Chapter 10 – Furball

————Six Years Later————

Early in the morning, Wei Lai applied a face mask and shuffled out of the bedroom in his slippers, making a ‘slap-slap’ sound as he walked. He saw Chu Yin crouching in front of the cat food bowl, hands resting obediently on his knees, tearfully watching Big Orange bury his head in the food—like a big, pitiful cat who couldn’t get his share.

Wei Lai peeled off the mask in shock. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Chu Yin tilted his head and sniffled.

“Oh dear,” Wei Lai draped himself over Chu Yin’s back, nibbling lightly on his earlobe as he murmured, “My precious crybaby Yin, what’s the matter?”

Chu Yin stood up with Wei Lai on his back, and the two collapsed onto the sofa together. Wiping away his tears, Chu Yin said, “I was thinking about how you became my manager six years ago.”

Wei Lai couldn’t help but laugh. “So touched? After all these years, you’re still crying over it?”

Chu Yin replied, “Back then, my back hurt so much it felt like it was on fire. I carried you downstairs, and you felt so heavy. But I didn’t cry at the time.”

Wei Lai, confused, asked, “So… six years later, you’re making up for it?”

Chu Yin let out a soft ‘mm-hmm.’

Wei Lai chuckled and patted his belly. “I’m even heavier now.”

Chu Yin patted his own belly too. “My abs are gone too. It’s all your fault.”

“It’s fine. For rich, powerful, happy men like us, a little belly fat is just right.” Wei Lai asked, “What do you want for breakfast?”

Chu Yin: “Whatever.”

“How about noodles?”

Chu Yin: “Mm. Extra meat.”

Wei Lai thought he had already comforted Chu Yin and shuffled into the kitchen (‘slap-slap’) to cook noodles. Chu Yin stared at Wei Lai’s back, wondering if he was being too sensitive—after all, changing a phone passcode wasn’t a big deal, and it didn’t necessarily mean Wei Lai was cheating.

At the root of it, Chu Yin didn’t dare ask. The shadow Chen Meixian cast over him was too deep, too heavy. Even though Wei Lai gave him unparalleled security, he was still afraid.

Distractedly, Chu Yin sat at the table, staring at Wei Lai’s back as he waited to be fed. Before long, Wei Lai came out with two steaming bowls of noodles, pushing the one with more meat toward Chu Yin.

Six years ago, Wei Lai had been a man who hadn’t yet inflated with love. Same noodles, same table, same gesture.

————Six Years Ago————

“Eat a little,” Wei Lai sat across from Chu Yin, pushing the bowl toward him. “Look how thin you’ve gotten—no wonder people are spreading rumors that you’re on drugs.”

Chu Yin looked totally drained, his cheeks hollowed out as if all vitality had been sucked from him. He listlessly picked up a few strands of noodles, chewing mechanically, barely managing to swallow a bite.

Wei Lai said, “The drug rumors have been dealt with. A friend of mine is filming an anti-drug movie—he reposted your photos looking painfully thin and praised you for losing weight drastically to play a three-minute supporting role, even ending up in the hospital. Public opinion has flipped now, and everything’s back on track. Once you’re feeling better, just go shoot the film.”

Chu Yin let out a soft ‘mm’ and rasped, “Thank you.”

Wei Lai laughed. “Just ‘thank you’? I thought you’d be so moved you’d cry and kneel to top me.”

Chu Yin glanced up at Wei Lai before quickly lowering his head again. “Tomorrow. I can’t get hard right now.”

Wei Lai: “…I was joking.”

Chu Yin: “I know. Sorry… After terminating my contract with the company, I don’t have much money left. If you need it, I can thank you in a way you’d like.”

Wei Lai was so angry he laughed, as if seeing a reflection of his younger self—using his body to trade for resources. He said nothing and slurped his noodles in silence.

Chu Yin peeked up at him. “You’re mad. Why?”

Wei Lai: “Figure it out yourself. You’re gay—don’t make straight-guy comments.”

Chu Yin thought for a moment before slumping his head onto the table, muttering, “After filming the movie you introduced me to, I don’t want to make money in the entertainment industry anymore. If you want to sleep with me, better do it soon.”

Wei Lai asked, “Then what are you going to do?”

Chu Yin lifelessly replied, “Dunno.”

Wei Lai cursed, “Pathetic! You terminated your contract with Chen Meixian—shouldn’t you be celebrating and starting a new life?!”

Chu Yin seemed lost. He didn’t know what this “new life” Wei Lai spoke of was. Chen Meixian had an extremely controlling nature. In his personal life, Chu Yin had no family, no friends—just a lonely little wretch. In his career, he was nothing more than Chen Meixian’s money-making tool. He had no deep attachment to being an idol or celebrity.

Chu Yin said, “How about… I open a mahjong parlor? You can come play.”

Wei Lai laughed in exasperation again, pulling up Chu Yin’s schedule on his phone. “You’ve got three brand endorsement contracts, two magazine shoots, a concert, a slow-paced variety show, and the movie I just mentioned. If you want to quit the industry, it’ll take at least a year.”

Chu Yin muttered vaguely, “I still have that much work? That variety show… Oh, the one filming idols and their managers’ daily lives—My Idol at Home. I should cancel it.”

Wei Lai asked, “How much money do you have left in your account? Can you afford the breach fees?”

Chu Yin: “How much is left?”

Wei Lai: “…How would I know??? How have you been living so cluelessly?”

Chu Yin fell silent for a moment before saying, “…I guess so. It feels like I’ve never lived for myself.”

Hearing this, Wei Lai also seemed to drift off momentarily. “…I don’t have the right to lecture you… I’m not much better.”

Wei Lai, ever the master of maintaining his white-lotus mom persona, changed his tone. “…Alright, I’ll take you under my wing for a while. Learn from me. That variety show starts filming in a month—I’ll be your temporary manager for now.”

Chu Yin: “Can you do that?”

Wei Lai scoffed. “Our contract termination made such a splash—the director would love for you to find a new agency to stir up drama for the show.”

Chu Yin: “?”

Wei Lai’s expression darkened. “Because Yao Chaowu is also on that show.”

Chu Yin cautiously asked, “Will you pimp for me?”

Wei Lai: “…No.”

Chu Yin, unconvinced, added, “Madam Wei, it’s fine if I flop—just don’t do anything stupid.”

Even Wei Lai, with his saintly patience, was on the verge of snapping. “My status isn’t what it used to be—I don’t need to be a rich man’s happy stick anymore! Eat your damn noodles!!!”

Chu Yin obediently slurped up his noodles, cheeks puffing out as he chewed. After finishing, he took the initiative to wash the dishes—which Wei Lai found quite satisfying.

And so, Wei Lai became Chu Yin’s manager.

The turning point that led to them sharing a bed had to do with Wei Lai’s cleanliness obsession.

At the time, Chu Yin went to Yunnan to film the anti-drug movie, while Wei Lai stayed behind to prepare for My Idol at Home.

Since Wei Lai had sold his Chengdu home, he had to move in with Chu Yin. And Chu Yin—this guy—had hoarded endless piles of useless junk, refusing to throw away even a shedding broom. The garage was packed to the brim with worthless clutter.

Wei Lai couldn’t take it. He tossed what needed tossing, stored what could be stored, and spent a whole day cleaning before he was barely satisfied.

My Idol at Home was a slow-paced variety show with round-the-clock cameras, offering a real glimpse into celebrities’ lives. After finishing his cleaning, Wei Lai bid the cameras goodnight and went to bed, content and fulfilled.

Then, in the middle of the night, Chu Yin shook him awake.

Chu Yin had clearly just flown back, his face pale and gaunt as he loomed over the bed, eyes red as he asked, “Where’s my furball?”

Wei Lai: “Huh?”

Chu Yin’s heart sank with dread. “The… the fuzzy ball I kept by my pillow.”

On Chu Yin’s bed had been a tattered, grimy furball—originally white, now grayed and balding in spots. Wei Lai had seen it and tossed it without a second thought.

Chu Yin seemed to read the answer in Wei Lai’s expression, tears welling up instantly. “Did you…?”

Wei Lai: “…I threw it away.”

Chu Yin burst into tears: “Waaa!“