That deep, magnetic, bubbly voice startled Song Xun so much that he flung his phone away. Yan Jiayu reacted swiftly, catching it mid-air. Seeing the caller ID read “Jin Yirui,” he frowned slightly before handing the phone back to Song Xun.
Without even a word of thanks, Song Xun grabbed the phone and hurried out.
Mu Heng’s expression darkened considerably. The flirtatious and intimate “baby” from the other end of the line, coupled with Song Xun’s evasiveness and his need to leave, left him unsettled.
The table full of spicy dishes was neglected after Song Xun’s departure. The two men seated there didn’t exchange a single word, their thoughts already drifting after the one who had left.
“President Jin, what can I do for you?”
“Don’t call me President Jin. It’s too formal.”
It was still that deep voice.
Song Xun felt physically uncomfortable and earnestly advised him, “Could you please speak normally?”
“Hmm?”
“I was just eating, and now I feel like throwing up.”
Jin Yirui never expected that his sexy voice, which had captivated countless young men, would fail to work on Song Xun. He felt a pang of disappointment, but who was Jin Yirui? He was an indomitable cockroach—confident, brave, and, to put it bluntly, thick-skinned. He quickly recovered.
“You never take the initiative to contact me. I was missing you, so I had to reach out first.”
Song Xun gritted his teeth. Great, it seemed this guy was like a stubborn piece of adhesive plaster—impossible to shake off.
“Please, I don’t have that kind of luck. President Jin can have anyone he wants. There’s no need to waste your efforts on me.”
Having been in the entertainment industry for so long, he never actively sought trouble, but that didn’t mean he was afraid of it.
Jin Yirui indeed had considerable influence. One could even say that if he could latch onto him, his career would skyrocket, and he’d have access to all kinds of resources.
But he simply didn’t want to get involved with someone like that. He understood the difference between temporary glory and long-term development, and he knew which was more important.
Listening to the words, Jin Yirui understood that Song Xun had bluntly rejected him. But this was just the beginning—how could it end so soon?
Leaning back in the driver’s seat, his hand resting casually on the steering wheel, Jin Yirui’s wild eyes revealed an unconcealable desire to conquer.
Song Xun couldn’t be bothered to deal with him and simply hung up the phone, turning to walk back.
Whether it was his imagination or not, as soon as he sat back down, Mu Heng and Yan Jiayu both gave him meaningful looks, though neither asked any questions.
By nightfall, only Song Xun and Mu Heng remained in the dormitory.
An Chu never stayed overnight here, only occasionally resting at noon since there were no recordings in the evening.
The dormitory was quiet. Song Xun and Mu Heng didn’t speak, and Song Xun assumed Mu Heng was already asleep.
After scrolling through his phone for a while, Song Xun was exhausted and ready to wash up and sleep. As he climbed down from his bed quietly, he saw Mu Heng curled up on the lower bunk, his face pale and his forehead beaded with sweat.
Although it was the height of a sweltering summer, the room was air-conditioned, so it shouldn’t have caused such heavy sweating.
Feeling something was off, Song Xun walked over and gently shook Mu Heng.
“Mu Heng, are you asleep?”
The person on the bed shook his head and slowly opened his eyes.
He actually couldn’t handle spicy food at all. Having eaten so much earlier, his stomach had been upset ever since he returned, burning intensely. But he never liked troubling others, so he endured it without saying a word.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
“Yeah, my stomach hurts.”
Song Xun recalled the dishes they had eaten earlier that day and immediately felt a pang of regret. He helped Mu Heng up, saying, “I don’t have any stomach medicine either, and it’s too late to ask anyone now. Let’s just go straight to the hospital.”
Mu Heng shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll be better after a night’s sleep.”
“This isn’t something that can be fixed just by sleeping.”
Back when Mu Heng was still an extra, he often went to work on an empty stomach. Even after he finally gained some recognition, he would frequently skip meals to study scripts or strive for perfection, leading to an irregular diet.
He had grown accustomed to this kind of life. Ever since his grandfather passed away, no one had truly cared about him. Whenever he fell ill or felt unwell, he endured it alone. Besides, taking sick leave would delay the entire film crew’s progress, so he’d rather tough it out—just endure a little longer, and it would pass.
Seeing Mu Heng stubbornly refusing, Song Xun had no choice but to pull him up. “Listen to me. We’re going to the hospital now, or else I won’t sleep and will keep an eye on you all night.”
Song Xun even gestured with two fingers, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
Unable to resist him, Mu Heng reluctantly agreed. He tried to get out of bed, but his body felt weak. As soon as his feet touched the floor, his legs gave way, and he nearly collapsed.
“Careful, careful!”
Song Xun quickly steadied him, but Mu Heng remained unresponsive. His expression changed, and he patted Mu Heng’s face, only to find that Mu Heng had lost consciousness.
With no other choice, Song Xun didn’t even bother putting on his slippers. In a few swift movements, he hoisted Mu Heng onto his back. The man was surprisingly light, almost weightless against him.
After calling a ride on his phone, Song Xun carried him outside.
But the weather was uncooperative—a sudden downpour began, and it showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.
The driver arrived quickly. Song Xun helped Mu Heng into the car before getting in himself.
He tried calling Mu Heng’s name several times during the ride, but there was no response. Growing anxious, Song Xun urged the driver, “Sir, could you go a little faster?”
The driver, perhaps a former professional racer, gave an “OK” sign in the rearview mirror and said calmly, “Hold on tight.”
He steered with ease, but his foot pressed the accelerator to the floor. The sudden surge of momentum made Song Xun immediately wrap his arms around Mu Heng, afraid he might slip or fall.
The driver was a straightforward man. Once told it was an emergency, he pushed the car to its limits, yet managed to do so without breaking any traffic laws—truly impressive.
Even at this hour, the streets of Jing City were still bustling with traffic.
Raindrops on the window reflected the city’s dazzling lights, but Song Xun had no mind to appreciate the view.
The driver was already driving as fast as possible, but they were still two blocks away from the hospital, and the road was completely gridlocked. There was nothing more he could do.
Seeing this, Song Xun asked the driver if he had an extra umbrella. The driver pointed to two black umbrellas in the back and told him to take one. Song Xun thanked him and tried to pay for the umbrella, but the driver warmly refused.
“It’s just an umbrella, not worth much. Hurry and get your friend to the hospital.”
Song Xun thanked him again.
He opened the umbrella first, got out of the car, and then lifted Mu Heng onto his back. The umbrella wasn’t large, so Song Xun tilted it entirely backward, shielding Mu Heng from the rain.
The hospital wasn’t far, but the rain was heavy, and the road was jammed. Song Xun made his way along the sidewalk, the slanting rain pelting his face and blurring his vision.
Suddenly, he remembered an essay he wrote in elementary school: “On a rainy night, my mother weaved through the crowd, carrying me on her back to the hospital while I was burning with fever.”
The hospital was still bustling with people at this hour, the sharp scent of disinfectant hitting him as he entered.
Without hesitation, he headed straight for the emergency room.
He was completely drenched, and a tingling, numbing pain shot through his feet. Looking down, he realized he wasn’t wearing slippers.
Only after Mu Heng was hooked up to an IV did Song Xun finally relax.
Now, how was he supposed to get back? Soaked to the bone, he was afraid even a taxi would get wet from his clothes. Just as he took out his phone, he noticed it was almost out of battery. Truly, when it rains, it pours.
[Yan Jiayu: I think I saw you on my way home. Were you just on East Street?]
Song Xun was slightly surprised.
[Song Xun: Yes, I came to the hospital.]
[Yan Jiayu: Why are you at the hospital? Are you feeling unwell?]
He briefly described what had happened that night, then sighed.
Yan Jiayu asked how he planned to get back. Song Xun said he’d wait for his clothes to dry a bit before calling a taxi. After a moment, a message came through: “Wait a bit.”
“? Wait?”
He didn’t understand what Yan Jiayu meant. After thinking it over, he arrived at an unlikely possibility—could Yan Jiayu be coming to the hospital?
But then again, it wasn’t entirely impossible. After all, the one lying in the hospital was Mu Heng, Yan Jiayu’s future partner.
Watching Mu Heng, whose complexion had improved slightly but who still hadn’t woken up, Song Xun yawned.
He was exhausted, utterly drained.
Leaning one hand against the bedside and listening to Mu Heng’s steady breathing, he felt the urge to sleep as well.
He had never been much for exercise, yet tonight he had carried a man on his back for a whole kilometer. Though Mu Heng was slender, his height alone made it no easy feat.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when Song Xun, his eyes nearly shut, suddenly snapped them open to see a figure approaching, looking as if he’d rushed over in a hurry.
Yan Jiayu was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves casually rolled up, with a jacket draped over his arm. He walked over and draped the jacket over Song Xun’s shoulders.
“Let’s go, I’ll take you home.”
“But what about Mu Heng? Is it okay to leave him here alone?”
Mu Heng didn’t have many relatives, and at this hour, it was hard to find anyone else to look after him.
Yan Jiayu replied, “He’s in the hospital. The nurses will keep an eye on him. You can come see him tomorrow.”
That made sense. He really needed to rest and could come back tomorrow.
With that, he followed Yan Jiayu to the car. His clothes had dried a little, but they still clung uncomfortably to his skin, making him restless and uneasy.
Noticing his tension, Yan Jiayu asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a bit cold.”
He wondered if he’d caught a cold from the rain. The car’s air conditioning wasn’t even on, and the window was only half-open.
Hearing this, Yan Jiayu’s expression darkened slightly, and he made a veiled jab at Mu Heng: “Some people, relying on their youth, insist on pushing themselves too hard and end up dragging others down with them.”
It took Song Xun a moment to process the meaning of those words. His mind felt heavy, and he let out a soft “Hah?” before asking Yan Jiayu why he was still awake so late.
“Had some unfinished business, so I couldn’t sleep yet.”
Song Xun nodded, then stole a glance at Yan Jiayu beside him. Dressed so formally late at night—truly fitting for a main character.
The two chatted idly for a while until Song Xun’s phone suddenly buzzed with a new message. His expression shifted again, and Yan Jiayu casually asked what was wrong. Song Xun shook his head, sighed, and replied helplessly.
“Nothing, just someone really annoying—persistent to no end.”
But as soon as he said it, Song Xun suddenly remembered that the original owner had once pestered Yan Jiayu in the same way. He opened his mouth, feeling a bit awkward.
Fortunately, Yan Jiayu didn’t make the connection. As they neared the dormitory where the show was being recorded, he found a spot to park and turned to Song Xun.
“Is it Jin Yirui?”
Song Xun nodded.
“He’s not a good person—lots of scandals. Getting involved with him is no good.”