Chapter 88 – The Crybaby and the Madam Gaze at Each Other

Wei Lai took the happy stick, but his heart was filled with bitterness—there was no happiness at all.

“Wei Lai…have you thought about it?” Chu Yin asked nervously, his tone naive. “Do you want to measure it with a ruler?”

Wei Lai: “…”

A slutty rooster loses its edge once it falls in love, but the path to redemption is so bumpy. Cherishing something makes it heavy, and the weight makes it precious. His fate was still uncertain, so he couldn’t just coax Chu Yin by saying he could do it.

Wei Lai smiled. “What do you like about me? That I’m older? That I’m a slut? That I’m dirty?”

As he smiled, a tear rolled down his cheek like dew on a lotus leaf, disappearing in the blink of an eye as if he’d never cried at all.

Chu Yin was startled by Wei Lai’s way of crying and whispered, “…Are you…heartbroken because of Yao the Green Tea Bitch?”

Wei Lai: “…No.”

Chu Yin burst into tears like a waterfall: “You are!”

Chu Yin pulled Wei Lai into his arms without hesitation, pressing him onto the sofa, sobbing, “You’ve been acting weird ever since you saw Yao Chaowu…You’ve been off these past few days…Madam Wei! You’re such an idiot, you know that?!”

Wei Lai: “…”

Chu Yin wiped his tears forcefully. “I’m so upset, I’m so upset! Wuwu yingyingying…You’re not that kind of person at all! You never sold out your artists—you only ever sold yourself, ugh…You’re out of your damn mind…”

Wei Lai chuckled dryly. “Your filter is way too thick…I didn’t sell myself that many times before I got promoted to Madam. And if someone wanted to sell, I’d still be happy to play pimp.”

Chu Yin shook his head. “I used to…really dislike you. When you asked me to play mahjong, I always thought you were trying to trick me into being sold off…But…you’re nothing like what people say.”

“…Don’t be sad.” Chu Yin wasn’t good at comforting people, so he imitated Wei Lai, gently patting his head. “Do you want to bury your face in my stomach and cry? You’ll feel better after.”

Wei Lai: “…I can’t cry.”

Chu Yin: “Then I’ll cry for you.”

Wei Lai: “Please don’t, you’ll wash out your tear troughs. Fine, I’ll do it.”

Wei Lai lowered his head and came face-to-face with 18 Centimeters-kun: “…Why is it still standing at attention?”

Chu Yin answered obediently, “It was getting better, but when I hugged you just now, it popped back up.”

Wei Lai: “…”

Wei Lai strongly suspected that this 18cm tail was the true essence of the crybaby.

When Chu Yin was sad or scared, he loved burying his face in Wei Lai’s soft, warm belly, watching it rise and fall, which gave him an immense sense of security.

So, he figured that if Wei Lai was unhappy, just nuzzling his belly would make it better.

Chu Yin lay flat and patted his stomach. “You can rub my abs, but no tickling with your beard.”

The temptation was too great. Wei Lai’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he felt an unbearable thirst—for water, or maybe something else.

Who wouldn’t want to snuggle a big cat?!

Especially a normally ferocious, domineering cat who rode its owner’s shoulders and roared at the slightest provocation, now lying docilely and letting itself be cuddled.

Wei Lai lowered his head, showcasing his masterful “cat-nuzzling” skills.

Achievement unlocked: Made the big cat mewl.

Chu Yin was weak and teary-eyed, clinging to him. “…Hold me…Wei Lai…hold me…”

Wei Lai licked his lips and crawled up. Chu Yin eagerly pressed into his arms.

Chu Yin whined, “My legs are still sticking out.”

Wei Lai sighed. “…Little sister, you’re 190cm tall. How am I supposed to accommodate those long legs of yours?”

Chu Yin leaned in. “…Kiss.”

Wei Lai turned his head and kissed Chu Yin’s neck. “Wait, let me rinse my mouth first.”

Chu Yin persisted. “Now!”

Just then, a shrill meow came from under the sofa. Chu Yin turned and saw Big Orange yowling at him.

Chu Yin panicked. “Why is Big Orange meowing? Did I bring a ghost home? Why isn’t she meowing at you? Is something on my back? Aaaah! Boo-hooo-hooo!”

Wei Lai wrapped his arms around Chu Yin’s legs. “…Maybe because you’re naked.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Wei Lai: “Imagine waking up one day to find Orunju had gone bald. You’d scream louder than her.”

Chu Yin: “…” That made sense.

Wei Lai carried Chu Yin back to the bedroom, brushed his teeth, and returned to bed. Chu Yin clung to him, touching and hugging, then suddenly realized something was off and accused, “Why aren’t you reacting at all?!”

Wei Lai: “I’m impotent.”

Chu Yin: “???!??!”

Wei Lai laughed. “I’m exhausted. I’m not as young and energetic as you. Let’s sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Chu Yin pursed his lips. “But I have to go to the set tomorrow. Are you coming with me?”

After a pause, Wei Lai said, “Probably not tomorrow. I have some work stuff.”

Drowsiness hit Chu Yin like a truck. He yawned hugely. “…Hah…ying…okay.”

Chu Yin fell asleep instantly. When he slept beside Wei Lai, he always dozed off quickly, his sleeping positions bizarrely varied, never bothering to hide his belly.

Wei Lai couldn’t sleep.

He picked up his phone, muted it, and watched a video.

He’d finally finished editing the CP video of him and Chu Yin. The thumbnail was a photo of the two of them at Lake MacDonnell—a picture no one else had.

If not for the tumor, his plan had been to anonymously send the video to Chu Yin first. Some of the photos were very private, and Chu Yin would definitely be shocked, making him ask Wei Lai to investigate.

Wei Lai could’ve seized the moment to confess.

His prepared line was: “Would you make the ChuLai CP real?”

But none of that could happen now. Hands trembling, Wei Lai deleted the video he’d worked on for half a month.

Close to dawn, Wei Lai’s head throbbed violently, as if a pot had been set inside his skull, his nerves boiling, a swarm of flies buzzing around it. He felt both lucid and trapped in a dazed nightmare.

He endured until he lost consciousness.

The next day, Chu Yin woke before Wei Lai. Wei Lai lay flat on the bed, gripping a corner of the sheets tightly, brows furrowed—clearly not resting well.

Normally, Wei Lai would wake early to make Chu Yin breakfast, pack his things, and nag him out the door. But this time, he overslept.

Chu Yin got up, did his makeup, packed, and prepared to leave for the airport.

After all that commotion, Wei Lai still hadn’t even stirred. Chu Yin checked his forehead to confirm he wasn’t feverish, then kissed him. “I’m leaving.”

Wei Lai shifted slightly—whether he heard or not was unclear.

In Chu Yin’s mind, playing with 18 Centimeters-kun was something only boyfriends did. So, he considered himself Wei Lai’s boyfriend now. Happy and bouncy, he headed to the airport.

After Chu Yin left, Wei Lai opened his eyes. The world was blurry, shadows floating everywhere—he could barely see.

He’d wanted to stall a few more days to avoid being the kind of guy who fooled around and then disappeared, but he couldn’t hold on any longer.

Wei Lai fumbled for his phone and dialed 120.

Chu Yin returned to the set at dusk. Qian Tianyi held a takeout box, slowly lifting his eyelids to glance at him.

Chu Yin beamed. “Qian Tianyi!”

Qian Tianyi: “…What?”

Chu Yin: “Nothing!”

Qian Tianyi: “…”

Chu Yin sent Wei Lai a picture of his takeout, letting him know he’d arrived safely.

After a long delay, Wei Lai replied with a voice message in his usual gentle tone, saying his old man was sick and he had to go home to take care of him. Yan Yunshui and Booty-san would come to keep him company on set.

Whenever Wei Lai mentioned family, Chu Yin didn’t dare bother him too much. Now, he wasn’t just Wei Lai’s celebrity client—he was his boyfriend. He couldn’t be a nuisance.

Filming was grueling. Only after wrapping did Chu Yin have time to overthink.

His contact with Wei Lai dwindled. Wei Lai only sent voice messages now, seeming perfunctory.

Chu Yin wondered: Was Wei Lai’s dad on his deathbed?

In an elder’s final moments, wouldn’t they want to see their son married with children?

Beyond that, Chu Yin also worried Wei Lai might’ve run off because he found him annoying. Weren’t there people who fled the day before their weddings? Maybe Wei Lai didn’t like him and just couldn’t bring himself to reject him outright.

After all, Wei Lai had never agreed to be with him—it was all just wishful thinking on his part.

By then, Chu Yin’s concert was just days away. Wei Lai’s phone was turned off.

Chu Yin went to great lengths to track down Wei Lai’s hometown address and brought VIP tickets to Qingdao.

Years later, Wei Gangzheng, Wei Lai’s father, could still vividly recall his first meeting with Chu Yin.

His secretary told him someone was loitering suspiciously downstairs, wearing a mask and hat, face obscured—should they call the police?

Wei Gangzheng checked the surveillance feed and found the figure vaguely familiar.

Though estranged from Wei Lai for years, he still secretly followed his son’s Weibo, occasionally scrolling through Wei Lai’s slutty selfies with the expression of the “Old Man In Subway Looking At Mobile Phone” meme.

The shady man downstairs wore clothes Wei Lai had been photographed in and had a similar build.

Wei Gangzheng’s emotions churned. He stood in the garden, pretending to water the lawn while observing covertly.

At night, Chu Yin and Wei Gangzheng studied each other across lush greenery and iron railings.

Chu Yin overcame his fear of strangers and spoke haltingly, “Uncle…uh…do you know Wei Lai?”

Hearing it wasn’t Wei Lai, Wei Gangzheng felt a pang of disappointment—which instantly turned to anger at himself for feeling that way about such an unfilial son. Coldly, he said, “No.”

Chu Yin clenched his fists nervously. “…Does this household go by Wei? Wei Lai told me his family lives here.”

Wei Gangzheng immediately thought of all the men Wei Lai fooled around with and sprayed Chu Yin with the hose. “This is my home. Are you a thief? Skulking around like that.”

Chu Yin fled from the water spray. The wind outside chilled him to the bone.

Back at the hotel, Chu Yin didn’t cry. Dazed, he pressed his face into his furball plushie. His body heat evaporated the water, but the ticket in his pocket had gotten damp and crumpled.

Chu Yin tore it up.

With each shred, he muttered, “…Want me.”

Another shred: “…Don’t want me.”

The last scrap was too tiny to tear further: “Don’t want me.”

Chu Yin paused, then managed to rip off a sliver: “Want me.”

“Nervous about tomorrow’s surgery?”

Wei Lai lay on the hospital bed, his vision gone and his hearing coming in and out. He faintly heard someone speaking to him and yelled back like a hard-of-hearing old man, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

The young doctor chuckled and shouted back, “I said, your surgery requires family consent!”

The doctor’s name was Zhao Mingming, Wei Lai’s childhood friend—though the kind who constantly butted heads.

Faced with an unprecedented fear of death, Wei Lai had returned to Qingdao and sought out the most experienced specialist for his surgery. On his first day at the hospital, he ran into Zhao Mingming, who burst out laughing. “I always said you’d overused your brain acing every test as a kid. Now you’re paying the price.”

Wei Lai had a surprisingly high tolerance for Zhao Mingming’s sharp tongue. After all, nothing mattered much when life and death were on the line.

Wei Lai: “I’m all alone. Can’t you pull some strings for me? Pretty please, good brother~”

“Ugh, what happened to you?!” Zhao Mingming shuddered, though his tone softened. “I’m a dermatologist. Your condition is way out of my league. Next time your face gets wrecked, come to me, and I’ll hook you up, okay?”

Wei Lai: “…”

Wei Lai sighed. “You know how things are with my family.”

Zhao Mingming: “What about a spouse? You’ve got one foot in the entertainment industry—surely you’ve had your fair share of flings. Who’s this ‘Big Crybaby’? They called you like eighty times yesterday. Must be your girlfriend, right?”

“Yesterday?” Wei Lai rubbed his ears. “I didn’t hear anything???”

Zhao Mingming: “You were writhing in pain all morning like Sun Wukong under the Golden Headband curse. After the injection, you slept the whole day. Don’t you remember?!”

Wei Lai murmured, “So… a whole day has passed.”

Zhao Mingming: “Unlock your phone. I’ll call them over for you.”

Wei Lai: “No. They have a concert.”

“Wait, it’s actually a celebrity? Damn, Wei Lai!” Zhao Mingming was stunned, clicking his tongue. “Who is it? Give me a hint. I won’t tell anyone.”

Wei Lai: “…Can you just reply to their WeChat for me? Say I’ll need another month. Their contact name is ‘Crybaby.'”

Zhao Mingming opened Wei Lai’s WeChat, found “Crybaby,” and let out an intrigued noise. “They sent you a ton of messages asking if you’re ditching them. Huh? Why are they asking about your dad’s health?”

“…Just send it first.”

Wei Lai dictated, and Zhao Mingming typed out a lengthy reply. After sending it, Zhao Mingming laughed. “They blocked you. Hah! Feisty one, huh?”

Wei Lai: “…”

After five minutes of silence, Zhao Mingming’s grin slowly faded as realization dawned. “Chu Yin’s performing in Beijing soon… Don’t tell me your boyfriend is Chu Yin?”

Wei Lai: “…”

Zhao Mingming nearly staggered from shock.

The day before Chu Yin’s concert, something happened that could have ruined his career forever.

Chen Meixian had set up an auto-post, uploading compromising photos of him and Chu Yin online. Unwilling to accept defeat, Chen Meixian had decided to destroy Chu Yin himself, consequences be damned.

PR scrambled to suppress the spread, but hashtags like #ChuYinSM, #ChuYinChenMeixian, and #ChuYinGay still trended, with no signs of slowing down.

Nothing was juicier than a scandal involving an untouchable star.

Chu Yin’s phone blew up with calls, forcing him to change his number. Paparazzi camped outside his home, leaving him no choice but to hide at Zero.

Curled up next to a space heater with Big Orange in his arms, Chu Yin was pale as paper. Even at full blast, the heater couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering.

Yan Yunshui hurriedly draped a blanket over him and asked cautiously, “Crybaby Yin, did you reach Slutty Wei?”

“…No.” Chu Yin shook his head. “I blocked him. I miss him… I couldn’t help it. But… his dad’s sick.”

Yan Yunshui: “Don’t panic… This’ll blow over soon.”

Chu Yin nodded, then suddenly seemed to remember something and grabbed his phone.

Worried he might do something reckless, Yan Yunshui stopped him. “Who are you calling? Don’t come out rashly!”

“Liang Yating.” Chu Yin’s breathing was uneven. “She was getting better… She likes me… She doesn’t like gay people…”

Yan Yunshui paled. “Damn it, why are you worrying about her now?! Here, let me call!”

The call didn’t go through.

Chu Yin pulled the blanket tighter. “Maybe she didn’t hear. Try again later.”

Yan Yunshui was deeply concerned about Chu Yin’s mental state. “Crybaby Yin? Male God? You’re scaring me. Why are you so pale?”

Chu Yin: “I’m fine.”

Yan Yunshui: “…”

Just then, Yan Yunshui’s phone rang. After a brief exchange, his expression turned odd.

The call was from Chu Yin’s PR director, informing him that Tang Xincang wanted to see Chu Yin.

Tang Xincang, a rising starlet, had skyrocketed to fame last year with a hit drama. The kind of celebrity who could trend just by wearing an outfit, she frequently flaunted her looks in media puff pieces. She and Chu Yin had never interacted much.

Tang Xincang arrived alone, carrying a burgundy men’s suit.

Chu Yin was baffled. “Hello?”

To his surprise, Tang Xincang bowed deeply. “Thank you. I should’ve thanked you in person back then, but I never got the chance. I finally have the opportunity now.”

Yan Yunshui: “?”

Chu Yin stared at the burgundy suit for a long moment before remembering their only connection.

Back then, Tang Xincang wasn’t nearly as famous. At a dinner event, she’d been harassed by a sleazy pig seated beside her. Fed up, Chu Yin had draped his jacket over her shoulders, punched the pig, and later gotten slapped by Chen Meixian—before running into Wei Lai, who looked suspiciously like a human trafficker, by the fountain.

Tang Xincang had come to repay the debt of that jacket.

Half-jokingly, she said, “Announce we’re dating, and those vultures will scatter. We can break up whenever you want—no hard feelings.”

Chu Yin shook his head. “Thank you.”

Five minutes later, Chu Yin said, “I’m coming out. I’m making a statement.”

Yan Yunshui grabbed him in a panic. “Whoa, whoa! Don’t be rash! Are you insane?! If you post that, it’s a 24-karat confession—like shoving a knife up the public’s ass and twisting it! You’re done!”

“But…”

Chu Yin sounded weak, his voice trembling, yet his words were clear. “Liking men isn’t wrong. I haven’t done anything bad… This is the real me. I want them to see the real me.”

Tang Xincang froze, then suddenly smiled. “I like the real you.”

She left her contact info, promising any help within her power. Before leaving, she bowed again. “I’m not thanking you. I admire you.”

After Tang Xincang left, Yan Yunshui hid in the bathroom and cried.

A scar that would never fade marked his stomach—a stab wound from a psychotic ex.

After being fired from his teaching job, Yan Yunshui had sunk into depression at home. His mom, who usually left to buy groceries in the morning, wouldn’t return until noon.

Yan Yunshui had never come out before, and his first time had been brutal. He’d assumed his mom was ashamed of him—that was why she avoided him.

Once his wound healed enough, he passed by his old school and spotted his mom. At first, he didn’t recognize her.

His mom had barely finished elementary school—an ordinary little old lady who didn’t even do square dancing. Her hair was streaked with gray, her clothes faded and dull, but draped over her shoulders was a rainbow flag.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—blazingly bright.

People stared and whispered, but the old woman stood firm.

Yan Yunshui covered his face and ran over to pull her away. “Mom, let’s go home!”

She shook him off. “Yan Yunshui, show your face!”

Yan Yunshui: “…”

“If you’re a teacher, stand tall at the podium. If you’re gay, stand tall on the street! I heard they fired you illegally!” She planted her hands on her hips and glared at the school gates. “I’m getting justice for you!”

The next day, Yan Yunshui and his mom stood outside the school together under the rainbow flag. Two former students approached—the class genius and the class troublemaker.

The genius handed him a letter. “Mr. Yan, this is a signed letter from our whole class. Thank you for teaching us. You… take care. Oh, and… he has something to say.”

The troublemaker slouched with his empty backpack, clearing his throat awkwardly. This brat had been Yan Yunshui’s biggest headache—handsome but lazy, sleeping through every class.

“You said… the general trend of social development is forward and upward, but the process is winding.” The troublemaker mumbled a few lines about historical materialism. “Don’t be sad. You’re on the winding rise.”

Yan Yunshui: “You listened in class?”

Troublemaker: “Only sometimes.”

From that day on, Yan Yunshui believed everything had been worth it—whether as a teacher or a stylist.

Maybe Chu Yin felt the same.

Wiping his tears, Yan Yunshui strode out and hugged Chu Yin. “The path of history spirals upward, but every silence makes the climb harder. I support you, no matter what you decide. Because you’re my idol.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Those were Chu Yin’s most stressful days.

Arriving in Beijing, his concert was abruptly canceled at the last minute.

On that stage, there were no lights, no backing track—just Chu Yin standing alone. Surrounding him were roaring fans and objects hurled from the crowd.

He was living his worst nightmare. Stripped of his persona, fallen from stardom, abandoned by peers, betrayed by fans.

His light was gone.

And yet, Chu Yin began to sing.

Wei Lai had his stepmother sign the consent forms.

Yan Xueni, heavily pregnant, signed and then studied Wei Lai on the bed. “Oh my god, how did such a strapping man wither into this?! Oh—wait, no. The doctor said the success rate is high. Don’t chicken out! Close your eyes, and it’ll be over!”

Wei Lai: “…Wouldn’t you be happier if I died?”

Yan Xueni: “…Nonsense! Don’t say that! Ahhh!!!”

Wei Lai heard a strange splashing sound. “…Did you pee yourself?”

Yan Xueni: “…My water broke. DOCTOR!!!”

Wei Lai: “…”

With all this chaos, Wei Gangzheng naturally showed up.

On one side, his wife was in labor with their second son. On the other, his estranged eldest son was prepping for a life-or-death surgery.

Life truly had surprises at every turn.

Wei Gangzheng: “…How did you end up like this? Cancel the surgery. I’ll find you a better doctor.”

Wei Lai smiled. “Afraid I’ll die?”

Wei Gangzheng: “…”

Wei Lai: “…Don’t worry. You’ve got a spare.”

Furious, Wei Gangzheng snapped, “What’s with the sarcasm? You’ve been as good as dead to me all these years!”

Wei Lai would’ve loved to keep arguing, but his hearing failed again. Amid Wei Gangzheng’s muffled yelling, he was wheeled into pre-op.

Zhao Mingming, of course, wouldn’t miss this. “Hah, you’re about to go bald, school heartthrob. Nervous?”

Wei Lai: “…After all these years, you’re still jealous of me.”

Zhao Mingming: “Hey… isn’t your Chu Yin performing? Want me to livestream it?”

Wei Lai: “Yes.”

Zhao Mingming: “Beg me.”

Wei Lai: “Please, good brother~”

Zhao Mingming gagged. “Ugh, you gays have no shame with all this brother nonsense. But your boyfriend… he’s got guts.”

Wei Lai: “…What did he do?”

Not wanting to stress Wei Lai further, Zhao Mingming avoided details. “He’s singing. I’ll play it for you. No wonder he’s been famous so long—he’s got talent.”

Without accompaniment, Chu Yin played his own instruments. The moment the drumbeat started, the crowd fell silent.

As the anesthesia kicked in, Wei Lai weakly turned his head and mumbled, “What’s he singing? This… isn’t his usual style.”

Zhao Mingming strained to make out the lyrics, translating haltingly: “From now on… I’ll be myself… standing in the sun… The future… 1.3 billion ways to live, each one with dignity.”

“I love you, unafraid of waves smashing rocks to dust…”

Zhao Mingming’s expression grew increasingly bewildered. “Two songs. One’s called Future, the other I Love You. Damn, people are saying he improvised them. Damn, that’s insane!”

Wei Lai’s hearing chose this moment to betray him. “WHAT???”

Zhao Mingming: “FUTURE! I LOVE YOU! HEAR THAT?!”

Wei Lai: “…No thanks. You’re not my type.”

Zhao Mingming: “ARE YOU MOCKING ME?!”

Just before the anesthesia took full effect, Wei Lai finally understood. He whispered, “I love you… You have to wake up… Wei Lai, wake up. Go home.”