The break in the middle of the script reading wasn’t brief, but Su Tang had waited eagerly at the door of his own lounge for more than two full hours without catching sight of the person he longed to see.
He couldn’t help complaining to the Heartthrob System. Song Linyu might be powerful and influential, but he was so busy all day that he was nowhere to be found. He never said more than three sentences unless absolutely necessary—anyone who didn’t know better would think he had some unspoken issue with impotence. Where was that thrilling vibe of a deranged CEO?
The Heartthrob System could only console him, explaining that it was a matter of progress in the conquest.
That only made things worse. The mere mention reminded Su Tang of Fu Yanzong, who never gave him a friendly look. Thoroughly annoyed, Su Tang kicked a chair and fumed, “When the hell is Fu Yanzong’s favorability going to go up? In his mind, hasn’t he already forced me into loving him? So why is he still giving me the cold shoulder?”
“The Host doesn’t need to worry. There will soon be an emotional catalyst between you two. Turning his interest into obsession takes time…”
Amid the Heartthrob System’s earnest advice, Su Tang slouched out the door and returned to the conference room in low spirits. There were hardly any people inside. He spotted Fu Yanzong leaning back in his chair, eyes lowered as he stared at his phone. After hesitating for a moment, Su Tang mustered his courage under the Heartthrob System’s encouragement. Biting his lip, he walked over.
“Teacher Fu…” He desperately squeezed out some tears, trying to make himself look pitiful and fragile. In a soft, pleading voice, he continued, “I know I’m inexperienced. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get into character. But I really want to perform well in this drama. Could Teacher Fu run lines with me alone? If it’s you, maybe you could help me…”
As he spoke, Su Tang carefully observed Fu Yanzong’s reaction.
The Heartthrob System had long since told him that Fu Yanzong was a method actor—once he immersed himself in a role, it was hard for him to break out of it. He was also extremely professional and wouldn’t just sit back and let the crew produce a trashy film.
As long as Su Tang acted out a role with romantic chemistry alongside Fu Yanzong, then pretended to blur the lines between character and reality—always showing dependence on Fu Yanzong—Fu Yanzong would inevitably feel guilty and get drawn into the act. From there, their feelings would heat up naturally. It should be simple.
But to Su Tang’s surprise, Fu Yanzong remained completely unmoved after hearing his words. He kept scrolling through his phone without a second glance.
Fu Yanzong’s long hair draped lazily over the side of his face, hiding his expression from view. Su Tang couldn’t make out his features and could only hear the occasional tap of fingertips on the screen. Clearly, Fu Yanzong wasn’t taking Su Tang seriously at all.
This instantly put Su Tang on high alert. Could some random cannon fodder have popped up out of nowhere to hook up with Fu Yanzong in private?
Monitoring Fu Yanzong’s phone through the Heartthrob System would cost points, and Su Tang wasn’t about to make that bad a deal. Instead, he cheekily shuffled forward a bit, pretending to lose his balance and tumbling straight into the man’s arms—
In the instant he fell, there came a swift “whoosh.” Without even lifting his head, Fu Yanzong calmly bent his long leg and nudged the edge of the desk with his knee—not too hard, not too soft. The wheeled chair borrowed the momentum and glided backward in a fluid motion.
Even though Su Tang had grabbed the armrest of the chair with purpose from the start, inertia dragged him off balance the next second. He pitched forward unexpectedly. The soft carpet muffled the sound of his fall, but he ended up sprawled flat on his back at Fu Yanzong’s feet, looking as pathetic as a turtle flipped on its shell.
Su Tang cried out in pain, then panted heavily as he struggled to roll over and climb to his feet. When he looked up, he met Fu Yanzong’s gaze, which held a spectator’s amusement.
One hand resting casually on the armrest, Fu Yanzong tilted his head slightly. A few strands of his half-tied long hair slipped from behind his shoulder, accentuating his pale skin. Looking up from below, Su Tang could clearly see the beautiful teardrop mole at the corner of his eye, adding an enigmatic allure.
Su Tang gritted his teeth. Fu Yanzong might be hard to deal with, but he was undeniably stunning. Su Tang would never let such a prime conquest target slip away to someone else without a fight.
With his face now smeared with dust from the floor, Su Tang pitched his voice into a pitiful whine. “It hurts so much…”
Seeing him like this, Fu Yanzong lowered his gaze slightly, his long lashes veiling the emotions in his eyes. The corner of his mouth curved faintly—not quite a smile, laced with a hint of mockery.
Of course, Su Tang didn’t pick up on it. He assumed his dramatic performance had stirred Fu Yanzong’s compassion.
Fu Yanzong leaned forward a little, letting his dangling hand rest slowly on his knee. His wrist was sleekly defined, his fingers long and distinct. He extended them casually forward in a gesture that seemed like he might help Su Tang up, carrying an illusion of effortless gentleness.
Su Tang’s heart leaped with joy. He immediately reached out, nearly brushing Fu Yanzong’s cool palm—only to freeze in midair the next instant.
Fu Yanzong’s fingertips veered aside with natural grace, dodging him entirely. Those distinct knuckles instead picked up the phone that Su Tang had just knocked to the floor. So his earlier motion had only been to retrieve the device—it had nothing to do with Su Tang at all.
Su Tang froze, a wave of dark embarrassment washing over his face and making him look even more ridiculous. Still, he didn’t forget the point of his little stunt. Gritting his teeth, he quickly shifted his gaze to the lit screen of Fu Yanzong’s phone—
It was a chat interface. The profile picture on the other end showed someone in a white coat striking a “professional team” pose. Probably Fu Yanzong’s private doctor?
Su Tang only caught a hurried glimpse. He saw Fu Yanzong typing out a bunch of medication names, and the reply that flashed by seemed to read something like: “For treating Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder… must…”
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?
Su Tang furrowed his brow. After querying the Heartthrob System and learning it was some kind of mental illness, he felt a jolt of shock—followed by wild elation.
“System!” he exclaimed happily. “Is this some hidden side quest? Awesome! Doesn’t that mean I can redeem Fu Yanzong too? I’m the best at redemption!”
Su Tang was an old hand at redemption arcs. After all, he was convinced that’s how he’d won over Song Linyu before.
These brooding, shadowy types just needed a bright, innocent, kind-hearted little sun to melt them. Su Tang was certain that once they fell for the little sun, their issues would magically vanish, and they’d live happily ever after.
With that in mind, Su Tang was about to launch into perfectly calibrated concern for Fu Yanzong when he heard the man remark to him in a tone of idle musing, “Teacher Su, I hear that adults who keep tripping on flat ground… it’s like…”
Like the cerebellum isn’t fully developed…?
Fu Yanzong trailed off halfway, but Su Tang got the implication loud and clear. His smile froze on his face, nearly cracking.
He ground his teeth, desperate to say something to save face, but Fu Yanzong’s nonchalant attitude made it clear he wasn’t worth the effort.
“System…” Su Tang trembled with rage, forcing the word through clenched teeth. He swore he wouldn’t let this venomous-tongued bastard off the hook today—but the next second, Fu Yanzong chuckled softly.
He raised a hand to cup his cheek, smiling at Su Tang. “I was just kidding, Teacher Su. Don’t trip again next time—what if you hurt your face?”
It’s ugly enough already.
In Fu Yanzong’s mind, the Self-Rescue System breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It had no idea why its Host was cooperating with a few soft words this time, but at least it had pulled the plot back on track a little.
If the bad attitude wasn’t obvious enough early on, it might provoke the Heartthrob host into some desperate, all-or-nothing stunt.
Su Tang blinked, unsure if Fu Yanzong was the tsundere type—harsh words but a soft heart—or just straight-up mocking him. He eyed the man suspiciously.
“Sure, we can run lines.” Fu Yanzong turned his head away and changed the subject breezily. “But quid pro quo, Mr. Su. Give me a reason to help you out?”
The way he said it carried a lingering curiosity. Su Tang paused, then exploded with inner glee.
He knew Fu Yanzong wasn’t entirely indifferent to him!
Without thinking, Su Tang nodded eagerly. “Then I’ll come to Teacher Fu’s room tonight for guidance… You can do whatever you want to me…”
Fu Yanzong eyed his hesitant, suggestive expression, lifting an eyebrow with an inscrutable glance.
He said nothing, not even bothering with extra expressions for Su Tang. He just shifted in his seat casually, his long fingers drumming idly on the armrest. With a lazy smile, he replied, “Don’t phrase it so weirdly. I don’t want to do anything. I’m just curious… how did you and Song Linyu meet?”
“……?”
Su Tang hadn’t expected that question at all. It felt oddly off to him.
But after a moment’s thought, he realized it was just the most basic move in a love triangle showdown. Fu Yanzong asking this—didn’t it mean he was jealous?
So, feigning innocent confusion, Su Tang replied, “Linyu-ge? We’ve known each other since we were kids. Classmates and friends the whole time. Why do you ask, Teacher Fu?”
