Chapter 3: Doctor Bottom x Celebrity Top

Jing Chi’s words seemed to flip the switch on Feng Qinghan’s deeply buried memories.

How could he forget? That day, all for a single message from Gu Bai, he had come alone to the bar—only to be branded with a memory he’d never erase.

Indecent photos had spread through the entire hospital. His former colleagues, the patients—everyone had eyed him with suspicion. Whispers swirled around him, and people shunned him like he carried the plague.

A single photo had taught him just how devastating rumors could be.

Back then, he’d naively chalked it up to his own carelessness. Later, he’d learned the truth: it had all been a scheme meticulously crafted against him.

He had been reborn, returned to this very day.

And the man standing before him? He hadn’t appeared in Feng Qinghan’s previous life. Feng Qinghan had no idea why he was here—and he didn’t care to find out.

Jing Chi watched as Feng Qinghan appeared lost in thought, a shadow of melancholy darkening his eyes and lending him an even more sinister air.

Then the man shoved him aside and slid out of bed.

Propping his head on one hand, Jing Chi took full advantage of the fact that the man’s back had no eyes. His gaze roamed shamelessly over that impressive physique.

He watched Feng Qinghan stare at the grimy clothes on the floor for a silent two seconds before giving up and heading for the bathroom.

Jing Chi nearly burst out laughing.

He knew the guy’s germaphobia was flaring up again.

A moment later, the bathroom door swung open. Feng Qinghan stepped out in a bathrobe.

Sober now, he had reclaimed that untouchable aura from the day before. No trace of a smile softened his handsome features. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes brimmed with utter desolation.

Desolation?

Jing Chi startled himself with the thought.

Logically, the word didn’t fit this man at all.

Still, Feng Qinghan did seem more brooding today than yesterday. If yesterday’s vibe had been cool aloofness, today’s made people want to keep their distance—at least three feet away.

Jing Chi didn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t important.

Instead, he played the part of an innocent little white rabbit: wide-eyed, harmless, pretty eyes fixed guilelessly on Feng Qinghan.

He watched as Feng Qinghan dug through yesterday’s clothes, fished out his wallet, and extracted a card.

Then Feng Qinghan approached, his voice cool and flat. “Take this. Whether anything happened between us or not, one million should cover it.”

Jing Chi’s eyes lit up at the sight of the bank card. One million! Enough to keep him living large for a good while.

“Host, task, task.” The System nagged in his mind.

For the sake of a long-term meal ticket—and the System’s damn task—Jing Chi decided to swallow his greed.

“I’m not after the money.”

He spoke each word deliberately, lacing it with a touch of grievance. He met Feng Qinghan’s gaze head-on, staring into those eyes with earnest intensity, as if to convey his utter sincerity.

Sincerity toward the money… and just a hint of regret.

Feng Qinghan scoffed at that, his eyes darkening further. His tone turned ominous. “Not the money? Then what do you want?”

Some follow-up ploy from that bastard? An even crueler scheme?

That was all the reborn Feng Qinghan could think.

The notion made his gaze grow even more brooding.

Jing Chi noted the shift in the man’s aura—brooding one moment, icy the next. Like he had some kind of problem.

“Does this villain have issues?” Jing Chi asked the System silently.

The System, too embarrassed to admit it couldn’t tell, hemmed and hawed. “Maybe he’s just wired that way. I mean, he’s the villain, after all.”

Jing Chi wanted to roll his eyes.

Logically, they weren’t at the plot’s endgame. Nothing major had happened yet. So why was Feng Qinghan so moody?

Jing Chi hadn’t pieced it together yet: the Feng Qinghan before him had lived through it all and come back reborn.

If he ever found out, not giving the System a thorough thrashing would be the least of it.

“I want to be your boyfriend.”

Jing Chi tilted his chin up, appraising Feng Qinghan. He held that icy stare and enunciated his demand.

Time for a bold stroke, to test the waters. Worst case, rejection—no real loss.

If he didn’t push now, though, this man’s personality meant getting close again later would be a nightmare.

Feng Qinghan suddenly smiled.

It was the first real smile—the most obvious one, anyway—that Jing Chi had seen from a sober Feng Qinghan.

His lips were perfectly shaped, neither too pale nor too dark. The slight upward curve at the corners looked stunning on that handsome face.

Most of all, Jing Chi had tasted them. The man might be an ice mountain, but those lips were soft… and warm.

Faint sunlight scattered across Feng Qinghan’s body, carrying a hint of warmth. But when Jing Chi’s gaze shifted to the man’s eyes, he knew that sense of warmth had to have been his imagination.

Those beautiful eyes held not a trace of warmth—only biting sarcasm and icy coldness.

Jing Chi couldn’t help thinking that if those eyes carried a warm smile instead, they would be even more captivating.

Wanting to be his boyfriend?

Jing Chi’s words echoed in Feng Qinghan’s mind.

His gaze grew even colder as memories flooded back of the last person who had sworn undying love for him, only to drag him down to rock bottom.

He hadn’t forgotten the terror in that person’s final gaze—brimming with fear and revulsion.

And now this stranger had burst into his life, brazenly declaring he wanted to be his boyfriend.

Feng Qinghan strode to the bedside and leaned down slightly, studying the man’s handsome face. His cold fingers clamped around Jing Chi’s throat, tightening slowly. Leaning close to Jing Chi’s ear, he murmured softly:

“Even like this, do you still want to be my boyfriend?”

His voice was gentle, almost tender, yet it slithered out like a venomous snake’s hiss. A chill instantly wrapped around Jing Chi.

Jing Chi barely resisted the urge to shove the man down and flip the script—how dare he choke him!

He forced himself to hold back, fixing his gaze on the striking tear mole at the corner of the man’s eye and reminding himself to stay calm.

Jing Chi tugged the corners of his mouth into a smile, though inside he had already cursed Feng Qinghan a hundred times over.

Feng Qinghan watched as the young man before him—throat still gripped in his hand—struggled to flash him a radiant smile and rasped out two words:

“I’m willing.”

In that moment, a voice deep in Feng Qinghan’s heart urged him to stop, warning that he would regret it otherwise.

It made no sense, but he subconsciously loosened his grip on Jing Chi.

Jing Chi sat up on the bed, clutching his throat and coughing violently as he gulped down air.

He made a silent vow: the first chance he got, he’d pin this guy down on the bed and make him feel exactly what it was like.

Feng Qinghan turned his face away. He knew his reaction to a total stranger had been over the top.

But he couldn’t fathom why this man was so determined to stick around. What was his angle?

“Since you’re so insistent, fine—I agree.”

Feng Qinghan lowered his eyes. He was curious to see what this man’s true purpose was.

Jing Chi watched Feng Qinghan grab his phone and head to the window, apparently placing a call.

He pursed his lips. If the man weren’t useful to him, Jing Chi would have plotted a dozen ways to end him the instant those hands touched his neck.

The System had no idea about Jing Chi’s murderous thoughts.

“Host, you’re really putting up with a lot.”

The System hadn’t expected this villain to be so terrifying.

Jing Chi ground his teeth. “Next time, pick a normal world for me. I don’t want to deal with another yandere.”

After all, he might not hold back from throwing punches next time.

The System nodded vigorously.

But in the next world, when Jing Chi encountered yet another yandere, he wanted nothing more than to pummel the System from round to flat.

A short while later, the doorbell rang.

Jing Chi heard the door open and close, and moments later, a shopping bag landed on the bed.

“Clothes.”

Feng Qinghan didn’t spare Jing Chi a glance, tossing out the two words before vanishing into the bathroom.

By the time Jing Chi had dressed, Feng Qinghan emerged.

His usual ascetic ensemble of cool-toned clothes clung to him, that impassive face making air conditioning unnecessary even in summer.

The thought made Jing Chi’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

Feng Qinghan eyed the young man standing by the bed in his new clothes, looking rather pleased.

He hadn’t realized the guy seemed so youthful at first glance, but on his feet, he stood about even with Feng Qinghan—maybe even a touch taller.

The realization flickered through Feng Qinghan’s mind.

“I have business to attend to. Make yourself at home.” He turned to leave.

But someone suddenly grabbed his right hand from behind.

Jing Chi hadn’t expected a simple tug on the man’s right hand to set off such a fierce reaction, like the guy was about to flip him onto his back.

He stumbled back two steps, nearly crashing into the cabinet, but his reflexes saved him.

Feng Qinghan looked momentarily dazed. He had forgotten—his right hand was no longer injured.

In his previous life, the injury had left him with a severe stress response. Any touch to that hand triggered an explosive reaction.

Even after his rebirth, with the hand fully healed, the ingrained instinct lingered.

Feng Qinghan snapped back to his senses just in time to see Jing Chi nearly tumbling over. Out of instinct, he reached out to steady him, but when the man caught his balance on his own, Feng Qinghan smoothly withdrew his hand without a hint of awkwardness.

His expression remained unchanged, though his tone softened just a touch. Still, his words were as blunt as ever. “You’d better not touch me again.”

To Jing Chi’s ears, though, the scene felt eerily familiar—like the time Feng Qinghan had shot down some guy trying to hit on him. It was pure, unadulterated disdain!

If it weren’t for that handsome face and the inexplicable sense of familiarity, Jing Chi would’ve been tempted to give the man a thorough beating right then and there, lock him up tight, and prevent the world from collapsing. That way, he’d complete his mission indirectly, at least.

Feng Qinghan had no idea he was skating on the edge of danger.

“Anything else?”

Jing Chi kept his head bowed, not daring to meet those eyes in case they sparked with anger. Putting on his best pitiful act, he murmured softly, “Where can I find you?”

“A University Affiliated Hospital, Feng Qinghan.”

Jing Chi listened as the footsteps receded, followed by the sound of the door creaking open.

But just as Feng Qinghan was about to leave, he paused at the threshold, his back to Jing Chi. After a brief hesitation of a couple seconds, he finally said, “Sorry about earlier.”

With that, the door clicked shut, leaving the room in complete silence.

Jing Chi lifted his head and stared at the spot where the man had vanished. He arched a brow. “Did he just… apologize to me?”

The System nodded earnestly. “Yes, Host.”

“An apology doesn’t make up for the damage he’s done,” Jing Chi huffed. “My fragile little heart’s taken way too much trauma this morning.”

He patted his chest dramatically.

“Next chance I get, I’ll pin him to the bed and spank him till he’s crying and calling me Daddy.”

A wicked grin tugged at Jing Chi’s lips.

“Yeah. Beat the hell out of him.”

But why on the bed, though?

The System’s CPU overheated at the thought.