Although she had given her son three months, Shen Lingyi decided to start the search early. In her view, if they hadn’t found anyone in four years, three months wouldn’t make a difference either.
So she kept an eye out for promising young men, just waiting for the time to come so she could arrange blind dates for her son.
She had originally considered finding someone from a matching family background, but Fu Yanli had shot that down. He also said no one too young, so Shen Lingyi could only look among those over twenty-five from ordinary families.
It was quite a challenge.
There weren’t many gay men in the country, and most from ordinary families were straight. Shen Lingyi had no real channels to reach them— she couldn’t just stop random good-looking guys on the street and ask, right?
Her only option was to focus on the entertainment industry. At least her family’s conglomerate had Shixu Entertainment under it, with connections that made inquiries easy.
The industry was messy, sure, but plenty of people kept themselves clean. She didn’t discriminate against actors.
So for this period, Shen Lingyi stayed in touch with the manager at Shixu Entertainment. He recommended suitable candidates for her to pick from.
Unfortunately, so far only two had panned out. She sent their photos to Fu Yanli, but both got a “not my type” reply.
Shen Lingyi wasn’t annoyed. She had plenty of time, after all.
She decided to scout around herself too, and that’s how she spotted Jiang Shunnian on the hot searches.
When she first saw Jiang Shunnian’s costume fitting photo, Shen Lingyi’s eyes truly lit up. What a stunningly beautiful young man—just a bit too thin.
But she understood; it was for the role. And the original author had even been willing to cut the character rather than cast anyone else, so it was clearly worth it.
Shen Lingyi opened up WeChat with the manager and sent Jiang Shunnian’s photo: Do you know this young man? Can you look into him?
The reply came quick: “Right away, Madam.”
A mother knows her son best. She had a gut feeling her boy would like him.
Shen Lingyi thought it over, then forwarded Jiang Shunnian’s stills to Fu Yanli in a casual tone: Son, what do you think of this young man?
She’d been shot down by Fu Yanli so many times that curiosity got the better of her—she just had to see a different reaction.
Fu Yanli, reviewing documents in his office, heard the notification. He opened it and saw the stills. His usual impassive expression rippled faintly.
His amber-gold eyes lingered for a moment before he replied to his mother frankly: He’s a possibility.
Shen Lingyi finally laughed out loud when she saw the message. I knew it—my son likes him.
She eagerly awaited word from the PR manager. But if he turned out to be straight and turned down the date, no big deal—just to tease her son a bit.
Their family didn’t tolerate anything like forced pursuits.
It was about time Fu Yanli learned the world’s harsh realities.
The manager hadn’t replied to Shen Lingyi yet, but Jiang Shunnian’s identity had already been dug up online.
The internet had a long memory. His breakout role as Zuo Qingheng four years ago had gone viral, and his looks hadn’t changed much. Fans recognized him instantly.
It started with a vague sense of familiarity—timid questions in fan groups, comparisons to old stills—until confirmation hit.
Soon, long-dormant diehard fans mobilized en masse, rocketing Jiang Shunnian back onto the hot searches.
Fam, Zuo Qingheng is back!#
Lan Xuewei—Jiang Shunnian#
Why did Jiang Shunnian vanish from the industry four years ago?#
The recent hot search landscape had been quiet, so Jiang Shunnian shot up effortlessly.
Countless fans flooded the Weibo he’d left fallow for four years with comments. The quickest to rise to the top: [Ghost, you vanished for four years—do you know how we’ve suffered?]
[Fine, as long as he’s back, I’ll forgive him. Am I spoiling him rotten?]
Ran Qing read the top two comments right in Jiang Shunnian’s face, leaving him wracked with guilt. He apologized profusely.
“Apologizing to me does nothing—post on Weibo, quick,” Ran Qing urged.
That’s how Jiang Shunnian redownloaded the app, logged in, and posted: Very sorry it’s taken me this long to return. From now on, I’ll focus on acting and live up to your expectations. Thank you for remembering me all this time.
The replies were a sea of tears.
Jiang Shunnian’s eyes grew misty too.
And right then, another hot search dropped from the sky.
Jiang Shunnian Secretly Married with Kid#
The attached photo showed Jiang Shunnian cradling a little boy—face blurred over the eyes, but the nose and chin were unmistakably similar.
Irrefutable father and son.
The background? The Nine Heavens Palace set.
Ran Qing flew into a fury beyond measure. Her crew, and some chronically jealous snake was pulling this?
She demanded a full camera review to unmask the culprit and boot them from the production.
Jiang Shunnian was livid too. Slander him all they wanted, but exposing Nono without permission? Unforgivable!
The set was too crowded, though, with blind spots everywhere. Footage caught one photo being snapped, but it wasn’t the leaked one. The guy claimed Nono was just too adorable.
Pinpointing the real culprit would take time.
Ran Qing laughed in disbelief: “Is this person an idiot? You’re an actor, not an idol. So what if you have a kid? You’re still my chosen Lan Xuewei. And after four years, you’ve got just a few thousand fans left—we survivors fear you’ll quit acting again, not pop out babies.”
“Thank you,” Jiang Shunnian said gratefully.
He held Nono close, sighing faintly. Life never runs smooth.
But compared to losing Nono or his life, this was nothing.
No agency, no PR team. Ran Qing was working on pulling the hot search, but Jiang Shunnian couldn’t just sit idle.
He grabbed his phone and posted on Weibo.
Jiang Shunnian V: Three years ago, I had a child by accident. His name is Nono—adorable and well-behaved. I’m grateful to fate for this wonderful little one; I’ve never regretted it. As an actor, I was blessed years ago by a role that earned your love. I’ll keep honing my craft to bring you better performances. As for my personal life, please go easy and respect my privacy.
His words rang sincere, and as Ran Qing said, the fans barely batted an eye—instead, they rallied in support.
[Who’s this scum exposing a kid? Jealousy turned their eyes green—hope the leaker flops forever!]
[Mass-report the original post. Is the Underage Protection Law a joke?]
[Jiang Shunnian, don’t worry. I’ve got a masochistic streak—who else sticks by you for four years? Have ten kids; I’ll still stan as long as you act!]
[Anyone else think the kid’s looks slap hard? Shame about the eyes, but bet it’s a super pretty baby!]
Jiang Shunnian reported it officially too. Soon, the post and hot search vanished.
The storm passed—for now. But he worried about deeper digs into his past.
His hometown county was obscure, pace of life glacial. The doctor who’d delivered Nono was diligent, arranging a private room.
Even the director had been kind, reassuring him the state wouldn’t whisk him away for study—his body was normal, no research value. The cop handling the birth certificate encrypted everything and offered help.
It wouldn’t surface easily.
Ran Qing never pried about Nono’s mother. Instead, Jiang Shunnian volunteered: “I didn’t wrong any girl. Nono was truly an accident—believe me.”
“I do, of course.”
Ran Qing knew some backstory. With her industry connections, when Jiang Shunnian vanished, she’d asked around. Details were sealed, but word was he’d rejected an advance, got blacklisted, and had to quit.
She’d pitied him then, vowing that if the chance came, he’d star in her work.
Ran Qing reiterated to the crew: no exposing Jiang Yunnuo, or you’re out—contract terminated.
That half-hour hot search taught Jiang Shunnian’s jealous rivals a lesson: family attacks backfired, bizarrely boosting his fans.
Shen Lingyi got the manager’s report. Seeing Jiang Shunnian married with a kid disappointed her.
But learning he’d rejected shady advances? She admired his backbone.
No wonder he caught both their eyes.
Married with child? No match for her son, then. Shen Lingyi bundled the file and sent it to Fu Yanli, tone icy: Still picky, huh? Think just ’cause you like someone, they’re yours? Too late.
Fu Yanli checked the message after his meeting.
The four-year hiatus detail made his heart jolt—a coincidence?
But with a child—and one so like him, clearly biological.
Fu Yanli’s thin lips pressed tight, disappointment hard to hide.
As Shen Lingyi figured, his upbringing forbade pursuing a married man. He deleted the files thoroughly, refusing to dwell.
At the same time, he had his assistant call the Shixu manager.
Lan Xuewei seemed simple but wasn’t easy—his eye work was crucial. One glance had to scream “deep schemer,” yet subtle, handled with effortless grace, nonchalant.
Jiang Shunnian spent days practicing in the mirror, immersing in the character’s arc. A nobleman’s son, family slaughtered in factional strife. He survived incognito, scheming by the hero’s side, hatred fueling his sole goal: revenge.
So that final fire he lit? Jiang Shunnian felt Lan Xuewei truly wanted to die. Vengeance won, but nowhere left to go. History’s cycle repeated—new emperor, new factions, endless strife. He was tired.
Their first scene was that climactic arson.
Props and sets ready days prior. After run-throughs with Ran Qing and the director on blocking and delivery, they rolled cameras.
Fearing the hot search would throw him off, no one expected Jiang Shunnian to prove Ran Qing’s faith with sheer talent.
In flowing white robes amid roaring flames, his eyes brimmed with nostalgia for lost days: childhood archery with Father, Grandmother’s knee-side tales, youthful revels with classmates. Then irony: He’d picked a wise ruler—or so he thought. Stubborn, suspicious, inescapably human. Finally, release—he smiled…
A thirty-second one-take monologue, all through his eyes: layered emotions, seamless.
Smoke stung, but he never blinked.
Crew and cast reeled from his skill. Four years away, yet he shone like moonlight eternal.
Jiang Shunnian suffered for it. “Cut!” and pent-up tears spilled. He clutched his eyes, coughing, rushing to splash his face.
That smoke burned.
Applying an ice pack, he got a call.
