By the time this episode finished broadcasting, it was already close to midnight back home.

However, because the flight had carried the entire production crew and the guests across half the globe, when they finally touched down in a small, exotic country on the Nordic tectonic plate, the time difference meant the sun had only just dipped below the horizon. A molten golden light washed over the streets, dyeing the snow that blanketed everything into a warm hue.

It was just after five in the afternoon.

Dodan, Mainio Airport.

Before getting off the plane, a staff member held a megaphone to remind everyone to bundle up in their hats and scarves. The outdoor temperature was already below freezing. Dodan, in particular, had entered winter since early December, and heavy goose-feather snow had been falling continuously for over a month.

Outside was an absolute world of ice and snow.

At the airport exit, the staff who had traveled ahead to Dodan to prep for the week’s shoot arrived right on time to pick them up. They had arranged several coaches, splitting the large group into smaller teams to transport the people and the accompanying camera equipment to the indoor filming location for the next few days.

The guests, their personal camera operators, the director’s team, and the accompanying medical staff were assigned to the same coach.

Shi Linchuan and the other guests sat in their designated seats in the back half of the cabin. Fixed cameras had long since been installed on the seatbacks, and a staff member was currently conducting a multi-person interview with them before the week’s shooting began.

During this time, his gaze brushed past the half of a head faintly visible from the seat in front of him. He couldn’t help but recall what had happened not long ago—when he and Xie Jinghe were messing around, and he had accidentally been pushed and pinned onto the chair by the other man. Suddenly, a sound of something overturning had echoed behind them.

Xie Jinghe had hurriedly turned his head back, subconsciously blurting out an apology.

“It’s fine,” the person in the back seat responded quickly.

Hearing that clear and crisp voice, Shi Linchuan’s movements slowed by half a beat. When he turned his head around, sure enough, he saw a very memorable face.

It was Xie Jinghe’s canon top.

The man had handsome features, a straight bridge to his nose, and the eyes behind his lenses looked remarkably approachable. It lent him a gentle, jade-like aura; his every word and action radiated elegance, making him the text-book definition of a gentleman.

As if thinking of something, he pushed up his glasses, lifted his eyes, and asked Xie Jinghe, “Mr. Xie, is your hand alright now? For a short-term dislocation, it’s best to rest for a while, keep warm, and try to avoid strenuous activities.”

Xie Jinghe, who just moments ago could have been described as “alive and kicking” as he vigorously pinned his husband into the chair, silently averted his gaze.

“…”

After speaking, the gentle man flashed another smile at Shi Linchuan, who was sitting directly in the front seat, nodding as he greeted, “Mr. Shi.”

Shi Linchuan returned a polite, fake smile.

“What a coincidence to meet again.”

The gentle man tilted his head slightly, pondered for a moment, and said with a light smile, “Yes, though I hope I won’t run into you two again after this.” He paused before continuing, “After all, I am a doctor. Seeing me during a trip is usually not a good sign.”

Clearly, he was cracking a joke.

And no one present knew…

That in the near future, these words would become a self-fulfilling prophecy, like an omen.

But that was a story for later.

Bringing the time back to the present.

The coach drove along the wide streets for over an hour, passing through the city center, before finally pulling up in front of a detached villa on the outskirts.

The snow was pristine white, and the red house stood three stories high.

“Wow, the living conditions for this week’s cohabitation are amazing!” After getting off the bus, Xu You held her suitcase, unable to resist looking around as she looked up and sighed in awe. “There’s a vast forest and snow-capped mountains nearby. The scenery is so beautiful. Oh right, I think you can see the aurora borealis during this season!”

Compared to last week, the three pairs of guests would be living together in this scenic villa this week. Their living conditions had skyrocketed, and they no longer had to stress over their daily meals.

From tension to relaxation.

The guests’ moods eased accordingly.

Except for Xie Jinghe.

As the only divorced couple who had made different choices the previous week, he and Shi Linchuan were assigned to two separate rooms—one at the absolute left end, and the other at the absolute right end. They were separated by a long hallway, spanning the distance of several rooms.

Shi Linchuan’s room happened to be the first one right next to the stairs.

He was the first to stop. Before he could open the door to enter, his peripheral vision caught Xie Jinghe walking toward the depths of the hallway, turning his head back every three steps. Even after everyone else had entered their rooms, Xie Jinghe was still looking over at him from afar, looking exactly like a young man deeply in love.

The two locked eyes for a brief moment.

Shi Linchuan suddenly raised his hand and waved at the man.

It looked like he was shooing him away.

However, in the very next second.

Xie Jinghe raised both his arms high above his head and threw him a massive hand-heart.

Shi Linchuan: “…”

A wave of passionate, brilliant affection crashed over him.

He could only turn his head away awkwardly. The deliberately aged key in his hand poked at the keyhole several times before finally sliding in. The bell pendant dangling beneath it let out a ding-ling ding-ling sound, as if mercilessly mocking him.

A short while later.

Once the guests finished tidying up their respective rooms and took a stroll around the villa, the sky outside had completely darkened. The production crew provided everyone with an exceptionally lavish dinner.

Everyone ate to their heart’s content.

Firewood crackled in the fireplace, not only warming the indoor air but also diffusing a unique aroma that soothed the tense nerves of people who had been traveling for over a dozen hours.

After dinner, everyone exchanged brief pleasantries before tacitly heading back to their rooms to rest.

Shi Linchuan did the same.

Only, in the dead of night, the man lying flat and asleep suddenly heard a very faint noise in the room. It sounded like an animal’s paws stepping on a wooden floor—muffled and hard to detect.

Next came the rustling sound of clothes being shed.

Very quickly.

A slightly cool body slipped into the duvet.

The intruder lay alone for a short while, waiting until his own hands and feet warmed up before sluggishly squeezing into Shi Linchuan’s embrace. His breath was damp and warm, and his lips couldn’t help but press against Shi Linchuan’s earlobe, sucking on it gently for a few seconds before letting go.

Leaving the warm spot, the damp earlobe was quickly chilled red by the cold air.

Shi Linchuan couldn’t help but complain, “Freezing.”

“It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing?”

The room was silent.

The man’s voice was very low, yet it landed like a sudden clap of thunder.

Discovering that he was awake—and that his voice didn’t carry the blurry, raspy tone of someone who had been startled awake—Xie Jinghe’s movements unconsciously grew bolder. He then leaned in through the darkness to plant a few more kisses on the man’s earlobe, spouting nonsense like an automated reply: “I missed you. I missed you so much I couldn’t sleep.”

With that said, he let out a long sigh of relief and remarked, “Good thing you didn’t lock the door, otherwise I wouldn’t have known how to get in to find you.” As he spoke, he suddenly jammed, and then asked in a somewhat nuanced tone, “Linchuan, did you deliberately…?”

Shi Linchuan answered immediately, “No.”

Xie Jinghe held him, grumbling, “I haven’t even finished speaking.”

Shi Linchuan rolled onto his side, slapped a hand over the other’s eyes, and urged with immense annoyance, “Don’t talk so much. Go to sleep, look what time it is.”

Xie Jinghe obediently shut his mouth.

Before long, his breathing grew long and steady.

However, Shi Linchuan found himself completely unable to fall back asleep.

With great effort, he extracted his arm from Xie Jinghe’s embrace, silently got out of bed, threw on a coat, opened the window by a tiny, narrow crack, and lit a cigarette.

In truth, he didn’t smoke frequently.

But over the past few months, the frequency of his smoking had been rising. Recently, it had escalated to the point where the moment he saw Xie Jinghe’s foolish face, his throat and tongue would tighten, and he would need nicotine to help his brain maintain its usual composure.

It seemed it wasn’t working anymore.

Shi Linchuan stared at the snowy scenery outside the window crack, exhaling a puff of grayish-white smoke, and subconsciously glanced back at the silhouette under the duvet.

The room was dim.

Xie Jinghe was sleeping deeply, his hair sticking up in tufts. Shi Linchuan could vaguely see the tip of an ear peeking out from the mess, which inexplicably made him want to take a bite and taste it.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Faint and light. Like snow, yet also like mist.

But snow would melt, and mist would disperse. Once day broke, he would never flash such a smile at a conscious Xie Jinghe—because Shi Linchuan was a coward who didn’t dare, and couldn’t afford to, admit that his entire heart had been genuinely captured by a certain someone.

Otherwise, the magic encasing his heart would fail.

And he was unwilling to bear the agonizing pain of having his heart corroded.

Even though Xie Jinghe had nearly hollowed out the blood, bones, and organs inside his flesh, leaving him with only a thin outer shell, Shi Linchuan still refused to admit defeat.

He could die, but he could not break.

Fuu.

The final drag of smoke perished in the cold air.

Shi Linchuan closed the window crack, trod lightly to the bedside, crouched down, and leaned into the sleeping man’s ear, whispering softly, “I really hate you, ever since the first time we met.”

He stared at the man for a long moment, finally unable to resist any longer. He suddenly opened his mouth and nipped that exposed tip of the ear between his teeth, gently grinding it back and forth twice, as if he really had tasted a hint of sweetness.

The fixed camera in the corner of the room had long since been covered by him with a towel.

Consider it a casual convenience.

The next day.

After a full day and night of rest, the production crew was fully prepared and ready to push forward with this week’s live streaming and recording work. Due to the time difference between home and abroad, the broadcast schedule for the live room had been adjusted accordingly, and the duration had also been shortened.

Following a technical simulation, the impact on the live stream’s popularity remained within controllable limits.

Because when converted back to the domestic capital’s time, the live room’s starting time was delayed to six in the evening. This was precisely the time slot where the leisure hours of various age groups overlapped the most, combined with the popularity accumulated from the previous week…

Maintaining their baseline level was absolutely not an issue.

Correspondingly, there would also be more unbroadcasted raw footage, which would be beneficial for attracting viewers later on.

The planning team had long since discussed it and believed the pros of this move outweighed the cons.

Once the guests finished breakfast, the director’s team queued up the schedule.

After a round of mini-games, the three pairs of guests received different scores. According to their scores, the staff handed each pair an envelope of varying thickness, along with identical models of a portable camera.

“Inside is the travel fund for you and your partner for the entire day.”

There was only one task for the day: the partners needed to utilize this money reasonably to spend a pleasant day outside. No restrictions on location, no restrictions on content, and they had to take a commemorative photo together.

The theme for this week was called: [Memories].

Shi Linchuan pinched the thickest envelope among the three groups, casually stuffed it into Xie Jinghe’s coat pocket, and asked quite indifferently, “Where to?”

Xie Jinghe looked excited and fired back, “Where do you want to go?”

During their previous three years of married life, he had frequently suggested going on trips with his husband, but Shi Linchuan had always used his public identity as an excuse, or lied that the company leaders wouldn’t approve his leave, rejecting Xie Jinghe’s invitations time and time again.

After being rejected, Xie Jinghe would feel very despondent.

But he was also very easy to coax. As long as Shi Linchuan pulled him onto his lap and bounced him around for a few minutes, he would be so ecstatic that he couldn’t find north, completely forgetting his original plans.

The snow that had fallen all night finally grew tired and ceased.

Shi Linchuan tilted his face up, his peripheral vision catching the white, snowy mountain not far away, and abruptly suggested, “Let’s go skiing.”

Hearing this, Xie Jinghe bit his lower lip and replied, “I don’t know how to ski…”

Shi Linchuan tugged his sleeve and pulled the man along directly.

“I do.”

Xie Jinghe turned his head to look at him in surprise and curiosity, pressing, “I never knew before, it turns out you like skiing?”

Shi Linchuan said flatly, “I don’t. I hate it.”

Neither of the men was light, and they left two lines of deep footprints in the snow, making a sharp crunch-crunch sound. They forged ahead all the way toward the snow-white summit, looking like two pieces of candy that had accidentally dropped into a soft-serve ice cream cone—minuscule yet endearing.

The plush pom-poms on their collars were caressed by the wind, fluttering upward.

The snow mountain looked close, but in reality, it was far away.

When they reached the mountain base, the two synchronized their steps toward the cable car ticket window. After inquiring about the price, they unhesitatingly used their ample funds to purchase a ticket for a double-enclosure cabin.

The personal camera operator bought a ticket for the following slot.

At this hour, there weren’t many tourists yet.

The two only waited for a few minutes before boarding the double cabin.

According to the local staff’s introduction, this kind of cabin was made of specialized high-density glass, making its safety unquestionable. Furthermore, it was transparent on all six sides, allowing one to appreciate the snow scenery from all angles—making it the top choice for couples.

As an actor who frequently hung from wire harnesses, Xie Jinghe was naturally not afraid of heights. As for Shi Linchuan, in his original world, he didn’t just ski; he frequently went bungee jumping from high altitudes, so this minor sense of suspension was a walk in the park.

Vroom—

The staff pulled down the lever.

The cabin started up, moving up the mountain along the guide rails.

Halfway through the ride, Shi Linchuan sat on the seat with his arms crossed, his face turned sideways as he looked out. Xie Jinghe was clinging to the left half of his arm, his other hand holding the card camera high up, continuously calling out to him, “Turn your face over, the production crew told us to casually record happy moments—”

The man ignored him.

Xie Jinghe: “Otherwise I’m going to force a kiss on you again in a second.”

Shi Linchuan’s expression was speechless. But just as his head turned halfway around, his movements suddenly hitched. His narrow eyes turned incredibly sharp, and his tone became solemn: “Did you hear some kind of noise?”

Xie Jinghe hadn’t reacted yet.

Right at that moment.

Shi Linchuan heard another strange sound.

It sounded like the noise of something snapping.