Chapter 76 – Wiping the Crybaby’s Hands

Wei Lai’s first thought was that Chen Meixian had done something to Yao Chaowu. After mulling over it for five minutes, he frowned and typed, “What’s wrong with you?”

Yao Chaowu replied instantly, “Do you remember that insane sasaeng¹A Korean term for an excessively obsessive fan who engages in extreme, intrusive, and even illegal behavior that invades the privacy of a celebrity, such as stalking or breaking into their home. fan from before?!”

About a year ago, Yao Chaowu had been tormented by a sasaeng fan—a man in his twenties, fanatical and perverted. At first, he got hold of Yao Chaowu’s phone number and bombarded him with harassing calls and texts from different numbers. After being blocked countless times, he started staking out every possible place Yao Chaowu might appear: airports, company entrances, residential gates, film sets… The moment he spotted Yao Chaowu, he would rush over and hug him. The last time they met was when Yao Chaowu was staying at a hotel. The moment he opened the balcony curtains, he saw a dark figure standing outside.

Yao Chaowu had a fear of heights, so he usually stayed on the first or second floor of hotels. He never expected that this deranged sasaeng fan would climb up the pipes to his balcony!

The moment the fan’s retinas caught sight of Yao Chaowu, his eyes lit up. Like a rabid dog, he lunged forward, slamming into the glass with a loud bang. When he couldn’t get in, he stuck out his tongue and started licking the glass door frantically while jerking off at Yao Chaowu.

Yao Chaowu vomited on the spot.

Later, this perverted young man was naturally sent to jail by Wei Lai. After that, he seemed to have quieted down. Wei Lai assumed he had repented and turned over a new leaf in prison, so he stopped paying attention to the matter.

Wei Lai: “Was it him?”

Yao Chaowu: “I didn’t see his face, but it felt familiar (crying). Wei Lai, I keep feeling like someone’s following me. I’m too scared to sleep. A few days ago, I was driving home when a car started tailing me. I panicked, had a headache, and crashed into a telephone pole. The car didn’t stop—it just kept going.”

Wei Lai immediately called Yao Chaowu. “Are you okay?”

Yao Chaowu’s voice on the phone sounded stifled. “I’m fine.”

Wei Lai said, “You… don’t sound fine.”

After a long silence, Yao Chaowu said, “Chen Meixian was in the passenger seat. He got a concussion and is now lying in the hospital.”

Wei Lai froze for a second, then couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Yao Chaowu: “???”

“Ahem…” Wei Lai cleared his throat. “As long as you’re okay. I wasn’t laughing at you—I just saw something funny.”

“Wei, I’m not okay.” Yao Chaowu’s voice trembled before he steadied it with effort. “I… never mind… it’s nothing serious. I’m hanging up.”

The call ended abruptly. Wei Lai held his phone, feeling somewhat lost. From Yao Chaowu’s tone, it seemed like there was something he couldn’t bring himself to say. Wei Lai opened his browser and searched Yao Chaowu’s name.

At the top of the results was a headline: How Exhausting Is Being a Celebrity? Yao Chaowu Faints On Stage, Guests Watch Indifferently Without Helping.

Posted seven hours ago.

Wei Lai texted Yao Chaowu: “You fainted??? What happened?!”

Yao Chaowu replied, “It’s really nothing. I was just… a little tired.”

Yao Chaowu knew Wei Lai well—the more he insisted he was fine, the more worried Wei Lai would get. True to form, Wei Lai said, “Where are you? I’ll come see you.”

Yao Chaowu replied, “Please don’t. Xiao Chu will get mad. I don’t want to see you two fight over me. (smug emoji)”

Wei Lai: “…Then how about I come with him to see you?”

Yao Chaowu nearly spat blood and replied sincerely, “If he comes, it might worsen my condition.”

“That makes sense, I guess.” It wouldn’t be hard for Wei Lai to find out which hospital Yao Chaowu was in, so he didn’t press further. “Alright, got it. Stay put at the hospital—I’ll bring you some milk tea.”

Yao Chaowu: “Three-quarters sugar, thanks! Love you! Mwah!”

Wei Lai reread Yao Chaowu’s “Love you” three times.

As a straight man, Yao Chaowu casually tossed around flirty phrases like “Love you” and “Mwah,” which used to make Wei Lai overthink and feel restless. But now, after repeatedly checking—yes, faced with those three words, his heart remained completely unmoved. He really didn’t like Yao Chaowu anymore.

Years of unrequited love had vanished just like that. Wei Lai once again spiraled into the vortex of wondering if he was just a natural-born scumbag.

Wei Lai went to the set, where Chu Yin was filming a snow-covered murder scene. Standing behind the director, Wei Lai watched the screen as Chu Yin, hands covered in “blood,” stared unblinkingly, his smile restrained yet deranged—extremely chilling.

The camera pulled back, and Chu Yin stood in the vast white snow, slowly shrinking into a black dot.

“Cut.” The director sighed in admiration. “Xiao Yin nailed this scene! Wrapped up in three takes—saved us a ton of budget.”

Wei Lai thought, Of course—who do you think he is? My crybaby. But out loud, he just said politely, “It’s all thanks to your guidance, Director.”

Wei Lai waved at Chu Yin, who bounded over through the snow, leaving deep footprints with each step. His long legs made quick work of the distance, and soon he was right in front of Wei Lai, exhaling a puff of white air. He stretched out his hands, revealing his “blood”-stained palms. “Madam Wei, look at my hands.”

Wei Lai glanced down. “What about them?”

Chu Yin pushed his hands forward a little more, pouting. “They’re dirty.”

Wei Lai: “…You want me to wipe them for you?”

Chu Yin kept his hands outstretched, neither speaking nor pulling them back. Wei Lai got the hint, grabbed some wet wipes soaked in makeup remover, and started cleaning Chu Yin’s hands.

Having successfully gotten his way, Chu Yin was instantly delighted. He sat on a small stool and watched Wei Lai wipe his fingers one by one. Once one hand was clean, he sneakily tucked it into Wei Lai’s pocket to keep warm.

Wei Lai said, “You acted so well just now—I almost didn’t recognize you. You can ‘kill’ people now, but you still need me to wipe the ‘blood’ off your hands?”

Chu Yin curled his lips and murmured, “I only want you to wipe me.”

For a split second, Wei Lai misheard it as “I only want you to fuck me.” His chrysanthemum clenched, and his delicate body shuddered as he jerked his head up to stare at Chu Yin.

Chu Yin was wearing a dark, yandere-style makeup look, with streaks of “blood” on his face. He might not have fully shaken off the character yet—his tone carried a hint of possessive obsession. But the way he smiled faintly was so sweet that the two clashing vibes sent Wei Lai’s mind spiraling into the gutter again.

It took Wei Lai a while to calm down before he could speak again. “There’s something at my studio I need to handle. Keep filming, and if anything comes up, tell me immediately. Once I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Chu Yin said, “Don’t come back. Go home and pick up Big Orange. Make sure you show her my photos and videos—I don’t want her to forget me. It’s so cold here, and there are giant spiders. I’ll come home as soon as I finish my scenes.”

Wei Lai hummed in agreement but hesitated, wanting to tell Chu Yin that he was going to visit Yao Chaowu—and laugh at Chen Meixian’s concussion—but afraid it might sour Chu Yin’s mood.

“Chu Yin… I…”

Chu Yin had already planned out how to arrange Wei Lai’s birthday party. Wei Lai leaving for a while actually fit into part of his scheme, so he eagerly shooed him away. “Go home and wait for me.”

Wei Lai thought about it and decided that avoiding trouble was better than inviting it. “Alright. Don’t mess around on set, okay? If anything happens, ask your assistant. If the assistant can’t handle it, go to Qian Tianyi—he seems reliable. No matter what happens, tell me about it. Eat on time, keep your heating pads on…”

Chu Yin covered his ears. “Got it! So annoying, hmph!”

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  A Korean term for an excessively obsessive fan who engages in extreme, intrusive, and even illegal behavior that invades the privacy of a celebrity, such as stalking or breaking into their home.