The cast and crew of Hidden Face had chosen the top floor of Silver Lake Hotel for Fu Yanzong’s welcome party—a standard networking event in the industry.
The setup wasn’t flashy; if anything, it felt restrained. Warm golden lights played over the tiered champagne tower and tasteful floral arrangements, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the city skyline stretching to the horizon. The scent of fine liquor mingled with murmured conversations in the air, creating a mellow, relaxed atmosphere that Fu Yanzong didn’t mind at all.
Few investors could pull off a party meant for indulgence quite this elegantly. It was a far cry from the chaotic blowout described in the original novel.
Most of the guests were familiar faces: backers from Dongyu’s company, key members of the production team, and a smattering of industry stars, all mingling at tables. A group from a production company clustered by the windows, discussing recent film projects and occasionally lowering their voices to swap directors’ names. At the bar, others ordered drinks while speculating on this year’s festival jury lineup.
Fu Yanzong arrived fashionably late.
His black trench coat hung open over a light gray shirt, with just the top two buttons fastened and the cuffs casually rolled up. His long hair was tied back loosely, and the room’s warmth brought a faint flush to his cheeks, accentuating the mole beneath his eye with an added touch of allure.
He looked travel-worn from the journey, yet carried it off with effortless charisma.
The buzz at the entrance paused for a split second as he stepped in, then the background music swept it away.
Fu Yanzong hadn’t sought attention, but every gaze in the room flicked toward him inevitably for a moment.
Then, like the tide drawn by gravity, people flowed his way.
Fu Yanzong stood there with a smile, arms open wide, and shared a polite hug with Yang Wan, last year’s Golden Statue Award winner for Best Actress.
They had worked together twice before and got along well, but even after her marriage, tabloids kept peddling affair rumors for clicks, shamelessly ignoring all decency.
Sure enough, as they embraced, a friendly reporter nearby quipped, “We’re done for. If someone snaps this, it’ll be another ambiguous headline. Director Jiang’s going to be jealous.”
Yang Wan laughed with her friends, and Fu Yanzong chuckled lightly. He dove into the lively chatter amid the crowd, whispers spilling out between clinking glasses.
But things were never that simple. The Self-Rescue System murmured in his mind, “Host, you have to hit some of the minor plot points. Stray too far from the original novel, and the protagonist—backed by the world’s consciousness—might sense something’s off. That would ruin everything.”
…In other words, it was reminding him to mutter “You’re interesting, man” later, with two parts arrogance and one part roguish charm.
Speaking of timing, Su Tang should be arriving soon.
Fu Yanzong’s gaze drifted casually across the room, landing just in time on Su Tang slipping in through the back door with a bewildered expression.
He had probably just endured those so-called “raw candid shots” at the airport. His shirt plunged in a deep V down to his chest, speckled with glitter, as if desperately signaling, “I’m irresistible—come devour me.”
The problem was, his scrawny build without a hint of abs made the sexy outfit look ridiculous, like a kid raiding an adult’s closet.
Fu Yanzong couldn’t help wondering how he’d debuted as the center of a survival show.
With all those girlfriend fans idolizing him, shouldn’t he prioritize his face, physique, and raw sex appeal?
The Self-Rescue System picked up on his skepticism and, eager to prove its worth, quickly scanned the original text. “The fans say: Tang Tang’s little belly is divine, like Aphrodite herself, a goddess among…”
Fu Yanzong thought, What did goddesses ever do to deserve this?
…It was just poor diet and zero fitness discipline.
He couldn’t take it anymore. “Nice recitation, but don’t do it again.”
The Self-Rescue System, thinking it was praise, ignored the caveat and chuckled happily.
Fu Yanzong’s lingering stare was noticeable. Yang Wan caught his distraction, glanced at his expression, and saw his brows slightly furrowed in faint disdain.
She followed his gaze into the crowd and soon whispered knowingly, “What’s your beef with Song Linyu?”
The once-familiar name snapped Fu Yanzong’s attention back to her. He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Why do you ask?”
“He’s been glaring at you for ages. Pretty intense.”
The biggest investor in Hidden Face was Dongyu, so of course Song Linyu was there. He wore a dark suit that evening, standing in the smoking area and exchanging pleasantries with partners. His shirt buttons were neatly done up, his expression distant, as if insulated from the room’s warmth.
Song Linyu seemed uninterested in their chatter, holding his cigarette loosely between his fingers, as if it might slip away at any moment.
The light caught his features, sharp and brooding.
Yang Wan leaned close to Fu Yanzong, giving his arm holding the wine glass a light squeeze to direct his gaze. “Like that look right now.”
Fu Yanzong lifted his eyes as if sensing it, meeting Song Linyu’s stare from a few paces away.
In that fleeting eye contact, Fu Yanzong’s face remained impassive, the outer corners of his eyes slightly downturned—like flipping through an old, faded ledger, indifferent enough to stir vague frustration.
Song Linyu looked away first.
Fu Yanzong curved his lips in a half-hearted smirk, turning his head with a touch of playfulness in his tone. “No beef. He just thinks I’m hot.”
He dropped his gaze, smiling lazily like a cat settling in for a nap.
Yang Wan sighed helplessly.
She had always thought that kind of joke sounded narcissistic from most people, but from Fu Yanzong, it rang with natural confidence.
She didn’t dare imagine the trouble of dating someone like that.
Yang Wan raised her glass and clinked it gently against his, letting the topic drop.
At that exact moment, the smoke curling around Song Linyu’s fingers wavered sharply. Then, his slender fingertips clenched imperceptibly tight.
One of his conversation partners—a man of high standing himself—hunched obsequiously, hurrying back with an ashtray and murmuring, “Need to ash that?”
Song Linyu stared at the pale silver glint reflected in the glass, dark turmoil churning in his eyes, brewing an inexplicable gloom.
He lowered his gaze slowly, voice utterly cold. “No.”
Then, the burned-down ash smoldered in his palm like self-inflicted punishment. Even when he finally opened his hand, the scalding red mark lingered visibly.
Meanwhile, Su Tang wove through the crowd in a daze, heading slowly toward the bar.
The champagne flutes gleamed crystal-clear in a neat row, warm lights dancing across their surfaces in seductive ripples.
But eyes converged on him from all sides—probing, malicious, even openly scornful—like sharp little needles pricking his exposed skin.
Su Tang felt the scrutiny, the ill intent, the blatant contempt. He glanced up and met several undisguised stares.
He hesitated deliberately for a beat, as if startled by the attention or making a tiny defensive gesture out of unease.
In truth, Su Tang was used to being sized up like this.
He even had the presence of mind to adjust his shirt collar while chatting with the Heartthrob System in his head. “Heartthrob, has Fu Yanzong noticed me?”
“Of course, Your Highness. Who could resist your beauty?” The Heartthrob System fawned shamelessly, sounding less like it was flattering a clever princess and more like a shady tutor sweet-talking a helpless toddler.
Su Tang lowered his lashes, lips pressing tighter.
“Naturally.”
He murmured to himself, his voice trailing off with a contrived hint of petulance.
This welcome party marked the first time all three cannon fodder love interests would gather—and his debut encounter with Fu Yanzong. Su Tang could hardly wait.
“…Isn’t that Teacher Su?”
As he mused, a cheeky voice piped up from the side.
Su Tang hadn’t turned yet when a sharp, cloying whiff of cologne hit his nose first.
The man stood behind him, swirling a half-empty glass, flanked by two female companions with flirtatious smiles.
Wen Jue.
The notorious playboy of the circle, throwing his family’s wealth around for debauchery. He could make stars, or destroy a rookie’s career on a whim.
Wen Jue eyed Su Tang with narrowed eyes, his gaze roaming over the exposed collarbone and chest, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.
He had no idea why Su Tang had suddenly piqued his interest.
Just some forgettable little idol with a cute face, a scrawny chest without much meat, and zero sex appeal.
Any of the voluptuous, sultry women at his side outshone him.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, Wen Jue had just thought—
Sleeping with him might be fun.
The idea nearly repulsed him.
But in Su Tang’s presence, logic flew out the window, and Wen Jue wasn’t one for scruples anyway.
So he shrugged it off with a quick grin.
He wasn’t picky.
“Teacher Su’s been blowing up lately,” Wen Jue drawled lazily. “Heard you’re President Song’s favorite? Who knew he went for this type. Tsk tsk…”
Su Tang’s fingers trembled around his glass as he lifted damp eyes to meet Wen Jue’s.
In moments like this, Su Tang never got mad. The Heartthrob System had taught him that playing oblivious was the sexiest look.
Sure enough, Wen Jue loved this look of being teased yet too scared to fight back. He let out a couple of ambiguous chuckles, his tone growing even bolder. “Since you can tag along with President Song, you can surely tag along with me too, right?”
“I… I and Song—Song Linyu—we’re not in that kind of relationship. Please stay away from me…”
Wen Jue burst into laughter. With a flick of his wrist, the liquid from his own glass suddenly poured down, drenching Su Tang’s chest.
The ice-cold champagne soaked half of Su Tang’s shirt. The transparent fabric clung to his skin, outlining every clear line. Now, he was practically half-naked.
“Sorry about that—my hand slipped.” Wen Jue’s smile brimmed with malice.
By now, quite a few people nearby had noticed the commotion, and whispers spread like a rising tide.
Su Tang bit his lower lip in grievance, his eyes reddening slightly. He hugged his soaked chest and shrank back a little.
The standoff drew more and more gazes.
Su Tang lowered his eyes in growing anxiety.
The Heartthrob System had clearly said that, according to the plot, Fu Yanzong should have come over to rescue him by now…
But after waiting forever, where was he?!
Instead, Wen Jue deliberately had someone bring over a tray of drinks. He picked up the outermost glass and offered it to Su Tang, raising a brow. “My apologies, Teacher Su. It was wrong of me to spill that on you. Let me make it up with this drink.”
Su Tang bit his lower lip hard, his eyes flickering.
Of course he knew what was in that drink.
But…
Fu Yanzong had been watching the whole scene. He wasn’t in any hurry to play the hero. Instead, he stuck to his persona—one-third mocking and two-thirds aloof—content to watch the show. At this moment, he even picked up a glass of champagne and took a leisurely sip.
Bubbles rose along the inside of the glass, popping with a faint, shattering sound.
“Host, you can go save him now. Then Su Tang will drink that spiked drink and stumble into the wrong room…”
Fu Yanzong idly toyed with a silver spoon at the bar counter. He spun the long handle once in his hand before lightly tapping the rim of his glass.
The crisp sound immediately drew the attention of the two in confrontation. Wen Jue glanced back impatiently and saw Fu Yanzong leaning against the bar, propping his chin with one hand. He was gazing over with a lazy smile playing on his lips and eyes. “Having quite the fun time over there, aren’t you, Young Master Wen?”
His voice was clear and languid, laced with a casual hint of mockery.
Wen Jue stiffened. Upon seeing who it was, he immediately plastered a smile on his face. “Teacher Fu, it’s been too long. I haven’t even personally welcomed you back today. This…”
“Wen Jin wants you over there.”
Before he could finish, another icy voice sounded from behind him. Song Linyu stood there expressionless, as if he were just passing by and mentioning it in passing.
Wen Jue muttered a curse under his breath. Deciding to let these two big shots chat it up without bothering him anymore, he quickly changed tack and began introducing them with a beaming smile.
Whether they needed it or not, he’d do it anyway.
He was a pro at small talk. Song Linyu, who had been about to walk straight off, seemed to have no choice but to stop. He stood in front of Fu Yanzong.
With the introduction made, they had to exchange words.
“President Song, I’ve long admired your name.”
There was something magical about those words. Suddenly, Song Linyu felt a haze of static noise flicker across his vision, like a malfunctioning black-and-white film rewinding, everything looping back and forth in reverse.
He could only make out the faint specks of light scattered across Fu Yanzong’s features. As time seemed to stretch, those features gradually sharpened under the lights until they shone brightly.
Song Linyu’s throat suddenly felt gripped tight.
“…I’ve long admired yours.”
That was all Song Linyu could manage to say.
He lowered his eyes, his expression falling into an unprecedented silence that made the air thicken awkwardly.
Wen Jue sensed something off but couldn’t put his finger on it. He just knew putting these two together spelled trouble.
So he hastily grabbed a bottle of champagne from a nearby tray to smooth over the awkwardness.
He told Song Linyu that this Dom Pérignon was his favorite vintage and that, since he was here, he simply had to try it no matter what.
Song Linyu took an expressionless sip, then remarked with utter indifference, “Not good.”
“Really? President Song, what kind of top-shelf stuff do you usually go for…?”
Wen Jue looked embarrassed, while Song Linyu clearly had no intention of wasting more time here. He downed the rest of the drink in one go, let his gaze sweep—not too lightly, not too heavily—over Fu Yanzong and Su Tang, then turned and left.
With the mood like this, Wen Jue lost all interest in teasing Su Tang. Unwilling to make a fool of himself, he grumbled as he grabbed a random girl’s hand from the dance floor and headed off elsewhere to continue his partying.
Su Tang, feeling inexplicably ignored, stood there in a daze.
He stared at the glass Song Linyu had just drunk from and asked his Heartthrob System in disbelief, “…Wait, did Song Linyu just drink my drink?!”
