Chapter 77 – Without The Crybaby

When Wei Lai entered Yao Chaowu’s hospital room, Yao Chaowu was lying on the bed with an IV drip, struggling to peel an orange with his free hand.

Wei Lai stood at the door. It seemed like he hadn’t seen Yao Chaowu in a long time, and a strange sense of unfamiliarity welled up in his heart—even though it had only been a few weeks.

Yao Chaowu noticed Wei Lai and let out a surprised “Ah!” before exclaiming, “Wei, you’re here! Wow, you came so fast!”

“Not bad, the plane was quick,” Wei Lai replied, taking the orange from Yao Chaowu’s hands and peeling it as he asked, “What’s going on? How did you end up in the hospital?”

Yao Chaowu sighed and gave a bitter smile. “Wei, you have no idea what my life’s been like since you left me. Like a little cabbage, yellow in the field, just two or three years old, without a mother.”

Wei Lai placed the peeled orange in Yao Chaowu’s hand and said, “So you’ve been living like a little cabbage? Where’s your caretaker?”

“Ever since that psycho got out of prison, I haven’t even dared to hire an assistant,” Yao Chaowu said, breaking off a segment of the orange and offering it to Wei Lai. “You peeled it for me, so you should eat first.”

As if by reflex, Wei Lai’s mind immediately conjured up the image of Chu Yin’s “pouty” glare. He slapped Yao Chaowu’s hand away with force and declared firmly, “No.”

The orange segment fell to the ground, and Yao Chaowu’s hand froze mid-air. After a brief moment of stunned silence, he seemed to understand something and quickly glanced at the door, lowering his voice. “Is… is Chu Yin outside?”

Wei Lai felt somewhat awkward. “He didn’t come. Sorry, I overreacted.”

Yao Chaowu waved his hand dismissively. “No, it’s my fault, I’m too guilty. After all… you’re not my manager anymore. I was just feeling really terrible and messaged you. I didn’t expect you to actually come. If my stupid problems cause any friction between you and Xiao Chu, I’d feel awful.”

Wei Lai said, “It’s fine. Even without the manager title, I’m still your friend. Don’t worry about bothering me. So what exactly happened?”

Yao Chaowu forced a smile, but his eyes were red. After a long pause, he said in a trembling voice, “Wei Lai… I’m sorry.”

Wei Lai: “…Huh?”

“I’m sorry… Do you remember, before you resigned, we had a fight? I was getting popular—so many dramas, variety shows, endorsements, all coming at me like snowflakes—but you turned down two-thirds of them and gave them to other newcomers at the company. I was so angry with you, thinking you didn’t want me anymore and were trying to replace me with someone else.”

Wei Lai recalled the incident and sighed helplessly. “I never thought that way. I was just worried you’d be overworked. Maybe I didn’t communicate it well with you. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“No, I have to say it,” Yao Chaowu wiped his face. “But no, it was me being stupid. You were right, Wei. I just didn’t realize it until now. If it weren’t for you, I’d have been hospitalized long ago. Chen Meixian is practically trying to kill me.”

Chen Meixian was obsessed with artists’ exposure—whether through fame or infamy, it didn’t matter. Marketing and projects were pursued with equal fervor, and Yao Chaowu’s exposure rate was terrifyingly high. Behind the massive popularity was an overwhelming workload. Add to that a terrifying sasaeng fan who could pop up at any moment, and Yao Chaowu was constantly on edge—exhausted, burnt out, suffering from insomnia and anxiety, teetering on the brink of baldness and sudden death.

Yao Chaowu slumped back dejectedly. “For the past six months, I’ve been running myself ragged outside, never home. My girlfriend fought with me a few times and then straight-up dumped me.”

Wei Lai: “…Weren’t you two engaged?”

Yao Chaowu said, “She wasn’t right for me, and I wasn’t right for her. It was an amicable breakup. We agreed that once Jay Chou releases a new album, we’d officially announce our split.”

Wei Lai replied dryly, “…Didn’t expect to hear relationship gossip when I came today.”

“It’s rough,” Yao Chaowu chewed on the orange listlessly, looking as withered as dried cabbage. “Wei, help me. I really… can only think of you.”