Chapter 39 – Night Owl Crybaby

According to insider news from the production team, the biggest investor of My Idol at Home wasn’t just there to advertise. A certain Mr. Kong, a big shot, had invested in the show specifically because he was dissatisfied with Qian Tianyi staying home all day playing video games. The show didn’t aim to go viral—it just wanted to ensure Qian Tianyi got plenty of exercise.

The mysterious Mr. Kong’s exact words were: “Don’t let him live too comfortably, but don’t make him unhappy either. Money is no object.”

Following the big shot’s instructions, the production team deliberated carefully and settled on Australia—a wild, untamed continent—as the filming location for the fourth episode of My Idol at Home.

The flight was at 7 a.m., but at 1 a.m., Chu Yin was still wide awake and restless, his long limbs curled up under the blankets, anxiety gnawing at him. “We’re going to Australia…”

In the dead of night, Chu Yin bundled himself in the blankets and tiptoed into Wei Lai’s room, flopping onto the bed and rolling up beside him. “I don’t wanna go abroad… hngh-wah…”

Even worse than waking up to an orange cat’s fat butt sitting on his face was Chu Yin climbing into his bed in the middle of the night. Wei Lai groaned, “Haven’t you traveled abroad before? Male celebrity, why are you still awake…?”

Chu Yin snuggled closer, half his face buried in the blankets, his faintly glowing eyes fixed on Wei Lai. “…The male celebrity has a pimple on his forehead.”

Wei Lai flopped face-down, shoving his head under the pillow, drowsily muttering, “That’s because the male celebrity doesn’t sleep.”

Chu Yin fretted, “I can’t sleep.”

Wei Lai ignored him, pretending to be asleep.

Chu Yin wanted to sleep with Wei Lai, but Wei Lai’s bed only had one pillow. Going back to his own room to get one would be too embarrassing, so he wriggled and squirmed, trying to find a comfortable spot for his head.

From Wei Lai’s arm to his back, Chu Yin finally settled on resting his head on Wei Lai’s perky ass—perfect.

Wei Lai flexed his glutes, unable to keep pretending. “Chu Yin, do you want me to fart in your face?”

Chu Yin, in his sleep-deprived state, was even more insufferable than usual. He lifted his head slightly. “I’ve already blocked the exhaust with the back of my skull.”

Wei Lai: “…”

Chu Yin: “…”

Less than a minute later, Wei Lai surrendered. He rolled over, dragging Chu Yin’s furry head onto his stomach, and sighed. “Based on years of experience, a quick trip to the bathroom to jerk off will put you right to sleep.”

Chu Yin: “…But that’ll take another hour. You just want to get rid of me so you can sleep alone!”

Wei Lai took a deep breath, eyes suddenly bright. “…You, uh, last that long?”

Chu Yin coldly replied, “Madam Wei, don’t even think about it.”

Wei Lai sighed, his previously tensed stomach deflating in disappointment as he closed his eyes. “Play by yourself then. I’m sleeping.”

Chu Yin: “Play what?”

Wei Lai pondered for a moment, then had an idea. He threw a leg over Chu Yin and said, “If counting sheep doesn’t work, count leg hair. Goodnight!” With that, he flopped back down like a plank.

Chu Yin: “…”

A man’s leg hair was a nuanced subject. Some men had leg hair so thick it was like wearing furry pants—dark, dense, practically ancestral ape-level. Chu Yin always felt the urge to take a lighter to it. Others went the opposite route, waxing or shaving until their legs were smoother than a woman’s, which Chu Yin wasn’t particularly fond of either.

But Wei Lai’s leg hair? At first glance, it was somehow… pleasing.

Madam Wei’s leg hair had been meticulously trimmed by a stylist Tony, achieving the perfect balance of density. And—insanely enough—he’d even dyed them a matching Balala Fairy Purple, shimmering under the nightlight with an eerie, dreamlike glow.

Chu Yin: “…”

Counting leg hair was worse than taking sleeping pills. The night owl Chu Yin swallowed two pills and, as the first rays of dawn peeked through, finally felt the pull of sleep and drifted off. When Wei Lai woke up, the first thing he saw was Chu Yin twisted up on top of the blankets, dead to the world.

Wei Lai shook him. “Male celebrity, wake up. Time to make money.”

Chu Yin rolled over. “Mmm… headache…”

Wei Lai finished packing and, seeing Chu Yin still asleep, grew irritated. “The crew’s here to pick us up. Get it together.”

Chu Yin’s lips parted slightly, fists curled, sleeping so vulnerably he looked like a freshly hatched giant “whimper.”

Wei Lai: “…”

Wei Lai knew Chu Yin hadn’t been sleeping well lately and had only just fallen asleep. Waking him now was cruel—but the flight was at 7 a.m. They couldn’t make the whole crew wait just because Chu Yin wouldn’t get up.

Wei Lai: “You’re impossible.”

Years of suffering as a manager had honed Wei Lai’s ability to instantly switch between “madam” and “mother hen” mode. He shook out his hair and deftly wiped Chu Yin’s face, applied makeup, styled his hair, dressed him, and slipped on his shoes—transforming the puddle of Chu Yin into a “photogenic” puddle ready for the show.

Once finished, Wei Lai stretched, twisted his waist to loosen up, then hauled Chu Yin up by the back. “If you don’t wake up now, I’m carrying you to the car. Think carefully.”

Chu Yin, whether he understood or not, spread his legs and clamped them around Wei Lai’s waist, mumbling, “rock me.”

At that moment, Wei Lai’s phone rang again. He put it on speaker while bracing himself, then scooped Chu Yin up by the butt in a princess carry.

Director: “Brother Wei, are you guys coming down?”

Wei Lai gritted his teeth. “…Coming. Just a sec.”

Director: “Moving luggage? Sounds heavy. Want us to come up and help?”

“Just open the car door first.”

Wei Lai would’ve loved to crack a joke, but carrying Chu Yin was already pushing his limits. Holding his breath, he dashed out the door, stuffed Chu Yin into the car, and slammed it shut—all in one motion.

Wei Lai, panting: “…Huff!”

Everyone in the car stared in shock.

Chen Meixian glanced at Wei Lai, then at Chu Yin, his face dark as a burnt pot.

Now that they were here and he’d caught his breath, Madam Wei was back to his usual shenanigans. Smirking at Chen Meixian, he adjusted Chu Yin’s head and gently fastened a custom Orunju neck pillow around him. “Keep sleeping. I’ll wake you when we get there.” Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised an eyebrow at Chen Meixian.

“Good morning, darling.”

Chen Meixian: “…”