ASFSODS 51

Wen Chi didn’t have time to check his phone. He had just finished dinner with his close friends, and the last thing he expected was to run into fans on the street. Now he was surrounded by girls, and had no idea what to do with his hands and feet.

Qiao Congnan and Huo Yinshi had already stepped aside to watch the show, snapping photos as they went. Qiao Congnan even said he would send the pictures to Wen Chi’s parents.

“Xiao Chi, are you feeling better?”

“When did you get back? We were even thinking of going to the airport to pick you up.”

“Where’s the next livestream going to be?”

“So you’re actually this tall? I always saw you next to Teacher Jiang in the livestreams, never realising you were this tall.”

Wen Chi’s signing hand paused. He looked up at the girl who had commented on his height, pondered for a second, and said, “That sounded a little insulting.”

The girl, who hadn’t meant it that way: “…”

Wen Chi straightened his back, quickly signed for the rest of the fans, and told the girl seriously, “I’m actually over 1.8 meters. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Teacher Jiang for being too tall.”

Honestly, hearing Wen Chi bring up Jiang Siheng outside of a recording made the fans a little excited.

The girl could only smile helplessly and nod. “Alright, alright, got it.”

When Wen Chi finally finished signing and taking pictures, he was completely drained. Signing and posing were the simplest things in the world, so why did doing them all in one go feel so exhausting?

“Big star, why do you look like your soul’s been sucked out? Come on, perk up,” Qiao Congnan said with a laugh, slinging an arm around Wen Chi’s shoulder.

Wen Chi batted his arm away. “If you’re going to put your arm there, fine, but don’t dump your entire body weight on me.”

The restaurant wasn’t far from the apartment Wen Chi was renting. By the time they strolled back home, their overly full lunch had mostly settled.

Wen Chi’s bed wasn’t big. It was barely enough for two people. He let Qiao Congnan and Huo Yinshi take it, then watched as Huo Yinshi placed a stuffed pillow between himself and Qiao Congnan.

Qiao Congnan was silent for a second, then gave Huo a look full of accusation. “Old Huo, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Huo Yinshi’s face stayed expressionless. “You really have no self-awareness about your sleeping posture?”

Qiao Congnan: “…”

Wen Chi sat happily in his gaming chair, watching the two of them. The fatigue on their faces was impossible to hide. He stood up. “Go sleep, I’m going to read the script.”

Qiao Congnan lay on his side, propping his head up with one hand, his pose both flamboyant and an eyesore. “Xiao Chi, you’re taking on another movie?”

“Not a movie. It’s an audition for the second male lead in a wuxia drama.”

“Second male lead? That’s big.”

Wen Chi let out a light hum, picking up the script and a pen. “Alright, you two rest.”

Closing the door to shut out the noise outside, he found a comfortable spot on the couch. The script was about ten pages long. Wen Chi read it from beginning to end—both the character work and the plot were solid, and the second male lead role he was auditioning for played a major part in the main storyline.

Auditions didn’t require the actor to perform every scene of the role. The director and producer would select three key scenes, and during the audition, they would randomly choose one for the actor to perform. Sometimes even asking for impromptu acting.

By the time Wen Chi finished, the sky outside had dimmed. It was already past five. He assumed Qiao Congnan and Huo Yinshi were still sleeping, but when he reached the bedroom door, he heard them talking and gaming.

Pushing the door open, both of them looked up. Qiao Congnan asked, “Done already?”

Wen Chi glanced at Huo Yinshi’s phone. The game was already in progress for over ten minutes, and answered with a hum. “When did you wake up? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I went to the living room, but you were so focused on your script you didn’t notice, so we didn’t bother you,” Qiao Congnan said.

“I meant, why didn’t you call me to rank up with you?” Wen Chi pointed at Huo Yinshi’s game record, a long streak of blue wins. “Secretly ranking up is just wrong.”

Qiao Congnan: “…”

Huo Yinshi, expressionless, killed the enemy marksman, then tapped Wen Chi’s phone. “Log in.”

Qiao Congnan glanced down at his own phone and saw the enemy team had just surrendered. “Huh, that was quick.”

While happily logging in, Wen Chi asked, “What are we eating tonight?”

“Want to go out?” Huo Yinshi asked.

“No.”

Qiao Congnan pulled Wen Chi into the team and nodded. “Alright, unanimous vote for delivery.”

The three of them gamed in the room for over three hours. When they came to their senses, it was already past eight. It was too late for dinner and too early for a midnight snack.

Wen Chi left the food-ordering duty to Qiao Congnan and Huo Yinshi, insisting on squeezing himself onto the small bed to peacefully scroll through WeChat Moments.

He hadn’t checked all afternoon, and now he was scrolling with satisfaction. Most of his friends on WeChat were high school and college classmates, with fewer work contacts.

As he kept scrolling, he liked posts freely, even from people he barely knew. Then a very familiar profile picture flashed by.

[Jiang Siheng: Wrapped up. Tired #dozing#[photo]]

Hmm??

Wen Chi blinked, tapped the name to confirm it really was Jiang Siheng, then returned to Moments, liked the post, and commented: [Teacher Jiang, hard work #fist#]

“What about this? What do you want to eat?” Huo Yinshi nudged his leg and handed him the phone.

Wen Chi set his phone down to take it. “Let me see.”

After choosing his food, he picked his phone back up and saw Jiang Siheng had replied:

[Jiang Siheng: Not hard at all #fist#]

Seeing the two comments stacked together, Wen Chi couldn’t help but find it funny.

[Wen Chi: Teacher Jiang, have you eaten yet #bowl#]

[Jiang Siheng: Yes. What about you, Teacher Wen?]

[Wen Chi: Not yet, just ordered delivery]

Looking at the long trail of comments under Jiang Siheng’s post, Wen Chi suddenly realized that he and Jiang Siheng  seemed to have turned the comment section into a private chat.

“What are you laughing at?”

Qiao Congnan’s voice came from above. Wen Chi instinctively locked his phone screen and looked up innocently.

Qiao Congnan’s mouth twitched. “What’s with that guilty look?”

“I’m not guilty,” Wen Chi retorted. “You just startled me.”

Qiao Congnan snorted. “Blaming me again.”

Huo Yinshi cut in, “Do you celebrities all like to use Moments comments as a chat app?”

“What?” Wen Chi didn’t follow.

Huo Yinshi’s gaze fell on Wen Chi’s phone, which had lit up again, still on Jiang Siheng’s post. He had caught a glimpse earlier—every comment was from just the two of them.

“Just happened to see,” Huo Yinshi said.

Wen Chi: “…”

After a pause, Huo asked, “Logically, in your industry, you should have plenty of mutual friends… like the other guests from that idiotic variety show. Why are there no other comments? Are they scared to comment because he’s a big shot?”

Because of what happened in Country Y, both Qiao Congnan and Huo Yinshi had strong opinions about Heart’s Confession 2.

Wen Chi also sensed something was off, but said nothing.

Huo Yinshi, seeing his silence, didn’t press further.

The delivery arrived quickly. The three moved to the more spacious living room, threw on a random movie for background noise, and dug in.

As he ate his rice, Wen Chi thought about what Huo Yinshi had said. Was he stupid for not noticing how strange it was that no one else liked or commented on Jiang Siheng’s post? Even his manager Zhou and assistant Xiao Pang would usually interact with their own artist’s Moments.

Huo Yinshi glanced at him, took a bite, and glanced again.

Under the table, Qiao Congnan nudged Huo Yinshi, signaling him to fix the mess he had started.

Huo Yinshi: “…”

With a sigh, he set down his chopsticks. “Wen Chi.”

“Yeah?” Wen Chi looked up blankly. “What’s up?”

“What’s your current thought?”

Qiao Congnan also put down his chopsticks, both of them now looking at him like older brothers trying to guide a troubled younger sibling.

Feeling even more confused under their stares, Wen Chi asked, “What thought?”

“Are you wondering why you’re the only one liking and commenting on… what’s-his-name’s post?”

Wen Chi corrected seriously, “His name is Jiang Siheng.”

“Fine.” Huo Yinshi nodded, looking at Wen Chi with the kind of gentle pity reserved for fools. “So, are you wondering why you’re the only one interacting with his post?”

Caught out, Wen Chi lowered his head.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. Here, let your big brothers analyze it for you.” Qiao Congnan hooked an arm around him. “We’ve never been in a relationship, but we’ve seen plenty.”

“We’re not in a relationship!!” Wen Chi shot up defensively.

His reaction was so strong it startled both of them. Qiao Congnan quickly said, “Okay, okay, you’re not.”

Huo Yinshi leaned his chin on his hand. “Xiao Chi, when you guessed that… Jiang Siheng’s post might be visible only to you, how did you feel?”

Wen Chi averted his gaze, mumbling, “I didn’t feel anything.”

“Yeah, right.” Huo Yinshi gave him a sidelong look. “I’ll give you two options: One, you feel troubled and want to confront him. Two, you feel unsure but pretend not to know. Pick one.”

“Second,” Wen Chi answered without thinking.

Huo Yinshi nodded. “Alright. You’re done for.”

Wen Chi, startled: “???”

“What do you mean done for?”

Qiao Congnan wasn’t completely convinced by Huo Yinshi’s conclusion. He asked another question. “What do you think of Jiang Siheng?”

That one was easy. “Teacher Jiang is great—handsome, good personality, really took care of me on the show.”

Qiao Congnan: “Then if the show ends and he suddenly confesses to you, what would you do?”

“That’s impossible,” Wen Chi said flatly. “We’ve only known each other for a month.”

Qiao Congnan stared at him for a few seconds, then rubbed his head in frustration with a sigh. “You’re done for, Wen Chi.”

Wen Chi: ?!!! Why was he done for again?