“Pretty good tea. Thanks for the hospitality…”
Jing Shun lived in Building Three, not far from the main entrance of the residential complex.
As he led Chi Gui toward his apartment building, they spotted a security guard outside shining a flashlight around.
The beam briefly swept across their faces before moving away.
The guard walked closer, first glancing curiously at Chi Gui’s unfamiliar face before greeting Jing Shun warmly.
“Mr. Jing, you’re back?”
Jing Shun looked toward the pitch-black apartment building.
“Yeah. Did the power go out again?”
The electrical systems in the old neighborhood had long failed to keep up with demand. Every summer and winter, whenever electricity usage from air conditioners increased, the building would lose power from time to time.
The guard explained, “Right, someone from 302 just reported it in the community chat group. Looks like the circuit breaker tripped again. Mr. Jing, please wait a moment. I’ll go check the main electrical box now.”
When he noticed Jing Shun’s wheelchair, he hurried off even faster, taking his responsibility seriously.
The residential building had six floors in total. Originally there were only stairs, but two years ago, the owners had voted to install an external elevator for each building.
Back then, Jing Shun had casually voted in favor and paid his share without much thought. He never imagined the elevator would one day become an absolute necessity for him.
Chi Gui, who had remained silent until now, watched the departing guard.
“What floor do you live on?”
“Sixth.”
Jing Shun answered honestly, feeling somewhat helpless inside.
Originally, he had planned to invite Chi Gui upstairs, let him sit for a while, and then naturally bring up his request depending on how things went.
But unexpectedly, the power outage stopped everything at the entrance.
There was no way he could ask Chi Gui to carry both him and the wheelchair upstairs—that would be far too inappropriate. But making the other man stand outside in the freezing wind waiting for the electricity to come back also felt wrong.
Jing Shun hesitated.
“Mr. Chi, how about—”
Chi Gui met the hesitation in his eyes.
“Let’s wait. If it’s only the circuit breaker, the power should come back soon.”
Jing Shun was a little surprised and nodded.
The snow fell heavier and thicker.
One sneaky snowflake slipped down the back of Jing Shun’s collar. The cold wind blew against his skin, making him shiver uncontrollably.
“Very cold?” Chi Gui noticed immediately and concluded, “You’re wearing too little.”
Jing Shun pulled the thin blanket over his knees tighter. His lips were pale.
“I’m fine.”
The next second, Chi Gui silently removed his own coat and handed it toward him with appropriate restraint. The meaning was obvious.
“…”
Jing Shun froze.
Tonight’s Chi Gui was unexpectedly approachable, completely different from the image Chi Sheng had always described. It made Jing Shun wonder whether the one whose personality had changed after rebirth was actually himself or Chi Gui.
Seeing him hesitate, Chi Gui spoke.
“Put it on first. Catching a cold would be troublesome.”
The cold wind was making the headache in Jing Shun’s temples worse and worse. He stopped resisting pointlessly.
“Thank you.”
He accepted the warm coat and draped it lightly over himself. The faint tea fragrance became even clearer now, subtly easing the dull ache in his temples.
Bang!
With a loud sound, the elevator display suddenly lit up again.
Jing Shun immediately let out a sigh of relief.
“Mr. Chi, let’s go upstairs.”
“Mm.”
…
The white overhead lights illuminated the modest apartment.
Seeing the little home from his memories appear before him once again, Jing Shun felt briefly emotional before quickly suppressing it.
“Mr. Chi, there’s no need to take off your shoes. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll go boil some water for tea.”
As he spoke, he carefully placed Chi Gui’s coat on the sofa before maneuvering his wheelchair into the kitchen.
Only then did Chi Gui finally take the time to look around.
The living room wasn’t very large, and the decor was somewhat outdated. The furniture was all in an old-fashioned style from more than ten years ago, nothing particularly special.
But everything was very clean and neatly arranged.
Chi Gui’s attention landed on the display cabinet in the corner.
Walking closer, he saw the four-layer cabinet completely filled with items.
Starting from the bottom—
The first shelf held all kinds of filming props from movie sets.
The second shelf contained neatly stacked film and television scripts.
The third shelf displayed photos taken with various actors and senior performers. The child in the pictures was Jing Shun at different ages.
Jing Shun’s voice came from behind him.
“I started acting very young. Everything in that cabinet is a memory I kept from growing up.”
“…”
Chi Gui turned around and casually asked, “You live alone? What about your family?”
Something flickered in Jing Shun’s eyes.
“Mm. I live alone now. My dad used to be a cameraman on film sets, and my mom was an actress who played supporting roles in quite a few dramas. They met while working on set.”
Because of that, Jing Shun had carried his parents’ expectations since birth. They had brought him from one production crew to another since childhood, and by the age of four he had already appeared in many film and television projects.
As far back as he could remember, acting had always been a part of his life—a passion he truly loved.
However, his acting contracts and earnings had always been managed by his parents, and “family-run operations” rarely survived in the entertainment industry.
Later, because of both age and academic restrictions, the acting opportunities Jing Shun received gradually decreased, while the arguments between his parents became more frequent.
Until right before his eighteenth birthday, Jing Shun finally learned the truth—
His parents had actually divorced five years earlier. They had simply hidden it from him the entire time, coaxing him into taking more acting jobs.
The money Jing Shun earned growing up had not only supported his increasingly greedy parents, but had even become part of the income supporting their new families.
“…”
Jing Shun didn’t want to dwell on those painful memories, so he only summarized briefly.
“My parents have been divorced for years. After becoming an adult, I rarely kept in touch with them. Before graduating university, aside from studying, I occasionally auditioned for productions.”
But the entertainment industry changed rapidly, and Jing Shun’s opportunities after adulthood never really kept up.
Still, he refused to give up.
Before graduating university, he put everything on the line to prepare and star in an art film.
After the movie was released, its domestic box office performance was terrible, but unexpectedly, it won an award at an international film festival.
After the news returned home, Jing Shun finally regained a bit of attention within the industry and even received an offer to star as the male lead in another movie.
He accepted it joyfully, believing his career would finally start improving.
But things did not go as hoped.
An accident occurred near the end of filming.
Jing Shun became lost in his memories, remaining silent for too long.
Chi Gui spoke first.
“What are you thinking about?”
Jing Shun returned to his senses and smiled apologetically.
“Mr. Chi probably doesn’t pay much attention to the entertainment industry, right? Before today, you probably didn’t really know me either?”
“Not exactly,” Chi Gui replied.
Jing Shun looked confused.
“What do you mean?”
Chi Gui turned slightly toward the top shelf of the display cabinet.
“The movie you starred in, Writing to An He… I happened to watch it before. That award was well deserved.”
Placed on the very top shelf were the only two awards Jing Shun had ever received—
Best Newcomer at the Welling International Film Festival, and Best Feature Film for Writing to An He.
“…”
Jing Shun looked utterly disbelieving.
“You watched it?”
The art film Writing to An He had been co-written by him. Back then, it had taken tremendous effort just to secure investment and complete filming, and very few people in China had actually seen it.
“The film’s message was very good, and your portrayal of Chen Jia was excellent.” Chi Gui’s gaze on him remained steady, without the slightest sign of lying. “It left a deep impression on me.”
That simple sentence instantly explained every confusion Jing Shun had felt tonight—
The reason Chi Gui had helped him in the banquet hall and even driven him home… was because he had seen his film and remembered him?
Unexpected as it sounded, it also made perfect sense.
The sound of the kettle boiling came from the kitchen.
A trace of happiness unconsciously appeared on Jing Shun’s face.
“Mr. Chi, is jasmine tea alright? It’s all I have at home. I bought it according to my own taste before.”
It was a very cheap tea bag, and someone like Chi Gui probably didn’t drink this kind of tea at all.
But Jing Shun still wanted to fulfill his duties as a host properly.
Chi Gui nodded.
“Anything is fine.”
Less than a minute later, Jing Shun returned from the kitchen and carefully placed a steaming cup of jasmine tea on the small coffee table.
“It’s still a little hot. You’ll need to wait a bit.”
The jasmine flowers contained in the gauze sachet slowly unfurled, releasing their fragrance as the hot water in the cup gradually turned into tea.
Chi Gui didn’t rush to drink. He looked at him and asked, “Since you specially invited me upstairs, do you have something to say?”
When talking to a smart person, there’s no need for beating around the bush.
Jing Shun realized this deeply, so he got straight to the point.
“Mr. Chi, what I said at the banquet tonight—I wasn’t joking on impulse.”
“……”
Chi Gui didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze signaled permission for him to continue.
“More than two months ago, I had an accident on set. I suffered spinal nerve damage, which left my legs unable to walk.”
Jing Shun briefly explained his physical condition, taking a deep breath.
“Right now, I urgently need a professional medical team to intervene and perform surgery as soon as possible. I can’t afford to delay it. I also need to pay a large amount of treatment fees upfront.”
“I want to ask you to help me, Mr. Chi. I… I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair.”
As he spoke the latter half of the sentence, his throat tightened.
He lowered his head to hide his helpless emotions, trying to make his words sound sincere and earnest.
“If I recover in the future, I’ll try my best to stay in the entertainment industry and continue working. Even if I can’t recover…”
“I can write scripts, do post-production, or other work. I can even sell this apartment!”
“Whether it’s a contract or an IOU, everything I earn in the future will go toward paying you back. I’ll find any way possible to repay this treatment cost!”
Jing Shun placed all his limited bargaining chips on the table, handing the decision entirely to Chi Gui.
“Mr. Chi… is that okay?”
Chi Gui didn’t respond as quickly as before. His deep, calm eyes held a complexity Jing Shun couldn’t understand.
“……”
So… was it a no?
Jing Shun felt the hope that had been hanging in his throat slowly sink down.
Right. That made sense.
Chi Gui was the head of the entire Chi family corporation. One gesture from him could move hundred-million-level projects and control countless lives and fortunes. To him, such a request probably wasn’t worth even a moment of attention.
Suddenly, Chi Gui spoke, answering something unrelated.
“Mr. Jing, what I said at the banquet entrance tonight… was also not a joke.”
“……”
What?
Jing Shun’s eyelashes trembled slightly, afraid he had misunderstood.
Chi Gui saw his confusion and stated it plainly.
“I need a nominal partner to deal with the outside world—to block unnecessary romantic entanglements, and occasionally help me ‘deal with’ people who have unrealistic expectations.”
“Mr. Jing, you have your needs, and I have mine.”
“You’re smart, and you’re an actor. You fit the criteria I had in mind. If you’re willing to stay by my side and cooperate with me when necessary—act when needed—then you won’t need to worry about treatment or expenses.”
Just acting?
It sounded like a deal where he only stood to gain and not lose.
For Jing Shun at this stage, there was no reason to refuse such conditions.
Chi Gui went straight to the point.
“Can you accept it?”
“Yes.”
Jing Shun agreed.
The moment he spoke, Chi Gui’s phone vibrated.
He glanced at the caller ID, then simply declined the call.
“Since that’s settled, I’ll have someone arrange a medical checkup for you as soon as possible. I’ll contact you again in a few days. It’s late—I should go.”
Just like that, the sudden agreement was finalized without giving any room for hesitation or second thoughts.
Jing Shun nodded, then remembered the coat on the sofa.
“I’ll send your coat to the dry cleaner and return it next time?”
“No need.”
Chi Gui bent down and picked it up himself. As he passed the coffee table, his steps paused while looking at the jasmine tea, whose steam was already fading.
Jing Shun noticed and said a little awkwardly, “…You don’t have to force yourself. It really isn’t anything special.”
Chi Gui lifted the cup of warm tea and asked, “Who said I was forcing myself?”
“Hmm?”
From Jing Shun’s seated angle, looking up at him—
A faint, almost imperceptible smile flashed across Chi Gui’s cold, sharp features. It was so brief it could have been an illusion under the light, yet it clearly fell into Jing Shun’s eyes, sending subtle ripples through his gaze.
Jing Shun reacted a beat too slowly, unable to speak.
Chi Gui withdrew his gaze and calmly finished the jasmine tea.
“It’s quite good. Thank you for the hospitality.”