Fu Yanzong asked this very lightly. From his angle, bending down to peer at Song Linyu, those silent brown eyes resembled an amber specimen that had lain stagnant for a millennium.
And at that moment, this cool, ancient amber flicked its gaze briefly before pretending once again that it had heard nothing.
Fu Yanzong raised a hand to press his still-aching temple, paused for a beat, and rephrased the question into the one that truly mattered. “…So, what are you doing here?”
Su Tang, standing off to the side, wanted to ask the same thing.
He had just gritted his teeth and spent 150 points to redeem a One-Time Hypnosis Item. Though he hadn’t expected Fu Yanzong’s reaction to be quite so intense, the man’s expression suggested the item had worked.
Who could have guessed that Song Linyu would suddenly appear in the doorway?
Xiao Sun had only gently pulled the door shut when he left, without fully locking it. Of course, Su Tang had no idea about that. He had simply watched, wide-eyed, as Song Linyu strode in, seized Fu Yanzong’s hand, and called out his name.
Even when Fu Yanzong was still groggy and hadn’t answered, Song Linyu had dropped to one knee without a care for his dignity, craning his neck to peer up at Fu Yanzong’s face.
Something about this felt off…?
Su Tang instinctively furrowed his brow. His gaze darted between the two men, who stood too close for comfort, and he ventured a tentative question. “Linyu-ge, you two…?”
Song Linyu glanced at him, straightened up, and took two casual steps back. In an utterly offhand tone, he explained, “I was just passing by.”
Before Su Tang could respond, Fu Yanzong let out a particularly amused chuckle.
He tilted his face up, propped one leg lazily against the edge of the desk, and drawled in a bland tone, “Is President Song so free that he’s passing by my room?”
The words instantly shattered the subtle atmosphere that Su Tang had just sensed between them, replacing it with the sharp edge of a tense standoff.
Song Linyu seemed almost reluctant to look at Fu Yanzong. He turned his face toward him for a glance, then whipped it away as if scalded.
Uncertain, Su Tang asked the Heartthrob System, “The hypnosis item worked on Fu Yanzong, right?”
“There’s no reason it wouldn’t have,” the Heartthrob System replied smugly, reassuring him. “Relax—my items are the best.”
“But Song Linyu…” Su Tang couldn’t shake the feeling that his sudden appearance was suspicious. That excuse he’d given was obviously perfunctory.
He was about to press further when he caught Song Linyu lifting his gaze coldly to stare at him, countering with a question of his own. “So why are the two of you together?”
Song Linyu’s voice always carried a chill like snow-frozen air. Su Tang shrank back on instinct, then heard the man’s icy warning.
“Hidden Face starts filming soon, and you’re both leads. It’d be best if you didn’t cause any more scenes like that one.”
Fu Yanzong’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
The first thing Song Linyu had said matched the original plotline from the Self-Rescue System word for word. It was the line Song Linyu delivered when Su Tang stormed out, Fu Yanzong hesitated before chasing after him for a tussle, and Song Linyu showed up to demand answers.
He asked the Self-Rescue System, which was still sniffling apologies in his mind. “Have you bound yourselves to someone else too?”
The system sounded puzzled. “What? You mean binding Song Linyu?”
“Altering his storyline would be tough. He’s basically a secondary protagonist who buys in successfully at the end of the original book. He’s tied to too many plotlines with Su Tang—we wouldn’t target him.”
With that, the Self-Rescue System wiped away nonexistent digital tears and asked Fu Yanzong cautiously, “Host, Su Tang did use that item on you for real. It’s just that your will is strong, and the memory he tried to implant had a full backstory, so it didn’t take. You’re definitely feeling okay now, right?”
“No issues.”
After answering, Fu Yanzong met Su Tang’s feigned gaze and seamlessly delivered the original standoff line with flawless acting chops.
“Instead of asking why we’re together now, Mr. Song, why not ask who I was with last night?”
He raised a lazy eyebrow, playing his part perfectly with a “provocative smirk.”
But unlike the wicked, arrogant grin from the original text, his hair ends still clung with a sheen of thin sweat from his earlier discomfort, darkening the shirt fabric in a damp, decadent allure.
The shadow of his forehead bangs merged with his inky lashes, trailing up from the dark little mole at his eye corner in a wild, profound, ambiguously seductive beauty.
Song Linyu’s throat bobbed. In a tone laced with extreme restraint, he replied word by word, “No need for that.”
Su Tang glanced at Song Linyu’s barely contained fury, then at Fu Yanzong’s deliberate provocation, and let out a relieved sigh. Pleased, he told the Heartthrob System, “Looks like the item’s backlash was too strong and drew Song Linyu here. Everything’s back on track now.”
The Heartthrob System paused, then agreed.
After a few rounds of verbal sparring between the two, it was Su Tang’s turn again. He would shout, “Stop fighting—I’m a mess right now, I don’t want to see either of you!” before storming out of the room and eventually the hotel.
Fu Yanzong skimmed the original text and saw that next came the scene where he and Song Linyu gave chase. But in the end, Song Linyu was the one who caught up, forcing Su Tang back to the company and confining him there for the foreseeable future.
As for himself, a token trip downstairs would suffice—no need for a real pursuit.
With that in mind, Fu Yanzong idly twirled a lock of hair dangling by his neck and sauntered out the door first, hitting the elevator button.
Surprisingly, Song Linyu wasn’t in any rush either. He trailed silently behind Fu Yanzong without a word all the way into the elevator, like a mute shadow working hard to minimize his presence.
Fu Yanzong shoved his hands in his pockets and lifted his eyes to the elevator wall beside the number panel—polished to a mirror sheen.
That small patch of stainless steel faithfully reflected the face of Song Linyu behind him: lips pressed thin, gaze fixed unwaveringly on his back.
Without warning, Fu Yanzong spoke up. “Are you and Su Tang close?”
It was a question that had occurred to him after reading the original text. There was no first-person perspective from Su Tang, let alone much ink spilled on these minor antagonists. As Xiao Sun had said, Su Tang had only been signed by Song Linyu a few months ago—so how had rumors of a sugar daddy arrangement spread so wildly?
Whether it was the wording or the directness that threw him off, the elevator descended smoothly from the 29th floor to the 1st without a peep from Song Linyu.
It halted with a soft hum, doors sliding open. Only as Fu Yanzong stepped out did Song Linyu finally speak.
His voice was low and heavy, rough with bitterness.
“…We’ve known each other a long time.”
Fu Yanzong halted in his tracks.
A moment later, he let out a soft chuckle, the thin shirt fabric creasing sharply across his shoulder blades.
“Song Linyu.”
Fu Yanzong’s tone was light and measured, yet the wavelength cut like an icy blade across the listener’s throat, delivering a death sentence.
“When you climbed into my bed and called me ‘bro’ before, how come you never mentioned you had a childhood sweetheart calling you that?”
The elevator doors had stayed open too long and now began closing on command. Fu Yanzong kept walking without pause, vanishing into the bustling hotel lobby crowd without a backward glance.
So he never saw Song Linyu’s expression.
The elevator hung suspended, neither rising nor falling—a sealed, frigid chamber. With no one to witness his lapse, Song Linyu finally buckled, bending at the waist as a choked, trembling sob escaped his throat.
Fu Yanzong stepped out the hotel’s front doors and immediately felt the fickle March weather in Shenlan. The air that had felt almost oppressively warm yesterday had turned bitterly cold today.
Su Tang paced restlessly by the fountain, arms hugged to himself, no doubt waiting for his belated rescuers.
Per the original text, Fu Yanzong was supposed to stand here until Song Linyu and Su Tang left. With little patience for it, he pulled out his phone and saw a message from his assistant, Xiao Sun.
“Brother Fu, you just got back from Berlin and haven’t adjusted to Shenlan’s weather yet. It’s one of those false thaws in March—temperatures drop fast. If you’re heading out, hold on; I’ll grab you a coat.”
Ever dutiful, Xiao Sun had spotted Fu Yanzong heading out from upstairs and hurried down with a fresh wool overcoat, handing it over for him to wear.
Fu Yanzong took the coat and murmured a slow “Thanks.”
Then he heard Xiao Sun ask where he’d left yesterday’s trench coat.
Fu Yanzong paused before replying offhandedly, “Doesn’t matter.”
Footsteps approached then—Song Linyu brushing past them. Xiao Sun blinked in daze, hearing this deep, inscrutable, brooding man from the news lean in to say, “Someone’s taken the coat to be pressed. It’ll be sent back to your room.”
For a moment, Xiao Sun wasn’t sure if the man was addressing him. He looked up at Fu Yanzong and found his boss smiling as ever, though his tone was exceptionally cold.
“Doesn’t matter means I don’t want it.”
Fu Yanzong slipped his hands into his pockets and tilted his head back with calm composure, telling Xiao Sun, “Head back up. I’ll be along shortly.”
Song Linyu fell silent.
Several cars idled at the curb, engines running. Su Tang spotted Song Linyu approaching and put up a token struggle, only to see the man drop his gaze with chilling menace and murmur a threat. “Don’t make me tie you in.”
Su Tang froze and meekly climbed into the car, letting the driver whisk him away.
But the driver holding the door for Song Linyu waited in vain for him to move.
After a pause, the driver asked uncertainly, “President Song?”
Song Linyu pulled his gaze away from Fu Yanzong.
He realized he had been staring at Fu Yanzong’s back again, as if it had become some kind of habit.
…Perhaps because he had looked too much, they always ended up drifting further apart.
He shut the car door and said to the driver, “Back to the company.”
A biting chill poured in through the half-open window. The driver closed all the windows and said thoughtfully to Song Linyu, “Your voice sounds really hoarse. Caught a cold?”
“…Yeah.” Song Linyu lowered his eyes and murmured softly, “False thaw, I guess.”
…
A false thaw was an abnormally intense spell of warming weather, typically marked by a sharp rise in temperature that could disrupt daily life and productivity.
In March 2025, Shenlan’s weather had warmed rapidly, only to plunge back into the biting cold of late February.
…Until spring truly arrived.
