Thanks to his triumph as the Hundred Flowers Award’s newest Film Emperor, Xi Zhui was riding high. The moment he stepped off the plane, he slipped through the VIP channel and into the exclusive nanny van, dodging any chance of being caught by the media’s lenses.
Xiao Chao shut the car door and asked, “Brother Xi, should we head back to the company first, or go straight to the reserved restaurant?”
Xi Zhui chose the latter without hesitation. “Straight to the restaurant. We might hit traffic if we wait too long.”
He switched off airplane mode on his phone and immediately opened Wen Chaosheng’s WeChat, firing off a quick check-in message. “I’ve landed. Are you on your way?”
He waited a moment, but there was no reply.
The van held the rest of his team, so Xi Zhui didn’t want to make a voice call. Instead, he typed another message. “No rush. Take your time. See you soon.”
He glanced up at Xiao Chao beside him. “Where’s the Hundred Flowers Award trophy?”
“Brother Xi, I’ve got it safely stowed away!”
Xiao Chao pulled the hefty Hundred Flowers Award gift box from his personal backpack, beaming with pride. “I didn’t want to bury it in the luggage where it’d be a hassle to grab, so I carried it the whole way back myself.”
Xi Zhui set the box flat on his knees and once again lifted out the gleaming Best Male Lead trophy. A clear smile tugged at his lips.
Wen Hui, riding shotgun, caught the good mood from the corner of her eye. “You’ve been grinning since last night. Haven’t gotten enough yet?”
A staffer in the back row chimed in with a tease. “Yeah, this isn’t your first award, Brother Xi. You didn’t light up like this even when you snagged the Baixiang Award last year.”
Xi Zhui’s thumb brushed over the engraved lettering on the trophy’s base. “This one’s different. It means more.”
Back then, the Best Director trophy Wen Chaosheng had given him had come from the Hundred Flowers Film Festival.
Xi Zhui had once promised him that one day he’d trade for a trophy from the same festival. After six years of grinding in the industry, he could finally make good on that vow today.
There were seven people in the van altogether.
Only Xiao Chao picked up on Xi Zhui’s intentions. He leaned in and murmured, “Brother Xi, you’re planning to give it to Director Wen, right?”
Xi Zhui didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
He intended to hand the trophy over to Wen Chaosheng the moment they met.
Wen Hui hadn’t caught their hushed exchange in the back, but her manager’s instincts picked up on something brewing. “Xi Zhui, is there something going on?”
Xi Zhui met her gaze. “Hm?”
She cut straight to it. “Are you about to start dating? If you’ve got something romantic brewing, the company and the studio won’t stand in your way. But give us a heads-up— the team deserves to know ahead of time.”
Over the years, Xi Zhui had carved out his place in the industry through sheer talent. He never leveraged romances or scandals to boost his popularity, nor did he exploit his fans’ devotion or wallets.
As a top-tier, professional actor, he could pursue a straightforward, above-board relationship without much backlash—as long as it wasn’t messy or involving multiple partners at once. The public would accept that.
Xi Zhui had no intention of hiding it. “Something like that. I’m thinking of getting back together with an ex, but he hasn’t agreed yet.”
“…”
An ex?
When did that happen?
The words landed like a bomb, drawing every eye in the van straight to him.
Even Xiao Chao, who thought he had a front-row seat to the gossip, was stunned.
Holy crap!
Director Wen and Brother Xi had dated before? Talk about keeping it under wraps!
Xi Zhui took their stares in stride and laid out his real thoughts. “If things go smoothly, I’ll make an official announcement this year. But I’ll only confirm that I’m off the market—no revealing my partner’s identity for now.”
For one, same-sex relationships weren’t the norm in the industry yet.
For another, Wen Chaosheng was cautious and introverted by nature, never one to share much about his private life.
And third, Xi Zhui knew some of his more extreme fans might not handle him dating well. They could lash out in the name of “love” and harass Wen Chaosheng.
This wasn’t like six years ago.
Xi Zhui felt he had the clout and confidence now to go public, offering Wen Chaosheng the respect and protection he deserved—most importantly, the security he needed.
To him, his career had been his grind, but it paled next to Wen Chaosheng.
Wen Hui could see his mind was made up. “You’ve thought this through?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Xi Zhui hedged just a bit. “Once we’re done with the CCTV charity shoot in a few days, I’ll sit down and fill you all in properly.”
Assuming he got Wen Chaosheng’s nod first, but there was no rush.
“Alright.”
Wen Hui trusted Xi Zhui implicitly and didn’t press further. She turned back around and passed him the charity shoot itinerary she’d just received. “Take a look at this when you have time—the production team’s rundown.”
The team had lined up a charity short film for him before the New Year. After discussions, they planned to tack on three days of live charity aid footage.
CCTV charity projects were all about positive vibes, and few stars turned them down.
Wen Hui sketched the basics. “We’re set to start filming in Gannan on the twentieth of the first month. The team’s heading out from Haishi City in a couple days—should take about a week.”
“…”
Gannan?
Xi Zhui heard the familiar name, and a spark lit in his eyes.
He could ask Wen Chaosheng about it when they met later. If he was game, they could go together—a nice revisit to their old stomping grounds.
The car pulled up right on time outside the private club.
Wen Hui couldn’t resist one last reminder. “Xi Zhui, this is a sensitive time. Who knows how many people are watching for you to slip up? Stay sharp.”
Xi Zhui nodded. “Got it. I will.”
…
This elite club only opened five private rooms a day, and you needed an inside connection to book one.
Privacy was legendary here, no question.
Still, to be safe, Xi Zhui slipped on a mask and baseball cap before grabbing his backpack with the gift box and hopping out.
The greeter did a double-take confirming his identity, then greeted him deferentially. “Good evening, Mr. Xi.”
Xi Zhui’s expression stayed distant; his mind was solely on Wen Chaosheng. “Has my friend arrived?”
“Not yet.”
The greeter led him to the reserved room and pushed open the door.
Xi Zhui eyed the empty interior, a flicker of surprise creasing his brow.
Wen Chaosheng was always punctual. He showed up early for appointments rather than risk being late.
The server asked, “Mr. Xi, shall I have the kitchen start serving, or wait a bit longer?”
“Not yet.”
Xi Zhui stepped inside alone and pulled out his phone again.
The WeChat message he’d sent after getting in the car still hung there, unanswered.
“…”
That wasn’t like him.
Had something happened?
Tension tightened Xi Zhui’s face. He quickly called Wen Chaosheng on WeChat.
No answer.
Anxiety swelling, Xi Zhui took a deep breath to steady himself, urging patience inwardly. But his messages and calls to Wen Chaosheng kept coming.
Minutes ticked by, and Wen Chaosheng still hadn’t shown. Every message sank without a trace.
The room’s air grew thin and stifling. When their agreed time had lapsed by a full half hour—
Xi Zhui couldn’t take the spiraling panic anymore. He grabbed his things and bolted out the door.
…
Night cloaked the bedroom.
Wen Chaosheng had curled himself into the cramped, stifling closet. The damp mustiness gnawed at his already shattered nerves.
His mind was consumed by Chang Ming’s twisted, terrifying face.
The man had slipped in silently and left without a care, dropping a brutal ultimatum backed by his “evidence”!
If Wen Chaosheng didn’t obey, Chang Ming would splash those so-called proofs and hard evidence all over the internet, twisting the story for maximum damage! His friends, family, lover—even the film he’d poured his heart into—would all get dragged through the mud!
There was no escape.
He’d never break free from Chang Ming’s grip.
The double dose of pills had taken ages to kick in.
Finally, Wen Chaosheng clawed his way out of the utter breakdown and chaos. In the dark, he fumbled for his phone.
It had barely any battery left. The screen showed it was nearly seven, and a flood of WeChat notifications stared back at him.
—I’ve landed.
—How come you’re not here yet? Everything okay?
—[Voice call missed]
—Why aren’t you picking up? Message me when you’re free.
—Wen Chaosheng? Where are you? Still at home?
—[Voice call missed]
—I’m coming to find you!
“…”
Xi Zhui.
He had to find Xi Zhui!
He had to cut ties cleanly—couldn’t let Chang Ming torpedo the man’s career!
A spark of change pierced Wen Chaosheng’s numb, hollow gaze. With that thought, he shoved open the closet door—only to collapse to the floor from sheer weakness.
The Black Boss trapped in its birdcage hopped frantically. “Jay!”
Wen Chaosheng had no energy to soothe it. Gritting through the discomfort and pain, he dragged himself up and stumbled into the bathroom. With practiced motions, he pressed a hot towel to his pale, haggard face.
After a long wait, the steam finally brought a false flush to his cheeks.
Staring into the mirror, Wen Chaosheng forced himself to rehearse the lies he had to sell.
Suddenly, a hurried door-opening noise echoed from outside.
Wen Chaosheng assumed it was his roommate from next door and ignored it. But soon, the locked bedroom door rattled with the clear turn of a key.
A sharp cry followed. “Wen Chaosheng?!”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng whipped around, locking eyes with Xi Zhui frozen in the bathroom doorway.
The man wore a mask and baseball cap that hid most of his face, but his exposed eyes brimmed with panic and worry.
“You…”
Xi Zhui tossed the heavy backpack onto the floor, pulled off his mask, and stepped into the bathroom. He drew the stunned Wen Chaosheng into his arms, his throat tight with emotion. “Why didn’t you reply to my messages again? Why didn’t you answer the phone?!”
His breath against Wen Chaosheng’s neck trembled uncontrollably, carrying a plea that sank into the dust. “Wen Chaosheng, please, I’m begging you—can you stop scaring me like this?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng went rigid for a few seconds, not daring to return the embrace.
He closed his eyes wearily, fighting back the burning sting in them. “Xi Zhui, I’m going back to Italy with Chang Ming. The tickets are booked for next Wednesday. After that…”
“I probably won’t come back.”
It was like one slash, leaving them both bleeding profusely.
The arms around him went abruptly stiff. Xi Zhui took several seconds to process before loosening his hold, his brows furrowing in disbelief. “What did you say?”
Wen Chaosheng felt as if he could no longer form any expression. “Let’s call it quits. No getting back together.”
“…”
Why?
Why had his attitude changed in less than a day?
Xi Zhui stared in shock at the clearly off Wen Chaosheng, searching for the truth. “Tell me what happened. Chang Ming? Did Chang Ming come find you again?”
He recalled that email and those photos from before, his tone sharpening with impatience. “What’s really going on between you two? Is he your ex-boyfriend?”
“…”
Ex-boyfriend?
Wen Chaosheng froze, caught off guard by the assumption.
But things had come to this point. Rather than explain, it was better to let the misunderstanding fester. He braced himself against the sink, pouring every ounce of strength into maintaining his facade of calm.
“Chang Ming became disabled after falling from a height during the filming of Cloud End. They amputated his left leg, and his right leg has been deteriorating day by day. Even basic daily tasks are a struggle now.”
“For years, I’ve been the one taking care of him and keeping him company.”
“My worry over Chang Ming’s condition built up so much stress that I started suffering from anxiety and insomnia. He knew about it and insisted I return to China to film movies and clear my head.”
One part truth, mixed with nine parts lies.
Wen Chaosheng felt like a robot reciting preprogrammed lines, fabricating excuses one word at a time.
“I admit, I did entertain the idea of getting back together with you. But that was just me chasing a fleeting sense of novelty and comfort.”
“After seeing Chang Ming again, though, I realized how wrong that was. I can’t just abandon him.”
“Chang Ming—he needs me more.”
“Xi Zhui, you’re different. You have your career, your family, your friends, your fans. Even without me, you’ll be just fine.”
“…”
The logic didn’t hold up. The words clashed with his actions!
Xi Zhui let out an incredulous scoff. “Wen Chaosheng, do you really think any of that is convincing?”
Wen Chaosheng knew further explanations would only expose the flaws, so he said, “I’m not trying to convince you. I’m just giving you your answer—”
“Xi Zhui, I don’t want to get back together with you. I can’t.”
“I’ll leave all the movie promotions and release matters to Jin Zhao and his company.”
“You made me promise not to vanish without a word like I did six years ago, so this time, I’m telling you face-to-face. If you want, we… can still be friends. If not, then you delete me on WeChat this time.”
“Wen Chaosheng!”
Xi Zhui felt a suffocating sense of helplessness. “You really have to sever things between us all vague and unresolved like this?”
He’d thought he had Wen Chaosheng figured out. But now he realized he couldn’t predict him at all, couldn’t read him.
“I’ll ask one more time: Did Chang Ming force you to say all this to me?”
“No.”
“So everything you just said came from the heart? It’s your considered final answer?”
“Yes.”
“I told you I want to get back together. I want to be with you again. I’ll give you all the time you need to think it over, to accept it, to rebuild what we had. Whatever problems come up, just tell me, and I’ll handle them all for you—no matter what it takes!”
Xi Zhui’s gaze bored into Wen Chaosheng relentlessly. He even lowered his own standards again and again. “Even if caring for Chang Ming is a lifelong burden you can’t escape, I can shoulder it with you!”
“Can your answer change, then?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s breath caught. He averted his eyes from Xi Zhui’s near-pleading stare.
Xi Zhui caught the unmistakable evasion and seemed to grasp the final verdict. “No matter what I say or do, you’re still dead set on choosing him over me, right?”
It was his last question—and Wen Chaosheng’s final chance to take it back on a whim.
“…”
Wen Chaosheng stayed silent in agony. But his mind replayed Xi Zhui’s stories from the New Year’s Eve dinner table: all the hardships and injuries he’d endured on set over the years.
If not for his passion for acting, Xi Zhui never would have pushed himself that far.
And now, fresh off clinching double Film Emperor wins at the Baixiang Awards and Hundred Flowers Award, his star on the rise! He deserved the admiration, acclaim, and applause of the world.
Not to be shackled by messy emotions, dragged into scandals or worse.
Wen Chaosheng knew his own life was already in ruins. He’d burn it all down with Chang Ming before letting it taint Xi Zhui!
“Yes.”
He wasn’t choosing life with Chang Ming. He was choosing Xi Zhui—and the career he loved.
An unprecedented resolve welled up in Wen Chaosheng’s heart. He met Xi Zhui’s eyes directly, summoning the finest smile-acting performance of his life. “Xi Zhui, congratulations on your Hundred Flowers Award Film Emperor win. I wish you every success from here on out.”
“As for us, this is the end.”
“…”
Xi Zhui forced a bitter laugh from his constricted chest. “Fine. Great, even. Wen Chaosheng—so you’re the heartless one after all.”
The man had laid it all out. Whether it was sincere or fabricated no longer mattered.
Maybe Wen Chaosheng had never truly trusted him deep down.
Or perhaps he’d never really loved him at all. If he had, how could he keep abandoning him, over and over?
Xi Zhui turned and strode out of the bathroom. He snatched up the heavy backpack from the floor—the one still holding the trophy meant for Wen Chaosheng.
Just minutes ago in the car, he’d been mapping out their future. All the while, Wen Chaosheng had plotted his escape.
Right now, Xi Zhui felt like the foolhardy clown, pouring out his heart only to be mocked.
From six years ago to this moment, it had all been one-sided—his wishful thinking from start to finish!
“—jaaay!”
The Black Boss parrot on the desk sensed the standoff, hopping frantically in its cage. “Brother! Brother!”
Xi Zhui hurried over and yanked the light-blocking cloth over the cage, hoisting it up.
Wen Chaosheng emerged from the bathroom on unsteady legs, but he didn’t dare get close. “Are you taking Kuai Kuai too?”
The veneer of “good color” he’d faked earlier had drained away.
The drugs he’d overdosed on earlier had worn off prematurely, unleashing their backlash instead. The dull ache in his heart and the spasms in his stomach now clawed through his entire body. Maintaining his composure took every last bit of strength.
Xi Zhui rejected him curtly. “No. Looking after one thing of yours for free for six years was dumb enough. Think I’d sign up for six more?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng fell silent.
Xi Zhui glanced over and froze at the deathly pallor on his face. He forced down any flicker of concern. Even in full retreat, a soldier had to cling to his last shred of dignity—no surrender!
Their eyes locked.
All tenderness had vanished, leaving only a mask of chill indifference. “Wen Chaosheng, a person like you isn’t worth me ever looking back.”
—ZZZ!
Wen Chaosheng felt his heart seize. A piercing ring drowned out every sound around him in an instant.
He couldn’t hear a thing.
Even his vision blurred into a vast white haze.
“…”
Xi Zhui mistook that momentary blankness for apathy. Veins bulged on the back of his gripping hand as he marched away without a backward glance.
Wen Chaosheng struggled to focus, catching only the hazy outline of Xi Zhui’s retreating back.
What had once been a dream had twisted into crueler reality.
“…”
Xi Zhui was gone.
He no longer deserved forgiveness.
Wen Chaosheng’s fraying will shattered completely. He yielded to the savage bodily revolt sweeping through him, collapsing hard against the foot of the bed.
A stabbing pain lanced his forehead. Thick blood flooded his vision almost immediately.
Wen Chaosheng heard nothing from the world outside. He saw nothing around him. As oblivion claimed his consciousness, he abandoned any thought of fighting back:
So much pain.
He just wanted it all to end.
