Chapter 21: Triple VIP Entry Part 3

【As a child, Song Linyu—whose birthday fell on April Fools’ Day—always endured endless pranks and mockery. But sweet little angel Tang Tang noticed and selflessly declared his own birthday was on April Fools’ too. That way, everyone focused on buying gifts for Su Tang’s celebration, showering him with attention and forgetting to torment Song Linyu.】

【He did this for years, silently redeeming and protecting the gloomy boy, becoming the moonlight in his heart right up to this day…】

After finishing, the Self-Rescue System felt something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it. It could only offer a dry assessment: “It’s… good. A really strange plot setup.”

It felt utterly illogical.

This time, Fu Yanzong didn’t bother snarking. He simply held up his script, ignoring Su Tang’s face leaning too close, and dove into the table read alongside the other actors.

Su Tang’s role was just a pretty face with a likable gimmick—nothing challenging to perform. Even so, he kept flubbing his lines, brazenly blaming it on his character’s “airheaded beauty” persona, even seeming smug about it.

His delivery sucked, his acting sucked. Fu Yanzong thought this went beyond airheaded; it was straight-up dimwitted.

He glanced at the original text from the Self-Rescue System, pondered for a moment, and figured that since it explicitly mentioned “dark impulses stirring,” indulging one real dark impulse shouldn’t hurt.

From the plot points Fu Yanzong had navigated so far, the original novel’s cannon fodder tops could assault Su Tang, harass him sexually, or verbally humiliate him—and it would all be spun as them lusting after his beauty. Su Tang’s “no’s” and “I hate it”s were just him enjoying it; his rejections posed no real threat and got reinterpreted as flirtation, soft and harmless.

They lived so pathetically, yet the original framed it as the cannon fodders surrendering to Su Tang’s charm, turning into his so-called “loyal dogs.”

Loyal? In the scraps of resources and status that slipped through his fingers? Even if they handed over everything, Su Tang probably couldn’t handle it anyway.

In the original novel and Su Tang’s worldview, being verbally teased or praised for one’s looks was apparently the height of glory and pride.

As for money, power, or a flawless career…?

Not the concern of an airheaded beauty.

Fu Yanzong didn’t know if Su Tang’s simps in the book were truly loyal or not. He only knew that any dog repeatedly defying its master’s wishes wouldn’t last long in his hands.

And without the Heartthrob System, with Su Tang’s brain, he’d probably end up discarded like a used napkin by his own simps.

In a way, Fu Yanzong almost pitied him.

So when Su Tang botched his lines yet again, Fu Yanzong turned to him with genuine sincerity. “Mr. Su, did you get caught in too much rain on your way here today and fry your brain?”

The room fell deathly silent.

Everyone had been holding back out of fear for Dongyu backing Su Tang, but Fu Yanzong had voiced exactly what they all wanted to say. In that instant, faces lit up with glee—smiles, anticipation, even encouragement for Fu Yanzong to keep going.

Su Tang’s smile hadn’t faded yet. He listened blankly at first, not even processing what Fu Yanzong had said. Only when Fu Yanzong sighed with exaggerated regret and repeated it did Su Tang leap to his feet, his face flushed beet red like a ripe tomato.

Fu Yanzong propped his chin lazily on one hand, methodically and with a beaming smile adding more fuel: “No wonder Mr. Su mixed up his own birthday. Makes perfect sense now.”

Su Tang gripped the edge of the table, at a loss for a comeback. He could only scream internally: “System!!”

The Heartthrob System, long accustomed to his constant summons, switched to a soothing tone. “Tang Tang, this is normal plot. Fu Yanzong’s just jealous. He’s secretly thrilled by your angry glare right now—he loves it when you look at him like that.”

In the original, Fu Yanzong teased Su Tang by calling him a “dummy,” so now teasing him as an idiot was much the same—different roads to the same destination.

As for secretly thrilled…

Fu Yanzong felt he was openly thrilled.

He continued smoothly, “No worries, we understand. If you don’t know it, just practice more. Teacher Su, why don’t you step aside and read through the script until you’re familiar, then come back to the table.”

His tone was patient and encouraging, gentle around the edges, eyes crinkled in a smile—no one could fault it.

Su Tang’s face cycled through shades of red and white. His hands clenched the script so tightly his knuckles ached, tempted to rip it to shreds at any moment.

His chest heaved dramatically for a moment, the smile at the corners of his mouth nearly crumbling. But he remembered his core persona—”even anger looks like a beauty’s coquettish pout”—so he could only glare wide-eyed at the crowd, forcing many to avert their guilty gazes.

It was just that Su Tang’s expression, like a glaring pufferfish with its mouth agape, was truly hard not to laugh at. Laughing out loud would be rude, though, so everyone simply stared at Fu Yanzong beside him to compose themselves.

Su Tang didn’t move, nor did he sit down. He no longer wanted the people around him to “shyly look away.” He just wanted someone to speak up for him, to help him escape this awkward situation.

But no one paid him any mind. Not a single person.

Fu Yanzong had already skipped over Su Tang’s lines and moved on to the next scene. Everyone rallied around Fu Yanzong and got back into motion, leaving no room for Su Tang to insert himself.

“When is Song Linyu getting here?” Su Tang finally asked the Heartthrob System, unable to endure it any longer. “I need him to slap these people down, to make them pay the price for treating me like this.”

“Soon,” the Heartthrob System reassured him earnestly, whispering, “Song Linyu will arrive during the break.”

“Just hold on a little longer. Just hold on.”

They powered through more than half the script in one go. Fatigue showed on everyone’s faces, and they all decided to head back to their rooms for a short rest. Only Fu Yanzong and Su Tang remained in the first-floor lounge reserved for the leads.

Fu Yanzong simply couldn’t be bothered to go upstairs, while Su Tang was watching the door eagerly, waiting for someone.

The lounge was comfortable enough for a brief relaxation. Fu Yanzong closed the door with a reach of his hand, grabbed a blanket from nearby, and lay down on the recliner. He casually selected some white noise on his earbuds and closed his eyes to rest, his thoughts drifting away with the rhythmic sounds.

In his hazy state of mind, he suddenly felt a slight weight settle in his lap. His body’s instinct made him want to lift his arms and embrace that familiar form, but at the same time, he opened his eyes.

Song Linyu’s face appeared before Fu Yanzong.

His skin was so fair it was almost translucent, his slender jaw pressed low. He straddled the recliner bonelessly, trying his best to settle into Fu Yanzong’s embrace. He wore only a thin undershirt clinging to his waist; his expensive suit jacket had been casually tossed to the floor, as if he couldn’t care less.

Fu Yanzong frowned.

Today’s Song Linyu clearly wasn’t acting like himself. He was far from that previous hesitant desire to get close, now boldly crossing into harassment territory.

Fu Yanzong leaned back against the chair, closing his eyes lightly—not too gently, not too harshly—and said in a low voice, “Get off yourself, or don’t make me…”

“Brother.”

Song Linyu cut him off, laughing to himself instead. Ignoring Fu Yanzong’s stare, he leaned on his shoulder and murmured, “Doesn’t this scene feel just like before? Fucking me in the dressing room felt so good. Want to go again?”

“…Are you sick?”

Fu Yanzong grabbed the back of his neck and lifted his face from his chest, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Song Linyu’s cheeks were indeed unnaturally flushed. As he stared unblinking at Fu Yanzong, his tea-colored eyes seemed to hold a bright pool of spring water.

This made the faint dark circles under his eyes stand out even more, evidence that he hadn’t rested properly in a long time.

But at Fu Yanzong’s words, Song Linyu showed no embarrassment. Instead, he blinked and leaned close to Fu Yanzong’s ear, whispering conspiratorially, “Brother, have you noticed… you look even more handsome now.”

“…?”

For the first time, Fu Yanzong truly appreciated how tricky Song Linyu could be.

He didn’t seem to be saying it just to change the subject. His cheeks genuinely flushed as he lowered his eyes to avoid Fu Yanzong’s gaze, only to quickly lift them again for two seconds before darting away once more.

Fu Yanzong, growing annoyed, pressed down on Song Linyu’s fidgeting face. His dry palm gently brushed aside the hair on his forehead, pressing against the skin for a moment before he released it and sneered coldly, “Feverish and not going to the hospital—instead you come here to go into heat?”

Song Linyu curved his eyes in a smile and said, “I’ve taken my medicine already. Every kind.”

His eyes and brows brimmed with the rosy flush unique to a high fever, and now he ambiguously flicked out his tongue to lick his lips. Then he extended pale, almost bluish fingertips to press Fu Yanzong’s hand, coaxing him in a salesman-like tone, “Fucking while feverish feels even better. Really not gonna try? We can do it any way you want.”

“Song Linyu.” Fu Yanzong laughed in exasperation, narrowing his eyes as he countered, “You really need a good thrashing, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Song Linyu admitted it boldly and without shame, wrapping his arms around him and refusing to let go. Then, truly like some dog in heat wagging its tail and begging its owner pitifully, he sat astride him and lifted his hips, ready to help himself.

But the next second, Fu Yanzong’s words yanked him back to reality.

Song Linyu’s self-service plan failed. Instead, Fu Yanzong caught him and stuffed him fully into his embrace. It was an utterly ambiguous position—the narrow waist beneath his clothes gripped firmly by those knuckled hands, rendering him immobile.

Unfortunately, though it was a warm hug, the words that followed were exceptionally cold and realistic.

“Song Linyu, is fooling yourself fun?” Fu Yanzong enunciated each word, laying out the unchangeable fact:

“We’re broken up.”

“…”

A long silence fell. Song Linyu’s smiling expression froze in place, the curve at his eye corners and lips still there, but all the color drained from his face.

His nails unconsciously dug deep into his palms. He didn’t look at Fu Yanzong’s eyes anymore, merely letting out a soft “oh” as if awakened from a dream—dazed realization, with a somewhat vacant gaze.

“Weird,” he murmured to himself, lowering his head in confusion. “How did I forget about that?”

“Sorry for the trouble, Brother.” Song Linyu struggled to sit up from Fu Yanzong’s embrace. After zoning out in place for a while, he remembered what to do next.

He bent down to pick up his suit jacket from the floor and put it on, head lowered as he slowly fastened the buttons—though his fingertips still trembled slightly.

“Happy April Fool’s… though I guess I told a pretty lame joke.”

As he said this, Song Linyu tried to lift his face and smile at Fu Yanzong.

But for some reason, it felt so difficult. He could mask his emotions perfectly in front of others now, yet he was always such a mess in front of Fu Yanzong.

Song Linyu fumbled with the last button on his suit, but no matter what, he couldn’t get it fastened steadily. Irritated, he bit his lip hard, gripping the metal tightly in an attempt to calm himself through the pain.

The cold metal buckle dug painfully into his skin. But in the next second, he heard a sigh that wasn’t his own.

Fu Yanzong stood up and, without warning, grasped Song Linyu’s hand. With remarkable calm, he guided him to fasten the hem properly, adjusting it neatly.

The cool, rain-like tail note of his cologne enveloped him completely. Song Linyu’s trembling palm was firmly held by Fu Yanzong, finally steadying his emotions.

Knuckles intertwined, palms pressed together—nearly ten fingers laced.

Song Linyu stared dazedly at their overlapped hands for a long moment before he registered Fu Yanzong’s words.

He must have said them twice already, to make sure Song Linyu heard.

Fu Yanzong said, “Lame April Fool’s joke. But happy birthday, Song Linyu.

“If you still want a birthday gift, tell me what medicine you took before coming here.”