Qi Fan’s amber eyes were shrouded in darkness, his emotions bleeding into the shadows.
He didn’t suffer from night blindness, so he could see the slight, instinctive furrow of Sheng Zhiyu’s brow as the words left his lips.
But it was only for a fleeting moment, as Sheng Zhiyu’s attention was quickly diverted.
Ten meters away was the exit of the haunted house. The faint light source became the only prominent thing in the darkness. Sheng Zhiyu’s vision finally cleared a bit, and he saw the production crew’s cameras and An Yu standing outside, his face full of worry.
When Sheng Zhiyu came back to his senses, he could only see Qi Fan’s back.
…The man had clearly asked him a question, but now he seemed not to care about the answer.
A moment later, Lin Weiyu’s incredulous voice rang out.
【…What does he mean? Telling you to mind your own business?】
【Who does he think he is, acting so arrogant!】
Sheng Zhiyu ignored his friend’s indignation. He watched Qi Fan walk away for a bit before slowly looking back.
An Yu was still waiting outside. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, Sheng Zhiyu walked out and gave him a gentle smile.
“How was it? Were you scared?”
An Yu shook his head and whispered, “Mr. Chu is a very good person. I spent the second half of the trip with my eyes closed.”
Sheng Zhiyu gave an “Mhm” and glanced at the other person.
Chu Baiqian stood behind An Yu, politely refraining from interrupting their conversation. Only when their eyes met did he slowly smile at Sheng Zhiyu. “Did you encounter any trouble inside?”
A hint of confusion appeared in Sheng Zhiyu’s eyes, and he heard An Yu explain in a low voice: “Your group took the longest time.”
Just ten minutes ago, the NPCs had come out with their mobile devices, saying they couldn’t find a trace of them. If the surveillance hadn’t occasionally caught glimpses of the two of them, the crew would have stopped filming to go in and find them.
“Is that so?” Sheng Zhiyu was somewhat surprised.
He didn’t feel like he and Qi Fan had wasted much time.
It wasn’t until An Yu nodded that he noticed the members of the previous groups were all watching him from not far away, their eyes filled with inquiry and curiosity.
Only Qi Fan stood the furthest away. A staff member was asking him something, and he listened with lowered lashes.
Sheng Zhiyu swept a glance over, and when he turned back, he suddenly met a pair of quiet eyes filled with a warm, steady smile—they belonged to Chu Baiqian.
Chu Baiqian seemed to have been watching him for a long time.
Sheng Zhiyu instantly remembered the unexpected letter from this morning.
Capturing the subtle surprise in his eyes, Chu Baiqian asked gentlemanly: “If you’re free later, Xiao Yu, shall we talk?”
Lin Weiyu jumped up: 【’Xiao Yu, Xiao Yu’—who gave him permission to call you that!】
Sheng Zhiyu muted his jumpy friend.
As the haunted house segment wrapped up, the guests returned the same way they came.
However, during the ride back, the atmosphere between Chu Baiqian and An Yu had softened, while the two in the back seat became silent.
Although they hadn’t spoken much on the way there either, the atmosphere had clearly shifted. Even though An Yu tried to mediate from the front, he found no way to start. After a fruitless attempt, he let out a soft sigh.
Back at the villa, it was time for everyone to rest. Qi Fan got out as soon as the car stopped, followed by An Yu. After thanking Chu Baiqian, An Yu also left the car.
Sheng Zhiyu had agreed to talk with Chu Baiqian, so his movements to exit were slower.
Chu Baiqian held the steering wheel and looked at Sheng Zhiyu through the rearview mirror. “Talk in the car?”
Sheng Zhiyu looked out the window. Since it was night, the entire landscape was a blur of light and shadow.
He thought for a moment. “Let’s go to the poolside. There are chairs there.”
He was still in his Alpha rut and didn’t want to stay in a confined space with an outsider for too long.
Chu Baiqian agreed.
After getting out, Sheng Zhiyu kept his distance and walked unhurriedly toward the pool. The crew had placed cameras in many parts of the villa just to capture these private moments between guests.
Rippling light fell on the water, reflecting the young man’s slender figure.
Chu Baiqian stood still. When Sheng Zhiyu turned back, his beautiful eyes narrowed, looking very vivid.
“What did you and Mr. Qi encounter in the haunted house?” he asked first, a non-intrusive topic. “Was there an uncompleted task?”
“No,” Sheng Zhiyu replied calmly, even with a hint of casual coldness.
“Well, that’s good.” Chu Baiqian nodded, not pursuing the topic further.
A breeze blew past, making the loose jacket on Sheng Zhiyu’s body slip. He carelessly pulled the collar back, then, as if touching something, he looked down slightly at his wrist.
He flicked the dark blue ribbon and asked with a smile: “Since filming started, I don’t think Mr. Chu and I have had much interaction?”
He was finally asking about the reason for that letter.
Chu Baiqian nodded. “We haven’t.”
Sheng Zhiyu nodded and asked again, “Then why did you send your letter to me?”
“I was a bit curious about you,” Chu Baiqian said.
The corners of Sheng Zhiyu’s eyes narrowed, and a faint, ethereal smile appeared. “What’s there to be curious about with an Alpha?”
Chu Baiqian was truly stunned for a moment. “You’re an Alpha?”
According to the show’s schedule, occupations and secondary genders were about to be revealed anyway. Sheng Zhiyu didn’t want to get involved with others, so he gave the answer directly.
The scent of iris drifted toward the man’s nose with the wind from the pool. It was a soft flower, yet it had a cold, elegant tone.
“An Alpha.” Chu Baiqian’s tone held a hint of regret, but then he smiled again. “Then it’s not quite as similar.”
Sheng Zhiyu had seen enough “stand-in” tropes in the White Moonlight department to be sensitive to that word. He narrowed his eyes, his previous nonchalance turning into a faint hostility.
“Similar to whom?”
It was a common enough phrase, but it carried an aggressive momentum.
Chu Baiqian watched Sheng Zhiyu’s expression change from casual to sharp and let out a low laugh.
“To my younger brother.”
Sheng Zhiyu paused.
Chu Baiqian watched him patiently, his features gentle as he leaned down to meet his gaze. “I didn’t mean anything else. I just felt that the feeling you give me is very familiar, so I wanted to talk to you.”
His tone was steady and sincere; it didn’t sound like a lie.
Sheng Zhiyu unblocked Lin Weiyu and repeated Chu Baiqian’s words exactly.
【Oh… the protagonist Gong indeed had a younger brother. They had a great relationship, but the brother died of an illness at age fifteen. The original plot didn’t mention him much, so there’s no more data.】
Fifteen.
Unexpectedly, it felt like a fine needle piercing through his chest, pulling out a bloody memory.
Sheng Zhiyu took a step back, and the aggressive pheromones he had just released retracted significantly. Then, he turned his face away.
The rippling water reflected in his eyes under the clear moonlight.
Chu Baiqian thought he was repulsed and apologized: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make a comparison, it’s just the feeling is a bit similar.”
In truth, he couldn’t describe exactly why. Despite the appearance, personality, hobbies, and even secondary gender, Sheng Zhiyu was different from the clingy, soft child in his memory. But the moment Chu Baiqian first saw him, he inexplicably noticed that feeling.
It was as if he could see through the exterior to the lonely core hidden deep inside.
Instinctively, he wanted to care.
And because of this care, he noticed the gaze of another person fixed on Sheng Zhiyu.
His questioning of Qi Fan earlier was less of a declaration of war and more of a protective instinct. Given Qi Fan’s fame, if he truly got involved with a civilian, public opinion would definitely create pressure. If the crew created conflict for the sake of ratings, they would surely start with the two famous people in the industry. When the storm came, Chu Baiqian inexplicably thought of his fragile brother who had always been under his wing.
“Sorry.” Chu Baiqian realized his overstepping and rudeness, and his expression dimmed. “It was inconsiderate of me. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You just treat it as me talking nonsense…”
Sheng Zhiyu calmly observed the changes in Chu Baiqian’s expression, seemingly trying to judge something from his silhouette. But his explanation was too sincere.
“It’s okay,” Sheng Zhiyu said.
Chu Baiqian looked up in surprise.
A fallen leaf dropped into the pool. The faint echo of the ripples rang through the short silence.
Sheng Zhiyu frowned slightly. After a few seconds of silence, he asked in a low voice, “What kind of person was your brother?”
Chu Baiqian turned and sat on a folding chair by the pool. After thinking for a while, he said softly, “Well, not great. Delicate, willful, clingy, a picky eater who didn’t like vegetables.”
Sheng Zhiyu’s gaze moved calmly to the pool’s surface. As if to find something to distract himself, he crouched down and picked up the leaf floating on the water.
His voice was slow and cold, maintaining his role as an observer: “It sounds like you hated him?”
“I didn’t.” Chu Baiqian’s answer came immediately, followed by a very soft, “How could I ever hate him?”
Late at night, the warmth in the pool seemed to vanish, leaving only a coldness that seeped into the bones. Sheng Zhiyu realized for the first time that early summer could have such a temperature.
He twirled the green leaf between his fingers, and a few droplets of water splashed onto his clothes, creating a small wet spot. He looked at his damp clothes and said nothing.
Chu Baiqian turned around in the silence. It wasn’t something an adult should do indulging in self-pity and he didn’t understand why he was telling an Alpha he didn’t know and who had been hostile toward him about his past. He was about to apologize again and end the conversation when the person in front of him suddenly sat down next to him.
Sheng Zhiyu was still looking down at the leaf, devoid of emotion. “Do you miss him?”
“I do.”
Chu Baiqian looked up at the starry summer sky.
“I often regret that I didn’t get to watch him grow up.”
An Yu returned to the villa behind Qi Fan.
He vaguely noticed that Qi Fan’s mood wasn’t high tonight… or rather, it seemed his mood had been poor all day.
While thinking, his gaze instinctively fell on the black collar around the man’s neck. He vaguely knew the meaning behind the collar, which was why he had blushed and looked away this morning.
Because the night was thick, An Yu couldn’t tell what material it was. Based on the occasional light, he had thought it was some kind of silk. Now that he was close behind him, he realized the material was actually leather.
…It was actually leather.
The impact brought by this material was much stronger than general silk or fabric.
The Alpha gender was born to be arrogant superiors; dominance and control were traits etched into their bones. They would never show a hint of submission to outsiders.
And Qi Fan was a standout among Alphas. Not to mention his superior appearance, his cold, distant aura alone was enough to make people keep their distance.
So, it was hard to imagine something like a collar appearing on him.
While browsing Weibo today, An Yu had seen many fans’ fantasies about Mr. Qi:
[An Alpha as restrained as Mr. Qi would definitely be unimaginably wild in bed.]
[I heard gossip that Mr. Qi’s pheromone level is so high that an Omega could fall into a seven-day rut just by taking one sniff. Damn, what a top-tier Alpha!]
[I want to hear Mr. Qi whisper ‘Baby, well done’ in my ear.]
Thinking of this, An Yu felt his ears burning. He hadn’t deliberately tried to remember them, but those wild comments were too impactful, and he usually had very little contact with such things, so they were instantly etched into his mind.
To stop his absurd memories, An Yu even started reciting recipes in his head. Just as he was about to drive away the wicked thoughts, he dazed and walked right into the man’s back.
After stumbling two steps, his arm was gently held.
Then came Qi Fan’s low, warm voice: “Why are you daydreaming?”
An Yu was stunned. Then he met the man’s deep eyes.
Qi Fan raised his hand to brush aside An Yu’s bangs, which had become messy from the collision. He carefully observed his expression, intentionally ignoring his trembling eyelashes.
“Are you tired?”
It wasn’t that; it was just that the distance was too close.
An Yu even forgot to answer and took a few panicked steps back. This time he really was about to fall.
Qi Fan lightly caught his wrist and set him straight before letting go and stepping back.
For an Omega, contact with an Alpha undoubtedly had a profound influence. Even without pheromones, An Yu felt his skin burning. His heartbeat was a mess.
Qi Fan silently heard the notification of favorability rising.
“Sor-sorry,” An Yu lowered his head, his voice filled with panic. “I was a bit distracted.”
Qi Fan gave a slight smile. “Still scared? Or have you forgotten what flavor that ice cream was?”
The timely joke made An Yu’s embarrassment vanish. He slowly looked up and saw the calm smile on Qi Fan’s face, suddenly feeling a bit lost.
Didn’t Mr. Qi look unhappy just now? Why does he seem like he has no emotions now?
“No, I remember,” An Yu said softly. “It was lychee flavor.”
“Do you like sweet things?”
“They’re okay.” An Yu thought of that fancy little dessert and instinctively smiled. “Xiao Yu chose it.”
When he was eating it this afternoon, he was only focused on the appearance and taste; he didn’t expect it to serve as a courage-booster tonight.
The hallway was quiet. The two walked silently. The topic of ice cream opened up the conversation, and An Yu shared bits of fun moments from noon with Qi Fan.
The man simply listened, occasionally nodding with a smile, providing a strong sense of companionship.
The talk shifted from the noon date to tonight’s haunted house. When An Yu reflected on it, he realized that this experience which he would never want to have again no longer felt so terrifying because he was sharing it with Qi Fan.
When he came back to his senses, An Yu realized he had been talking a lot on his own and stopped awkwardly.
Looking up, he found that Qi Fan was just looking at him gently, with a friendly smile. “So, ice cream is that effective.”
His warm, soft tone sounded like a hint of doting at first, making it easy for one to be enticed and fall for it. Once fallen, it was easy to overlook his intentions and goals.
An Yu’s eyelashes trembled. He said in a low voice, “Mr. Qi, did you not go out today?”
“I didn’t,” Qi Fan replied softly. “Because the person I wanted to ask out was already asked out by someone else.”
His response was so gentle and warm that An Yu felt his heart shrink. This morning, Mr. Qi had given him a letter, but he chose Xiao Yu. The two of them had a great time, while Mr. Qi had to stay behind because he didn’t have a partner.
An inexplicable sense of guilt and blame was quietly triggered. An Yu clenched his hands and said softly, “Then… then does Mr. Qi want to try it? The lychee-flavored ice cream.”
After saying it, he gathered his courage to look up, only to see Qi Fan pause slightly.
He looked surprised yet smiled, his voice deeply sexy: “Does that mean I can expect a letter from you tomorrow?”
He had done nothing, yet he left the other person in a state of chaos.
Did Mr. Qi always have this charm that makes one’s heart race?
An Yu felt a bit dizzy and followed his lead, nodding.
“Good. I’ll look forward to it.”
Qi Fan spoke tenderly, but if An Yu were to look up, he would see that the color in his eyes wasn’t as tender as his tone. But An Yu didn’t notice; he could only panic and turn away from the topic that made him flustered: “Speaking of which, you and Xiao Yu… did you have a fight in the haunted house? I felt like you were both very unhappy when you came out.”
There were many puzzle-solving stages in the haunted house; An Yu thought they had a conflict due to a disagreement.
As the words fell, he noticed Qi Fan pause imperceptibly. Then, with a gentle smile, he asked softly, “Why do you think so?”
An Yu didn’t know how to answer. Mr. Qi truly didn’t look like the type to have a conflict with someone.
Realizing he had said the wrong thing, An Yu stammered, “I… Mr. Chu and I both felt that way.”
“We didn’t,” Qi Fan said calmly. “We just got a bit lost, so we wasted some time.”
An Yu gave an “Oh” and nodded.
Then he heard the man ask in a very soft, faint, casual, and nonchalant tone: “Why is Mr. Chu so concerned about whether we had a fight?”
If An Yu were a bit smarter, he might have heard that the man—whose previous dialogue had been devoid of emotion—had a hint of subtle displeasure in this question.
“Mr. Chu seems to care about Xiao Yu a lot,” An Yu said. “Didn’t he send a letter to Xiao Yu this morning?”
As soon as he spoke, as if in response, two figures appeared on the road on the other side.
Sheng Zhiyu and Chu Baiqian returned side-by-side. The two seemed to be chatting about something, both with smiles on their faces. It wasn’t that kind of distant, polite expression, but more like… they had crossed the boundary of strangers.
Sheng Zhiyu was still twirling that leaf between his fingers. After hearing Chu Baiqian tell an anecdote about his brother, a hint of a smile appeared in his eyes.
But before he could respond, he was suddenly caught by the gaze of the man not far away.
Qi Fan’s gaze was deep and heavy, staring at him without moving for a second. When he spoke, however, it was with a casual smile.
“What a coincidence.”