When Song Linyu spoke those words, the entire group of guests—and even the live chat—fell into an eerie silence for a moment. As soon as he made his request, the host swiftly changed the subject, smiling broadly in agreement. “All right, since Teacher Fu has no objections, of course you can keep it if you’d like.”
After all, he was the show’s major sponsor. Asking politely was just courtesy; offending him for Su Tang’s sake would be a real loss.
With that in mind, the host mentally recalled the producer’s instructions from before filming started. The producer had emphasized that Sponsor Song had specifically requested to appear on the show and that they should help stir things up on camera while accommodating his wishes.
The word “stir” had a suggestive ring to it, so the host had stayed up late browsing fan edits of Su Tang online. He genuinely believed Song Linyu was Su Tang’s sugar daddy, showing up to play with his pretty bird…
But no one had mentioned anything about him and Fu Yanzong?
Was that right?
The host gave Song Linyu an awkward smile, inwardly praying the sugar daddy wouldn’t get mad at him for nearly cockblocking earlier.
Song Linyu showed no displeasure, offering a courteous nod in response before shifting his gaze slightly to the side.
Su Tang was still standing on the bus stairs. He seemed not to have processed the words yet, his fawning fake smile frozen on his lips.
Song Linyu tightened his grip on the Little Fish Card just a bit. His crow-feather lashes drifted downward casually, veiling his eyes, before he lifted them again. Slowly, he curved his lips toward Su Tang in what could only be called a gentle smile.
Then, his lips moved soundlessly, forming two words:
“Mine.”
No sound emerged, but the camera captured it faithfully.
Song Linyu smiled politely, courteously—even standing tall in the sunlight like a perfect gentleman. Yet the moment their eyes met, Su Tang had no attention left to decipher the words. A bone-chilling cold raced up the back of his neck, numbing his scalp in terror.
No, this feeling was all wrong.
He frantically called out to his Heartthrob System in his mind.
By now, Su Tang’s face had twisted into a grotesque clown mask of terror and smile. The live chat caught every bit of it and exploded.
“Alas, Sugar-and-Vinegar Carp. Alas, harem jealousy. Alas, entertainment world’s chosen sweet girl.”
“Sisters, you looking for our Little Sugar Sugar? Yeah, that #Entertainment World’s Chosen Clown# Su Tang.”
“Can’t take it anymore aaaaaah! Who screenshotted Su Tang’s gif just now?! Ghost pic—censor it!!”
“I’m done. Lip-reading experts, what did Song Linyu say to Su Tang to scare him like that?”
“Watched it twice… looks like… ‘mine’?? …Uh… UH?? Song Linyu?? What are you even saying??”
“Declaring ownership—yes yes yes yes!!”
“The mystery guest wasn’t supposed to show up yet, right? What’s Song Linyu mean, rushing here early to wait at the drop-off?”
“Tsk tsk tsk… not simple.”
“Girls, what’s the deal with Song Linyu and Fu Yanzong? Ship-worthy? Any backstory? Why drop such massive crumbs right off the bat? Scared of ghost candy.”
“Quick-Lie Sister wasn’t hyping domineering sugar daddy ultimate spoiling? How come this daddy fixates on Fu Yanzong forever, then seriously haggles over keeping the card for me?”
“What’s Fuyan Sister saying?”
“Never heard of him, don’t know him, total stranger, zero intel. But Yanzong’s face is off—looks like he’s holding back something sneaky.”
“TBH, doodling Little Fish on the bus instead of Match-3 was sus. No wonder he seemed so cute today…”
“So Song Linyu ranks higher than Match-3? Happy Yan, Happy Fish, you…”
“That Happy Fish fan fam needs an exorcist.”
“Right, speaking of high… yo bros, you two doing BL for us?”
“Some bros are. They’re topping the votes right now—the show’s gotta stir the pot.”
With the card’s ownership settled, keeping all the guests stalled here wasn’t ideal.
The host shot Su Tang a look, signaling him to get off and proceed with the next segment. But Su Tang just stood there dazed, forcing the people behind him to squeeze past slowly.
Filming that would look weird. So the guests still on the bus hesitated and stayed put.
Finally, Cheng Yan grabbed his bag from his seat. He walked up behind Su Tang with an indifferent expression and said coldly, “Don’t block the way.”
Then he pulled Su Tang aside unceremoniously and descended the stairs briskly.
“? Did Cheng Yan fight with Su Tang?”
“This isn’t jealousy anymore—feels like team discord…”
“TBH, if you know NOVA, you’d get they push this cold-hot-dog big sis and charming gentle sis pairing. Looks absurd on paper, but it’s face-cold heart-warm dog and heartthrob softie sis.”
“Where’s Su Tang’s ‘sis’ energy? Feels like his brain never finished developing.”
“Call me blunt, but Su Tang’s just a super-aggressive dudebro. Right at the start, shoving Cheng Yan here, smacking there, even snatching someone else’s motion sickness patch from their bag. Zero manners.”
“Yeah, but Quick-Lie Sister keeps spinning it as ‘hits mean love, scolds mean care.'”
“Orange stans have hated Quick-Lie Sister forever. Fellow Green Soup lords, don’t buy their sugar rush. Our Cheng Yan’s really getting bullied in the group—total tragedy.”
“Whoa, tea? Spill it.”
“Pointing to Cheng Yan fan support’s pinned Weibo. Unlimited fandom RT giveaway, but keeps getting muzzled as CP ‘love taps.’ Prize pool’s still growing—RT if you want.”
“Whoa, I see Fu Yanzong’s big fans RTed too. Fuyan Sister’s loaded—straight cash top-up?”
“Cheng Yan solo stans, quit the brainwash spam? Still trash-talking Sugar Sugar? You two gangs teaming up on us? Mad you can’t have Sugar so you rage?”
“Need to team up on Quick-Lie Sister? One casual slap downs her. Scram, don’t ruin a good day making us smack you back.”
“Laughing my ass off… so hot, so savage!”
Once all the guests had disembarked, the shell-shocked Su Tang finally pulled himself together. He trailed sluggishly at the end of the line. The host raised his cue cards at once, forcing cheer into his voice. “Next up, the Partnered Lunch Challenge!”
“During your stay in this villa, all meals must be cooked by you yourselves.” The host put on a serious face. “That’s why this first meal is so crucial. You’ll pair up for a cooking showdown. Judges will score the dishes, and the winning team gets two precious Solo Date Vouchers!”
Then, he lowered his voice mysteriously and pointed toward the villa’s silhouette perched on the distant cliff. “The challenge starts now. President Song’s villa is up on that cliff, but our bus is parked on the beach. So, you’ll all make your own way there! The first pair to arrive picks first from the prime ingredients in the living room. As for the last…”
The host grinned, drawing out his words. “…they might just get the seasonings.”
The guests obligingly gasped and cheered—”So dangerous! So thrilling!”—but beneath the performance, they were already scheming about teams.
Per the original plan, ten guests would form five perfect pairs. Song Linyu’s surprise addition made eleven, guaranteeing one singleton.
No one wanted to be the odd one out.
Fu Yanzong and Song Linyu stood side by side, saying nothing. Yet they exuded an intangible aura, like an invisible barrier severing them from the world—unnaturally quiet.
One guest started toward them but halted abruptly short of approach. He covered with a laugh and asked from a safer distance, half-joking, “Teacher Fu, President Song—do you guys cook? If not, team up with me?”
Song Linyu flicked a quick glance at the impassive Fu Yanzong, then withdrew his eyes. He refused politely but firmly. “I can cook.”
With that, he turned fully, lowering his lashes as he asked Fu Yanzong softly, “What do you want to eat?”
Fu Yanzong arched a brow, a lazy amusement flickering in his eyes. He reached out, resting his hand on Song Linyu’s shoulder. His long, knuckled fingers curved slightly, sliding down to hook Song Linyu’s arm in a casual, inexplicably intimate gesture.
“So President Song can cook,” Fu Yanzong said with a generous smile for the camera, his eyes crinkling as he drawled, “Impressive.”
The words landed, and Song Linyu’s ears flushed pink at once.
A touch abashed, he ducked his head and murmured in agreement. Fu Yanzong leisurely lifted the hand from Song Linyu’s shoulder, playfully brushing the backs of his fingers against Song Linyu’s cheek like he was cooling him down.
Finished, Fu Yanzong half-turned to the camera, adding with mock sincerity, “Don’t be shy, President Song. Cooking’s an awesome skill. Me? Can’t do it at all—have to count on you.”
Song Linyu nodded with difficulty, the tip of his ear peeking red from beneath his dark hair.
He wanted to play it as cool and open as Fu Yanzong…
But they were standing too close.
Fu Yanzong’s arm draped lazily over his shoulder as he leaned in slightly, half-enclosing Song Linyu in his embrace. His warm breath coiled around Song Linyu’s ear.
The gazes of the surrounding guests fell on them—some thoughtful, others deeply meaningful. The weight of it nearly shattered Song Linyu’s composure. He could only duck his head, pretending to be shy as he hid his uncontrollable reaction.
It was just… he liked Fu Yanzong’s praise and touches far too much.
So much that once he had them, he couldn’t hold himself back…
He completely lost control.
Calm down, Song Linyu warned himself. He couldn’t go too far.
“Hmm, Teacher Fu really lives up to his Movie Emperor status, casually throwing an arm around shoulders and stroking faces right in front of us, huh?”
“This humble concubine reports Fu Yanzong for illicit affairs and straight-up fishing for hearts—crime of a thousand deaths! Also, Song Linyu, I heard you’re still single?”
“Damn, I’m done. Why is Song Linyu always blushing like that… Actual wife material? And that ‘what do you want to eat?’ came out so naturally.”
“Mommy! Fu Yanzong’s too good at reeling them in… That smile’s bewitching. I’d faint in his arms too…”
“Every ‘President Song’ sounds like straight flirting. Fu Yanzong, you could star in those cheesy romance dramas—with that face and voice, it’d be a crime not to waste some acting chops.”
As the barrage lit up with excited chatter about their interaction, the main group had already set off. Unexpectedly, Cheng Yan had paired up with one of the female guests.
That left Su Tang standing awkwardly in place, shooting Fu Yanzong a pleading look.
Fu Yanzong blinked at him innocently, then—with his arm still around Song Linyu—turned and walked away, completely ignoring Su Tang.
The usual route from the beach to the cliffside villa was by cable car, but for hiking, there was only one narrow stone path.
It wasn’t easy to walk side by side. The trail was rough and uneven. Fu Yanzong stepped lazily up the stone steps, releasing his hold and moving ahead, with Song Linyu following close behind as they ascended.
The uphill path wasn’t particularly long, but the humid seaside air, laced with salt, took a real toll on their stamina.
A sudden gust of sea wind whipped through, sending a few strands of Fu Yanzong’s long hair fluttering free. Even his lightweight athletic jacket lifted at the corner, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his waistline.
The camera followed them quietly.
Song Linyu’s gaze fixed on Fu Yanzong’s back, pausing for a moment.
Without a second thought, he hurried up a couple of steps. Instinctively, he reached out—as if it were second nature—leaning down to tug at the hem of Fu Yanzong’s jacket. His other hand hovered near the waist, loosely circling to smooth out the wrinkles in the fabric.
His fingertips brushed the thin material, sensing the subtle warmth of Fu Yanzong’s body even through the cloth.
Fu Yanzong’s steps faltered. He turned to look back.
Strands of his long hair danced in the sea breeze, lifting slightly at his temples to expose the clean, graceful line of his brow bone.
After a moment, Fu Yanzong let out a low chuckle. The corners of his eyes curved into a gentle, carefree arc, the little mole beneath tugging lightly upward. He gave Song Linyu a subtle, indulgent once-over.
It was a habit Song Linyu had picked up as his assistant—always quietly fixing Fu Yanzong’s buttons or smoothing his clothes in the corners of the set, his movements deft and discreet.
But this wasn’t a private room. The camera was trained right on them, silent and unblinking.
Realizing that, Song Linyu instinctively dropped his hand from Fu Yanzong’s waist.
Yet his fingertips tightened ever so slightly on the jacket hem, knuckles whitening as he refused to let go.
Fu Yanzong glanced down at that cautious hand with keen interest. A beat later, he lifted his gaze and asked Song Linyu, utterly calm:
“Is the path too rough?”
Song Linyu blinked, lifting his eyes in confusion.
Right then, Fu Yanzong extended a hand toward him, palm up. His fingers were long and elegant, the gesture light but brimming with reassurance.
“If it’s too rough, no need to hold onto my clothes.”
Fu Yanzong’s words flowed naturally. “You can just hold onto me.”
