Chapter 31: Arrogant Big Star

Lin Wu gazed at the sky lightening toward dawn and glanced once more at his phone.

Whatever. There shouldn’t be any issues, and he had no idea why Ji Xingci was hesitating. In the end, Ji Xingci did not seem to be in much pain.

He had said himself that he did not like him. So he probably would not be too heartbroken.

Lin Wu could not stay. The Main God was not replying to him either.

05 could only withdraw according to the plot that had already been set.

~~~

The heavy rain poured down all night.

The next morning, beneath overcast skies, a sanitation worker discovered a young man’s ice-cold corpse beside the waterlogged road.

Hot on its heels came the police bulletin and the internet exploding in outrage—

The victim was Lin Wu, the actor and singer who had just burst onto the scene with 《Jiang Fan》 and boasted a limitless future ahead.

Hot searches detonated in an instant, the #Lin Wu Death# topic glaringly stark.

The police released a great deal of information.

For instance, Lin Wu had died from massive blood loss.

The crime scene was that upscale neighborhood right near Ji Xingci’s residence.

Extremist fans had been lurking and staking out the area lately.

The initial investigation concluded that Lin Wu had been stabbed by a deranged fan of Ji Xingci, with the attacker fleeing hastily afterward.

The nightlong downpour left no witnesses to the assault, delaying any chance of timely rescue.

In the end, it led to Lin Wu’s death.

He had placed one final call before dying. Regrettably, it went unanswered.

Public opinion erupted in chaos.

Many speculated that the earlier scandal rumors had gotten him killed, but even more wondered why Lin Wu had appeared near Ji Xingci’s home in the dead of night. Their relationship clearly went beyond that of mere colleagues.

The moment Xu Qing saw the news, he nearly fainted. Tears streaming, he fired off a long message to Ji Xingci.

【05 liked you so much!

【Even when everyone was cursing him and he couldn’t get hold of you, he kept telling me he wanted to believe you, that he was worried about your situation.

【Why did you chase him out into that rainy night and make him go home alone?】

【Do you hate him?】

His barrage of accusations went entirely unanswered, the blank chat window as lifeless as a grave.

The only real response was Ji Xingci finally stepping forward to address the earlier uproar, admitting that he and Lin Wu had been lovers.

Back in the hospital room, he had asked him.

【I even said I would protect him…】

~~~

By then, Lin Wu’s highly anticipated debut solo album had not even gotten its music video produced.

Yet the company decided to release it regardless.

Its stunning musical quality swiftly rocked the industry.

Every track revealed Lin Wu’s creative genius, far surpassing all expectations and leaving listeners awestruck.

For such a talent to die so young was heartbreakingly tragic.

Even more poignant, fans lost in grief and the music began piecing together the young man’s hidden heartache from subtle clues in the lyrics.

He seemed to have fallen for someone. The songs laid bare a fragile yet unyielding love—the instinctive pull of stolen glances, the anxiety of words left unsaid, the despair of silence in return, and a devotion that never wavered.

The album was an unsent love letter, composed in melody and verse—a heartfelt confession echoing through every song.

Connecting the dots to his premortem scandal with Ji Xingci and the baseless attacks he had endured…

The agony, regret, and sorrow of Lin Wu’s death twisted once more into fury among his fans.

“He sang it so clearly—didn’t you hear a word?” “He was so amazing… why did you let them tear him apart?” “If you’d just spoken up sooner, would everything have been different?”

“Ji Xingci, you squandered such profound devotion.”

Yet the furious fans soon held their tongues about Ji Xingci. He appeared to have shattered long before they did.

Word was, he had stood vigil over Lin Wu’s body, refusing to allow cremation.

He kept insisting it could not be true, that Lin Wu was not dead. He was too strong. How could some fanatic…

Even as the coroner and every shred of evidence confirmed it was Lin Wu, Ji Xingci clung stubbornly to denial.

He summoned doctor after doctor, demanding relentlessly: Could it be catalepsy?

Not until Lin Wu’s body began to rot, his familiar face turning unrecognizable, did Ji Xingci’s mind finally snap. His family dragged him away by force.

What followed was a long hospitalization, with treatment addressing every aspect of his physical and mental health.

~~~

“My memories— what’s wrong with them?”

“But Mr. Ji, that time on the film set, you insisted Mr. Lin Wu had suddenly appeared and attacked you.

The script supervisor’s log and multiple staff members confirmed that at the exact same moment, Mr. Lin Wu was on the far side of the set, speaking with the director. He never left.”

~~~

“I tracked down those two hotel guests from before. They distinctly recall standing at the corridor washbasin you mentioned, chatting for nearly twenty minutes. They saw no sign of the assault you remember.

“During those two incidents at the hospital, no one approached him except you.”

“If I may be frank, even with the camera malfunctions, that could have been a skilled hacker—or simply a glitch.

The elevator did operate on its own, but that proves neither a hack nor anything more than a routine self-check during that window.”

~~~

The private doctor gave a wry smile. “The condition you describe simply does not exist. It defies all physiological logic.”

“You know we’ve run every test on you multiple times. Your bodily functions and organ structures are entirely normal. Nothing like the anomalies you mentioned.”

~~~

The detective who came to visit and update him on the case looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Mr. Ji, we performed the most exhaustive background check on Mr. Lin Wu possible.

His life from childhood onward is straightforward and well-documented: standard schooling, a university degree in music.

In theory, he never had the time or opportunity to acquire the… near-special forces hand-to-hand combat skills or sophisticated hacking expertise you described. It defies all reason.”

~~~

“So what you’re saying is that I’ve been hallucinating the whole time?”

The psychologist’s voice remained exceedingly gentle. “Mr. Ji, first and foremost, I want you to know that I fully believe every word you say reflects your genuine ‘lived experience.’ To you, it is reality. I would never question the ‘truth’ of what you’ve endured.”

“But the human brain is an extraordinarily complex organ.

Especially in childhood, when one suffers unbearable emotional trauma, it can trigger a self-protective mechanism.”

The psychologist pondered for a moment. “If you’ve ever been attacked during a hallucination, then allow me to venture a few guesses. Wasn’t the behavior of that assailant you encountered somewhat contradictory?

He seemed desperate to hurt you, yet always pulled back at the crucial moment?

Have you seen echoes of some of his traits in other people from your everyday life?”

“Think about it. Isn’t it someone who suddenly entered your life, showing you an unusual level of care and patience?

Even after you brought up the attack, he didn’t distance himself. Instead, he started appearing around you even more often?

He may have been misunderstood by you—perhaps even wounded by your accusations rooted in those ‘hallucinations’—but he never seemed truly angry or ready to give up on you.”

“Your subconscious chose him. And in some way, he sensed your pain and needs. Out of concern—or maybe even a clumsy attempt at help, not knowing what else to do—he unwittingly played along with the ‘script’ your subconscious had written.

He became the villain in your inner drama, letting you externalize that internal conflict. After all, battling a flesh-and-blood person is far easier than confronting a hazy trauma or some nameless agony.”

“I know it sounds far-fetched, like something out of a fairy tale. But please consider it: If this is true, then every puzzle piece falls into place. The real cruelty isn’t the attack itself—it’s the trauma inside you tormenting you relentlessly.

Meanwhile, someone who genuinely cares is trying to reach you and help in a way you can’t comprehend, only to become the target of your hatred.”

“Mr. Ji, I’m not asking you to believe me right now. I’m simply inviting you to… contemplate this possibility. Admitting it will hurt, but it’s the first step toward true healing.”

Ji Xingci: “…” Quack.

Ji Xingci closed his eyes.

He felt even worse.

On one hand, he was convinced these people were all insane.

His memories were real, every last one of them.

The intricate details of those clashes, the visceral sensations—how could any of it be fake?

Yet on the other hand, he couldn’t help questioning himself.

If Lin Wu truly possessed such masterful skills—if he was the one who could toy with him like a plaything in the palm of his hand…

Then how could he have died so pointlessly, so pathetically, from a single stab by some deranged fan?

So… had it all been hallucinations?

Lin Wu had seen right through it and worried about him. That was why he’d refused to let him undergo surgery.

That was why he’d pulled an all-nighter to compile a full page of medical jargon, inventing a condition to reframe his imagined suffering as something more palatable.

Lin Wu had never outright admitted to the assault. He’d just kept explaining, clumsily repeating himself over and over: “I don’t like Xu Qing.” “I may have approached you with ulterior motives at first, but I love you.”

Ji Xingci didn’t know the truth. And right now, he didn’t care.

Because regardless of what had really happened, Lin Wu was dead. Undeniably, irrevocably dead.

He had watched with his own eyes as that body—once warm, then cold, finally rigid—was fed into the crematorium. All that emerged was a small handful of pale, scorching ashes.

It was a logical impasse, a poisoned barb sunk deep into his heart, impossible to extract.

He had never even told Lin Wu “I love you too” to his face.

He hadn’t been there to protect him when that final cry for help rang out.

He hadn’t even answered the call.

All because of his own arrogance—his lazy assumption that Lin Wu would just call back.

…

Director Li learned of Lin Wu’s death while casting for his new drama.

He sat there in a daze for a long while, his heart heavy with regret.

The young talent he had handpicked from a sea of newcomers and cast as Jiang Fan—how could he be gone, just like that?

His chest felt tight, suffocating. Through a chain of connections, he finally learned where Lin Wu had been laid to rest: a tranquil tomb garden on the city outskirts, nestled against a mountainside and overlooking a serene body of water.

The director chose a weekday afternoon for his visit, hoping for some quiet time to leave a bouquet of flowers.

The grounds were remarkably well-kept. Towering cypresses stood verdant and proud, vibrant flowers bloomed everywhere. Even on the short path to his destination, he passed several groundskeepers trimming the gardens and sweeping the walkways.

Strange. Hadn’t Lin Wu come from an ordinary family?

Puzzled, the director followed the plot number. From a distance, he spotted an unexpected figure.

The man wore a stark black suit, his posture still ramrod straight, yet he radiated an unspoken desolation.

It was Ji Xingci.

Director Li’s heart lurched. For an instant, he felt yanked back to the set of 《Jiang Fan》.

The same icy tombstone. Once a prop, now heartbreakingly real.

He remembered his helpless refrain back then: “Xingci, your crying scene just isn’t hitting the mark. Such a shame.”

But now, his own heart clenched in agony.

That absent performance had finally been delivered—silently, despairingly—in this cheerless tomb garden, with the rest of Ji Xingci’s life as the price.

No, he couldn’t entertain even the professional impulse to film this moment. Movies could never capture the raw anguish of reality.

Guilt gave way to a deeper wave of sorrow and pity. The scene was too brutal, too poignant, too harrowing.

Heart aching, Director Li couldn’t bring himself to take another step. He turned and left.

Ji Xingci never noticed the brief visitor. Kneeling on the ground, he finally leaned his forehead against the chill stone.

“I’m sorry.”

A single tear splashed onto the grass.

“I regret it so much…”

He regretted it with every fiber of his being.

Perhaps from lingering too long without enough water, Ji Xingci suddenly felt dizzy.

In his haze, a voice seemed to ask:

So, you’ve fallen in love with him.

Fuck, Ji Xingci thought. Hallucinations it is, then.

The voice pressed:

Do you want to find him?

Ji Xingci fell silent for a moment before replying, as if terrified of missing the chance.

Of course.

Even if it means abandoning everything you have now—things most people could never dream of attaining?

The illusory voice listened, then sighed at last.

Very well. I understand.