Chapter 59 – Raising the Case Together

This twist was truly dramatic. The host improvised on the spot and quickly invited Wei Lai onto the stage.

Wei Lai was holding a massive, glittering support sign, exuding an alluringly flirtatious aura as he walked toward the stage at a snail’s pace, occasionally blowing kisses to the audience.

Yao Chaowu felt as if something was stuck in his throat. The multicolored words on the support sign stabbed at his eyes, and his stomach burned with jealousy. He had long consoled himself with the thought that all good things must come to an end—he was no longer that obscure, bottom-tier celebrity from back then. Even if he and Wei Lai had once been close, Wei Lai had restricted him, forbidding him from doing this or that, hindering his career growth. Their professional ideals had clashed, and Wei Lai’s resignation was for the best. If Yao Chaowu ever needed help, Wei Lai would come crawling back to him anyway.

But he never expected Wei Lai to betray him. This scene made the betrayal feel all too real. As Wei Lai approached, his eyes weren’t on Yao Chaowu at all—they were fixed on someone else. Yao Chaowu seethed with resentment, hating Chu Yin for shamelessly stealing his manager and resenting Wei Lai for turning his back on him and joining forces with his sworn enemy.

Chu Yin craned his neck, eyes locked unblinkingly on Wei Lai, itching to jump down and carry him onto the stage himself. Fortunately, Chu Yin still had some restraint left. He stood on tiptoe, barely keeping his feet planted, but the moment Wei Lai stepped onto the stage, he couldn’t resist leaping forward and wrapping him in a tight hug.

Chu Yin was a centimeter taller than Wei Lai, making it slightly difficult to achieve the “delicate bird nestling” effect, so he hunched his back slightly and rested his face on Wei Lai’s shoulder, nuzzling against it as he whispered, “Itchy. Face.”

His voice was full of pitiful grievance, laced with a spoiled intimacy. Wei Lai’s paternal instincts flared, and he patted Chu Yin’s back reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’ll check it out for you backstage later.”

Chu Yin nodded, releasing Wei Lai and obediently standing beside him. Though his face still itched, something miraculous happened—just Wei Lai’s presence alone, like Big Orange’s beloved electric heater, gradually warmed Chu Yin’s chilled body and steadied his restless heart.

The host exclaimed in surprise, “Chu Yin said you weren’t coming! How did you sneak into the audience? Were you secretly checking up on our work?”

Wei Lai replied half-jokingly, “I wasn’t feeling well earlier, so he told me not to come and insisted on working independently. But I couldn’t stop worrying, so I had to sneak in and watch.”

The host teased, “Sounds like you’re raising a son!”

Wei Lai shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Chu Yin smacked Wei Lai’s shoulder. “N-no… I’m not.”

Wei Lai chuckled. “Alright, alright. You’re my ancestor, then.”

This was just how Wei Lai normally talked to Chu Yin, and he didn’t find anything odd about it. But the moment the words left his mouth, the audience erupted in waves of screams. If anyone else had said this, it might’ve come off as cringey, but not Wei Lai. He had a way of making even the most outrageous statements sound sincere, brimming with an inexplicable, doting charm.

Wei Lai’s sudden appearance disrupted the recording flow, but the resulting entertainment value was explosively good. The host naturally seized the opportunity to ask a few more questions—after all, Wei Lai’s current fame even surpassed that of your average third-tier celebrity, and they didn’t have to pay him for this impromptu appearance.

The host said, “I’ve been watching My Idol at Home lately. You know, when I watched the first episode, I was stunned! Yao Chaowu was so lively and sweet in it—just the person I knew. But Chu Yin? I never knew he had two faces! The first time I hosted a show with Chu Yin was five years ago. I was a total rookie, and his songs had already topped the charts for three months straight. I was so nervous! Every question I asked him, he answered in just a few words.”

“My most vivid memory is when I asked him, ‘When do you usually write songs?’ That was an off-script question I came up with on the spot. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me for the longest time before finally muttering, ‘When I climb high.’ And that was it! Chu Yin—a man from the snowy mountains!”

“But in My Idol at Home, his temper is so soft!”

Wei Lai raised an eyebrow. “As embarrassing as it is to admit, it’s clear that in Chu Yin’s heart, my status is higher than everyone else’s here.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Yao Chaowu suddenly joked, “Your status in my heart is pretty high too.”

At first glance, the comment seemed harmless, but considering Wei Lai had been Yao Chaowu’s manager for five years, a closer listen revealed something more unusual.

Like a tragic heroine, Yao Chaowu added, “You weren’t just my manager—you were also the friend no one could ever surpass in my heart.”

Chu Yin had stayed calm while dealing with the makeup room chaos, resisted the urge to punch Chen Meixian for wearing his old couple’s outfit, and held himself together despite his allergic reaction.

But now, not even a pound of hair wax could suppress the fury that exploded inside him when Yao Chaowu started subtly—and not-so-subtly—referencing Wei Lai again.

Jealousy once again clouded Chu Yin’s judgment, and he slapped himself onto Wei Lai’s back, enunciating every word with deliberate emphasis: “He. Is. Mine.”

Wei Lai: “…”

Yao Chaowu: “…”

The host and director broke out in cold sweat—ChuYao might’ve been fake, but ChuWei’s closet door was rattling violently, nearly bursting open!

The director frantically signaled the host to get Wei Lai offstage ASAP. Wei Lai, ever tactful, smoothly said, “Alright, let go of your dad. Dad’s gonna go hold up your sign now.”

Chu Yin grumbled reluctantly, “You have to keep watching me.” Then, in a tiny voice, he added, “Only me.”

Wei Lai: “Mm.”

Chu Yin continued, “But… I have an allergy. Don’t look at me. I don’t look good.”

Wei Lai: “Oh~”

Chu Yin got mad. “Wei Lai! Where are your principles?! All you know how to say is ‘mm’!”

Wei Lai giggled, then hoisted the sign and hopped offstage, squatting next to the production team. He cupped his hands into binoculars and aimed them at Chu Yin—this way, he wouldn’t see anyone else, only him.

Chu Yin glanced at Wei Lai once before looking away, certain his face was burning red. He consoled himself with the thought that his allergy had already flushed his cheeks, so no one would notice.

With Wei Lai there, time no longer dragged. Between his stolen glances at Wei Lai, the recording flew by. All he had to do was change outfits in the makeup room, film a dance segment, and then he could go home.

When Chu Yin returned to the makeup room, Wei Lai was already waiting for him, sitting recklessly on the dressing table while assistants Little Fatty and Little Skinny handed out milk tea to the staff. The backstage atmosphere was warm and lively.

Chu Yin had been standing onstage for ages and was parched. He grabbed a cup of milk tea and was about to stab the straw in when Wei Lai suddenly called his name.

Chu Yin looked up. “Hm?”

Wei Lai miraculously produced a cup of apple juice from behind his back. “You drink this. If you have milk tea, you won’t sleep tonight.”

Chu Yin reveled in the special treatment. He spun around in the makeup chair and gulped down half the juice.

Wei Lai pinched Chu Yin’s chin, carefully examining his face. “How did your face suddenly get like this?”

Chu Yin thought for a moment. “I think I’m only allergic to peanuts. Maybe there’s peanut oil in the makeup remover.”

Wei Lai picked up the bottle of makeup remover on the table and shook it. “This one?”

Chu Yin: “Yeah.”

But this makeup remover didn’t contain peanut oil. Wei Lai’s expression darkened, suspicions still lingering in his mind. Still, the priority was treating Chu Yin’s allergy.

Wei Lai took Chu Yin to wash his face, sprayed on some soothing mist, and blew gently on his cheeks. “We’ll go to the hospital after filming.”

Chu Yin nodded, tilting his face up. His obsidian-black eyes gazed at Wei Lai as he said, “Blow again. Feels cool. Feels nice.”

Wei Lai blew a few more times. “You’re almost up again. Let the makeup artist do your brows, then go.”

Chu Yin grabbed Wei Lai’s sleeve. “I don’t want anyone else doing them.”

Wei Lai sighed. “Then do them yourself? Where’s your big celebrity attitude?”

Chu Yin said cunningly, “I don’t know how. You do it.”

Wei Lai: “…Fine. You’re impossible. If you don’t like it, don’t start crying.”

“I won’t!” Chu Yin straightened his back, his feet swinging happily under the chair. “You do it.”

This wasn’t Wei Lai’s first time doing Chu Yin’s makeup. He picked up the brow pencil and got to work, sitting on the table with his legs straddling the armrests of the chair. When he leaned forward slightly, Chu Yin caught sight of his pectoral muscles and hastily shut his eyes.

Wei Lai hooked a foot around the chair, pulling Chu Yin closer. Holding his chin, Wei Lai stared at the trembling lashes that fanned over Chu Yin’s cheeks like crow feathers and hesitated before making the first stroke.

Chu Yin cracked one eye open. “What are you doing?”

Wei Lai: “Building up the mood.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Chu Yin reached out and pinched Wei Lai’s waist, the icy touch making him jerk. “So cold! Get off.”

Chu Yin huffed. “No.”

Wei Lai had no choice but to speed up the brow-drawing process. His expression was focused as he traced the pencil along Chu Yin’s brow bone. One man tilted his head back, eyes closed; the other bent forward, gaze lowered. A handsome gay guy and a beautiful 0, existing in their own little world—it was enough to make Yao Chaowu grind his teeth in frustration.