Chapter 5: Oh

[Wow, first time I’ve ever seen a guest pull such an obvious black face on a variety show]

[That face is SO black. Those in the know understand he was startled by Lu Chen; those out of the loop would think he’d seen a ghost]

[Startled? Please. Ye Zhinian clearly went black-faced only after seeing exactly WHO it was]

[Ye Zhinian has no manners. What did our Brother Chen ever do to him? Who is he scowling at?]

[Something’s off about Ye Zhinian’s reaction. Is there bad blood between him and Lu Chen?]

[One is a nobody the entertainment industry can’t even verify exists, the other is a Top Star. Bad blood? Even clout-chasing needs to follow basic rules]

[Jealousy, obviously. Jealous that the other guy is a Top Star while he can’t even chart]

[Am I the only one who thinks these two are a perfect match looks-wise? One aloof great beauty, one cold and distant stud—exactly my taste!]

[Match my ass! CP dogs, GET OUT!]

Lu Chen had long anticipated that Ye Zhinian would be angry.

Don’t let appearances fool you—Ye Zhinian might look cool and refined, gentle and courteous, every gesture suffused with an artist’s tranquil grace, balm to all who beheld him.

But once his temper ignited, he became an entirely different creature.

His words turned barbed and acid-tongued, striking precisely where it hurt, sparing no feelings. Angry enough, he’d even resort to physical violence—a runaway powder keg, detonating wherever he went; the stray dog passing by would take a kick.

Two years ago, Lu Chen had taken a special-forces film. The opening plot: the male lead, freshly engaged to his beloved, received orders from command to deploy overseas to some armed base on a rescue mission.

With the target abroad—no support, no weapons or equipment—facing not just local militants but vicious mercenaries besides, the male lead, fearing he wouldn’t make it back and would burden his fiancée, staged a scene and broke up with her.

The final shot: he climbed into his comrade’s vehicle and watched his weeping fiancée through the rearview mirror until she disappeared from view entirely.

Heaven knew which nerve that scene had struck in Lu Chen. During filming, he hadn’t shed a tear, perfectly nailing the iron-blooded spirit of a man heartbroken yet devoted to his country, loyal unto death.

Then he got back to the hotel after the shoot—and sobbed into visiting Ye Zhinian’s arms like a complete idiot.

And he didn’t just cry—he wailed nonsense like, “If I die, you mustn’t ever forget me, or I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you!”

At first Ye Zhinian found it funny, and patiently soothed him with soft words, holding him, stroking him, kissing him.

But the longer it went on, the worse it tasted in his ears, until finally he shoved Lu Chen away, eyes flashing. “If you die, I’ll take the fortune you leave behind and keep pretty boys—from home all the way abroad. A new one every week. No repeats!”

At that, Lu Chen detonated instantly.

“Oh, WELL DONE, Ye Zhinian! Accidentally let your true feelings slip, did you?! I love you so much—I spent those four years overseas so lovesick I couldn’t sleep, and YOU were only thinking about keeping pretty boys!”

“I wasn’t the one who went insane saying you were going to DIE, was it?! If you’re going to die, what business is it of yours what I do?! Not only will I keep pretty boys, I’ll work through all Eighteen Arts of Longyang with them…”

“SHUT UP! Say another word! That was a HYPOTHETICAL!”

“Then mine’s a hypothetical too!”

“Your hypothetical involves keeping pretty boys?!”

“If you dare die, I dare keep them!”

The two of them fought ferociously—even Lu Chen’s assistant, arriving to deliver dinner, got caught in the blast radius and was summarily evicted by Ye Zhinian.

By the end, both were exhausted from yelling. Ye Zhinian slammed the bedroom door; Lu Chen flopped onto the living room sofa. Each felt catastrophically wronged, and neither would bend for anything.

Then, in the dead of night, a half-asleep Lu Chen was suddenly kicked clean off the sofa—and by the time he came to his senses, Ye Zhinian already had him pinned to the floor, pummeling him.

“Lu Chen, you bastard! You promised to love me for a lifetime, and then you just drop that dying bullshit on me?! Huh?! Who the hell gave you permission to die? If you die, what am I supposed to do… And I’m not allowed to forget you… Then DON’T die, damn it! If you ever hang ‘life and death’ off your lips again… I’ll beat you to death myself FIRST!”

Ye Zhinian hit and cursed, cursed and wept. It took Lu Chen a long, dazed moment to understand—and he realized, between tears and laughter, that he had done something monumentally stupid.

He had carried his filming emotions into reality, extrapolated their future from a fictional plot, and force-fed the two of them an imaginary tragedy—successfully triggering Ye Zhinian’s panic.

They had once been forcibly separated for four years, and those days without a single word from each other had turned them into kites with severed strings, duckweed without roots.

Deprived of the pivot point they trusted most, they could only tumble through raging winds and towering waves; unable to let each other go, they endlessly guessed and imagined the other’s circumstances, trapped in infinite self-consuming loops.

Realizing his mistake, Lu Chen scrambled up and wrapped Ye Zhinian in his arms, apologizing over and over—but Ye Zhinian was at the peak of his fury and heard not a word.

Even after Lu Chen finally deployed the time-honored “quarrel at the bed’s head, reconcile at the bed’s foot” technique, he failed to prevent a full month of sulkiness—during which Ye Zhinian took every opportunity to compare him to gigolos and rent boys, sniping that his performance today didn’t measure up to yesterday’s man.

One and the same man, yet Ye Zhinian’s mockery split him into a dozen-odd selves. It left Lu Chen simultaneously satisfied and furious—jealous of himself. The harder he worked in bed, the angrier he got outside it, and so he finished filming the movie in exquisite pain-and-pleasure.

This time, sneaking onto the same show behind Ye Zhinian’s back, Lu Chen genuinely believed it was for his wife’s own good: it would sabotage Xu Zhenzhen’s tied-hype scheme AND quietly pave the way for their future public announcement. Two birds, one stone. Where was the crime?

But from Ye Zhinian’s perspective: deception first, and the risk of exposing their marriage and wrecking the master termination plan second. Not being angry would have been the strange part.

Hence, faced with Ye Zhinian’s black face, Lu Chen was fully prepared. Composed, he straightened up and offered the four stunned people a polite nod of greeting. “Hello, everyone.”

Only then did the four snap out of it, scrambling to their feet in welcome.

Chen Junlin cried “Brother Chen!” and crossed the distance in a few bounding strides, chirping away, merry as a songbird.

“Brother Chen, YOU’RE the final guest? What are the odds! At the wrap I was already hoping we’d work together again—I never dreamed it would happen this fast!”

Li Nanshuang and Liu Chen stayed awkwardly in place, their surprise laced with a trace of bewilderment—they had clearly never imagined the final guest would carry this much weight. Even Liu Chen, whose lifelong motto was “Heaven’s first, me second,” looked slightly ill at ease.

Only Lin Siying’s smile had gone stiff, her eyes darting toward the fixed camera. Her assistant stood beside the production’s cameraman, shaking her head at her in urgent little jerks.

Lin Siying had assumed Lu Chen’s entry into the crew would work like everyone else’s: livestreamed from the moment of departure.

So she had her assistant hidden in a corner watching the livestream the whole time. The instant Lu Chen reached the village, the assistant would appear beside the fixed camera, and Lin Siying would excuse herself, step out, and engineer a “chance” encounter with Lu Chen.

Who could have guessed the production team would throw out the rulebook—and that Lu Chen, a man who should have had zero variety-show instincts, would stage a damn surprise appearance, catching her completely flat-footed!

Worse still, Chen Junlin was so aggressively proactive—within a few sentences he had sidelined everyone, reducing her to a background prop, same as Li Nanshuang, Liu Chen, and Ye Zhinian!

And infuriatingly, none of it felt the least bit out of character—because he had already cemented his “Lu Chen’s number-one fanboy junior” persona at the lunch table.

But however enthusiastic Chen Junlin got, facing Lu Chen, his fire always dampened by thirty percent.

This Top Star, world-famous for his coldness and terseness, listened to Chen Junlin’s entire breathless monologue, nodded once, and produced two words: “Yep.”

The scene chilled for a moment—until Ren Li opportunely cut in. “Finished with adult hypocritical pleasantries? My turn now?”

Lu Chen turned at once and bowed in greeting. “Hello, Teacher Ren.”

Ren Li watched him with beaming eyes full of appreciation. “Hello, hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for the longest time—just never had the chance. Call it fate, us meeting here. Any interest in coming to ring in the New Year with Starfruit at year’s end?”

Lu Chen blinked—and before he could answer, Zheng Yunqi’s voice drifted over from behind the group. “A moment ago it was adult hypocritical pleasantries. What do you call what you’re doing?”

Ren Li stroked his chin. “Middle-aged open scheming?”

“You knew it was scheming and asked anyway?”

“Worth a try. What if it works?”

Zheng Yunqi rolled her eyes and turned to Lu Chen. “Ignore him. You’ve had a long trip—look at you, arms full of bags. What did you buy?”

Lu Chen glanced at the suitcase and bags big and small sitting at the courtyard gate, walking toward it as he answered. “Just what you listed in the WeChat message. Braised food, beer, yogurt, that sort of thing.”

“Wow, you bought it all? Thank you, Brother Chen~ Now we’re in for a treat!” Chen Junlin hurried after him, the others close behind. Zheng Yunqi watched them go with an amused smile, then turned and sat back down.

Ren Li shot her a glance and couldn’t help sighing. “The highest art of strategy truly is the rain that falls without a sound!”

Zheng Yunqi tilted her chin up. “Can’t bear to watch? Funny, I didn’t see you helping either.”

Ren Li was silent a moment, then sat down as well. “It’s good for the young ones to keep moving.”

Zheng Yunqi tsked, then turned to Ye Zhinian. “Little Ye, aren’t you going over to look?”

Ye Zhinian made an affirmative sound, locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket, and rose to walk toward the group.

This segment never made it to broadcast—the camera had stayed locked on Lu Chen—so very few viewers noticed that after that two-shot close-up, Ye Zhinian had vanished from the frame.

Which is to say: he had stayed seated the entire time. He had never once risen to welcome Lu Chen.

At the courtyard gate, while Chen Junlin and the others rummaged through the bags to see what was inside, the phone in Lu Chen’s pocket suddenly chimed.

He told Chen Junlin—still elbow-deep in the chip hunt—”Take everything over first, we’ll look after,” then straightened up, took out his phone, and opened WeChat—

Nian Bean Bun: If the marriage gets exposed, you’re sleeping on the sofa for six months : )

Lu Chen looked up at Ye Zhinian. Their gazes collided in midair, fought a silent war, then parted.

Lu Chen looked back down and replied, face blank.

Big Bad Wolf: Oh.

Big Bad Wolf: [Crying Cat Head.jpg]