That evening, Xie Yunyu called to say that the first phase of the “New Talent Support” project had been preliminarily settled.
The script that ultimately emerged victorious was about an autistic boy who overcomes adversity to become a musical genius.
The next steps would involve face-to-face discussions and the process of signing the investment contract.
Out of trust for Xie Yunyu, and considering his recent additional investment in the “New Talent Support” plan, Luo Ying quietly told him the truth about Luo Xiaohe and Fei Yan’s “scheme.”
After hearing it, Xie Yunyu fell silent for a moment before recovering with a smile, comforting Luo Ying by saying, “It’s good that it wasn’t real.”
Now that Luo Ying had the funds, he no longer had to hold back in anything he did.
He could easily invest more in the “New Talent Support” project.
However, since he hadn’t yet interacted with the new director, he wasn’t sure whether the investment would be worthwhile.
Luo Ying chatted with Xie Yunyu a bit more about the company’s financial matters, and it wasn’t until he hung up that he realized they had been on the phone for nearly an hour.
During the call, Lu Rang had finished washing up and came to urge Luo Ying to sleep, but Luo Ying brushed him off with excuses about being busy with work.
Luo Ying stood on the first-floor balcony, looking out at the glittering lights of Haidu at night. Skyscrapers displayed full-screen advertisements, vibrant and colorful.
He opened the ventilation window, leaned against the frame, and lit a thin cigarette.
The cigarette had a mild taste, and the smoke he exhaled scattered into the wind, disappearing without a trace.
Luo Ying hadn’t smoked since getting together with Lu Rang. This pack was something he had picked up for himself while accompanying Pei Mingyang to buy cigarettes.
Half of the cigarette was blown away by the wind, and half was smoked by him. Once the scent faded, Luo Ying closed the window with a heavy heart.
Seeing Lu Rang shed tears today had left him feeling inexplicably uneasy.
Especially Lu Rang’s words, “Don’t leave me.”
They felt somewhat bewildering to him.
Luo Ying was well aware that Lu Rang had a strong possessive streak toward him.
But he couldn’t help wondering whether, when Lu Rang felt jealous of his closeness with others, he would think of his first love—that idealized “white moonlight.”
Would he see traces of that first love in Luo Ying?
In the days they spent together, did Lu Rang secretly reminisce about past feelings?
After all, in melodramatic TV shows, protagonists often secretly reminisce about the past while being with a substitute.
Sometimes, they even compare the substitute to the idealized first love.
It was such a cringeworthy yet oddly compelling plot!
Luo Ying pursed his lips, hurried through his bedtime routine, and climbed into bed.
Lu Rang seemed to have drunk a lot at the crew’s dinner tonight and was already fast asleep in bed.
His phone was placed beside the pillow, as if he had been playing with it while waiting for Luo Ying to come to bed.
Luo Ying wasn’t particularly sleepy. Kneeling on the bed, he studied Lu Rang’s sleeping face in the faint moonlight.
Lu Rang lay on his side, strands of hair casually falling over his forehead. His facial features were sharp and handsome, his thick eyebrows relaxed, his thin lips slightly pursed, and his breathing shallow—like a sleeping beauty from a classical fairy tale.
The phone beside the pillow vibrated, a faint light seeping through the cracks.
Luo Ying stared at the phone, unable to help but think of Lu Rang’s lock screen wallpaper.
That day, he had only caught a glimpse of it and hadn’t seen it clearly.
Now, all he had to do was turn the phone face-up, and he could easily see the photo.
At this moment, the faint light from the phone hadn’t yet dimmed, as if beckoning and tempting Luo Ying.
Just as Luo Ying reached out, Lu Rang beside him frowned and shifted slightly.
Startled, Luo Ying withdrew his hand and leaned back as if caught red-handed. He tried to cover his ears and steal the bell, using the blanket to block his line of sight.
Lu Rang stirred slightly and then fell still again, murmuring softly.
Having shared a bed with Lu Rang for so long, Luo Ying had never heard him talk in his sleep before.
Now, he couldn’t help but feel curious about what Lu Rang was murmuring.
Kneeling, Luo Ying shifted forward on his knees, carefully leaning down to press his head close to Lu Rang’s side. Holding his breath, he pricked up his ears curiously.
“Xi Xi…”
Luo Ying frowned, a little confused about why Lu Rang was giggling in his dream.
But the next murmured words made Luo Ying understand instantly.
“Xi Xi, don’t leave me.”
Luo Ying practically sprang up from the bed in an instant.
He covered his mouth, his face filled with shock.
Xi Xi.
Wasn’t that his childhood nickname?
But how could Lu Rang know?
In this world, aside from his father Luo Xiaohe, no one else ever called him that.
Even before he changed his name, his closest elementary school classmates at most called him Xi Yu.
Besides, Lu Rang had only met him in high school.
Lu Rang had no idea what Luo Ying’s original name was.
Luo Ying scratched his head—could it be that he had misunderstood?
Could Lu Rang’s first love have been named something like that?
Maybe Lu Rang was saying Xi Xi, Xi Xi, Xi Xi, or Xi Xi? (Different characters with the same pronunciation.)
Never mind Xi Xi or Dong Dong.
What Luo Ying cared more about was the phrase “don’t leave me.”
Lu Rang had said those exact words to him earlier that night, and now he was repeating them in his dream.
So, in the end, was Lu Rang always just reminiscing about someone else through him?
Seeing him get close to another man reminded Lu Rang of his own past experience of being dumped?
Did Lu Rang think he would silently abandon him too, and that’s why he was so desperate to keep him with sweet words?
Sitting on the bed, Luo Ying scooted backward repeatedly, an inexplicable pang of bitterness rising in his heart.
In his relationship with Lu Rang, Luo Ying had always prided himself on keeping a clear head, reminding himself that he was just a substitute and shouldn’t overthink things—just treat Lu Rang as a casual fling.
He could block these thoughts out himself, but when faced with the reality, even without the pressure of needing money to pay off debts, Luo Ying still felt it was hard to swallow.
He had money, good looks, and charm. Even at his lowest point, he still had plenty of suitors.
Luo Xiaohe had spoiled him for twenty-six years—not to turn him into some insignificant substitute for someone else.
Luo Ying crossed his arms, gritting his teeth and pursing his lips in anger.
If it weren’t for the guilt he felt about initially being with Lu Rang for his money and skills, Luo Ying would have already packed up and left without a second thought.
In the current situation, Luo Ying couldn’t sleep, but he also couldn’t stay awake.
After agonizing on the bed for a while, he finally decided to go to the living room to cool off.
Luo Ying lay down on the sofa, afraid of getting cold, and wrapped himself in a blanket.
He pulled out his phone, wanting to vent to Xie Yunyu, but after typing out a long message, he held down the delete button and erased it all.
Xie Yunyu had never known about him being kept by Lu Rang as a substitute, so how could he start complaining about it now?
Besides, at this hour, Xie Yunyu was probably already asleep.
Bored and feeling utterly empty, Luo Ying opened various apps, trying to find something to pass the time.
After browsing around, he finally settled on Weibo.
Luo Ying wasn’t very familiar with Weibo, only following the crowd to check the trending topics.
The trending page was filled with all kinds of gossip, with so-called marketing accounts spreading baseless rumors and negative news about celebrities.
Luo Ying scrolled through the gossip for a while but soon lost interest—it was all just meaningless, shallow articles.
After scrolling through all the trending topics, Luo Ying unintentionally caught sight of one tagged with “Lu Rang’s candid photos.”
Clicking into it, he saw that it was about Lu Ran meeting fans while having dinner with the crew tonight. The accompanying photos were all close-up shots taken by fans right in his face.
In the pictures, Lu Rang seemed almost flawless, his face as if meticulously carved by the heavens. Even from awkward angles, his handsomeness remained undiminished.
The topic was linked to various tags, and Luo Ying clicked through each one to explore.
Some fans had even edited together clips from the movies Lu Rang had starred in. Though lengthy, Luo Ying watched them all with great interest.
It wasn’t until dawn broke that Luo Ying realized he had, almost unconsciously, consumed far too much information about Lu Rang.
His acting career, his filming process, the endorsements he had taken on, his achievements throughout the year, his upcoming movies—Luo Ying had unintentionally memorized all these details, which were even less interesting than gossip.
He suddenly felt that Weibo was terrifying, and the information within it was even more so.
How could it have fed him so much about Lu Rang?
Luo Ying tossed his phone aside, pulled the blanket over his head, and forced himself to fall asleep.
When he woke up in the afternoon, he found himself already lying in his room.
Without a second thought, he knew Lu Rang must have carried him back.
He glanced around. The sky was gloomy, and the sun was setting—it was already evening.
The door opened softly, and Lu Rang paused upon seeing Luo Ying sitting up in bed.
“Awake? Are you hungry?”
In the past, Luo Ying might have thought Lu Rang’s gentle, caring demeanor made him perfect boyfriend material.
But now, he didn’t feel that way. The idea that “Lu Rang is reminiscing about his ex through me” had already taken root in Luo Ying’s mind.
Perhaps there was a time when Lu Rang had shown the same care and concern to his ex-boyfriend.
Tsk, such recycled affection—Luo Ying didn’t want it!
“I’m hungry. I want noodles,” Luo Ying said with a stern face, acting spoiled and haughty.
Lu Rang stared at Luo Ying’s deliberately averted face and his exaggerated demeanor, momentarily stunned.
He’s so cute, just like before.
Lu Rang smiled faintly. “Got it. I’ll cook some for you.”
…
After finishing the noodles, Luo Ying sat in a chair, rubbing his full stomach and swinging his legs.
Once Lu Rang had cleaned up the dishes, he asked Luo Ying if he had any plans for the evening.
“No.”
Luo Ying grew wary. What kind of “replacement cosplay” game was this guy trying to play now?
“Do you have something in mind?”
“Yes. I want to invite you to accompany me to a jewelry exhibition.”
Lu Rang propped his chin on his hand, his beautiful eyes fixed on Luo Ying, making him feel a little embarrassed.
Luo Ying had attended quite a few jewelry exhibitions with Luo Xiaohe. Those held in Haidu were usually organized by international luxury brands.
The hosting brands typically invited celebrities and wealthy individuals from around the world, while dazzling stars from the entertainment industry were also invited to model various pieces of jewelry.
Judging by Lu Rang’s words, he was likely attending as an invited guest on behalf of the Lu family.
Such jewelry exhibitions were no less than business networking events. Invited men and women often brought along a companion to attend with them, and the nature of their relationship was left unsaid.
When Luo Xiaohe brought Luo Ying, it was purely a father showing his son the world. But if Lu Rang brought Luo Ying, wouldn’t it be too easy for people to gossip?
Luo Ying’s father was still maintaining his “disappearance” act, so he probably wouldn’t attend this jewelry exhibition.
Even so, Luo Ying had no desire to go.
“I don’t want to go.”
Luo Ying shook his head, refusing without hesitation.
Lu Rang said with a hint of regret, “Alright. I heard from the brand that among this exhibition’s pieces is the Missgen sapphire you’ve always liked. Didn’t you want to see it in person?”
“The Missgen sapphire?”
Luo Ying narrowed his eyes, his interest piqued.
He had seen photos of this sapphire in jewelry magazines before—its color and clarity were exceptional even among gemstones.
It was said that this gem was auctioned off for $560 million by a European tycoon in the late 20th century and had been kept as a private collection ever since, never seen again.
So, the tycoon who originally bought this sapphire was the organizer of this jewelry exhibition.
Lu Rang continued, “They hinted that it’s going to be the finale auction item.”
“What? Why would they suddenly auction it off?”
Luo Ying was surprised. If it were bought by someone, it might be a long time before he could see it again—or perhaps it would be kept hidden away forever, never to be seen again.
“Maybe…”
Luo Ying felt it would be a shame not to go and see it. The first time he saw the Missgen sapphire in the magazine, he had been captivated by its shape and color.
He twirled the hem of his clothes with his fingers, hesitating slightly. “Well, I don’t have anything to do tonight anyway. I’ll just go with you to the exhibition and take a look.”