Chapter 42 – The Crybaby’s Provocation

Qian Tianyi was notoriously difficult to serve. He had gone through over a dozen managers, and when Long Dongqiang first applied for the job, he was still a socially awkward otaku who struggled to communicate with others. Yet, unexpectedly, he ended up being the one who lasted the longest—strong, soft-spoken, and endlessly patient, as if tailor-made for Qian Tianyi.

Long Dongqiang encouraged him, “Once we get to the house, you can take a bath, connect to the WiFi, and play games with super-fast internet. Tian Tian, just take five minutes to walk, and you’ll be happy all day. Come on, Tian Tian, you’re the best!”

Qian Tianyi’s eyes were filled with a world-weary melancholy as he drawled, “So—naive. Look—the—Harbour—Bridge. Wanna—climb.”

It was evening, and the setting sun dyed both the sky and the water red. The Harbour Bridge stretched like an eternal steel rainbow across the horizon, facing the Sydney Opera House across the sea.

Climbing the Harbour Bridge was a massive challenge for both Qian Tianyi and Yao Chaowu.

Qian Tianyi was simply too lazy to move. Outside of filming, he just wanted to be a helpless, immobile waste of space, exerting as little energy as possible. Yao Chaowu, on the other hand, was famously afraid of both water and heights. The moment he was strapped into the safety harness, before he even took a step, he was already drenched in cold sweat.

Wei Lai said, “Yao, stay close to me. Don’t look down. It’ll only take ten minutes to cross.”

Yao Chaowu nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I can do it. It’s not like the bridge is going to collapse or anything, right?”

Long Dongqiang jiggled his beer belly and chuckled, “With me around, who knows?”

Yao Chaowu: “…”

Long Dongqiang: “Just kidding.”

Yao Chaowu: “That joke did absolutely nothing to make me feel better.”

As they began their climb, Qian Tianyi lagged behind, dragging his feet like an old dog on its last legs, reluctantly inching forward with Long Dongqiang’s coaxing and pulling.

Chu Yin, scowling, took the lead while listening to Wei Lai and Yao Chaowu exchanging jokes, the latter laughing like an idiot.

Flirting shamelessly.

Disgusting.

Chu Yin’s sharp instincts told him that Yao Chaowu was deliberately cozying up to Wei Lai, trying to win him back.

This was entirely within Chu Yin’s expectations. When Wei Lai had been Yao Chaowu’s manager, he had always prioritized his resources, giving him the stars if he asked for them and never settling for the moon. He had shielded Yao Chaowu under his wings like a mother hen. Over time, this kind of self-sacrificing care had been taken for granted—even resented. When Wei Lai resigned, Yao Chaowu had discarded him without hesitation, blaming him for holding him back.

But the one who took over Yao Chaowu’s management was Chen Meixian. While Chen was undeniably skilled at his job, he was also a complete freak who worked his artists to the bone. Every day was a relentless cycle of schedules, and Yao Chaowu couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept a full eight hours.

Only then did Yao Chaowu realize that there would never be another manager who cared for him as sincerely as Wei Lai had.

Yao Chaowu’s expression softened slightly as he said pitifully, “Thank you, Wei Lai. Not just for now, but for everything before… I…”

Chu Yin couldn’t take it anymore. He was so consumed by jealousy that he felt like the hair on his scalp was standing on end.

Amid the howling evening wind, Chu Yin suddenly stopped, turned around, and pulled Wei Lai into a tight hug.

Wei Lai: “…What’s wrong? Is there a bug ahead?”

Chu Yin murmured, “…Cold. Scared of heights.”

In broad daylight, the crybaby was suddenly acting spoiled. Wei Lai didn’t know whether to push him away or hug him back, so he just stood frozen, coughing awkwardly. “Do you… want my jacket?”

Chu Yin didn’t answer. Instead, he rested his head on Wei Lai’s shoulder and lifted his gaze to Yao Chaowu, his round eyes appearing innocent and pure—only the dark depths of his pupils and the slight upward tilt of his lips betraying his true thoughts.

Yao Chaowu was stunned. In real life, he had never seen such a textbook-perfect display of a beautiful mistress successfully usurping the original partner’s position with such brazen provocation!

He could practically read the taunt in Chu Yin’s eyes:

This was your manager? Now he’s mine.

Handsome, well-endowed, and knows how to act spoiled—what do you have to compete with me, you white lotus bitch?

Soundlessly, Chu Yin mouthed at Yao Chaowu: Dumbass.

Yao Chaowu was so furious he nearly passed out on the spot. But what could he do? Throw himself at Wei Lai shamelessly like Chu Yin had?

His face turned green with rage, his expression twitching, but he forced a smile anyway, looking like the tragic heroine of a soap opera.

Chu Yin suddenly understood the twisted satisfaction of playing the villainous second lead. He whined, “I can’t walk anymore. Carry me.”

Yao Chaowu, pretending to be magnanimous, said, “Wei, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Wei Lai: “…”

What was wrong with these two? Acting like he was some kind of macho man who could carry the entire show???

If Wei Lai were straight or a woman, he might have picked up on the undercurrents between Yao Chaowu and Chu Yin and secretly enjoyed the attention.

But Wei Lai saw himself as a delicate, helpless 0 with no reliable 1 in sight. He, too, wanted to snuggle into a strong man’s arms and hold hands as they walked across the high bridge. If he came across as too capable, wouldn’t more zeros throw themselves at him after the show aired?

That simply wouldn’t do.

After a moment’s thought, Wei Lai plopped down on the ground, putting on his most delicate voice: “I’ve got nothing left. Which kind brother will help me up?”

Chu Yin: “…”

Yao Chaowu: “…”

Chen Meixian: “Tch.”

Meanwhile, Qian Tianyi drifted past like a zombie, dragged along by Long Dongqiang.

Once again, Wei Lai was confronted with the harsh reality of “no reliable 1s in sight.”

The bridge climb only took about ten minutes. Once they descended, the group got into cars and headed to their villa accommodations.

When they arrived, Qian Tianyi, in a rare act of mercy, lifted his limp-noodle arm and mumbled, “Pull—me.”

Overjoyed, Long Dongqiang half-dragged, half-carried the human-shaped blob out of the car.

Chu Yin and Wei Lai, witnessing this spectacle: “…”

Chu Yin stood up proudly and stretched his long legs. “Look, I can walk on my own!”

Wei Lai, hauling their bags: “…Wow, aren’t you impressive.”

They reached the villa at night. The air in Australia was so clear that the starry sky stretched endlessly above them, each star shining brilliantly against the dark canvas.

The small villa was surrounded by golden wattle hedges, their fluffy yellow blossoms blooming densely like a golden mist. The red-brick, blue-painted villa stood brightly lit against the starry backdrop, looking like it had its own Instagram filter.

Cameras were set up at the entrance, capturing Yao Chaowu hopping out of the car and cheering as he slung an arm over Chen Meixian’s shoulders. “You said the production team would make us stay in some dingy little room! Bet you feel stupid now!”

Chen Meixian brushed Yao Chaowu’s hand off his shoulder in disgust, but Yao Chaowu, as if incapable of reading the room, persistently put it back.

Chen Meixian sighed helplessly. He genuinely disliked being touched, but Yao Chaowu assumed it was just part of his “grumpy” persona and kept at it—another day of diligently maintaining their “clueless and cranky” CP dynamic.

Meanwhile, Qian Tianyi was unceremoniously hauled out of the car by Long Dongqiang, draped over his back like a sack of potatoes as Long Dongqiang struggled forward under the weight.

Chu Yin took his time stepping out of the car, stretching leisurely with his long limbs fully extended. His orange hoodie rode up, revealing a glimpse of his toned waist and the edge of his CK underwear.

Wei Lai trailed behind, dragging three enormous suitcases. “Chu Yin. Come here. Seriously, two of these are just your clothes.”

Chu Yin let out an “Oh,” then walked over with an aloof expression before calmly sitting on the largest, sturdiest suitcase. He spread his long legs wide, hooked his heels against the ground, and pushed off—zoom—gliding forward smoothly before executing a perfect spin. Then he stared at Wei Lai expectantly, waiting for him to catch up.

Just as Wei Lai got close, Chu Yin immediately scooted away again, putting distance between them before stopping to wait once more—adorably obedient yet infuriatingly smug.

Wei Lai thought, How old are you—wait, no, how old is this cat? He quickened his pace, and Chu Yin’s eyes curved into crescents as he zipped forward again—only to be caught by the scruff of his neck by Wei Lai.

Sitting on the suitcase, Chu Yin looked up at Wei Lai and asked pitifully, “Can I sleep with you tonight? I can’t find my furball.”

Wei Lai said smugly, “I know. The furball got stuck in the couch—probably Orunju dragged it there. I already packed it in your suitcase!”

Chu Yin: “…”

Chu Yin had deliberately hidden the furball so he could sleep with Wei Lai. He hadn’t expected Wei Lai, the obsessive organizer, to find it anyway. Disappointed but forced to pretend otherwise, he muttered, “…Oh. Thanks.”

Wei Lai didn’t pick up on Chu Yin’s disappointment and followed him inside.

The first floor of the villa was elegantly decorated, with an open layout that allowed a view from the second floor. The furnishings were eclectic but not messy, dominated by a large, plush leather sofa bed that took up most of the living room—easily seating seven or eight people. A coffee table in the center bore a sponsor’s advertisement, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a clear view of the small garden outside.

Wei Lai scanned the room, feeling something was off. It wasn’t until Qian Tianyi sprawled onto the sofa like a pancake and stretched out a hand toward Long Dongqiang, mumbling, “Dong—Dong, hun—gry—” that Wei Lai realized the production team hadn’t prepared dinner.

At that moment, a staff member closed the curtains, grinning mischievously as they handed out a mission card—an icebreaker game.

The “Silent Hill” Challenge: All members had to watch a horror movie. Anyone who closed their eyes for more than five seconds or screamed would be punished.

This wasn’t in the original schedule, so Wei Lai guessed it was a last-minute addition to cover for the lack of dinner.

Long Dongqiang scratched his head in confusion. “Watching a horror movie is a challenge? What’s the movie?”

Director: “The Shining.”

Everyone: “…”

Chen Meixian asked, “What’s the punishment?”

Director: “Watching everyone else eat dinner.”

Yao Chaowu: “…Are you guys demons?”

“Let’s—get—started,” Qian Tianyi drawled, rolling off the sofa onto the carpet. He reached for a bottle of [ad placement] milk from the coffee table and handed it to Long Dongqiang, who poked a straw in and held it to Qian Tianyi’s lips like he was tending to a sentient pile of sludge.

Wei Lai was stunned. Truly, comparison was the mother of revelation—next to Qian Tianyi, Chu Yin was practically a model of independence!

With a click, the lights suddenly dimmed, darkness flooding in from all sides as a white projection screen slowly descended in front of the sofa.

Chu Yin looked calm on the surface, silently inching closer to Wei Lai and sitting pressed against him, legs crossed and hands tucked into his hoodie pocket, exuding an air of effortless coolness.

But Wei Lai knew—Chu Yin was terrified of ghosts. Horror movies were to Chu Yin what cucumbers were to cats—he’d leap into the air, fur standing on end.

The seating arrangement was as follows:

– Qian Tianyi on the carpet, with Long Dongqiang behind him, using his legs like rollercoaster safety bars to keep Qian Tianyi from sliding to the floor.

– Chu Yin in the corner, Wei Lai beside him, followed by Yao Chaowu and Chen Meixian.

Wei Lai patted Chu Yin’s shoulder and whispered, “You okay? We can skip this—it’s not worth missing dinner.”

Chu Yin: “Hmph, I’m not scared.”

Wei Lai: “…”

Yao Chaowu said, “Wei, we watched this movie together in college, remember? You were so scared you wouldn’t even go to the bathroom alone. Hahaha.”

Wei Lai laughed. “Like you were any better—didn’t you dream about being chased by an axe murderer?”

Chu Yin didn’t want to witness their “flirting,” so his jealousy overpowered his dislike for Yao Chaowu, and he forcibly wedged himself between the two.

Yao Chaowu: “…Xiao Chu, don’t worry. I can give you jump-scare warnings.”

Chu Yin, incapable of being polite to people he disliked, scowled. “Not scared. Fuck off.”

Yao Chaowu’s eye twitched. Internally, he cursed Chu Yin a thousand times, but outwardly, he smiled magnanimously. “You tsundere. Your mouth says no, but your body says yes.”

Wei Lai: “…Chu Yin…”

Chu Yin shot him a glare. Knowing he was scared, Wei Lai wisely shut up.

The screen’s playback quality was excellent, and the sound was cranked up high. The film started slow, but the eerie atmosphere built gradually, made even more intense by everyone’s tense silence.

When blood gushed out of the elevator, Chu Yin’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his face pale. He wanted to hide in Wei Lai’s arms but also wanted to maintain his tough-guy composure. Under immense pressure, he zoned out, staring blankly.

I want crispy little fish snacks. I want shredded squid. I want chocolate. I want Wei Lai’s cooking.

The more Chu Yin “mentally ate,” the hungrier he got, and his attention drifted to the milk on the coffee table.

Just as the protagonist entered Room 237 and the woman rose from the bathtub in a rather suggestive scene, Chu Yin, embarrassed, reached for the milk.

Horror movies rely heavily on sudden sound effects for scares. Just as Chu Yin relaxed slightly, the film’s audio exploded in his ears—and worse, his peripheral vision caught a massive, twisted shadow flashing past the window.

Genuinely terrified, Chu Yin lost all composure. With a yelp, he arched like an electrocuted cat and launched himself into Wei Lai’s arms.

Wei Lai: “FUCK!”

Chu Yin: “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Yao Chaowu: “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

At 190 cm, Chu Yin was a BIG crybaby. Wei Lai wasn’t short either, but he couldn’t handle the full force of a panicked Chu Yin and was promptly flattened like a helpless maiden. “CHU YIN!!!”

Chu Yin flailed on top of him. “BOO-HOO-HOO-HOO!”

The scene was a mess—especially since Yao Chaowu was clutching his crotch, eyes wide as he hissed in pain. (Yes, Chu Yin had kicked his balls in the chaos.)

After a moment, Chu Yin calmed down, rolling off Wei Lai but still shaken, peeking at the window with one eye closed.

Wei Lai sat up, rubbing his nose (which had taken the brunt of Chu Yin’s impact) and speaking haltingly, “How old are you?! Can’t you act your age?! My nose has flattened three inches since becoming your manager!”

Chu Yin, sensitive to Wei Lai’s anger, swallowed the words about the shadow outside.

Yao Chaowu, despite his injured pride, asked concernedly, “Wei, you okay? I heard a crack—did something break?”

Wei Lai shook his head. “I’m fine. You?”

Yao Chaowu grinned. “Steel balls don’t cry. Tomorrow, I’ll be a new man.”

Wei Lai laughed.

Chu Yin wanted to cry.

Even if Wei Lai and Yao Chaowu weren’t lovers, they were at least friends with six years of history—a bond Chu Yin could never match. He felt like an outsider, watching helplessly as jealousy burned in his chest, suffocating him.

The movie continued. Chu Yin curled up silently, still beside Wei Lai but feeling miles apart. His nose stung, eyes welling up—thankfully unnoticed by anyone except Chen Meixian.

In the darkness, Chen Meixian tossed a box of milk at Chu Yin.

It reminded Chu Yin of their first meeting—when he’d been a ragged child sleeping on the street, and Chen Meixian had thrown him a milk box, asking, “Where are your parents?”

Little Chu Yin hadn’t answered, tearing open the milk and gulping it down like he’d never tasted it before.

Chen Meixian had pointed at him. “You’re filthy! You’ll get spanked if you go home like that. Come to my place and clean up first.”

Fifteen years ago, Chen Meixian had lured Chu Yin home with a box of milk. Fifteen years later, after breaking him beyond repair, he tossed another one at him as a peace offering.

Chu Yin stabbed the straw into the box—as if to drink—and Chen Meixian smirked, thinking Chu Yin still couldn’t let go of him.

Instead, Chu Yin shoved the milk into Yao Chaowu’s hands.

Yao Chaowu: “???”

Chu Yin: “For you.”

Yao Chaowu: “…”

Yao Chaowu didn’t want to drink it at all, but as the brand ambassador for this milk, he had no choice but to take a big gulp. He even smacked his lips and endured the pain in his balls to deliver the promotional line.

Throughout The Shining, only Chu Yin and Yao Chaowu had screamed, so unfortunately, when everyone else sat down to enjoy hot pot, the two of them were left staring longingly from the second-floor loft.

Yao Chaowu leaned against the railing, inhaling the fragrant steam wafting up, and sighed dramatically, “Lost my balls and my dinner—what a tragic man I am.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Chu Yin ignored him, gripping the railing as he looked down. The loft was directly above the dining area, close enough to see the spread—fatty crab, thinly sliced beef, and Chu Yin’s favorite little yellow croakers.

Yao Chaowu called out, “Hey, toss us a meatball, will you?”

Chen Meixian glanced up. “Should I throw it? You catch it with your mouth?”

Yao Chaowu grinned. “Not opposed. Director, have mercy—we’re starving here.”

Long Dongqiang suggested, “We could stack people like a human pyramid and feed them.”

Wei Lai: “…What a genius idea.”

Wei Lai wasn’t hungry—just looking at Chen Meixian was enough to kill his appetite. But he knew Chu Yin had to be starving.

A crybaby cannot go hungry!

In variety shows, rules were just guidelines—sometimes breaking them led to better entertainment. Wei Lai eyed the plastic strings tying the crab legs together and got an idea.

He untied them, connecting a few strands into a two-meter-long line, then placed four meatballs in a cup and stabbed toothpicks into them for stability. Looking up, he said, “Catch this and pull the cup up.”

Yao Chaowu was moved to tears. “Wei Lai, I knew you were the best!!!”

Wei Lai tossed the string up, and Yao Chaowu quickly caught it, trembling as he hauled the cup upward. The precariousness of the operation rivaled Rapunzel lowering her hair from the tower to rescue the prince.

When Yao Chaowu finally secured the meatballs, the first floor erupted in applause.

Yao Chaowu said, “Here, Xiao Chu, two for you, two for me.”

Chu Yin stiffened. “I don’t eat meatballs.”

Yao Chaowu chewed happily. “Oh, then I’ll have Wei Lai send up something else. What do you want?”

Chu Yin bristled. “You’ll have Wei Lai send something? Who the hell do you think you are? That’s my manager!

If Wei Lai had sent food just for him, Chu Yin would’ve eaten it. But if it wasn’t exclusively his, he’d rather go hungry.

He wanted all of Wei Lai—not a single crumb to share.

Chu Yin: “I’m not hungry. Tired. Don’t bother me.”

With that, he walked away.

Yao Chaowu: “You—”

If you searched “Chu Yin” on Baidu, the top result would be: Chu Yin acts like a diva. In some ways, Chu Yin was an unstoppable force in the entertainment industry—a man who looked down on everyone, rich or poor, famous or not.

From debut, he treated the world like it was full of idiots. Tabloids predicted this zero-EQ pretty boy would flop within a month, but instead, he grew more popular, turning his diva antics into part of his brand—because fans loved his “Chu Tyrant” persona.

The day Chu Yin became a nice guy would be the day aliens possessed him!

Chu Yin returned to his room, showered quickly, dug out his furball from the suitcase, and burrowed under the covers. He tossed and turned, scratching at the sheets and kicking his legs, utterly miserable.

Normally, Chu Yin threw tantrums at Wei Lai without hesitation. But when it came to feelings, he only dared to tentatively hook a tiny tail around Wei Lai’s finger in his heart—both proud and pitiful. If Wei Lai makes me angry again, he thought, I’ll stop liking him forever!

Tears slid from the corners of his eyes as he thought this. Too embarrassed to cry openly, he hid under the blanket. But exhaustion and hunger eventually pulled him into a hazy half-sleep.

Just as he was drifting off, the sound of the door opening jolted him awake. Chu Yin slept lightly when alone—his eyes snapped open, and he sat up abruptly, slapping the bedside lamp on.

Standing there, cheekbones sharp and expression dark, was Chen Meixian.

Chen Meixian startled at Chu Yin’s reaction but quickly regained his composure, stepping forward with a takeout box.

Chu Yin turned off the camera, fists clenched. “Chen Meixian, out of respect for Mom, I’ve never hit you. But we’re done. Don’t think I won’t.”

“I know your temper better than anyone,” Chen Meixian said calmly, setting down a burger, pizza, and fries on the small table. “Brother Yin, your stomach’s weak. Even if you hate me, don’t take it out on yourself.”

Chu Yin: “Take your shit and get out.”

Chen Meixian sighed. “Fine, I’ll go. Just eat something.”

Chu Yin glared. “Are you deaf?”

Chen Meixian’s expression turned pained. “Brother Yin, I’ve had time to reflect. I was wrong—it’s all my fault. I’m scum. I don’t expect forgiveness, just a chance to make amends. For Mom’s sake, if nothing else. Even if we can’t be lovers, we still have years of history. I can’t stand seeing you suffer because of someone else.”

Chu Yin: “…Don’t drag Mom into this. She’s gone. She doesn’t know anything.”

Chen Meixian smiled bitterly. “I know. I just worry about you. Wei Lai’s no good—how many artists has he sold out? And he’s even more of a slut than I am. Brother Yin, when will your taste improve?”

Chu Yin: “…I don’t like him. And who I like is none of your business.”

Chen Meixian tilted his head. “Do you know where Wei Lai is right now? He’s in Yao Chaowu’s room with an ice pack—helping soothe his balls.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Chen Meixian smirked. “The bastard’s intentions are obvious. He only cares about Yao Chaowu. Did he even ask if you’d eaten? Probably blames you for hurting his precious.”

Chu Yin hurled a cup at him. “GET OUT!!!”

Chen Meixian left, thoroughly pleased, and even remembered to close the door behind him.

Chu Yin stood frozen, breathing raggedly, lips pale. His stomach twisted painfully from hunger, and he stumbled into the bathroom, bracing himself over the sink as dry heaves wracked his body.

With nothing in his stomach, nothing came up. He slumped onto the toilet lid, vision swimming, wishing he could just pass out—when another knock came at the door.

Chu Yin’s eyes burned with fury. “Chen Meixian, I’ll fucking kill you.”

The knocking grew frantic. “Chu Yin?! What are you doing in there?”

Chu Yin’s breath caught. It was Wei Lai.

He shot up—too fast. Dizziness hit him like a wave, and his hand knocked over a glass bottle of lotion, sending it crashing to the floor.

Wei Lai shouted, “I’m coming in!”

Still traumatized from last time the door smashed his face, Wei Lai crept in cautiously—only to find Chu Yin leaning against the sink, deathly pale, eyes bloodshot, swaying unsteadily.

Wei Lai rushed to steady him. “What’s wrong?! Don’t scare me like this—where does it hurt?”

Chu Yin shoved him away, voice rough. “…Everywhere hurts.”

Wei Lai was used to being pushed off and ignored it, patting his back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Chu Yin hoisted himself onto the counter, refusing to budge. “No! Go away!”

Wei Lai hesitated. “What’s going on? Bad dream?”

Chu Yin glared. “Yeah. I’m so pathetic—scared of ghosts, hiding in the bathroom after nightmares, making your nose flatten three inches!”

Wei Lai finally understood.

Chu Yin was still upset about being scolded earlier.

Wei Lai said, “You can stay anywhere, but can we not stay in the bathroom?”

Chu Yin: “I’m staying here.”

Wei Lai rolled up his sleeves. “Then I’ll have to take drastic measures.”

Chu Yin, red-eyed: “Go ahead, hit me! You—”

The next second, Chu Yin fell silent, his entire body stiff as a statue.

Wei Lai had picked him up!

Since Chu Yin didn’t actively wrap his legs around Wei Lai this time, Wei Lai had to rely solely on his arm strength. His face turned red from exertion, his legs trembling as he took a few shaky steps before collapsing onto the bed with Chu Yin.

Chu Yin finally snapped out of it: “You motherf—”

“Shh—”

Wei Lai ruffled Chu Yin’s hair. “Sorry. Don’t be mad, okay?”

His gaze was so gentle and patient that Chu Yin’s nose stung, and the suppressed grievances in his heart surged uncontrollably. Afraid he’d cry if he spoke, he turned his head away.

“There’s a reason I carried you out of the bathroom.” Wei Lai propped himself up and grabbed a pink thermal container from the nightstand. “You can’t eat in the bathroom. People shouldn’t—at the very least, they shouldn’t.”

Tears welled up in Chu Yin’s eyes, but he still refused to acknowledge Wei Lai.

Wei Lai, ever perceptive, sensed that Chu Yin’s anger had mostly subsided. He scooped up a spoonful of wolfberry pork rib soup and brought it to Chu Yin’s lips. “Not too hot. Have some soup to settle your stomach. Come on, say ‘ah’~”

After hesitating for a long while, Chu Yin reluctantly took a sip from Wei Lai’s hand, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Wei Lai wiped them away. “Don’t cry. I wasn’t paying attention, and Chen Meixian slipped in. I’m sorry—did he do anything to you?”

Chu Yin shook his head.

The soup was rich and comforting, with a familiar, homely flavor Chu Yin knew well. He glanced at Wei Lai uncertainly. “How did you get food so late?”

Wei Lai magically produced a compartment of steak from the thermal box, the tender beef cut into small, bite-sized pieces. He speared one with a fork and fed it to Chu Yin.

Wei Lai grinned. “I made it in the kitchen. Tomorrow’s gonna be rough—we have to go out and earn money. You’re my top courtesan; if you don’t eat or sleep well, how are you gonna charm people?”

Chu Yin stopped eating. “…Then why did you go see Yao Chaowu? Is he your top courtesan too?”

“Huh?” Wei Lai glanced at the fast food Chen Meixian had brought, fully aware of that snake’s underhanded tactics. He said coolly, “Who do you believe—Chen Meixian or me?”

Chu Yin wiped his eyes and muttered, “…Wei Lai, I don’t like Yao Chaowu.”

Wei Lai: “I know, you’re rivals. But he’s actually a decent guy. Just pretend, okay? Don’t embarrass him in public.”

“Decent my ass!” Chu Yin raised his voice. “I won’t fake it like that white lotus bitch! If I don’t like someone, I don’t!”

Wei Lai sighed. “I went to apologize for you. I know you didn’t mean it, but you did hurt him. As your manager, I have to handle the things you can’t bring yourself to do. Understand?”

Chu Yin glared suspiciously. “So you weren’t checking on his balls?”

Wei Lai was baffled. “…Am I insane? Have I never seen balls before? Chu Yin, if you keep thinking of me like that, I’m gonna get mad! I, Wei Lai, am a pure-hearted man!”

Chu Yin was thoroughly mollified. He rolled around on the bed, kicking his legs happily, slapping his toned stomach with rhythmic precision—a perk of being a professional singer—producing a strangely pleasing sound.

Wei Lai thought, How is he so easy to coax? Like a little kid.

After packing away the dishes, Wei Lai turned to see Chu Yin sprawled across the bed, legs raised high—legs that could entertain someone for a year—his toes wiggling with joy.

Wei Lai had just declared himself a pure-hearted man, but now, faced with this sight, impure thoughts flooded his mind.

Would Little Chu Yin be as long as those legs?

Ah, I want that cucumber.

To cover his tracks, Wei Lai tossed Chen Meixian’s junk food into the trash, but a bold idea suddenly struck him.

Maybe Chu Yin wasn’t easy to coax. Maybe the reason he was so agreeable was because it was Wei Lai doing the coaxing.

Wei Lai forcibly suppressed that thought, dismissing Chu Yin’s mood swings as childish temper tantrums. He turned off the lights but paused at the door. “Are you scared sleeping alone?”

Chu Yin turned his head. “Wei Lai, did I hurt your nose?”

Wei Lai: “…No.”

Chu Yin: “I don’t believe you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been so mad. Come here, let me check.”

Wei Lai walked over, grumbling, “It’s fine, really. I was just startled. Damn it… you screamy weirdo… how are you this scared of ghosts…”

Chu Yin reached out and gently touched Wei Lai’s nose, saying seriously, “I’m sorry. I’ll watch more horror movies from now on. I’ll toughen up and protect you.”

Wei Lai’s breath hitched. Very few people had ever told him they’d protect him.

Madam Wei was strong, worldly, and unshakable—a fearless, shameless bastard who seemed capable of handling anything. He couldn’t find a 1 because he didn’t seem like a 0.

In the darkness, their breaths mingled. Wei Lai’s face burned—he was definitely blushing, though Chu Yin couldn’t see it, still rambling on.

“I didn’t mean to be scared of ghosts.”

It wasn’t until much later that Wei Lai understood what Chu Yin meant by that. When Chu Yin was in the orphanage, the teachers would tell ghost stories to keep the kids from wandering at night. Little Chu Yin, obedient and impressionable, had been terrified. After his fear became known, older kids jealous of his looks would deliberately play pranks on him, pretending to be ghosts.

So, even as an adult, Chu Yin avoided horror movies and ghost stories. He was hyper-vigilant—even a cat’s meow made him suspect Orunju had seen a ghost. At night, he had to tuck his hands and feet under the covers because he feared that otherwise, a ghost would crawl up his legs and bite him in bed.

But Wei Lai didn’t know any of that yet. Amused, he turned his face away. “Alright, sleep now.”

Chu Yin, still haunted by the twisted shadow he’d seen outside the window, clung to Wei Lai, refusing to let him leave. “It’s dangerous out there. Sleep with me.”

Wei Lai had long grown accustomed to being a human teddy bear. He flopped onto the bed, giving Chu Yin’s nape a gentle squeeze. Chu Yin hummed contentedly and soon dozed off like an oversized baby.

---

The Next Morning

As mentioned earlier, the show’s biggest investor, Boss Kong, had only one demand: ensure Qian Tianyi got plenty of exercise. However, Long Dongqiang—Qian Tianyi’s ever-doting caretaker—was the biggest obstacle to this plan.

So, the production team devised a brilliant solution: separate them.

Managers would pair with managers, and artists with artists. The artists would earn money to support their “families,” while the managers lounged around looking pretty. What they ate for dinner depended entirely on how much their artists could earn. In other words, Chu Yin, Yao Chaowu, and Qian Tianyi would head to the commercial district to hustle, while Wei Lai, Chen Meixian, and Long Dongqiang would relax at Manly Beach.

When Wei Lai heard the arrangement, he was both delighted and worried. On one hand, this meant Chen Meixian wouldn’t have a chance to mess with Chu Yin. On the other, he feared Chu Yin and Yao Chaowu might come to blows. Chu Yin had social anxiety, Qian Tianyi was hopeless, and the whole group seemed doomed to fail—likely ending up with nothing but air for dinner.

Before parting, Wei Lai fussed like a mother sending her son off on a long journey. “Text me if anything happens, got it? It’s fine if you don’t earn much. Don’t eat random stuff, don’t pick fights—safety first…”

Chu Yin, reluctant to leave: “…Got it.”

The mood was warm until Wei Lai added, “Do me a favor—don’t fight with Yao Chaowu.”

Wei Lai had stepped squarely on a landmine. Chu Yin stomped away, tossing over his shoulder, “You don’t have any face to give! I’m ignoring you!”

Wei Lai: “…”

Regardless, they all set off.

That day, thick clouds like ink-stained cotton candy drifted across the sky. The air was heavy, threatening rain. Wei Lai, wearing garish swim trunks and amber sunglasses, sprawled on a beach chair, the picture of serenity. In reality, his sharp eyes darted behind the lenses, tracking every shirtless hunk that passed by.

The sea breeze caressed his face, his hair slightly damp. The muscles of the sun-kissed Australian men glistened with golden sand—wild, sexy, natural. One after another, they paraded before Wei Lai, stirring his restless heart.

Wei Lai lived by the creed: If you see a hottie, you share him with the girls. He pulled out his phone and sent Chu Yin a video, humming a nonsensical tune:

“The ocean’s full of water~

Men here are everywhere~

Hey hey, everywhere~

Sisters share a drink together~

If you wanna go, then go~

You got it, I got it, we all got it~!”

Long Dongqiang, sitting nearby, was stunned. “Wei Lai, you’re really letting loose.”

Wei Lai said solemnly, “This is nothing. You haven’t seen me truly let loose.”

Just then, his phone buzzed.

—Chu Yin: “MADAM WEI!!!???”

Wei Lai replied: “See anyone you like? I’ll hook you up~”

The moment he hit send, a familiar yet dreaded red exclamation mark appeared.

He had been blocked—again!