrong was, and a glint of mischief flickered in his eyes.

He hadn’t planned to wipe the protagonist’s sweat. But Wen Congrong’s reaction to being touched was too interesting: his ears turned bright red, and his collarbones flushed. It was hard to resist teasing him.

And so the daily attentions had begun.

Wen Congrong thought he heard Quan Heng laugh. He looked down in puzzlement, just in time to see Quan Heng’s always-cool fingers, the knuckles tinged faintly red, sliding lower past his collarbone.

Wen Congrong shuddered. His ears went scarlet, and he quickly grabbed Quan Heng by the wrist.

“You don’t need to go any lower.” His voice came out in a rush.

Quan Heng took in the flush spreading across Wen Congrong’s skin, then leisurely admired his flustered expression.

Panic flashed in Wen Congrong’s amber eyes. In the sunlight, they looked almost jewel-bright. They were wide now, and he looked a little like a cat with its fur standing on end.

If Quan Heng teased him any more, he’d really make him hide. So Quan Heng withdrew his hand, hiding his disappointment, and said apologetically, “Sorry. You’ve been sweating so much today. I figured your chest must be damp, too, and thought wiping it down might make you more comfortable.”

“No need.” Once Quan Heng pulled away, Wen Congrong finally relaxed. He realized his tone had been a little harsh and tried to soften it. “You’ve already done enough.”

The heat hadn’t completely left his face. He looked Quan Heng in the eye and spoke earnestly. “Really. You don’t have to go this far.”

Waiting by the door every day, greeting him with a bright smile the moment he came home, then wiping his sweat—it was all so strange.

Wen Congrong knew Quan Heng probably felt insecure because he was living under someone else’s roof. But he didn’t need to go to such lengths.

Wen Congrong’s expression was sincere. He looked Quan Heng straight in the eye, hoping he’d understand that he meant what he said.

But the moment he met Quan Heng’s gaze, his heart sank. Oh no.

The smile in Quan Heng’s eyes had faded. A faint mist seemed to veil them, and the corners of his beautiful phoenix eyes had reddened. He turned away, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. “Is what I’m doing bothering you? Do you find it annoying?”

“No!” Wen Congrong felt as if he were facing a crisis. Sweat beaded across his forehead as he tried to explain, but Quan Heng cut him off.

“I’m sorry. I just feel insecure, living here without paying…” Quan Heng said. “I just… wanted to do something for you.”

As expected, he’d managed to touch Quan Heng’s most sensitive nerve. Wen Congrong wanted to go back in time and strangle himself for what he’d just said.

Quan Heng was clearly taller than him, but the way he lowered his head made him look painfully vulnerable. Wen Congrong didn’t dare sigh. He reached out, wrapped his arms around Quan Heng, and gently patted his back.

“I know. It’s my fault. I don’t like being touched.”

Quan Heng took the opportunity to bury his face in Wen Congrong’s shoulder. Wen Congrong was getting used to it. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Give me a little more time to adjust.”

One hand settled on Wen Congrong’s waist. A smile flashed in Quan Heng’s eyes, but he said nothing. His other hand gripped Wen Congrong’s shirt, his fingers tightening around the hem.

Wen Congrong noticed the small, hidden gesture. He figured Quan Heng was probably upset but didn’t dare show it, so he went on, “Don’t be sad. I’ll write you a five-hundred-word fan post on Weibo today.”

After only a few days together, he’d already learned Quan Heng’s temperament. He knew how to soothe him now.

Sure enough, Quan Heng finally calmed down. His voice came muffled from Wen Congrong’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Once he’d soothed the sensitive little tyrant, Wen Congrong patted his shoulder and asked him to let go. After thinking it over, he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he sat down and ate lunch with him.

Quan Heng seemed happy that he’d stayed. His eyes curved as he took out the food, then told Wen Congrong what he’d done at home while eating.

“The fridge hadn’t been cleaned in ages,” he said. “I wanted to wipe it down for you.”

Wen Congrong watched him smile. His striking features softened, making him look lively and gentle.

Wen Congrong paused with his chopsticks in hand. After a moment, he said, “Mm. You did a good job.”

Quan Heng’s smile grew even brighter.

Wen Congrong felt even more resentful toward Quan Heng’s agency. The man could be made happy by something as simple as a compliment, yet his agency had pushed him so far that he’d finally snapped and been forced to take them all down with him.

A wave of sympathy welled up in Wen Congrong. Watching Quan Heng put some of the food from his own bowl into Wen Congrong’s, he counted up his recent earnings and realized he had a little to spare. He decided to stop by the supermarket on his way home that evening.

Quan Heng had no idea what Wen Congrong was thinking. He patiently played the pitiful guest and gazed at Wen Congrong with shining eyes.

The System watched from the side, amazed by Quan Heng’s performance.

“Host, you’re really good at this.”

Quan Heng ignored it, smiling softly at Wen Congrong, until the System said, “Your manager’s called from dozens of different numbers. I’ve been hanging up on him. When are you going to answer?”

Quan Heng’s smile faded slightly. After lunch, when Wen Congrong was leaving, he straightened Wen Congrong’s collar and watched him go. His voice was cold.

“Now.”