The mountains of Wancheng stretched across countless ravines, a magnificent and grand range that extended endlessly, with towering peaks rising in layers and waterfalls cascading down from great heights.
The old man had graying hair and a hunched back, yet his spirit was remarkably lively.
He carried a bamboo basket on his back, inside of which was a child with large eyes and straight, dark hair that fell over the forehead, partially obscuring the eyes, making the child look like a pretty little girl.
The child’s eyes were red, the nose was red too, and the little mouth was turned down in a pout, tears welling up in the eyes.
“Grandpa, I don’t want to play with Xiaoming and the others anymore. I don’t like them.”
Grandpa smiled, his steps steady as he slowly made his way up the mountain.
“Why is that? Didn’t you get along well with Xiaoming and the others? Why don’t you like them now?”
At the question, the child’s tears flowed like a faucet, pouring down uncontrollably.
“They said I’m a wild child without parents.”
The child looked utterly wronged and pitiful.
Grandpa fell silent for a long time.
Then he set down the basket and patted the child’s head. This poor child—his mother had died during childbirth, and not long after, his father, unwilling to spend money on medical treatment while working away from home, fell ill and passed away.
Only this old man was left to rely on.
“How could you be a wild child without parents? They’ve just gone to a very, very faraway place, watching over you in a different way. They love you very much.”
Though young, the child was not entirely ignorant.
Grandpa told him that the clothes he wore were all made by his mother while she was pregnant, filled with deep maternal love. His father, unwilling to let him suffer, had taken on a high-paying but grueling job.
Yet their desires were simple—they only wanted the most basic companionship.
The malice of children is the most direct and pure.
They mocked this poor, innocent child, bullied him, isolated him, and used the cruel words they learned from adults to attack and humiliate him, all for the sake of amusement.
Grandpa held his hand. “Xiaoheng, Grandpa will always leave you one day. You must take good care of yourself. Someone will come to take care of you in Grandpa’s place.”
The scene gradually blurred. The child desperately tried to hold onto the old man, tears streaming down his face, but he couldn’t grasp him no matter how hard he tried.
“Grandpa, Grandpa!”
Mu Heng jolted awake. So it was just a dream. Since Grandpa passed away, he had never dreamed of him again.
That old man had become a small box buried in the ground.
Tears flowed just as they did in childhood, coming without warning.
Seeing him wake up and suddenly start crying, Song Xun was at a loss. He tried to pull out some tissues, only to realize he never carried them with him.
“Are… are you okay?”
Mu Heng looked at Song Xun’s flustered expression and couldn’t help but find it amusing. He couldn’t hold back a slight smile.
Crying one moment and laughing the next—had he gone mad?!
“I’m fine. Thank you for bringing me to the hospital.”
Though he had been unconscious yesterday, at some point, he vaguely felt raindrops falling on him, cool and refreshing, while a warm source of heat enveloped his body.
“As long as you’re okay, it’s nothing serious.”
Song Xun had rushed back to the dormitory yesterday, taken a shower to avoid catching a cold, and hurried over again early this morning.
Seeing that Song Xun had brought him hot soup, Mu Heng felt a warmth in his heart, as if someone truly cared for him in Grandpa’s place.
“Drink some quickly, to nourish yourself. It’s all my fault for making you eat so much spicy food.”
Mu Heng quickly took Song Xun’s hand and explained.
“How could it be your fault? It’s my own problem.”
The man’s hand was warm, perhaps from holding the soup.
Realizing this might be overstepping, he thought to quickly let go, but instead, Song Xun grasped his hand firmly. “We both made mistakes. Let’s not argue anymore. Drink up and get better soon.”
With gentle eyes and a soft voice, the man spoke. Mu Heng nodded, leaning against the headboard, not refusing as Song Xun fed him.
In the preview episode, Song Xun faced a wave of criticism online. Many felt he took acting not seriously and showed no respect for the profession.
But with this episode’s release, opinions of Song Xun began to shift unexpectedly. No one had imagined he could perform so well.
As a complex executioner—a smiling tiger with a striking face—he carried out dirty deeds yet never reported suspected undercover agents to the drug lord.
This wasn’t a role someone who only took on idol dramas and performed poorly could pull off.
However, the negative comments about Song Xun didn’t disappear entirely. He had too many past missteps. Holding his phone, he watched the previous episode with comments enabled.
At one scene, he frowned. The production team had still included that segment.
In the conversation among the three of them, anyone could see it was ripe for controversy. Comments either criticized An Chu for being manipulative, called Mu Heng cold and aloof, or accused Song Xun of siding with Mu Heng to isolate An Chu.
Truly, even jumping into the Yellow River couldn’t wash this clean.
An Chu didn’t need them to isolate her—she usually preferred spending time with more popular celebrities. They only gathered during assessments and recordings; otherwise, they hardly interacted.
But the production team didn’t care. They wanted to stir up topics and controversy, chasing profit at any cost.
Well, he and Mu Heng were left shouldering the blame.
Sister Zhang was delighted. Song Xun’s reputation had improved lately, a rare break from the notoriously negative path. She walked into the office in high heels, her steps light.
“Have you been secretly training lately? Your acting has improved so much.”
Her young daughter adored Song Xun, purely for his looks. She never let her watch his past shows, afraid it would shatter the illusion.
Originally, she’d only wanted Song Xun to join the variety show to ride its popularity, never expecting he’d contribute so much buzz himself.
Song Xun shook his head with a smile. “Where would I go for training? Can’t it just be a sudden spark of talent awakening?”
Sister Zhang rolled her eyes. “Awakening talent? You’ve been in the industry for years without showing any. Fine, let’s not talk about that. When you bring me a gold award someday, I’ll believe your talent has awakened.”
Song Xun actually had that ambition.
He hadn’t entered the entertainment industry to slack off. He wanted honors, to reclaim what he once had.
Lately, though, he’d only been offered variety shows and ads, with few film or drama roles coming his way, which worried him.
“By the way, what about that matter with Mr. Jin I mentioned last time?”
“Nothing much. He just wanted to pursue me, and I turned him down.”
Sister Zhang nodded. “Keep your distance from him from now on. The last thing we need is gossip—that would be real trouble.”
“I understand, it’s just that I don’t dare to speak too harshly.”
Sister Zhang gave him an appreciative glance, sighing inwardly that this silly boy had finally come to his senses.
Just as she was about to praise him, Xiao Deng rushed in frantically, his black-framed glasses askew, looking completely disheveled.
“Sis! Brother Song! Something’s happened.”
“What’s going on?”
Xiao Deng pulled Sister Zhang aside. “I was just going upstairs when I saw a man lingering at the entrance, refusing to leave. The security guards wouldn’t let him in. I wondered who it was, but after asking around, I found out—that man claims to be Brother Song’s father!”
Song Xun sprang to his feet, having nearly forgotten about the mess that was Liu Fumin.
A bustling crowd had gathered at the base of the office building.
People loved a good spectacle, especially one involving a celebrity.
Liu Fumin sat pitifully on the ground, dressed in rags, disheveled and unkempt, wailing and crying out to the heavens.
“Heaven is unjust! I raised a son, and now he won’t even acknowledge me! From childhood to adulthood, I toiled tirelessly to bring him up, always worrying he wouldn’t have enough to eat or wear.”
“I haven’t eaten in three days, yet my son is living it up, feasting and drinking.”
The man was quite cunning, keeping up with the trends despite his age. While playing the victim, he even knew how to start a live stream on his phone, even propping it up with a selfie stick—quite professional.
The security guards couldn’t do much about him since Liu Fumin was outside the office building. They were helpless and anxious, with no instructions from above, and they couldn’t just drive him away. Meanwhile, the crowd of onlookers grew larger and larger.
The number of viewers in the live stream kept increasing, with a flood of criticism directed at Song Xun.
【I always knew Song Xun was no good. He won’t even take care of his own father—heartless and ungrateful.】
【He earns so much money, yet he won’t spare a single cent for his father. Someone like him should just get out of the entertainment industry.】
【I was starting to think his acting wasn’t so bad anymore, and I was beginning to change my opinion of him. Turns out he’s just a rotten person from the start.】
Some of the comments were even harsher, with a few even getting censored by the platform.
However, there were also skeptical netizens, as this man had no evidence to prove he was Song Xun’s father, nor any proof that Song Xun hadn’t supported him.
【Don’t jump to conclusions. Until there’s solid evidence, I’m not taking sides.】
【He even knows how to do a live stream. Who knows if he’s just playing the victim? He says he’s uneducated, but he uses his phone for streaming better than I do.】
【Just because he says he is, doesn’t mean he is. If that’s the case, then I’m Song Xun’s wife!】
【The person above me, I’m Song Xun’s wife!】
Xiao Deng watched anxiously as more and more people joined the live stream, asking Sister Zhang what to do.
The decisive woman didn’t hesitate. She immediately called the company’s public relations department to handle the situation before it spiraled out of control, minimizing the damage as much as possible.
Song Xun sat with his legs crossed, watching Liu Fumin’s pitiful performance in the live stream with amusement. The acting was terrible—he could at least have shed a few tears to make it more convincing.
Recalling Liu Fumin’s money-grubbing face from a while back, he snorted. So this was his tactic? He thought it would be more terrifying, but it was just like this.
Seeing Song Xun completely unfazed, even treating it like a show and acting as if it had nothing to do with him, Xiao Deng couldn’t help but ask, “Brother Song, is that man really your dad?”
Song Xun looked up, but instead of directly answering Xiao Deng’s question, he pointed at the man on the livestream and asked Xiao Deng,
“Do you think I look like him?”
Xiao Deng told the truth, shaking his head. “No.”
Not just unlike—the two of them looked completely unrelated, as different as could be.
Xiao Deng had thought this person was just trying to stir up trouble, perhaps taking advantage of knowing Song Xun to freeload or scam some money, or maybe an internet celebrity trying to ride on Song Xun’s fame.
“He’s my stepfather.”