It wasn’t until the third day that Lou Shao finally showed up late. He entered without a single apology, simply flipping casually through his pristine script.

Xiao Meng followed behind him sheepishly, saying nothing but secretly glancing up to gauge Gu Qichi and Wen Che’s expressions.

Gu Qichi had a cold face. Wen Che, with his hot temper, showed no mercy and immediately fired back: “Lou Shao, I’d like to ask you—did you fail to reincarnate somewhere these past two days? Because I sure didn’t see you in this world of the living.”

The script in his hand was crumpled and wrinkled. His eyes burned like bright stars, and his mouth shot out words like a machine gun: “What’s the deal? Did you fail to reincarnate today too, so you’re slowly drifting back from the underworld?”

The production team originally didn’t want to bother with their quarrel. Lou Shao was the most popular of the four, and Ada had already greased the wheels with the director and producer. With some editing and post-production manipulation, they could easily cover up the fact that Lou Shao hadn’t been there for two days.

After all, Lou Shao wasn’t like the others—his schedule was packed, announcements flying everywhere. The production team was willing to turn a blind eye. They just hadn’t expected this ancestor Wen Che to speak up and cause trouble.

Their original plan was for Gu Qichi to speak up, then they’d add some inflammatory subtitles and expressions in post-production to solidify Lou Shao’s persona as a “pitiful underling bullied by company seniors.” But they didn’t want to provoke the big Buddha that was Wen Che.

However, only the production team knew about Young Master Wen Che’s identity. A lesser-known actor like Lou Shao had no way of knowing; he was kept completely in the dark.

So when Wen Che attacked him, the anger on Lou Shao’s face was impossible to conceal. If the cameras weren’t positioned right there, he probably would have thrown a punch.

Xiao Meng was also a bit scared. Lou Shao had initially told her not to cooperate with Gu Qichi and Wen Che. His status was much higher than hers, and he had promised to introduce her to Ada, so she had steeled her heart and didn’t come.

Now the atmosphere was so awkward. Xiao Meng glanced around anxiously and spoke up: “Wen Che, don’t say that. Brother Lou Shao was just busy; it’s not like he deliberately didn’t come.”

Wen Che had originally intended to give her face since she was a girl, but seeing her defend Lou Shao like this, his brows arched upward and a mocking smile curled at the corners of his mouth. He sneered: “Oh, so only you two are busy people? Your time is precious, but mine and Qichi-ge’s time can be squandered at will?”

After being scolded several times in succession, the veins on Lou Shao’s forehead throbbed incessantly. He glanced at the camera and tried hard to restrain his temper, suppressing his anger: “Wen Che, you’re a newbie who hasn’t even debuted yet. Is it appropriate to talk to seniors like this?”

The staff, seeing things were going south, was about to step forward to intervene when they saw Gu Qichi, who had been silent the whole time, stand up.

Gu Qichi felt he had no grudge against Lou Shao and really couldn’t figure out the other’s intentions. But that didn’t mean he was a soft persimmon that could be kneaded by anyone.

He glanced at the production team, who were happy to watch the drama unfold, lifted his eyelids, looked at Lou Shao on the verge of rage, and spoke methodically: “Lou Shao, as a company junior, you made us wait for you for two days. Is that appropriate?”

“You didn’t answer phone calls or reply to WeChat messages.” Gu Qichi leaned half his body against the corner, his gaze coolly sweeping over the phone Lou Shao was clutching, his voice mocking: “Teacher Lou, you really are busy.”

“I wonder why you have time to come back to participate in this program today. It’s because Mentor Yi Zhiyin is coming back to check our progress, isn’t it?”

His words were pointed and clear. Lou Shao looked around in alarm, his face flushing red as he shouted: “Gu Qichi, what nonsense are you talking about?!”

Gu Qichi sneered and ignored him completely.

But this storm was far from over. When Yi Zhiyin came to check everyone’s rehearsal progress, she was so angry her chest heaved—a rare sight.

Gu Qichi and Wen Che had rehearsed for three days. Their lines were fluent, expressions on point, though some emotional parts weren’t handled well. Yi Zhiyin gave feedback on their performance, then began scolding Xiao Meng and Lou Shao.

One could at least stumble through the lines. Although her acting was terrible, at least you could tell she had read the script.

But Lou Shao hadn’t read the script at all. This group’s script was original, so Lou Shao knew nothing about it. Yet he was playing the male lead and had scenes with all three others. During rehearsals, he either forgot his lines or broke character.

Yi Zhiyin was famous for her explosive temper and harsh scolding. She gave Lou Shao no face whatsoever, directly shouting:

“Lou Shao, you fought for this male lead role yourself, and this is how you perform it?! If you want to go to another group, I won’t stop you. Go wherever you want, but don’t waste my time here.”

She scolded Lou Shao until his face turned red. Tears spun wildly in his eyes, about to fall any second, but he forcibly held them back, looking up at the ceiling at a 45-degree angle in an affected manner.

Seeing this, Wen Che crossed his arms and sneered, his tone neither yin nor yang: “Oh, is our superstar Lou planning to go audition for a campus romance drama again?”

Lou Shao was left speechless and could only run back to complain to Ada.

Lou Shao: “Sister Ada, that Gu Qichi is exactly as you said—a despicable person. He’s leading the actors in our group to isolate me and talking bad about me to the mentor behind my back.”

He was currently Ada’s most valuable cash cow, so even though she knew his words were somewhat exaggerated, Ada had to endure it.

Ada: “I asked you to observe him before, to see who his backer really is. Did you find out? Even if you want to go after him, you need to weigh who’s behind him first.”

Wen Xi always looked radiant, which made Ada feel uneasy.

But having worked with Wen Xi for many years, Ada knew she wasn’t the type to push her artists into doing those dirty things, so she had always doubted the rumors about Gu Qichi circulating online.

Lou Shao thought of the shabby nanny van Gu Qichi drove to work these past few days and sneered disdainfully.

Lou Shao: “What backer could he have? Sister Ada, you didn’t see Gu Qichi’s shabby appearance. His nanny van is second-hand, and he wears street market clothes without a single brand label.”

Hearing this, Ada finally relaxed. She looked at the marketing team’s contact in her list for spreading dirt, and ultimately clicked on it.

There was no choice. There were only so many opportunities to stand out in one program, and with so many people needing to share, there simply weren’t enough to go around.

For the sake of her own artist, she could only sacrifice others.

She decisively sent a pre-edited message:

[After the program airs, market Lou Shao as a hard-working, diligent newcomer and a pitiful one suppressed by seniors.]

[As for Gu Qichi in his group, he has plenty of dirt on him—bullying newcomers, being kept by a sugar daddy, sabotaging colleagues. You can fabricate more stories. Remember to suppress him completely. As for his face, you can use plastic surgery and silicone face to deflect.]

Seeing the other party reply with “received,” Ada was finally satisfied.

…

Bo Yu returned on the fifth day of program recording. At first, he didn’t tell Gu Qichi. Luo Qianqian said he was exhausted from rehearsing these days, staying soaked in the practice room and refusing to eat. He hadn’t even eaten properly.

When Bo Yu pushed open the door, the entire house was cold and empty. Dim yellow light rippled overhead. Bo Yu briefly organized his luggage, then cleaned up a bit, planning to pick up Gu Qichi from work.

He notified Luo Qianqian in advance. Upon receiving the message, she immediately turned the nanny van around and left, preserving enough alone time for the long-separated couple.

When Bo Yu arrived, it was already late in the evening.

As the Bentley passed through the broadcasting hall’s main entrance, Bo Yu was about to grab his phone to send Gu Qichi a message when he suddenly heard rustling sounds from the doorway.

He turned his head to look.

Today’s weather was a bit cold, and the temperature had dropped quickly. Gu Qichi wore a thin hoodie inside with a thick rabbit fur coat outside. White rabbit fur trimmed the edges, with a circle also adorning the hood. Gu Qichi wore the hood, his entire face hidden behind the rabbit fur, his expression unclear.

He had always been this afraid of the cold. Whenever the temperature dropped, he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself into a snowball.

Bo Yu smiled and pursed his lips, then suddenly noticed a kid standing beside Gu Qichi.

The kid next to him was slightly taller than him. He looked young, with curly chestnut-brown hair. His right ear had countless piercings; though it was dark, you could vaguely make out three or four glittering diamond studs on his ear.

This kid seemed to be on good terms with Gu Qichi. He was practically pressed against him, looking down at Gu Qichi with a beaming smile.

Bo Yu made a displeased “tsk” sound, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Wen Che was pulling at Gu Qichi’s sleeve, acting spoiled: “Qichi-ge, then it’s settled. Tomorrow you’ll get up early, and we’ll go eat the brown sugar mochi and glutinous rice cakes from my neighborhood.”

“That shop’s fresh shrimp wontons and soup dumplings are also delicious. You’ll definitely love them.”

“Okay, Qichi-ge?”

Wen Che was taller than Gu Qichi. Although only by a few centimeters, sometimes Gu Qichi still needed to look up at him.

The young man’s feelings were undisguised—direct, candid, and bright enough to almost burn one’s eyes.

The hood slipped backward, revealing half of Gu Qichi’s face. He pressed his lips together, freeing his sleeve from the other’s grasp and imperceptibly increasing the distance between himself and Wen Che, saying gently: “I got it. Go back quickly.”

His demeanor was cool, and his voice was cool.

Perhaps it was some kind of intuition, but Gu Qichi always felt Wen Che was a bit too clingy.

He could understand a college kid alone and away from home not feeling secure, but Gu Qichi was, after all, a married man. Helping Wen Che out during normal times was already enough. If he continued these unnecessary physical contacts, Gu Qichi thought, Bo Yu would probably flip if he saw it.

Perhaps his sixth sense was too accurate. The moment he made this gesture, Gu Qichi sensed something was off—a burning gaze was fixed firmly on him.

He turned to look and, unsurprisingly, saw the Bentley at the entrance.

It was one of Bo Yu’s cars from the underground parking garage.

Gu Qichi’s heart immediately skipped a beat. He pulled himself even farther from Wen Che, slowly tucking his hands into his pockets to seek more warmth. He cleared his throat, coughed once to steady his emotions, then said to Wen Che: “It’s getting late. You should head back.”

Gu Qichi: “I need to go home too.”

They didn’t live in the same direction; in fact, they were going opposite ways. So there was no question of going together.

Additionally, since Wen Che had been trying hard to maintain his “hardworking student supporting his family” persona in front of Gu Qichi, he didn’t dare rashly invite him to go home together. He could only leave hastily.

Once Wen Che disappeared, Gu Qichi withdrew his gaze and, step by step, opened the Bentley’s door and sat in the passenger seat.

The air pressure inside the car was frighteningly low. The man’s irritation was almost tangible, spreading inch by inch, squeezing the environment around Gu Qichi. It was as if a large net was forming, slowly tightening to devour Gu Qichi who had fallen into it.

Before Gu Qichi could speak, Bo Yu’s phoenix eyes were lowered, his Adam’s apple rolled up and down, and he spoke with ambiguous meaning: “Why were you staring at him? Can’t bear to part?”

Light and shadow flickered in the car. Most of Bo Yu’s face was hidden in darkness. Gu Qichi could only see his cold, sharp contours but not his expression.

Gu Qichi explained patiently: “He’s just a kid, Bo Yu. Don’t overthink it.”

Bo Yu said nothing, simply starting the car quietly. The Bentley drove into the night, its smooth lines cutting elegant arcs, the black body reflecting luxurious luster in the darkness.

Gu Qichi turned his head and saw a bouquet of champagne roses on the back seat, carefully wrapped, with a small box beside it.

Presumably all prepared for him.

Gu Qichi had originally planned to pick Bo Yu up at the airport. He had scheduled the time and deliberately moved his main scenes to these two days to make it convenient to take leave from the production team.

But he hadn’t expected Bo Yu to come back early again. The guilt in his heart deepened.

His gaze moved to Bo Yu’s face, and he took the initiative: “Didn’t you say you’d be back tomorrow? How did you arrive today?”

Bo Yu turned the steering wheel with one hand. With the other, he loosened his tie at the neck while waiting at a red light, casually saying: “The project was completed ahead of schedule, and there happened to be a flight available, so I came back quickly.”

He didn’t mention staying up several all-nighters to rush the project or having Bai Heng watch flight availability for a long time to find an opportunity to return early.

After arriving home, A-Ci came over to cling to him. The dishes the housekeeper had cooked were already arranged on the island. Bo Yu had timed it precisely, so the food was still hot when they returned.

You could tell it was a meal Bo Yu had specifically instructed to be prepared.

Boiled fish, stir-fried shrimp, sour soup beef, and dry pot chicken wings—all dishes Gu Qichi loved. Bo Yu’s own favorites were hardly present.

After A-Ci finished playing with Gu Qichi, her conscience kicked in and she remembered she still had a litter scooper. She leisurely jumped onto the dining table, her lake-blue cat eyes wide and round. Looking up at Bo Yu, she graciously and reservedly extended her pink paw pads, condescending to allow the surname-Bo litter scooper to hold her.

Bo Yu petted her a couple of times, his eyes showing no ripples, only saying flatly: “She’s gotten too fat.”

A-Ci heard this and nearly gave him another claw.

Gu Qichi found it amusing. He reached out to take A-Ci back, complaining: “Isn’t it all because you fed her so much?”

But throughout the entire evening, Bo Yu’s attitude was somewhat cold. Gu Qichi tried several times to start a conversation, but each time he swallowed his words back because Bo Yu was in meetings with company subordinates.

Guilt spread in his heart. Gu Qichi glanced several times at the man working seriously, struggling internally.

Tomorrow was the first scene shoot. Yi Zhiyin, as a mentor, had been following their rehearsals these past few days and would be there tomorrow to guide them. He also had to shoot wire-work action scenes. There was no way they could do that.

Perhaps… in a couple of days, he could give Bo Yu a little taste first?

He thought aimlessly and returned to his bedroom. Glancing at the time, it was already late—time to wash up.

He usually showered at this time. He gathered some personal clothes and opened the bathroom door.

The moment the shower turned on, hot water poured down, soothing the day’s fatigue and weariness.

But suddenly there was movement at the door. Gu Qichi turned to look.

Bo Yu stood at the doorway holding a ribbon, his expression bland, revealing no emotion.

Gu Qichi: “Bo Yu?”

He called his name once and was interrupted.

Bo Yu closed the door, striding in with large steps. He directly grabbed Gu Qichi’s wrist, his voice low and husky, wrapped in thick emotion:

“Didn’t you say you’d give me chances to perform?”

“Let’s try tonight.”

---

Author’s Note:
Bo Yu: Heh, an elementary school kid also dares to compete with me for my wife?
Wen Che: You’re the elementary school kid! Your whole family are elementary school kids!