Chapter 45 – Madam Wei’s Aesthetic

————Six Years Later————

In the quiet night, Chu Yin was fast asleep with his legs draped over Wei Lai.

But Wei Lai couldn’t sleep.

Though Chu Yin had drained him dry, not a drop left, his exhausted body remained awake due to hunger.

For some reason, he thought of Chu Yin under the jacaranda flowers all those years ago, walking gracefully along the flower-strewn path as the crowd parted. Wei Lai suddenly felt a long-lost palpitation in his chest.

But back then, he never imagined he’d end up with Chu Yin.

Just like how men often reject women with the excuse, “I see you as a sister,” Wei Lai had assumed his attachment to Chu Yin was simply because he’d been raising him like a son.

He believed his accelerated heartbeat was just the overflowing pride of a father witnessing his son’s achievements.

Chu Yin’s affection for him was because he’d never experienced normal emotional bonds and thus became overly dependent on him.

On the way back from the city center, Chu Yin asked Wei Lai a question: “You only became my temporary manager to accompany me on the show. So, after filming ends, where will you go?”

Wei Lai had never thought about it. Over the past few years, he’d been running around for Yao Chaowu’s sake. He rarely considered what he’d do after no longer being Yao Chaowu’s manager. In a way, he should thank Chu Yin for giving him something to do—otherwise, he might’ve spent a long time playing mahjong.

Wei Lai said, “I don’t know.”

Chu Yin hesitated before asking, “Will you keep being my manager?”

After a long silence, Wei Lai finally replied, “Depends.”

Chu Yin was acutely sensitive to subtext. From Wei Lai’s silence, he understood something and turned his head to look out the window, his voice hoarse as he said, “Either you are or you aren’t. Don’t string me along. Get lost.”

Wei Lai: “…”

Wei Lai deeply regretted not realizing back then that he liked Chu Yin. Otherwise, so many things wouldn’t have happened, and when Chu Yin asked him earlier when he’d fallen for him, he could’ve provided a satisfying answer.

Chu Yin wouldn’t have gone on a diet.

He wouldn’t be starving now.

Wei Lai closed his eyes. As the sun rose and his consciousness teetered between wakefulness and sleep, he was once again jolted awake by the orange cat sitting on him. He nudged Chu Yin, who groggily cracked open one eye and murmured, “Hmm?”

Wei Lai: “Do you know what your most glorious moment in Australia was?”

Chu Yin blinked, thinking. “When I stood in a pile of money after singing on the street?”

“No, that was the moment my heart skipped a beat, not your peak moment. Back then, I thought you were super manly.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Wei Lai pulled out his phone and opened his cloud storage. “This is the final episode of My Idol at Home, your solo highlight reel.”

——Six Years Ago——

Because of Chu Yin’s antics, the production team sadly realized this was the most chaotic group of celebrities they’d ever worked with.

Not that they lacked variety show appeal—it was just that they were too unpredictable. Even with a script, they carved their own unique paths, catching everyone off guard.

Take Chu Yin, for example. That man he thought had stolen his phone? He did have something to hide—he was a pervert who’d groped Chu Yin’s ass on the street because he found him attractive. Little did he expect Chu Yin to chase him for four blocks until he collapsed, begging the traffic police to take him away.

Chu Yin was practically a variety show black hole. The directors never dared send him to crowded places again.

By the final episode, the crew let everyone do as they pleased. Yao Chaowu and Chen Meixian went to the zoo, Wei Lai and Long Dongqiang went to buy chicken feed, while Qian Tianyi and Chu Yin—two helpless shut-ins—sprawled on the couch playing games.

Chu Yin lay on the sofa playing Honor of Kings when Qian Tianyi slowly scooted over and said, “Duo—with—me.”

“No.” Chu Yin refused flatly. “If I duo with you, I’ll drop from Diamond to Bronze.”

Qian Tianyi: “Th—at—day—was—my—fault—for—taking—your—phone. I’ll—make—it—up—to—you—by—carrying—you.”

Chu Yin eyed him skeptically.

Qian Tianyi painstakingly pulled up his game account. Chu Yin took one look and was stunned.

King rank! Qian Tianyi was actually a King!

Chu Yin: “…Did you buy this account?”

Qian Tianyi: “Le—t’s—play—one—round.”

An hour later, Chu Yin’s world had been crushed into monochrome by Qian Tianyi.

Chu Yin flopped onto the sofa, his expression as hopeless as a kitten on anesthesia. “This isn’t fair.”

Qian Tianyi: “Ev—ery—one—sa—ys—that.”

Silence fell again. Chu Yin was already in low spirits over Wei Lai potentially not being his manager anymore, and now he’d been hopelessly demolished by Qian Tianyi’s skills. He was about to collapse into a whimpering mess on the couch.

Then, rapid chicken squawks erupted outside, followed by loud banging that shattered the quiet. Chu Yin sat up. “They’re back.”

Qian Tianyi looked out the window and lethargically lowered his hand. “Ah—no—it’s—not—them.”

Chu Yin didn’t turn around, but from Qian Tianyi’s odd expression, he suddenly remembered the massive shadow that had flashed past the window when they watched The Shining.

Chu Yin’s scalp prickled. He sprang up from the couch, warily eyeing the window.

Through the sheer curtains, a hulking figure stood outside—about two meters tall, with freakishly long legs and a massive belly, grotesquely muscular—banging violently on the glass.

Chu Yin gasped, “…Gh-gh-ghost…”

Qian Tianyi, in a rare display of responsibility befitting a senior in the entertainment industry, said, “I’ll—go—look.”

Chu Yin yanked him back. “No! Let’s run!!!”

Qian Tianyi replied leisurely, “Do—n’t—panic. Ac—cor—ding—to—my—years—of—watch—ing—Ani—mal—Planet, th—is—is—a—kan—ga—roo.”

With solemn determination, Qian Tianyi strode forward and yanked open the curtains. Pressed against the glass was a heavily muscled kangaroo, clutching a squawking chicken in its grip.

Its sharp black claws tapped the glass as it glared menacingly, its pectorals even bigger than Booty-san’s. It alternated between pounding the glass with its stubby, powerful arms and rearing back to headbutt the window with a thunderous crash.

Like a feral Meituan delivery driver.

Chu Yin: “AHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Qian Tianyi murmured, “So—this—is—what—a—kan—ga—roo—looks—like.” He stepped forward and gently tapped the glass door. “Can’t—get—in.”

The moment he spoke, the kangaroo braced its tail against the ground and kicked out violently. A crack splintered across the glass. One more hit, and the door shattered as the kangaroo burst inside.

Qian Tianyi: “Ah—oh—”

Everything happened in a flash. Before Chu Yin could react, a dark blur shot past, and Qian Tianyi was on his knees with the kangaroo’s arm hooked around his neck.

Chu Yin: “…”

What went through Chu Yin’s mind at that moment, Wei Lai would never know. But from the footage, Chu Yin moved like a champion boxer, stepping forward with steady resolve and delivering a solid punch straight to the kangaroo’s head. After the hit, he strategically leaped back.

The kangaroo, clearly unused to being decked by a human, froze in stunned confusion. In its panic, it released Qian Tianyi. But Chu Yin didn’t let up, his gaze locked on the beast with the ferocity of a leopard.

Three seconds later, the kangaroo hopped away.

Standing amidst the wreckage, Chu Yin whimpered as he looked at his fist—his hand hurt.

The footage then cut to Qian Tianyi calling Wei Lai.

Qian Tianyi: “Your—Chu—Yin—hurt—his—knuck—les. Bring—med—icine—when—you—come—back.”

Wei Lai: “Why? Did he go into the kitchen?”

Qian Tianyi: “He—fought—a—kan—ga—roo.”

Wei Lai: “???”

———Six Years Later———

Wei Lai replayed the clip of Chu Yin fighting the kangaroo several times and sighed, “You’re so manly~ My heart skipped a beat!”

First thing in the morning, Chu Yin was already fuming. “Madam Wei, your taste is so twisted, no wonder you were single for so many years!”