The next day.
Rumors circulated online about an injuring incident at a certain top-tier celebrity’s fan appreciation event. However, the moment one opened the news, the webpage immediately displayed that the article link no longer existed.
Xie Lan’s agency also failed to release any official statement on their official Weibo, as if nothing had happened at all during yesterday’s appreciation event and it was merely rumors spread by anti-fans.
“All related videos have been deleted, and all compensations have been settled. The culprit is currently locked up in a dark room, insisting that Mr. Jian is the instigator, targeting Mr. Qin, while everyone else was just accidentally injured.”
Hiring an assassin to hurt oneself—how stupid could this person be?
Inside the clean and spacious VIP hospital room, Qu Yuheng listened as his assistant reported the aftermath results.
The assistant added, “Mr. Xie said he wants to visit the injured fan,” clearly unaware that the injured person was Jian Zhixu.
“No need,” Qu Yuheng said, adding, “Release him, and have someone keep an eye on him.”
“Yes.” The assistant placed a file down and walked out.
In the small square box at the top right corner of the file’s front page was a headshot of a handsome young man.
The youth lying in the hospital bed had grown up in exact proportion, still as refined and lean as he was in his youth, except the raw youthfulness was gone, replaced by a bloodless pallor.
The doctor who performed the emergency surgery yesterday said that the patient had a very strong will to survive and would not be in mortal danger for the time being.
Daring to demand a French kiss from him and making a heavy vow that he liked him—in his twenty-six years of life, this was the first time Qu Yuheng had ever encountered such a person. He reached out, picked up the file, and began to read.
Half a month later.
“I, want, to, be, discharged.”
After throwing tantrums for a few days, the patient left the hospital with no choice but to report to the boss who held the final decision-making power.
Jian Zhixu lifted his hospital gown to prove to the newcomer that his wound had healed quite well and he could be discharged.
Minghua was the private hospital with the best medical resources in Bincheng. He had been waited on here like a chaebol’s young master, eating, drinking, and sleeping well. He had even gained a few pounds, and his complexion was much rosier.
“After I’m discharged, I’ll stay at your place and move out once my wound heals,” Jian Zhixu stated his demand straightforwardly.
The original owner used to live in the company dormitory, but he couldn’t stand his daily self-sabotaging antics. Not only did his popularity plummet, but he also owed the company a debt, so they made him move out of the dormitory. Now he was renting a cheap basement—the kind of damp environment where a person could grow mold, completely unsuitable for recovering from an injury.
Recovering was secondary; the main point was that Qu Yuheng hadn’t visited him even once since he woke up. If he didn’t seize this opportunity to get close to the villain, wouldn’t that knife wound have been taken in vain?
And honestly, he really didn’t want to stay in the hospital anymore. No matter how luxurious and comfortable it was, it was still a hospital a place filled with birth, aging, sickness, and death. Especially thinking of how the original owner had lain right here undergoing chemotherapy, lingering on the brink of death for over a year, he felt a visceral aversion deep down.
Jian Zhixu wrapped his arms around his knees, looked up, moistened his eyes, blinked his slender eyelashes, and said with a wronged expression, “I’m afraid of dying alone in the hospital.”
Perhaps because he needed to find answers, or perhaps because hearing the words “alone” touched some nerve, Qu Yuheng finally agreed to let Jian Zhixu be discharged and stay at his villa.
Jian Zhixu knew that the villa Qu Yuheng lived in couldn’t quite be called a “home”—it was just one of his many residences.
As mentioned in the book, the big villain lost both parents in childhood, and growing up, he became ruthless and paranoid. He even went so far as to kidnap Xie Lan to coerce him into staying together, and after being rejected, his mental state became abnormal, never truly experiencing genuine love until the day he died.
The moment he crossed the threshold, Jian Zhixu made up his mind: for the rest of his life, he would occupy Qu Yuheng’s heart and body, doing everything in his power to give him enough love.
A woman in her early fifties greeted them with a smile, saying warmly, “You must be Xiao Jian? Such a handsome young man. Just call me Aunt Mei.”
Aunt Mei was the nanny who had taken care of Qu Yuheng since childhood, practically the only person who genuinely cared about the big villain. Jian Zhixu covered his wound and bowed deeply, “Hello, Aunt Mei. I’ll be troubling you from now on.”
“Such a polite child.” Aunt Mei looked left and right. “Where is your luggage?”
The clothes Jian Zhixu was currently wearing were bought by Qu Yuheng’s assistant. “I’ll go back and get it in a couple of days.”
“Alright, all your daily necessities are prepared. Let me know if you need anything.” Aunt Mei had spent most of her life in the Qu household and had never seen Qu Yuheng bring anyone home before. The moment Jian Zhixu arrived, she instantly felt the house gained a bit more warmth and life, making her very happy.
Qu Yuheng changed his shoes and said to Jian Zhixu, “Come upstairs with me.”
Second-floor study.
“Was the assassin sent by you?”
Qu Yuheng sat in the leather chair, his fingers interlocked and elbows resting on the desk. His sharp gaze scrutinized Jian Zhixu, who was standing across from him. “What is your purpose?”
Knowing that the assassin was a man disguised as a woman, Jian Zhixu had checked the previous records during his hospital stay to confirm. The original owner’s target was to slash Xie Lan across the face to leave a scar and ruin his looks. But the attacker had clearly charged straight at Qu Yuheng that day. Putting aside whether the original owner even had that kind of courage, the motive alone didn’t hold up. Since he could figure it out, Qu Yuheng naturally could too.
As for the assassin, he suspected it wasn’t the person he had contacted online. Judging by their cowardly and ridiculous bargaining chat history, it looked more like the original owner had been scammed.
Jian Zhixu firmly denied it. “No.” Combined with the fact that news of his injury had been suppressed and not used by Xie Lan to stir up hype, there was definitely something fishy going on. He stated clearly, “Where is the assassin? I can confront him face-to-face.”
Qu Yuheng remained silent, quietly gazing at him. The youth’s gaze was firm and his expression unflinching, not looking like he was lying at all.
Jian Zhixu leaned forward, pressing both palms on the desk and looking straight into the man’s deep, dark eyes. “My purpose is you. Blocking that knife was purely because I like you.”
“Qu Yuheng, I’ve already decided that you are my person. I won’t have eyes for anyone else, and you, you’d better be the same.” Beneath the youth’s long eyelashes, his eyes were as clear and brilliant as black crystals, radiating sincerity and dominance.
Qu Yuheng leaned back against his chair and couldn’t help sneering, “Where do you get your confidence?”
“From liking you, of course!” Jian Zhixu’s tone was natural and relaxed. He sat sideways on the large desk, crossing his legs and swinging them casually. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me; I’ll prove it to you.”
Qu Yuheng teased him, “Are you willing to let go of Qin Zi’an?”
“Whoever wants that idiot can have him,” Jian Zhixu said with utter disgust, then added, “He and Xie Lan are a match made in heaven.”
Qu Yuheng’s gaze darkened slightly, a trace of dangerous aura lingering in the air.
Jian Zhixu knew when to stop and slid down from the desk. “I’ll go help Aunt Mei with cooking.”
As the saying goes: to capture a man’s heart, you must first capture his stomach.
During his recovery, Jian Zhixu had been learning cooking from Aunt Mei. He learned earnestly, and by now, he could effortlessly handle boiling, stir-frying, braising, roasting, and pan-frying home-cooked dishes, even managing slightly more complex ones.
Even Aunt Mei praised him for being smart and talented.
Aside from cooking, Jian Zhixu spent time studying every day.
Whenever Qu Yuheng returned, he would always find Jian Zhixu watching plays or movies in the living room. Moreover, it seemed he was purposely waiting for him—no matter how late he came back, the person was always there. The moment he stepped through the door, he would be greeted with warm inquiries: You’re back, you must be tired, have you eaten? What would you like to drink?
If one called him annoying, he knew when to stop and wouldn’t pester endlessly. For instance, he would quietly keep him company during breakfast in the morning and send him off to work.
In the blink of an eye, more than ten days passed.
Around two o’clock today, Qu Yuheng returned after a three-day business trip. From the entryway to the living room, he didn’t hear the usual clear, bright voice.
After lunch today, Aunt Mei went back to her room to rest. Feeling bored, Jian Zhixu remembered his cracked phone and took it out to get it repaired. The moment he turned it on, notifications bombarded him for a full few minutes before finally stopping, with the contact labeled “Agent Zhao Bin” taking up the most.
Jian Zhixu clicked on the latest voice message, and the voice roared with fury, “Little bastard, where the hell did you die? Not answering calls or messages—if you’re dead, squeak!”
How are you supposed to squeak if you’re dead?
Jian Zhixu continued listening to the rest. It turned out the company had managed to secure an endorsement deal for him with great difficulty earlier, and they were telling him to hurry up and get his ass over to shoot it, otherwise he’d have to pay the breach-of-contract penalty out of his own pocket.
Just as Jian Zhixu replied with a text message, Zhao Bin sent several more voice notes filled with a barrage of curses.
He searched a trending topic: #35-year-old male with volatile mood swings dies of incurable breast cancer#, forwarded the article, and then turned off his phone.
Jian Zhixu was currently a “three-no” person: no van, no assistant, no makeup artist. In another month, he wouldn’t even have an agent, as his contract was about to expire, and the company had no intention of renewing it with him.
He went back inside, left a note for Aunt Mei, and hailed a cab based on a location pin.
After a forty-minute drive, he arrived at the filming location.
The moment he stepped into the studio, he heard a man’s cold mockery.
“Oh, a top-tier celebrity is really hard to invite! I thought you weren’t coming again today!”
Director Wang Bo had long heard that Jian Zhixu loved to put on airs, throw tantrums, and ride on others’ coattails for clout. If it weren’t for the fact that his price was cheap, he wouldn’t have collaborated with such a washed-up loser, putting up with endless aggravation.
Jian Zhixu hurriedly stepped forward. “Sorry, I was delayed by something earlier. I’ll shoot properly. Thank you for your hard work, Director.”
With such a sincere and polite attitude, Wang Bo found it hard to throw a tantrum anymore and urged him to go get his styling done quickly.
Jian Zhixu knocked on the makeup room door. The makeup artist lowered her head to organize her tools, told him to come in and sit, and used a headband to pin back his front hair.
Jian Zhixu pinned back the bangs on his forehead, revealing a smooth, full forehead.
The makeup artist picked up a bottle of foundation, turned her head to look, and was instantly stunned.
The youth in the mirror was handsome, with fair, delicate skin and a clean, refreshing vibe. How did this match up with the greasy image she had heard about?
Jian Zhixu curved his eyes and smiled. “Sorry to trouble you.”
Coming back to her senses, the makeup artist decisively put the foundation down. “Teacher Jian, I’ll just touch up your lip color.” Putting on foundation would only add a greasy, powdery look.
“Thank you very much.” Jian Zhixu’s smile remained warm.
Slightly stunned, the makeup artist thought to herself that Jian Zhixu wasn’t as thorny and difficult to deal with as others claimed.
After touching up his lips, the makeup artist started working on his hairstyle. Jian Zhixu’s hair was slightly long; she simply ruffled it up a bit and blew it into a fluffy shape.
Having been a Best Actor, Jian Zhixu had shot countless major brand commercials, making such minor ads a breeze for him. He quickly slipped into shooting mode.
He lay sideways on the mattress, his peach-blossom eyes slowly opening with a shallow, satisfied smile. His slender fingers gently stroked the mattress, exuding a lazy, relaxed aura all over.
Wang Bo stared unblinkingly. This… was Jian Zhixu?
Wasn’t the rumored Jian Zhixu a Bking who loved to hunt for camera angles to look cool while filming, blasting viewers’ screens with grease?
Surprised as he was, he was still a professional director, so Wang Bo quickly locked onto the camera angles.
After a while, Wang Bo reviewed the footage and felt something was still lacking. With Jian Zhixu’s high-end face, he should be able to deliver an even better effect.
Jian Zhixu seemed to read his expression and proactively offered, “Director, should I change out of my pajamas and shoot another take?”
Progress was faster than expected, and time was abundant. Wang Bo wasn’t quite satisfied anyway, so he nodded.
When Jian Zhixu came out again, everyone present in the studio was dumbfounded.
A button on his white shirt was deliberately mismatched, leaving the unevenly open collar to reveal symmetrical and distinct pretty collarbones, paired with silk-textured beige loose trousers, adding a hint of sexiness to his laziness.
It was time to show his true skill level. Jian Zhixu lay back down on the mattress, looking drowsy. He sat up, stretched lazily, and gave a slight yawn, maintaining a hazy, half-awake look.
Wang Bo was exceptionally skilled at finding camera angles, capturing every single frame of the youth at his best state. Even the assistant crew members could feel his intense focus.
Wanting to shoot more, Wang Bo instructed his assistant to adjust the lighting, then said to Jian Zhixu, “Slowly stand up, walk to the side of the mattress, and fall back down.”
Jian Zhixu caught on instantly. With his porcelain-white bare feet, he walked to the bedside, looking as if he were bathing in the morning light of nature, and fell backward onto the mattress.
The pure youth blended seamlessly with the pristine white mattress, bringing a wave of refreshing comfort. It fit the mattress’s core selling point perfectly comfortable, clean, dust-mite resistant, and antibacterial.
Damn it, Wang Bo cursed inwardly. Which idiot said Jian Zhixu was greasy and cringe? His ability to switch effortlessly between alluring and innocent was something you couldn’t pull off without real skills.
After shooting a few supplementary shots according to the script, the commercial was successfully wrapped up.
Wang Bo’s previous look of disdain turned into appreciation, and his tone became much milder, even changing his form of address. “Teacher Jian, did you deliberately hide your skills?”
If it were the original owner, he would have floated straight up to the sky upon hearing such words. Jian Zhixu, however, replied gracefully, “I just had the good luck to meet a discerning mentor. I hope I’ll have the chance to collaborate with you again, Director Wang.” Wang Bo had a certain reputation in the industry, and leaving himself a way out was never a bad idea.
Wang Bo, who received the compliment, beamed with joy. “Definitely, definitely.”
Before leaving, Jian Zhixu asked Wang Bo to help him take a few private photos and copy them to his phone.
When Jian Zhixu returned home and was changing his shoes, he spotted a pair of gleaming leather shoes in the shoe cabinet. Slipping into his slippers, he pattered his way toward the stairs, passing by Aunt Mei who was busy organizing dinner. After greeting her with a “Thank you, Aunt Mei,” he changed direction.
The shadow of the man in the sunset in the villa’s backyard was drawn very, very long, looking somewhat lonely. Jian Zhixu wanted to hug him from behind.