Life on set was both fulfilling and busy. Since Gu Qichi played the second male lead, he appeared in almost every large-scale scene, and it was common for him to stay up with the entire crew until dawn.

It was impossible not to be tired. Gu Qichi’s health hadn’t been great to begin with, and after more than half a month, his face had visibly thinned, and he looked haggard. Lin Shuangyi often teased him: “Gu Qichi, I haven’t been mistreating you, have I? How did you get so thin?”

The scenes for Xing Tian Qing were filmed out of sequence. Most of Gu Qichi’s current scenes featured Shen Qingye during his time as a eunuch, so being thin was justifiable—it added to the sense of being downtrodden and frustrated. However, they were about to move to the next location to film the character’s youth. Being this thin wouldn’t fit the character setting then.

Consequently, Lin Shuangyi could often be seen with an arm around his shoulder, speaking earnestly: “Qichi, you need to eat more. If you don’t, and those paparazzi nearby leak photos of you, your fans are going to tear me apart.”

Gu Qichi could only laugh. Lin Shuangyi’s projects always attracted attention, and with a top-tier star like Song Zhian as the lead, the hype was massive.

Previously, no one paid attention because the nature reserve was remote and desolate. Lin Shuangyi had set up cordons, and the paparazzi weren’t foolish enough to go there and cause trouble. But back in Hengdian, things changed. Despite Lin Shuangyi’s strict defenses, many “behind-the-scenes” photos inevitably leaked out. After all, Hengdian was the kingdom of professional celebrity photographers (dai-pai).

Oddly enough, the most circulated photos weren’t of the top star Song Zhian, but of Gu Qichi.

It was quite funny. After Gu Qichi’s official posters dominated the trending searches, many anti-fans hired by Gu Yuning went wild under the hashtags, some even barking insults under Lin Shuangyi’s Weibo. Lin Shuangyi, coming from a wealthy background and having a string of successful works, took no nonsense. He didn’t say a word but directly posted a raw, unedited behind-the-scenes clip of Gu Qichi.

The caption was aggressive: “Raw footage, no edits. If you’re going to bark, get lost.”

The comments underneath were a spectacle. Luo Qianqian had forwarded them to Gu Qichi:

• [A Little Octopus]: Haters, why did you have to provoke him? Imagine questioning Lin Shuangyi’s aesthetics in this day and age. [crying]
• [Sleepy Every Day]: Director Lin, Gu Qichi is so “ugly,” I beg you, please post more videos so I can see for myself. [tears]
• [Not For Me]: This is clearly edited. Who are they kidding? The silicone in Gu Qichi’s face is practically jumping off the screen.
• [Pure Love Warrior]: …To the person above, the stench of Gu Yuning’s fans is overwhelming.
• [Eat Your Fill]: Please, who wants to see Gu Qichi’s funeral face? It’s so fake. Lin Shuangyi, did you become his new sugar daddy? You’re so quick to protect him. [playful]

The heat surged again, causing Gu Qichi to go viral in a small way. The intense fighting drew in many passersby who wanted to see what he actually looked like. This gave the photographers more work; dozens of lenses were pointed at him, effectively stealing half of Song Zhian’s spotlight.

Fortunately, Gu Qichi’s face was bulletproof. Even when photographers tried to take “ugly” shots from every possible angle, he withstood them all. Instead of being blasted, he gained a new wave of genuine “face fans.”

---

Gu Qichi didn’t know much about this, but Luo Qianqian surfed the web at 5G speeds. She monitored every post about him on every platform, claiming she was “leaving no room for haters” while also observing his public image.

While Gu Qichi was busy discussing scenes with Lin Shuangyi, Luo Qianqian checked a popular forum to see if any new photos of him had leaked. A post was pinned at the top with over a thousand replies:

[Discussion] What is the actual level of this face in the domestic entertainment industry?

Inside was a photo of Gu Qichi in his new costume for the day. Luo Qianqian looked around but couldn’t spot the photographer, marveling at their efficiency.

The scene involved Gu Qichi accompanying the Emperor on an undercover visit to inspect how to handle a flood of refugees. He wasn’t wearing his usual official robes but a light blue commoner’s outfit. The fabric looked expensive, with hand-stitched silver clouds along the collar. With the breeze blowing his robes as he walked, he looked less like an ancient official and more like a dashing protagonist from an immortal cultivation novel.

Luo Qianqian scrolled through the comments:

• 1L: The level of a total massacre.
• 2L: The level of a doll filled with silicone.
• 4L: I heard Gu Yuning was originally considered for this role. Why was it changed?
• 5L: Word is he offended an investor and they demanded he be replaced…

Luo Qianqian snorted. She had seen photos of Gu Qichi at eighteen—he was a 100% natural beauty.

---

As night fell and the schedule was finished, Gu Qichi was about to head back when his phone vibrated. It was Bo Yu.

The moment the call connected, Bo Yu’s voice came through, sounding low, magnetic, and slightly seductive through the receiver. His handsome face appeared on the screen, looking dissatisfied: “Why did it take so long today?”

“I was discussing tomorrow’s scenes with the director,” Gu Qichi explained gently. “Bo Yu, let me hang up first. I’ll call you when I get back to the hotel, okay?”

Silence on the other end. The set was noisy with the sounds of the lighting crew packing up. Anyone else, and Bo Yu would have hung up instantly, but he hadn’t seen Gu Qichi in so long.

“No,” Bo Yu replied stiffly. “Just leave it on.”

Gu Qichi wasn’t comfortable “showing off affection” in front of everyone, especially with Luo Qianqian nearby. “No, let’s wait until I’m back. We can WeChat on the way.”

Bo Yu persisted, and Gu Qichi even caught a hint of suppressed grievance in his voice: “Gu Qichi, I don’t want to type. I just want to hear your voice.”

It was a hot night in Hengdian. The cicadas chirped incessantly. A crescent moon hung in the sky, casting a cold, pale light. Gu Qichi was wearing heavy costumes—five or six layers—and was drenched in sweat and irritable from the heat.

For the past half-month, they had stayed in touch every day. Bo Yu had obtained his schedule from Luo Qianqian and would call twenty minutes after he finished work, regardless of the hour.

When Gu Qichi was exhausted from filming until dawn, that phone call always arrived on time. Bo Yu would always ask, “Are you tired today?”

Knowing Gu Qichi wasn’t eating well, Bo Yu had even sent a private chef to Hengdian just so he could have a hot, nutritious meal at any hour. During those meals, Bo Yu would grill him: What did you do? Who did you see? Did you film any intimate scenes? Did anyone hit on you?

It sounded terrifying—as if he were living under constant surveillance. His possessiveness was extreme, bordering on pathological.

Yet, Gu Qichi didn’t mind. He answered everything in detail and then listened to Bo Yu recount his own day—which usually consisted of meetings and paperwork. They would talk about anything and everything until Gu Qichi fell asleep.

But the call wouldn’t end. Bo Yu had grown used to falling asleep to the sound of Gu Qichi’s breathing. Because he couldn’t see him, everything related to Gu Qichi became precious. He even allowed the cat, A-Ci, to sleep on his bed to wait for him.

Every morning, Gu Qichi would wake up to find his phone burning hot, the call still active. The call duration told the story of Bo Yu’s silent longing.

Once, Luo Qianqian noticed his phone had been charging for over ten hours and warned him it would ruin the battery. Gu Qichi simply nodded. He didn’t have much desire for material things, but that day, he went on a shopping app and ordered five identical phones—the kind with the best battery life. He wanted spares in case one broke, because he knew Bo Yu would go crazy if he couldn’t reach him.

Luo Qianqian realized then that Gu Qichi was like an arrogant cat. The trauma of his original family had made him prickly and defensive, a stray licking his wounds in the dark. Bo Yu was the one bringing him home. He might look fierce, but he was incredibly gentle with Gu Qichi.

---

The emotions Gu Qichi had been suppressing finally broke through when Bo Yu spoke. He actually… missed him a little.

Most people would find Bo Yu’s possessiveness frightening, but it was exactly what Gu Qichi liked. He liked seeing Bo Yu obsessed with him, worrying about him, and becoming anxious when they were apart. It all signaled one thing: Bo Yu couldn’t live without him.

“Then don’t say anything weird in a bit,” Gu Qichi said, his voice a bit raspy. Bo Yu agreed readily.

The van sped toward the hotel. Gu Qichi wore headphones, listening to the sound of Bo Yu typing on his keyboard at home, occasionally punctuated by A-Ci’s meows.

Back in his hotel room, the air was filled with the faint scent of freesias Bo Yu had sent. The phone screen was still active.

“The food wasn’t great today, so I didn’t eat much,” Gu Qichi said, looking down. “Bo Yu, it’s too hot today. I’m going to go wash up…”

Usually, he would shower and then call back. Today, he didn’t hang up. He placed the phone face-down on the vanity. The sound of rustling clothes—a shirt being tossed, the metallic clack of a belt being undone—echoed clearly.

In his study on the third floor of the villa, Bo Yu stopped typing. He looked at the dark screen. The silence of the night amplified every sound.

The sound of the shower started—water splashing everywhere. It was so clear it felt like Bo Yu was in the room with him. Heat rose, and steam filled the space. Bo Yu heard his own breath hitch. His heart hammered against his ribs. Occasionally, he caught a faint gasp from Gu Qichi, lasting only a second before being drowned out by the water.

Bo Yu went to the bedroom, pulled out some of Gu Qichi’s clothes, and buried his face in them. The scent was fading, making him ache with longing.

The water stopped. The bathroom door opened and closed. Gu Qichi emerged wrapped only in a towel. He picked up the phone as if he’d just realized the call was still on.

Gu Qichi was breathtakingly beautiful after a shower. His upper body was bare, his skin dazzlingly white under the light. Water dripped from his hair, soaking his body. His face was flushed pink from the steam, and his lips were a vivid, wet red.

Bo Yu’s ears burned red. His gaze was as deep and dark as spilled ink. He remembered the feeling of Gu Qichi’s thin but resilient abdominal muscles under his palm.

Gu Qichi looked into the mirror, which he had wiped clear in one small spot. He looked like a seductive spirit.

“Bo Yu.”

He whispered the name. His voice lacked its usual coldness; the end of the word trailed upward with a different emotion.

Bo Yu’s control snapped. His breathing became heavy and ragged, echoing through the phone. Gu Qichi looked down, a faint, almost invisible smile playing in his eyes. He slowly rubbed his own lip with his thumb, making the color turn white and then a deep, bruised red.

“Bo Yu.”

He called him again, in a tone even more provocative than the last. He knew exactly what Bo Yu was doing. He wasn’t stopping him; he was helping.

He was doing it on purpose. If Bo Yu couldn’t come to visit, then he would force him to come.