The scene was retaken several more times. With the camera focused on Song Zhian’s face, Lin Shuangyi remained consistently dissatisfied.

Having been drenched in the water for a long time, Gu Qichi repeated the scene over and over, his internal irritability reaching its breaking point. The rain poured down. After an indeterminate number of “NGs,” Gu Qichi took a towel from Luo Qianqian and wiped his face clean. His gaze was flat, and his face was cold.

Luo Qianqian stole a glance at him. Noticing his poor complexion, she spoke tentatively: “Teacher Gu, are you alright? I just called Teacher Liu and asked him to boil some ginger soup in advance. We can drink it as soon as we get back.”

Gu Qichi shook his head. Finally having a moment to breathe, he didn’t ask about anything else, only: “Are there any messages on the phone?”

Logically, it was impossible for Bo Yu to go this long without messaging him…

The youth lowered his eyes. Because he had been in the “rain” for too long, the makeup on his face was almost entirely washed away; the eyeshadow and eyeliner had vanished. He hadn’t been wearing much foundation to begin with, and now it was washed so thin that the true texture of his skin was revealed.

Though it was summer, the season was gradually shifting toward autumn. The night breeze brushed past, bringing a shiver of chill. The stray light hitting Gu Qichi’s face made him look somewhat sickly pale, yet he remained as smooth as jade, making one instinctively want to reach out and touch him.

Song Zhian’s gaze was practically glued to him, unable to pull away. The youth’s waist was very thin, lean yet resilient. In the summer heat, back when Gu Qichi wore only a single thin layer, one could easily see the shape of the hidden abdominal muscles beneath, as well as the fluid lines of his thigh muscles as he walked.

Song Zhian suddenly grabbed his assistant’s hand, turning his head and pressing his voice very low, as if afraid someone might overhear: “Where did you hear that Gu Qichi has a sugar daddy?”

His assistant was startled and lowered his head awkwardly. Song Zhian came from a prominent background; platforms like Weibo and Douban were filled with professional fans and “water armies” hired by his company to control the narrative. Although the elder Mr. Song had allowed him to mess around in the entertainment industry, he had also set clear price tags and requirements—Song Zhian couldn’t miss a single finance or management lesson.

Consequently, Song Zhian usually paid no attention to the industry’s gossip. Before filming started, he only knew of Gu Qichi because Gu Yuning had mentioned him a few times. He had no idea why Gu Qichi had been blacklisted so severely.

Under Song Zhian’s oppressive gaze, the assistant had no choice but to speak up. “Brother Song, it’s just gossip… on Weibo and Douban, people have said for a long time that Gu Qichi is being kept by a sugar daddy. He even harmed Gu Yuning before, but it was suppressed…”

Song Zhian cocked an eyebrow, his surprise evident. “He harmed Gu Yuning?”

Seeing his assistant nod cautiously, Song Zhian’s brow furrowed. The Song family was an elite name in Dongcheng. While not quite on the level of the Bo family’s singular dominance, they were still top-tier. Their social circles overlapped, and there were only a few jokes that could be made at high-end gatherings—one of which was the “true vs. fake” young master of the Gu family.

People often compared Gu Qichi to Gu Yuning: one was a wild phoenix that fell into a golden nest, the other a true phoenix born at the wrong time. The former was Gu Qichi; the latter, Gu Yuning. Everyone’s evaluation of Gu Qichi revolved around words like “crude,” “uncultured,” and “submissive”—a wooden person who was inexplicably annoying.

Song Zhian had heard these things before, but he simply couldn’t connect that description to the person in front of him. The youth before him was exactly like the crimson blade hanging at his waist: sharp, vibrant, resilient, and thin. He was a beauty with a piercing edge, yet possessed a mysterious, decadent aura—like a rose blooming silently in the dark of night, intense and flamboyant.

He was nothing like the person described in those elite circles… It was as if they were two different people.

Song Zhian’s interest deepened. Instead of scolding his assistant, he gestured for him to come closer. “Go investigate. Find out who is behind him.”

Just as he finished speaking, he saw Gu Qichi walking toward him.

---

Gu Qichi usually had a good temperament—or rather, he had been worn down by the past until he had no temper left to speak of. It was only when Bo Yu was around that his emotions would lazily surface, acting out like a cat testing its owner’s limits. Because of Bo Yu’s bottomless indulgence, these emotions had an outlet. Gu Qichi was becoming more “human” and vivid around him, shedding the baggage he carried with others.

This vividness wasn’t something everyone could see. It was nurtured by Bo Yu, bit by bit, and it represented Gu Qichi’s trust. Bo Yu held that right, but no one else did. It was a privilege granted only to him.

However, since this morning, Song Zhian had been constantly testing Gu Qichi’s reactions. Then there were the frequent NGs tonight. Gu Qichi knew he was doing it on purpose. Every time he grabbed Song Zhian’s neck, that parasitic, lingering gaze was impossible to escape. It was fanatical, obsessed, and filled with malicious desire. It was nauseating.

Gu Qichi was uncharacteristically furious. The anger shimmered in the corners of his eyes, turning his eyelids red. Even someone as dense as Lin Shuangyi noticed something was off. He intervened before Gu Qichi could snap: “Gu Qichi, come here. Let’s study what was wrong with that last take.”

Gu Qichi, his attention diverted, suppressed his fire to listen to the director.

Lin Shuangyi: “I agree with your acting method, but it’s not just Song Zhian who has a problem. Your emotions are off, too.”

Gu Qichi frowned. He had wiped his face too hard with the towel, and his makeup was gone, revealing his true face. His features were sharp yet elegant, his gaze clear like a shimmering deep lake—far less “demonic” than the character Shen Qingye.

Gu Qichi: “Why? Shouldn’t Shen Qingye feel nothing but hatred for Shi Tianlin?”

Lin Shuangyi smiled. Gu Qichi was naturally gifted; he could control his emotions and enter a character rapidly. He rarely caused NGs himself. But there was a downside: his personal style was too strong.

Shen Qingye was like a burning fire, hot and intense. This matched Gu Qichi’s acting. When he acted with veterans like Teacher Wen Shi, who played the Emperor, they had great chemistry. But with others—like Song Zhian—whose acting couldn’t reach Gu Qichi’s level, it resulted in the co-star either dropping out of character or struggling to keep up.

Gu Qichi didn’t “guide” his co-stars. To be precise, he didn’t care to. He was indifferent to the emotions of Song Zhian or any other opponent. This fire was a bit too scorching.

Lin Shuangyi pointed at the monitor: “At this point, Shen Qingye doesn’t just feel hate. He feels the pleasure of revenge. But because Shi Tianlin mentions his father, Shen Qingye inevitably feels pain. Shi Tianlin hit a nerve. Think about it—the Shen family was loyal, and Shen Qingye’s dream was to be a general. Now he’s trapped in the palace, doing these dirty things to frame others. He is the one who hurts the most.”

Gu Qichi stared at the replay, deep in thought. After a moment, he understood, but he still wasn’t happy. He pointed to the script where it said “Shen Qingye grabs Shi Tianlin’s neck and speaks harshly,” and said:

“Director, I want to change this part. There is too much between Shen Qingye and Shi Tianlin. He wouldn’t want to touch Shi Tianlin’s body willingly. It’s… disgusting.”

“Touching him makes him feel even filthier.”

Lin Shuangyi remained silent, processing Gu Qichi’s words. He was a smart man and realized Gu Qichi and Song Zhian didn’t get along. He understood the double meaning: Shen Qingye found Shi Tianlin disgusting, and Gu Qichi found Song Zhian disgusting.

He sighed, glancing at Song Zhian. “Fine. You two play it out once, let me see the effect.”

---

The camera rolled again. Gu Qichi had a thin layer of touch-up makeup, yet he was still breathtaking. The artificial rain poured down, soaking his hair and clothes.

Under the majestic city walls, upon hearing Shi Tianlin’s mockery, Shen Qingye’s pupils contracted. First pain, then a massive wave of sorrow that was forcibly suppressed. Mockery and bone-deep hatred slowly surfaced in his eyes.

This time, Gu Qichi didn’t reach for Song Zhian’s neck. He used his foot.

His boots were a masterpiece—black, tall boots embroidered with golden clouds and a rounded Pi Xiu, symbolizing fulfillment. He kicked Song Zhian squarely in the chest. Unprepared, Song Zhian tumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock.

In front of everyone, Gu Qichi—who never picked fights—broke his pattern. He ground his boot into Song Zhian’s chest as if venting his spleen.

Lin Shuangyi stared at the monitor, mesmerized. Luo Qianqian was nervous. She didn’t blame Gu Qichi; Song Zhian had been trying to get “handsy” with him for the past half-month. As an assistant who remembered Wen Xi’s warnings, she saw the greed in Song Zhian’s eyes.

Luo Qianqian clenched her fists. She remembered why she had quit her last job. Song Zhian looked clean on the outside, but his heart was rotten. He had tried to “sponsor” (sexually exploit) the idol she used to assist—a boy with innocent deer eyes.

Back in reality, Gu Qichi’s voice rang out with ruthless decisiveness. He stepped down hard, making Song Zhian let out a muffled groan. The words he spoke weren’t the lines from the script. Song Zhian knew they were meant for him personally.

Gu Qichi looked down at him with icy eyes, his waist taut and sharp, his smile indifferent:

“Who do you think you are? You’re not worthy of speaking my name.”