The pace of the first episode is very fast, without any unnecessary buildup, and it doesn’t use any complicated plot lines that make it hard to tell who’s who. It directly shows Ah Yan taking Yan Ye to meet Bai Ying at a KTV.  

The mutual probing and tug-of-war between the characters are captivating; every word may carry hidden meanings, and every line is more than superficial. Even if the audience doesn’t know the direction of the plot, they instinctively delve into the significance of the dialogue. The eye contact between Bai Ying and Yan Ye, with every smile and frown, feels like a tightly strung bow, creating an atmosphere that is confrontational yet not hostile.  

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Downstairs, Xiao Qin and Ye Shengyi, along with a few others, were initially chattering about Bai Ying’s long hair and Yan Ye’s black shirt. However, five minutes later, their eyes were glued to the TV, even forgetting about the Coke in their hands.  

Unknowingly, the plot progressed to the “blowing smoke” scene. Bai Ying took a drag from a cigarette, pulling Yan Ye over, and countless viewers felt their emotions rise as they clenched their fists and stretched their necks in anticipation.  

Luo Yu suddenly recalled his feelings during filming, and as the director rotated the camera, the impact of the shift from offense to defense was so strong that Luo Yu instinctively raised his hand to cover his eyes.  

He wondered if it was because in the scene they were currently shooting, Wen Yuchi and Lu Pingfeng were “tempting” each other, that seeing this “blowing smoke” moment made him feel that Bai Ying wasn’t provoking Yan Ye, but rather…  

“This is the classic part I mentioned,” Gu Xiaowei’s voice rang in his ears.  

Luo Yu caught Gu Xiaowei’s gaze through his fingers. His seemingly cold and indifferent gaze felt like a searing heat on Luo Yu’s face, causing his heart to race and his mind to go numb.  

If there’s one feature in Gu Xiaowei’s striking appearance that is the most captivating, it must be his eyes. In the depths of the amber glass bead, it seemed as though the desires of a mayfly, compressed over decades, lay suspended within its fleeting day-long existence. Time, like scattered frost, had been poured too generously, unable to suppress the restless stirrings of temptation within…  

Suddenly, a warm breeze blew through Luo Yu’s fingers, lifting his eyelashes and nearly igniting a spark on his eyeball.  

Luo Yu quickly shut his eyes and leaned back.  

Gu Xiaowei was actually blowing air through his fingers!  

“I finally got my revenge,” Gu Xiaowei said.  

Luo Yu’s fingers tightened, his heart nearly stopping, but he forced a façade of anger and helplessness. “Oh, then you should go find Director Lin for revenge! Blowing smoke was his idea.”  

He sadly realized that his best acting wasn’t showcased in his scenes, but rather in front of Gu Xiaowei.  

“But what made my heart race back then was you,” Gu Xiaowei supported his chin and continued to watch the screen. “You almost made me unable to remain in character.”  

Luo Yu turned his head to look at the screen. Gu Xiaowei mentioned almost being unable to remain in character; that competitive streak had prompted him to tease Luo Yu earlier. However, at this moment, Luo Yu knew that his rapid heartbeat had nothing to do with remaining in character.  

To Luo Yu, the plot playing out on the screen felt like a blur until a loud “clang” announced that Ah Yan had crashed a KTV with Yan Ye, taking down several big shots in the process.  

Luo Yu snapped back to reality, watching Yan Ye’s arrogant and manic expression on the screen, resembling a proud wolf that seeks to dominate its prey. Money and status held no significance for him.  

This Yan Ye possessed a kind of extreme allure.  

“The acting’s too wild,” Gu Xiaowei said.  

“Not at all; I think it’s very impactful. This kind of undercover agent has to be convincing. Otherwise, who would believe someone who remains righteous while being in a den of beasts?” Luo Yu responded.  

Gu Xiaowei still rested his chin on his hand, scrutinizing his own acting with a critical eye.  

“Yan Ye doesn’t need those people to believe in him; he only needs Bai Ying’s recognition. Everything he does isn’t just to eliminate doubts about his undercover status or to climb the ranks.”  

“What other reason is there?” Luo Yu asked him.  

Gu Xiaowei’s gaze shifted slightly. “Conquering the world to please you.”  

Luo Yu froze, waves of emotion surging inside him, while Gu Xiaowei didn’t avert his gaze.  

It felt as if he wasn’t talking about Yan Ye trying to win Bai Ying over but rather that Gu Xiaowei was trying to please Luo Yu.  

Luo Yu swept his hair back and decided that the best way to deal with Gu Xiaowei was with honesty. “I say, Teacher Gu, every word you’ve said tonight feels like a deliberate temptation… it has made me deeply certain of the permission you’ve given me.”  

Gu Xiaowei’s expressionless face broke into a subtle smile, one that felt both teasing and tender. “What permission?”  

“To imagine doing anything to you.” After saying that, Luo Yu intentionally leaned in closer to Gu Xiaowei.  

He wanted to see through all of Gu Xiaowei’s acting, to uncover all the hidden intentions behind that calm façade.  

Gu Xiaowei’s smile became more pronounced, like a gentle knock on the door, sending ripples through everything around them.  

“Then I will look forward to tomorrow’s shoot.”  

Alright, if Wen Yuchi’s existence is to guide Lu Pingfeng’s inner world, then I will begin to do as I please.  

After watching the first two episodes of “Counterattack,” the plot was tight, with a strong tension in the character relationships and multiple layers of secrets, yet it didn’t leave the audience confused. Instead, discussions about various plot points sprang up online, with comments on “Counterattack”’s official Weibo exceeding ten thousand.  

The trending topic #Yan Ye VS Bai Ying# shot up into the top ten and continued to move forward.  

Originally, the target audience for this drama was the middle-aged and adult demographic, but it unexpectedly sparked enthusiastic discussions among younger viewers.  

All night long, many WeChat groups and Moments were buzzing with one question—Have you seen “Counterattack”?  

Many felt that Gu Xiaowei’s acting had reached a new level, completely different from his usual image. That kind of unconventional allure brimmed with a power that could bewitch the heart.  

At the same time, viewers also realized that Yan Ye’s captivating role could not be separated from Bai Ying.  

Underneath Bai Ying’s composed exterior lies a true and extreme madness, a gloomy extremity that penetrates life, starkly contrasting with Yan Ye’s rebellious defiance against the world.  

Apparently the “blowing smoke” scene made countless viewers’ hearts race, the blatant provocation causing adrenaline to surge.  

Fans even edited all the scenes where Yan Ye and Bai Ying faced off together in these two episodes, set to fast-paced music, with bulletscreen comments going wild—When these two are apart, they reign separately; together, the world becomes very busy.  

When watching it for the first time, one might feel that Gu Xiaowei’s Yan Ye has a lazy yet insane charm that captivates, but when audiences watch it a second time online, they increasingly feel that Bai Ying is like a flower blooming on the edge of an abyss, adorned with the golden desires of power, daring even to tempt the gods.  

This drama is broadcast simultaneously on the internet and television, and to ensure viewership ratings, the television channel airs it an hour earlier than the online channel. The online channel’s rerun rate is surprisingly high, with bulletscreens flashing so quickly that the video becomes unclear. The production team never expected that a conservative mainstream drama could reach such high ratings in just the first two episodes.  

In a moment, Yan Ye and Bai Ying seemed to become the most perfect screen pairing.  

[Hope Yan Ye and Bai Ying can be together forever.]  

[The first episode starts with blowing smoke! Insane! So hot!]  

[I unilaterally declare Yan Ye to be Bai Ying’s forever wolf!]  

[Bai Ying’s gaze makes me want to live and die for him!]  

[Yan Ye’s nonchalance and Bai Ying’s smiles which hide knives are a perfect match.]  

All of Gu Xiaowei’s previous shares of Luo Yu’s Weibo received an avalanche of comments. Clips of Luo Yu participating in “Burn, Little Cosmos” have been played so much the play button is practically worn out. In the VCR Gu Xiaowei recorded for Luo Yu, comments flooded in saying, “This is fate,” including a video of Gu Xiaowei squatting with Luo Yu in a princess carry during a production crew dinner gathering, which was turned into a GIF with the caption “Senior Brother, please be my permanent partner.”  

Sister Cui was so busy that she even forgot to take off her sheet mask because countless calls from variety shows and brand endorsements flooded in.  

She was parched, wishing she had seven or eight mouths, as another wave of scripts flew in, and the quality had risen another notch, leading to the script evaluation team beginning their late-night reading session.  

After watching the first two episodes of “Counterattack,” Jiang Yinchuan couldn’t hide the smug smile at the corners of his mouth. Even old Mr. Jiang called, saying he had an eye for talent and had missed out on Gu Xiaowei but made up for it by successfully signing Luo Yu this time.  

The public relations team Jiang Yinchuan had prepared for Luo Yu was now put into action, widely circulating some of Luo Yu’s previous character clips online, not only from “Plum Blossom Rain,” where he played the campus heartthrob, but also as a rural college student, a hopeless cancer patient, and even in a low-quality web drama that he was forced to act in by Bo Wenyuan. Even if the script was so terrible it angered the gods, the characters Luo Yu portrayed could captivate people with just a glance.

Jiang Yinchuan was initially worried that with Sister Cui’s experience, she might struggle to handle the overwhelming invitations. After all, what Jiang Yinchuan admired at first was not Sister Cui’s capability, but her diligence and genuine care for Luo Yu. However, when she sent a statistical report to his email at three in the morning, he finally recognized her organizational skills.

Whether it was invitations for variety shows, magazine shoots, brand endorsements, or drama and film offers, Sister Cui matched and analyzed them based on their background and strength, audience or consumer demographics, as well as Luo Yu’s developmental direction and personal wishes.

This was not something that could be done overnight, which indicated that Sister Cui had conducted thorough investigations and analyses beforehand. She had always been prepared for Luo Yu.

Moreover, Sister Cui also mentioned that the well-known producer Han Yang had invited her to meet tomorrow. She asked whether other senior executives from the company should attend, fearing her own weight might not be enough to influence Luo Yu’s resources with Han Yang.

Jiang Yinchuan propped his chin up and smiled. He directly transferred a “huge sum” to Sister Cui, with the note reading “styling fee.”

Who would have thought Sister Cui would call him straightforwardly and say, “President Jiang, there’s still a lot of the budget you allocated for Luo Yu that hasn’t been used! Plus, it’s not in line with the financial process for you to send money to my personal account! What should I…”

“This is your styling fee; aren’t you going to meet Producer Han tomorrow?”

“Then send a senior executive…”

“You’re a veteran from the early days of Yinchuan Culture; isn’t that exactly a senior executive? I’ll send a legal assistant to accompany you. Luo Yu will have a lot of work from now on, and the influential people in the entertainment circle he interacts with will only increase. From what I know, Han Yang is a decent person; just go there to gain some experience,” Jiang Yinchuan said.

After hearing this, Sister Cui felt a surge of sincere gratitude for the boss’s trust.

“I understand; I will listen more and learn more, and be cautious with my commitments. I will report back to you after I return before responding to Producer Han.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Jiang Yinchuan nodded in satisfaction. In the entertainment industry, there were many agents who were smarter and more tactful than Sister Cui, but being grounded was the rarest quality.

If Luo Yu wanted to go further, he needed a sincere and practical person like her by his side, so he wouldn’t easily become anxious for quick success and make mistakes.

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If… Lu Pingfeng were not played by Gu Xiaowei, perhaps he wouldn’t need to hold back, but he also wouldn’t have the restless anticipation.

At this moment, Gu Xiaowei had walked over to him, bent down, and leaned toward his ear, their faces almost touching. Gu Xiaowei’s eyes were focused on the monitor, but the breath that brushed against Luo Yu’s ear made his already heated ears feel even hotter.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“How was that last scene?” Gu Xiaowei asked.

“Very good. The characters interacted well.”

For the first time, Luo Yu felt a bit cautious. He stiffened his neck and shoulders, afraid that being too close to Gu Xiaowei would result in their faces touching, yet he wanted to lean in closer to feel the warmth radiating from him.

A staff member’s stomach growled, and everyone finally realized it was already two o’clock in the afternoon; they hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

It seemed that Gu Xiaowei’s earlier worry was correct. Thankfully, Luo Yu had eaten the dumplings; otherwise, they would be in a tough spot by now.

“The morning shoot stops here. Let’s break for lunch,” Director Sheng’s words immediately enlivened the atmosphere on set.

After lunch, with about half an hour of rest before the next scene, the two planned to head back to the van.

Just as Luo Yu was about to pull the door shut, someone grabbed his hand. Even without seeing the other person’s face, just from the fingers, Luo Yu recognized it was Gu Xiaowei.

“Hey! Be careful! What if the door closed on your hand?” Luo Yu’s heart raced.

Without a second thought, Gu Xiaowei stepped inside and shut the van door with a whoosh.

“That won’t happen.” He cheerfully sat down next to Luo Yu.

“Aren’t you going back to your own van to nap?” Luo Yu asked.

“Xiao Qin needs to rest too.”

Luo Yu immediately understood that Xiao Qin was a girl, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for Gu Xiaowei to nap in the relatively enclosed space of the van with her.

“So, your van is essentially bought for Xiao Qin?”

In the next moment, Gu Xiaowei’s hand reached over and grabbed Luo Yu’s head, pulling him down into his chest. “Why don’t you say it’s for you?”

“Why would it be for me?!”

Here we go again; why does he like to press my head so much!

The scent of Gu Xiaowei enveloped him; even though he was already very familiar with it, the moment he recognized it still sent a jolt through his heart.

“Are you going to nap or not?”

“I will! I’m napping right now!” Luo Yu patted Gu Xiaowei’s hand, and only then did the latter release him.

Gu Xiaowei knew exactly what was in Luo Yu’s van. He reached back and pulled out a pillow. Unfolding the pillow revealed a thin blanket, which he draped over himself and Luo Yu.

“Nap.” In the next moment, Gu Xiaowei slumped down, crossing his arms and entering sleep mode.

The break time was precious; they would have to get up once the other staff members set up the next scene.

As his stomach began to digest, Luo Yu’s head grew heavier. He leaned a bit to the side, subconsciously trying not to press against the person next to him. He wanted to sit up straight, but his head bobbed like a fishing rod, dipping down and then back up again.

The person next to him reached out and directly pulled Luo Yu onto his shoulder. The instant Luo Yu’s cheek brushed against Gu Xiaowei’s shoulder, he completely relaxed, his hand becoming lax in sleep.

When he fell asleep, Gu Xiaowei, who had kept his eyes closed, turned his face and opened his eyes to look at Luo Yu.

Luo Yu’s delicate features were mere inches away. The closer he got, the more Gu Xiaowei felt that Luo Yu’s eyes resembled the misty rain of Jiangnan, like ink wash painting. He gently touched Luo Yu’s ear.

Just a moment ago, when he had intentionally leaned in closer while in front of the director’s monitor, he had noticed Luo Yu’s ears turn red, yet he hadn’t shied away.

It felt like a silent permission.

Gu Xiaowei’s hand lightly grazed Luo Yu’s cheek.

Half an hour later, Ah Yan knocked on the van door. “Brother Gu—Brother Luo—get ready for the next scene!”

“Mm…”

Luo Yu rubbed his eyes, only then realizing he had tilted back against Gu Xiaowei’s shoulder. Feeling embarrassed, he quickly glanced to see if he had drooled on Gu Xiaowei’s shoulder.

Gu Xiaowei’s eyelids fluttered, seemingly waking up.

“Coming right away!” Luo Yu hurriedly responded to Ah Yan, trying to use a loud voice to mask the rapid beating of his heart at that moment.

“Let’s go. Time to head out.” Gu Xiaowei fully opened his eyes, looking quite refreshed.

The afternoon scenes proceeded more smoothly, and by around seven in the evening, the day’s shooting wrapped up, allowing everyone to go back and rest. 

The dinner prepared by the resort was still lavish, and the first thing Luo Yu and the others did when they rushed back was to turn on the TV to watch the broadcast of “Counterattack.” 

It was said that the trailer’s view count had surpassed three hundred million, with Gu Xiaowei’s fans eagerly anticipating more, and Xie Chang’s fans clinging to the trailer for survival during the wait. 

Later, the official channel also edited different character perspective trailers, with seven or eight versions in total. Initially, the version with Yan Ye had the highest views, followed by the perspective of the female lead, Lu Qin. However, three days before the official broadcast, Bai Ying’s version quickly approached Yan Ye’s view count. 

Just a few snippets from the trailer were incredibly engaging. Bai Ying’s heart-stopping expressions, the contrast between gloom and intensity, and the action scenes that expertly matched the heartbeat rhythm made Luo Yu gain fans rapidly in a short time. 

Some viewers even remarked that Luo Yu was simply the embodiment of a manga book character, with every angle of his fight scenes rivaling that of a manga, his legs long and straight. Many animation enthusiasts praised Luo Yu as having a true modeling face, not just because of his striking features, but also because of his expressions. Other actors might present a greasy, overexaggerated demeanor, but as long as it was Luo Yu, it appeared elegant and alluring instead. 

Moreover, several female stars in the industry were secretly fans of Bai Ying. This did not even include Xie Chang, who had already become a huge fan of Luo Yu, and Ai Cheng, the overly excited fan constantly controlled by her agent and assistant. Even a certain award-winning actress watched Bai Ying’s trailer hundreds of times with her teenage daughter. 

As for He Mu, he was kept awake at night by Bai Ying’s trailer. 

He discovered that both his makeup artist and assistant were secretly watching videos, hiding in the restroom for fear of being caught. Unfortunately, He Mu, also in the restroom, guessed from the background music that the trailer was Bai Ying’s version. Don’t ask why he knew; he had also watched it several times. 

When he opened his fan group chat, they had been discussing how captivating Gu Xiaowei’s Yan Ye was, but suddenly someone brought up Bai Ying, and several fans chimed in, saying Bai Ying was very handsome! They even said that He Mu resembled Bai Ying from certain angles, making He Mu seem like a substitute for Luo Yu. He Mu had already typed out a lengthy greeting to them but thankfully the group admin stopped them from discussing Bai Ying further; otherwise, He Mu really would have wanted to blow up the chat. 

During the time Luo Yu was filming, He Mu’s resources were continuously tightening. Some variety show offers that originally belonged to him were reportedly begging for Luo Yu, and even roles that had been tailored for him were reconsidered due to his high salary and risk of return, contemplating swapping him out for Luo Yu. He Mu wanted to hold on to his offer fees and salaries, but the other party showed no interest in continuing negotiations. 

On the other hand, Luo Yu’s salary was steadily increasing. His agent, Cui Zhuxin, did not easily agree to any projects, only saying she would look at the script first. This led to Cui Zhuxin receiving dozens of scripts. At first, He Mu thought they were all low-budget web dramas, but he heard from Mick that there were several projects rated S among the scripts, along with many high-quality productions in preparation. Some investors, although not very strong, sent over scripts that were interesting enough for Jiang Yinchuan to consider additional investments. 

Cui Zhuxin decisively spent a large sum to establish a script evaluation team specifically to analyze scripts based on Luo Yu’s future development and personal characteristics. 

Even He Mu did not receive such treatment at Dijun Media; he always prioritized salary and project ratings when accepting television dramas. 

Additionally, what troubled Cui Zhuxin was the constant flow of gifts being sent to the studio. Dolls, handicrafts, candies, and chocolates were manageable, but among them were many luxury items that astonished Cui Zhuxin, prompting her to quickly record a video for evidence and send all these gifts back, stating on Weibo that they would not accept any gifts besides letters. 

While chatting with her team, she wondered, “Does Bai Ying really have that much charm? Can just the trailer make fans so fond of him? They even sent limited edition luxury bags!” 

Team members nodded in agreement. “Sister Cui, Bai Ying is genuinely charming. Haven’t you seen the online surveys? More than fifty percent of the viewers of ‘Counterattack’ are looking forward to the chemistry between Yan Ye and Bai Ying!” 

Sister Cui sighed and added on Weibo: [Study hard and watch dramas rationally.] 

When she looked again, the Weibo post she had made five minutes earlier already had nearly three thousand comments. 

On the sofa in the resort villa, Ah Yan, Ye Shengyi, Xiao Qin, and the two drivers sat in a row, their eyes full of anticipation, but it seemed there was no longer room for Gu Xiaowei and Luo Yu to sit. 

Gu Xiaowei raised his head, signaling to go to the upstairs bedroom. 

In Gu Xiaowei’s master bedroom, there was a projection TV facing the bed. 

The show was acted by the two of them, and with no one else around, they could even discuss it with each other. 

Luo Yu followed Gu Xiaowei upstairs. Gu Xiaowei pressed a button, and the projection lit up. Luo Yu then realized it was actually quite large, giving off a home theater vibe. 

But that meant he couldn’t sit on the nearby sofa to watch; he would have to twist his neck to see. 

Luo Yu thought to himself, should he take a shower and change into clean pajamas, making it easier to sit on the bed? Gu Xiaowei was a bit of a clean freak… 

Who knew, Gu Xiaowei had only taken off his outer jacket and shoes, directly leaning back against the headboard. He patted the space beside him and said, “Aren’t you coming?” 

“Of course!” Luo Yu quickly climbed up and leaned beside him, but couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t you quite particular about cleanliness? Are you really just sitting here like this?” 

“If we get any more particular, the most classic parts of these two episodes will pass us by.” Gu Xiaowei chuckled lightly. 

Just as they switched to Channel C, the words “Episode One” appeared. 

“Made it just in time, but… which do you think are the most classic parts?” Luo Yu asked curiously. 

“You’ll know when the classic parts come out.” 

The light from the screen occasionally swept over Gu Xiaowei’s eyebrows and eyes, like moonlight and drifting clouds passing over mountains and rivers. 

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

He hadn’t removed the makeup belonging to Lu Pingfeng, still holding a gloomy elegance mixed with Gu Xiaowei’s own aura, and this exquisite sense of mystery made it hard for Luo Yu to look away. 

“Are you watching me, or watching the show?” Gu Xiaowei turned his head, smiling lightly, as if teasing but also with an almost affectionate tenderness. 

“Watching the show,” Luo Yu quickly turned his head back.

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The next scene was the first appearance of Nie Yangchen, who played Qin Lin, the secretary to the collector.

He wore a tailored suit, looking professional and patient, with a tall and handsome figure that was very photogenic.

Qin Lin stood at the door of the studio and gently knocked, “Mr. Lu, I’m Qin Lin. I’m here on behalf of Mr. Zhuang to discuss… the Redback Spider painting.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

After speaking, Qin Lin glanced at the small dining table in the studio, noticing the snacks placed on it, and the chairs arranged around the table hinted that Lu Pingfeng was expecting someone.

Lu Pingfeng sat before an easel, his eyes focused on the canvas. If not for the faint sound of his pencil on the canvas, one might mistake him for a marble statue.

Qin Lin patiently waited at the door, as if he could stand there for an eternity unless Lu Pingfeng explicitly allowed him to enter.

After who knows how long, Uncle He walked over with some hot tea. Passing by Qin Lin, he smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry, sir is really in the mood to paint today.”

Qin Lin nodded good-naturedly. “It’s my bad timing. But with Mr. Zhuang’s instructions, I have no choice but to wait.”

On the floor to Lu Pingfeng’s right was a teacup, placed just within arm’s reach when he turned slightly.

Uncle He bent down and refilled Lu Pingfeng’s tea.

As Uncle He left the studio, Qin Lin curiously asked, “Uncle He, is Mr. Lu expecting a guest today?”

“The guest might come, or might not,” Uncle He smiled slightly before walking out.

“But Mr. Lu seems well-prepared, which suggests he hopes they’ll come,” Qin Lin said with a smile.

This guest, who had Lu Pingfeng waiting so patiently, piqued Qin Lin’s curiosity.

Finally, the silent Lu Pingfeng spoke. “Please tell Mr. Zhuang that I won’t be selling that painting.”

Qin Lin took a step forward. Although he was being refused, his expression remained courteous. “Mr. Lu, may I come in?”

“You may.”

With permission granted, Qin Lin walked behind Lu Pingfeng and looked at his canvas. He took out a monocle from his suit pocket and admired it for a few seconds. “A butterfly?”

“Yes.”

“But this butterfly is intact, it doesn’t look dead.” Qin Lin squinted his eyes and bent down. The more he looked, the more he felt the butterfly’s unmatched beauty. It seemed ready to flap its wings and fly off the canvas, scattering a layer of glittering wing dust.

“Because I’m copying a butterfly specimen,” Lu Pingfeng replied.

“Copying a butterfly specimen?” Qin Lin was puzzled.

“I gave a friend a butterfly specimen, but they thought it was too valuable and returned it to me.”

Hearing this, Qin Lin laughed. “But your copied butterfly specimen is probably more valuable than the original.”

Lu Pingfeng said calmly, “The value of the butterfly specimen is determined by its rarity. The rarer something is, the more valuable it becomes. But the value of my painting is decided by you. If someone wants to collect it, it’s valuable. If no one cares about it, it’s just waste paper and trash.”

“Then let’s talk about this Redback Spider painting. Mr. Zhuang likes it very much and wants to collect it, which makes it valuable now.” Qin Lin lowered his head, standing by Lu Pingfeng’s side, and looked directly into his eyes.

Lu Pingfeng remained calm, devoid of any human desire, cold and empty.

Except for the three-tiered dessert tray on the nearby dining table, the act of “waiting” seemed to grant Lu Pingfeng some human emotions.

“Secretary Qin, would Mr. Zhuang send someone a dead rat, cockroach, or spider as a gift?”

Lu Pingfeng turned to look at Qin Lin, and the indifference in his eyes was different from usual, carrying a sharp scrutiny. Qin Lin’s mind went blank, as if his nerves had been cut.

After a few seconds of silence, Nie Yangchen, who played Qin Lin, clasped his hands together and bowed to everyone in apology. “Sorry, my mistake!”

The surrounding crew, who had been quiet, finally started moving. The lighting technicians exhaled and lowered the reflectors slightly. The cameraman leaned back and stretched his shoulders.

No one was upset, as the aura Gu Xiaowei had just emitted seemed to freeze the air. It was understandable that Nie Yangchen had lost his rhythm because of him.

Sheng Yunlan nodded and raised his hand, indicating, “Start again from Lu Pingfeng’s line, ‘rat, cockroach, or spider.’”

Nie Yangchen took a deep breath and returned to his original position.

As the word “Action” was called, Gu Xiaowei quickly got into character, raising his head again, and the sharpness in his eyes made hearts skip a beat.

“Secretary Qin, would Mr. Zhuang send someone a dead rat, cockroach, or spider as a gift?”

“Those things have no aesthetic value. Mr. Zhuang wouldn’t give them as gifts.”

After delivering the lines, Nie Yangchen felt something was missing.

Sure enough, Sheng Yunlan cleared his throat and gestured for Nie Yangchen to come over.

Luo Yu stood up and stepped aside, giving his stool to Nie Yangchen.

“You’re playing Qin Lin, right? To be the trusted secretary and spokesperson for a major collector, what kind of person do you think he would be?” Sheng Yunlan asked.

Nie Yangchen replied, “Someone who appears gentle but is deeply scheming.”

“Exactly. And Lu Pingfeng, the great painter, is someone who sees through everything but doesn’t reveal it, preferring to observe human nature from a higher vantage point. So when he’s probing whether you’re the kind of fan who would send dead rats or cockroaches to Wen Yuchi, what’s your mindset?” Sheng Yunlan asked again.

“Curious. It’s strange that Lu Pingfeng would ask about something unrelated to the painting. He never cares about who collects his work, but this time he asked about Mr. Zhuang, so Qin Lin should feel intrigued.”

“And with that curiosity, what kind of expression would you have towards Lu Pingfeng?” Sheng Yunlan continued to guide him.

Nie Yangchen raised his hand and covered his face, trying to recall Gu Xiaowei’s earlier gaze. Like a deep, cold pond, the more he probed, the less he knew how to react.

“I might need to organize my emotions…” Nie Yangchen lowered his head in thought, feeling unsure.

“It’s fine. You and Gu Xiaowei aren’t that familiar yet. It’s natural to feel uneasy under the influence of his acting.” Sheng Yunlan looked at Luo Yu. “Xiao Luo, why don’t you give it a try? See how you would explore Lu Pingfeng from Qin Lin’s perspective. Interested?”

“Well…I am interested. Let me think it over.”

Luo Yu touched his nose and frowned. If he was going to act, he couldn’t use Wen Yuchi’s style.

Nie Yangchen didn’t mind that the director was letting Luo Yu try out Qin Lin. He didn’t take it as an insult to his abilities, but saw it as an opportunity. After all, Luo Yu was clearly more familiar with Gu Xiaowei, and their chemistry could provide useful insights for Nie Yangchen.

Luo Yu took a deep breath, walked to Gu Xiaowei’s side, and gave the director and Nie Yangchen an OK gesture.

“The director wants me to try out Qin Lin.”

Gu Xiaowei raised his eyelids and glanced at Luo Yu. The cold, unapproachable expression he had a moment ago now carried a hint of teasing. “You? Play Qin Lin?”

“What, afraid you’ll slip up and treat me like Wen Yuchi?” Luo Yu squatted down, resting his chin on one hand, looking up at Gu Xiaowei.

Gu Xiaowei used the end of his paintbrush to gently brush away the fringe on Luo Yu’s forehead. “Whoever you play, I’ll treat you as whoever you are.”

The meaning was clear—whether Gu Xiaowei would slip up depended on Luo Yu’s acting.

The surrounding cast and crew were filled with anticipation and excitement at the thought of seeing Gu Xiaowei and Luo Yu performing together again, especially since they were playing different characters this time.

Nie Yangchen became curious as well; every actor needs emotional preparation to step into a specific role. Without a doubt, Luo Yu’s portrayal of Wen Yuchi was profound, but could he really transition from the emotions of Wen Yuchi to the completely different persona of the collector’s secretary, Qin Lin, in just a few minutes?

Luo Yu turned his face to cough, and when he turned back, his expression had changed, calm and composed, with a smile that conveyed a delightful sense of balance.

Gu Xiaowei’s gaze did not soften because he was facing Luo Yu; instead, the icy edge of his demeanor became even more pronounced.

“Secretary Qin, would Mr. Zhuang send a dead rat, cockroach, or spider as a gift?”

Luo Yu did not answer immediately but shared a smile with Gu Xiaowei, as if the other’s gaze could not penetrate his thoughts, yet he could see into Gu Xiaowei’s eyes.

The smile on Luo Yu’s lips subtly faded, becoming more serious than before.

“These things have no aesthetic value,” Luo Yu paused for a moment, straightening up, but his gaze remained locked onto Gu Xiaowei’s, “Mr. Zhuang would not send them as gifts.”

The latter half of his sentence was spoken softly, as if to soothe the other’s emotions, with a pleasing smoothness in his eyes.

This kind of eye contact was unique and subtle; countless actors had failed to reveal such expressions in front of Gu Xiaowei before.

It was like satin brushing against his body—when he tried to grasp it, all he held was air.

This was the dexterous, perceptive collector’s secretary, Qin Lin, who excelled at reading the room and dismantling the defenses of others.

Luo Yu looked at Sheng Yunlan and Nie Yangchen. “My performance is over; you can see if there are any aspects worth referencing.”

At this point, Nie Yangchen finally understood that Luo Yu’s acting skills were not just a matter of detail but also of the communication in their gazes.

Luo Yu’s eyes were filled with drama, almost a silent language. What he conveyed was not the emotions of joy, anger, or sorrow, but a connection.

Even an actor as closed off as Gu Xiaowei could connect with him.

Sheng Yunlan did not comment on whether Luo Yu’s performance was good or bad but told Nie Yangchen, “You don’t need to replicate Luo Yu’s performance; my goal is to help you understand what you’re lacking. Because aside from Wen Yuchi, your Qin Lin is the character who interacts the most with Lu Pingfeng. You cannot avoid Lu Pingfeng’s gaze; instead, you need to look into it. Even if you cannot resonate with Lu Pingfeng’s spirit like Wen Yuchi, you should still have the curiosity to glimpse into Lu Pingfeng’s world.”

Nie Yangchen frowned, seeming to grasp Sheng Yunlan’s meaning better.

“I think I can try again,” Nie Yangchen said, looking at Gu Xiaowei. “Teacher Gu, could I trouble you to perform the last segment with me again?”

Gu Xiaowei nodded.

Another cycle began. The crew immediately got into position as Director Sheng observed the actors’ performances through the monitor.

The scene returned to the studio, where Lu Pingfeng sat at an easel painting a butterfly, while Qin Lin bent over beside him.

“Secretary Qin, would Mr. Zhuang send a dead rat, cockroach, or spider as a gift?”

Lu Pingfeng’s gaze swept over, as if to stir the waters of Qin Lin’s heart, capturing his fleeting moment of insecurity.

However, Qin Lin seemed to drop a heavy anchor, stabilizing his emotions, even pondering why Lu Pingfeng would ask such questions—could it be related to the person he was waiting for?

Until he realized that Lu Pingfeng was well-guarded in his emotions, still revealing nothing. He smiled regretfully and said calmly, “These things have no aesthetic value. Mr. Zhuang would not send them as gifts.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Sitting at the monitor with his chin propped up, Luo Yu narrowed his eyes and murmured, “This guy’s comprehension is pretty sharp.”

“He’s just more open than you,” Sheng Yunlan glanced over at him, tapping his head. “I’m guessing, if Lu Pingfeng were not being played by Gu Xiaowei, you probably wouldn’t be so restrained.”

That feeling of having the most hidden part of his heart exposed by the other made Luo Yu’s ears heat up. 

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“Yes, an art exhibition just for you,” Lu Pingfeng spoke gently and calmly.

Wen Yuchi pulled out a chair and sat down. Lu Pingfeng picked up a white porcelain teapot, poured half a cup of tea into a porcelain cup in front of Wen Yuchi, and then added half a cup of milk, asking softly, “How many sugar cubes?”

Wen Yuchi smiled, looking at him, “How did you know I’d choose milk tea instead of coffee?”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“I gave you such an expensive gift, but after a week, I still haven’t received a thank you from you. If you truly didn’t want to communicate with me, you’d have sent it back through the delivery service. But… it’s such a beautiful butterfly specimen; you wouldn’t want it to get damaged in transit, so you’d deliver it back yourself. After so many days, you’ve finally come. So, I figured you must be very busy.” Lu Pingfeng’s gentle voice gradually eased Wen Yuchi’s tense nerves.

“So, why milk tea and not coffee?” Wen Yuchi asked curiously.

“Seven days of overtime—haven’t you had enough coffee?” Lu Pingfeng leaned toward Wen Yuchi and, closing his eyes, gently sniffed the collar of his shirt. “It’s not the scent of freshly ground Arabica coffee beans. You’ve been drinking a lot of instant coffee without milk. If you keep it up, the dark circles under your eyes won’t go away.”

Wen Yuchi, who had been forcing himself to stay awake, yawned openly at Lu Pingfeng’s words. His eyelids drooped, and he looked as if he might fall asleep on the table at any moment.

“Three sugar cubes, thank you.”

With that, Wen Yuchi grabbed the sweetest-looking cream muffin from the top of the dessert tower and stuffed it into his mouth.

Meanwhile, Lu Pingfeng, unhurriedly, used small tongs to drop three sugar cubes into Wen Yuchi’s milk tea. He swirled a spoon in the cup a few times and then rested it on the saucer.

“Do you like the gifts I gave you?” Lu Pingfeng asked with a hint of amusement in his smile.

“Those gifts?” Wen Yuchi grabbed the cup directly, drinking a large gulp like he was chugging water. The fine Ceylon tea was lost on him. “Isn’t the ‘Goddess of Light’ the only thing you gave me?”

“Your colleagues don’t seem to think so,” Lu Pingfeng hinted.

Perhaps due to days of constant work, Wen Yuchi’s brain was a bit slow. After a few seconds, he suddenly realized.

“Oh… you’re talking about those things. You know, you’re someone who pursues the ultimate in aesthetics. But cockroaches, rats, and spider corpses symbolize fear and humiliation. Those things couldn’t have come from you—they don’t match your style.”

Wen Yuchi leaned closer to look at him. Lu Pingfeng lowered his eyes and smiled gently.

“You’ve got a crazy fan, Mr. Great Artist,” Wen Yuchi straightened his back, wiped the almond crumbs from the corner of his mouth, leaned back lazily, and looked at Lu Pingfeng. “Maybe your fan got jealous of the beautiful butterfly you gave me.”

“If the ‘Goddess of Light’ is really that beautiful, why would you return it?”

“Because compared to the ‘Goddess of Light,’ there’s something even more beautiful drawing me back here.”

“Oh? And what is this more beautiful thing?” Lu Pingfeng lowered his head with a faint smile, then looked up, as if saying, “Go ahead, perform.”

Wen Yuchi’s answer was just one word: “You.”

At that moment, under the play of light and shadow, his smile seemed as fragile as moonlight falling upon a ruined city, as if it could lure the old town back to life to breathe one last time.

Lu Pingfeng’s gaze couldn’t shift away. Hesitant, he asked, “Me?”

“Mr. Lu, your bone structure is the most beautiful I’ve seen, whether in living people or dead bodies,” Wen Yuchi said, picking up another small cake and taking a bite, his eyes still fixed on Lu Pingfeng. “May I appreciate you for a moment?”

“With pleasure,” Lu Pingfeng’s smile deepened, the amusement in it more pronounced.

As an artist, this was the first time he had been treated as an artwork to be appreciated.

“Hmm, your brow bone is prominent, and your eye sockets are deep—but these I don’t need to mention. The key is that your brow bone isn’t too low. If it were too close to your eyes, it would create a sense of oppression. In that case, any attempt to present yourself as gentle and polite would lose credibility.”

The implication was that Lu Pingfeng’s current gentleness was a facade, simply benefitting from the structure of his brow and eye sockets.

“Your jawline is sharp, with clean and strong angles, giving you a sense of distance while also appearing noble and elegant.”

“Next, are you going to tell me about the golden ratio?” Lu Pingfeng asked.

Wen Yuchi swallowed the cake, and this time, Lu Pingfeng refilled his tea by a third, without adding more sugar or milk.

This person had a strong ability to observe and gauge his needs. Like now, Wen Yuchi had gobbled down two pieces of cake due to low blood sugar, but that didn’t mean he had a sweet tooth. Lu Pingfeng, just refilling his tea, helped to cut through the sweetness.

“Mr. Lu, you might be disappointed to hear that your features don’t quite fit the golden ratio. In fact, if they did, you’d likely look quite ordinary.” Wen Yuchi didn’t hold the handle of the cup, instead grabbing it as if he were drinking alcohol and taking a large gulp. “The beauty of your bone structure lies in the perfect balance of all its distances. The distance between your eyes, the space between your brow bone and your eye sockets, the length of your mid-face, the distance from your lower lip to your jaw—all are harmonious and perfect.”

This time, Lu Pingfeng lowered his head with a smile. From Wen Yuchi’s angle, he could only see his forehead and nose bridge, but the overwhelming beauty of it seemed to flood into Wen Yuchi’s eyes, as if it could make him cherish all things.

“So, you like my skull. If I die one day, I’ll make sure to leave my skull to you in my will,” Lu Pingfeng said seriously, looking up.

“Your wrist,” Wen Yuchi said.

“Hmm?”

“I like your wrist the most.” Wen Yuchi’s eyes fell to Lu Pingfeng’s wrist. “Unfortunately… I haven’t seen it today.”

Lu Pingfeng was wearing a light sweater over a linen shirt, with the cuff buttons fastened, concealing his wrist.

“Oh—Mr. Forensic Expert, when you shook my hand that day, was it to examine the scars on my fingers or to look at my wrist?” Lu Pingfeng asked.

“Your wrist.”

Wen Yuchi’s face showed no embarrassment, completely at ease.

“Would you still like to see it?” Lu Pingfeng extended his right hand toward Wen Yuchi.

“Yes, I would.” Wen Yuchi carefully wiped the crumbs from his fingers with a napkin, unbuttoned Lu Pingfeng’s cuff, and neatly folded it up.

Lu Pingfeng stretched his hand forward slightly, placing his wrist in Wen Yuchi’s palm.

“Should I update my will?”

“No need.” Wen Yuchi’s fingertips touched Lu Pingfeng’s wrist bone. “If you die one day, I probably won’t find it beautiful anymore.”

“Why?” Lu Pingfeng propped his chin with his other hand, his gaze never leaving Wen Yuchi’s face.

The young assistant forensic doctor lowered his eyelashes, focusing intently on the direction and curvature of the wrist bones, showing a candidness and authenticity that surpassed the flattery of art critics and collectors.

“It’s like a wildflower pulled from a cracked wall, or a twisted pine tree torn from a cliff, or a flying fish stranded on the shore—it loses its beauty. Only when it exists on your body does it have value for appreciation.”

Wen Yuchi, ever the gentleman, pushed Lu Pingfeng’s hand away and stood up. “Since this is a private art exhibition prepared just for me, I must take my time to appreciate Mr. Lu’s works.”

He walked to the door of the studio and began to make the round clockwise.

The first painting depicted a vine coiled around a tree. The tree had been drained of nutrients, its outer bark withered and peeling, and its center hollowed out, with insects crawling from the rot. The vine’s leaves had yellowed and drooped, unable to draw sustenance despite its tight grip.

The two formed a twisted shape, and the dark, gloomy colors of the painting only intensified the sense of struggle, as if the vine was trying to claw its way out of the canvas.

“What’s the name of this painting?”

“I never intended to display it publicly, so I didn’t give it a name.” Lu Pingfeng remained seated, leaning back, watching Wen Yuchi’s silhouette.

“This painting vividly captures the control and plunder born from love,” Wen Yuchi said softly, tilting his head. “So, loving someone too obsessively or too much is dangerous. The more one loves, the more one desires from the other.”

“Sounds as if you’ve once loved obsessively.”

Wen Yuchi shook his head. “I only obsess over finding the cause of death. Take this tree, for example. I would need to know what caused its wound, whether it was a disease or mechanical damage. How long it had been drained of nutrients, and how long it would take to decompose after it died.”

“But you see love in it,” Lu Pingfeng said, turning slightly to look at him.

“I see no love in dead things. It’s just that after hearing so many cases, this situation fits the profile of a passion-related crime involving control and possession.”

Having said that, Wen Yuchi moved on to the second painting.

In the field stood a scarecrow, and impaled on its shoulder was a sharpened bamboo stick, upon which a bird was skewered. The stick pierced the bird’s tail and emerged from its open beak. The bird’s feathers were already beginning to fall, some scattered on the scarecrow’s shoulder, while the scarecrow’s eerie grin, combined with the dark colors and exaggerated lines, evoked a chilling cruelty despite the absence of blood.

“My agent said this painting wouldn’t sell well, because it’s too neurotic,” Lu Pingfeng commented.

But Wen Yuchi didn’t step back. He even moved half a step closer to the scarecrow.

“Is loneliness neurotic?” Wen Yuchi asked softly, as if speaking to Lu Pingfeng or perhaps merely to himself.

“Why loneliness?” Lu Pingfeng’s finger twitched slightly.

“The farmer impaled this bird on the scarecrow’s shoulder to scare away the rest of the flock, right? Only with the farmer’s interest and death’s mercy does the scarecrow have this bird for company. But…”

“But what?” Lu Pingfeng stood up and walked to Wen Yuchi’s side, holding a teacup.

“But a scarecrow doesn’t have a heart. It doesn’t know what loneliness is. Unless…the person who painted it is very lonely.”

With that, Wen Yuchi turned back, took his tea cup from Lu Pingfeng, and drank from it deeply.

“Is there nothing in this world that stirs your emotions?” Lu Pingfeng asked.

“Of course there is. I’ll let you know when I’m feeling sentimental.” Wen Yuchi glanced back at him and moved on to the next painting.

In the center of the studio hung a painting of a redback spider. The male spider was reduced to half its body, but its most important part remained inside the female’s shell. Their chase and destruction formed a stark contrast, with wild strokes and dark yet bold colors. The male spider’s death carried an unsettling intensity, as the extremes of giving and taking made one’s heart tremble.

“Of all the works in this studio, this is your favorite, isn’t it?” Lu Pingfeng asked.

“It most resembles how I see you, Mr. Lu,” Wen Yuchi replied, turning to glance at Lu Pingfeng.

At that moment, Wen Yuchi’s eyes and the smile on his lips seemed to absorb the vividness and extremity of the painting, as if waiting for someone to approach him.

No matter how others viewed Lu Pingfeng as an oddity, in Wen Yuchi’s eyes, he always had the freedom to be understood and accepted.

When Lu Pingfeng regained his senses, he found himself standing in front of Wen Yuchi.

For that moment, he couldn’t deny a certain illusion—he was willing to offer up his body, from flesh to bone, to this person who deconstructed death, just to keep Wen Yuchi’s gaze on him.

Because only Wen Yuchi could interpret him through the lens of death.

That was an irreplaceable romance.

Just then, Wen Yuchi’s phone rang, and he answered it.

“Hello, Professor? Where are you? Got it, I’ll be there in about half an hour.”

After hanging up, Wen Yuchi looked at Lu Pingfeng.

“You have to work overtime again, don’t you?”

“Sorry, this private art exhibit you prepared so carefully—I can only admire up to here,” Wen Yuchi said, though his face showed no real apology.

“I’ll drop you off then.”

“At this hour, the subway will be faster.”

With that, Wen Yuchi grabbed another muffin, eating it as he left the studio.

Once both of them were out of the frame, the crew signaled that the scene had wrapped.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the set, followed by growing chatter.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they? That was such a long scene. I thought they’d break it into multiple takes, but they went through the whole thing without missing a single line.”

“Gu Xiaowei’s micro-expressions and tone were especially worth savoring. He’s so calm yet distant, but every time he talks to Wen Yuchi, his face changes…”

“Like a cold, perfect statue coming to life?”

“Exactly! And Luo Yu’s performance really exceeded my expectations! Every time he looked at Lu Pingfeng, I felt this anticipation rising inside me!”

Meanwhile, watching from the side, Nie Yangchen wasn’t thinking about Gu Xiaowei’s impeccable expressions or lines. Instead, he recalled Luo Yu’s smile as he stood in front of the redback spider and looked back at Gu Xiaowei.

In front of him, death had lost its original mystery and intimidation, and life in his eyes seemed to pass like a fleeting moment.

With that smile, all things withered would bloom again.

Had Lu Pingfeng, as a painter, ever imagined building a prison of his own making? Had he ever been provoked by an uncontrollable desire to get closer?

This scene still required a few more close-up shots of the leads.

The previous chemistry was so good that the crew worried whether they could recapture that state for the close-ups.

The assistant director nervously glanced at Sheng Yunlan, fearing that Gu Xiaowei and Luo Yu’s stellar performance might not be replicable, leaving the perfectionist director stuck on this scene.

But to everyone’s surprise, when the close-up shots were filmed, the interactions between the two actors only deepened.

Their gazes and lines seemed to be pulled together by invisible threads, every glance appearing candid, yet upon closer inspection, brimming with meaning.

Each line felt like a response to the other’s innermost thoughts.

The more they filmed, the more addictive it became for Sheng Yunlan, almost like he wanted to capture the scene from every possible angle, like a dramatic kiss in a romance film.

Finally, the close-ups were completed, and the crew began setting up for the next scene.

At that moment, Luo Yu was reviewing his script, while Ye Shengyi was helping him fix his hair.

“Brother Luo, you were amazing just now! You and Brother Gu almost melted the room!”

“We’re not molten chocolate cake, no melting needed,” Luo Yu laughed as he closed his eyes.

“By the way, tonight at eight, ‘Counterattack’ is airing. Brother Luo, are you excited? You’re the character that sets the stage in the opening!”

Luo Yu’s heart skipped a beat—”Counterattack” was finally about to air.

It was his first role since his rebirth. Whether or not he could win the audience’s approval would be determined tonight.

Shows like “Counterattack”, with its serious tone, often didn’t grab viewers’ attention in the beginning. It wasn’t until later plot twists and character development that the viewership ratings steadily climbed.

However… with Gu Xiaowei around, the ratings for the first episode should be stable.

At this moment, Gu Xiaowei sat down on the small chair beside him, holding a thermos cup and carefully reading the script with his head lowered.

Luo Yu placed one hand on his shoulder. “Hey, ‘Counterattack’ is airing tonight. Want to watch it together when we get back?”

Gu Xiaowei responded, “Sure.”

His makeup artist, Ah Yan, overheard and looked surprised. “Ai, Brother Gu, didn’t you say you don’t watch your own shows while they’re airing? Something about it affecting your performance?”

“You’re afraid of that?” Luo Yu laughed, leaning closer to Gu Xiaowei to check his expression.

His wrist was suddenly grabbed, and Gu Xiaowei lifted his gaze. His face appeared gentle, but his eyes were slightly cold—this was Lu Pingfeng’s demeanor.

“Instead of worrying about my state, why not worry about your own—can you keep your performance steady enough to continue drawing me in during the next scene?”

Gu Xiaowei’s gaze didn’t exert pressure on Luo Yu; rather, it felt like another kind of… more indulgent permission.

In the film, Wen Yuchi was drawn to the painting of the red-backed spider, while in reality, Luo Yu was lured by Gu Xiaowei, who stood by the painting watching him.

Luo Yu controlled his breathing and emotions, wearing the casual indifference that belonged to Wen Yuchi on his face, while inside, he felt a restless stirring.

In each scene, Luo Yu could, through Wen Yuchi’s identity, do everything to Gu Xiaowei that he wouldn’t do or even think of doing in real life.

“Of course,” Luo Yu answered.

As the crew pushed a light-blocking screen between them, Luo Yu’s view was momentarily obscured.

What a pity, he didn’t get to see Gu Xiaowei’s reaction. Luo Yu rested his chin in his hand, watching as Gu Xiaowei turned to prepare for the next scene.

The upcoming scene featured the arrival of the collector’s secretary, Qin Lin, played by Nie Yangchen, who intended to purchase Lu Pingfeng’s painting of the red-backed spider.

The setting remained in Lu Pingfeng’s studio, with various painting tools and that small tea table still present. A three-tiered dessert tray sat atop the tea table.

During the private art exhibition that day, all the other paintings had been put away, leaving only the red-backed spider painting on display.

Most actors and crew not involved in this scene were asked to leave, but Luo Yu was granted a small privilege. He grabbed a little stool, hugged Gu Xiaowei’s thermos cup, and nestled beside Director Sheng Yunlan.

As they adjusted the lighting and camera angles, Sheng Yunlan chatted briefly with Luo Yu.

“That last scene was well done—more vivid than before. But remember, you’re Wen Yuchi. Your goal isn’t just to attract Lu Pingfeng, but to draw him across the boundary toward you. This means you need to get closer, so close that even you feel the danger,” Sheng Yunlan looked at Luo Yu, observing his expression, ensuring he understood.

Some suggestions were just that—suggestions. But a talented actor could grasp the director’s intent, the kind of relationship and effect they were aiming for.

Luo Yu nodded. In truth, he already felt the “danger.” Gu Xiaowei possessed a kind of composed and dignified charm. When he hinted for Luo Yu to lure him, it was also a deadly attraction for Luo Yu. So many people in the world desired to get a glimpse of Gu Xiaowei’s desires, yet he gave Luo Yu that privilege.

“Don’t be afraid of getting in too deep, or of not knowing how to deal with Gu Xiaowei after the filming is over and you’ve returned to reality.”

Luo Yu was stunned. He hadn’t expected Sheng Yunlan to see through his concerns after just two scenes.

“Acting can lie, but the eyes cannot. He’s used to drawing from you the feelings needed to become Lu Pingfeng. He treasures your scenes together. You need to trust that, whether before or after filming, you two will always be each other’s unique counterparts,” Sheng Yunlan’s voice was calm yet solemn.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

It eased the small bit of unease in Luo Yu’s heart.

When he looked up, he saw Gu Xiaowei sitting by the easel, glancing sideways at him.

Luo Yu smiled, lifting his chin slightly and mouthing, “See you in the next scene.”

Gu Xiaowei lowered his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

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“You both grasped this initial encounter just right. Observing each other and piquing each other’s interest. Wen Yuchi isn’t looking at Lu Pingfeng’s painting but deconstructing the person himself. And Lu Pingfeng is also, for the first time, interested in a living person. This interest is no longer from a detached standpoint observing an ordinary person in the world of fame and fortune but a desire to enter the other’s life.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

After Sheng Yunlan finished speaking, Luo Yu touched his head, “Director Sheng, what you’re saying makes it seem like these two are about to fall in love!”

Sheng Yunlan replied with a smile, “Rather than love, it’s more like a kind of ‘desire.’”

It felt as if a small feather had brushed against the depths of his thoughts—itchy yet unscratchable.

“Lu Pingfeng is an artist, and ‘desire’ isn’t that artistic,” Luo Yu said, although his brows furrowed, clearly contemplating Sheng Yunlan’s words.

Because he knew that the “desire” Sheng Yunlan referred to was not merely about physical matters but something deeper and purer.

It was the kind of force capable of turning a person’s mindset from one extremity into another.

Sheng Yunlan lifted his chin, “Why don’t you two discuss and explore feelings? Each encounter between Lu Pingfeng and Wen Yuchi brings new understanding of each other. This kind of desire is more like a two-way excavation. People are born lonely, and when they meet someone who accepts their unconventional side, they start to hope and yearn for the other to understand them more—it’s like offering one’s spirit.”

“Alright, Luo Yu and I will take a walk nearby. The next scene should be the art studio’s exhibition, right? We’ll be back before the set is ready,” Gu Xiaowei said.

Sheng Yunlan nodded, “Go ahead.”

The two walked out with their scripts.

They didn’t go far and sat down by the outdoor table and chairs in the villa’s backyard.

“What do you think the director meant by ‘desire’?” Luo Yu leaned back in his wicker chair, and if it weren’t for maintaining his hairstyle, he would have scratched his head. He could only turn his face slightly towards Gu Xiaowei, “Lu Pingfeng’s desire is easy to understand—Wen Yuchi is the only living, breathing creature among all his interests, a variable, an infinite possibility.”

“Have you considered that this kind of desire might not be so noble? Wen Yuchi actively reached out to Lu Pingfeng, and the sensation of his fingers, the warmth of his palm was the first time Lu Pingfeng experienced it. It was a handshake without any interests attached, the ultimate that he adored—this admiration, as it continuously upgrades and becomes exclusive, makes Lu Pingfeng want more than just a handshake.”

Gu Xiaowei was sitting on the other chair, his hands properly placed on the script on the table, but Luo Yu had a sense of illusion that the other was infinitely approaching him.

“If Lu Pingfeng’s desire is the instinctual pursuit of life’s extremities, then Wen Yuchi’s is the same. What do you think—what is his instinct?” Gu Xiaowei asked.

Luo Yu realized that Gu Xiaowei’s eyes were not only deep but also had a mesmerizing power.

He wanted to appear unshaken, to not be swayed.

But upon reflection, why should he not be swayed?

Wen Yuchi seemed to stand on the other side of the boundary, but his persistence was never about clinging to principles.

Once he understood his goal, worldly rules could not confine him. So essentially, he and Lu Pingfeng were the same kind of person.

“Let’s assume that one day you developed a ‘desire’ for me, what would that desire be?” Gu Xiaowei’s voice sounded.

The voices of the staff, the sound of easels being tidied up, and even the breeze under the sunlight all faded away.

This assumption made Luo Yu feel as if something was breaking through the ground in his heart, like wild grass growing wildly. The more he tried to stay calm, the more uncontrollable his boundless imagination became.

“You’ve always been reluctant to think about it, haven’t you? Do you think such fantasizing is an offense to me?” Gu Xiaowei asked softly.

Luo Yu’s fingertips twitched, as if touched by electricity.

He was about to say, “Don’t you think it’s an offense?” but Gu Xiaowei said leisurely, “I allow you to fantasize anything about me.”

Like a kite pulled long and far, the other end fluttering high in the sky, wanting to indulge even if torn by the wind, while the string was tied to Luo Yu’s heart, making even his breath tangled in several loops.

—I allow you to fantasize anything about me.

Just such a simple remark made the string suddenly snap.

Luo Yu looked at Gu Xiaowei across from him. He had vaguely felt for a long time that everything about Gu Xiaowei could evoke his desires.

He remembered Gu Xiaowei watching him sword dance in the night wind, his figure shrouded in dim light, yet his gaze created a universe for Luo Yu, isolating all worldly shackles. Every time Luo Yu slashed his sword and looked back, Gu Xiaowei’s gaze felt like it was kissing the outline he left in this world.

The uncontrollable trembling of his heart attacked him again, and Luo Yu’s throat bobbed.

Gu Xiaowei stood up and patted Luo Yu on the shoulder, “Let’s go, it’s time to go in.”

Taking a deep breath, Luo Yu followed Gu Xiaowei back.

Was that remark just now spoken by Gu Xiaowei to Luo Yu, or by Lu Pingfeng to Wen Yuchi?

Luo Yu looked at Gu Xiaowei’s back and followed him back to the villa.

Today, their second scene is about to begin. The background of this scene is that forensic assistant Wen Yuchi returns to the police station and receives a gift from Lu Pingfeng.

After opening the package, Wen Yuchi found inside a specimen of a butterfly. After some research, he determined it to be a rare “Goddess of Light” butterfly, and the price of this specimen must be considerable.

Naturally, Wen Yuchi couldn’t accept such an expensive gift and had to return it to Lu Pingfeng. But just as he was about to leave, he coincidentally encountered a traffic case, and several bodies required him and his superior to work overtime, spending almost the entire week in the forensic office.

When Wen Yuchi finally took a breather and came out, he found himself receiving another package. The outer packaging was similar to the first gift sent by Lu Pingfeng—simple yet elegant. However, upon opening it, a foul stench spread out, causing nearby colleagues who were drinking coffee and writing reports to nearly vomit.

Because this time, the gift box contained dead mice and cockroaches, along with a card with words cut out from a newspaper: “Death kisses you in my place.”

For a while, news of Lu Pingfeng having antisocial personality disorder spread within the department, and even the news media were reporting it extensively.

Also on that day, Wen Yuchi received an invitation to Lu Pingfeng’s private art exhibition, with the address being his villa.

He reported this to Zhao Sichen. Zhao Sichen originally didn’t want him to go, but Wen Yuchi’s interest had already been piqued.

He told Zhao Sichen that this art exhibition was actually Lu Pingfeng’s way of giving him a reason to return the butterfly specimen. And no matter how arrogant Lu Pingfeng might be, he wouldn’t harm Wen Yuchi after sending him the invitation.

And this scene is Wen Yuchi’s arrival at Lu Pingfeng’s private art exhibition, with only the two of them in the scene.

The exhibition is located in Lu Pingfeng’s studio.

Luo Yu walked into the studio, which had been carefully rearranged by the staff—the previously messy easels had all been put away, and some non-saleable artworks were already hung on the walls.

A round tea table was placed in the center of the studio, with coffee and black tea already set out. The scent of paint mingled with the rich aroma of coffee and tea in the entire space. On the dining table were three-tiered pastry towers, meticulously baked Western pastries from the holiday mountain resort, each exquisitely detailed, with a ceremonial air.

There were only two chairs on either side of the dining table, clearly indicating that this private art exhibition was prepared for only one person.

Taking a deep breath, Luo Yu looked at Gu Xiaowei standing on the other side of the studio.

He had changed into another outer garment, with warmer colors, which softened his overall gloomy demeanor with a hint of vitality.

Leaning against the wall, he tilted his face slightly, his forehead just touching a frame containing two Australian redback spiders. The male spider used its body as bait to invite the female spider to eat it, just for that moment of pleasure, sacrificing its life.

The entire scene exuded a cruel yet intense tension.

A strand of hair fell from Gu Xiaowei’s forehead, brushing against his brows. He looked at Luo Yu, and while everyone might have thought his expression cold, Luo Yu saw that slight smile at the corner of his mouth… a smile meant only for him.

Something more fatal than the redback spider’s invitation.

Luo Yu closed his eyes, exhaled, and heard his own heartbeat, faster than usual, filled with indescribable anticipation and impulse, guided by Gu Xiaowei’s “desire,” viewing Lu Pingfeng from Wen Yuchi’s perspective.

When Lu Pingfeng first met Wen Yuchi, he noticed his hypoglycemia; he gave him the expensive butterfly specimen “Goddess of Light”; and even organized this private art exhibition for him.

All of this was to please.

The purpose of pleasing was to tempt.

Since you are tempting me, I can also tempt you.

Whoever sees the other person’s world first can step forward to find the truth they want.

So Wen Yuchi was also tempting Lu Pingfeng, leading him from the silent place of death to the other side of the boundary.

This kind of temptation made Lu Pingfeng’s withered soul turn towards vitality.

Luo Yu closed his eyes to organize and brew his emotions, adjusting his breathing and heartbeat.

Throughout the entire villa, the staff were still making final scene adjustments, adjusting the angle of the lights, and the shouting was incessant, but all the noise drifted far from Luo Yu’s mind. His heart grew quieter and quieter, like a whale sinking to the bottom of the sea, and Gu Xiaowei… was his everything.

When Luo Yu opened his eyes again and locked eyes with Gu Xiaowei across from him, he smiled faintly.

That smile made Gu Xiaowei feel a desire to approach him more quickly.

“Lu Pingfeng, Wen Yuchi, please take your places!” The loudspeaker sounded.

Gu Xiaowei walked towards the dining table and sat down in the position facing the door. His body relaxed, one hand hanging by the chair’s edge, the other resting on the armrest, devoid of the usual stiff impression, appearing very relaxed.

With the sound of the clapperboard, this scene began.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Wen Yuchi had just finished work, wearing casual clothes commonly seen on the streets, loose khaki pants, and white sneakers. Because of his tall figure, the hem of his casual shirt swayed gently as he approached Lu Pingfeng, exuding a naturally laid-back demeanor.

“Mr. Lu, your private art exhibition—is it only me as the guest?”

As he spoke, Wen Yuchi placed the gift box on the dining table. He didn’t deliberately greet Lu Pingfeng but instead looked around with his hands in his pockets.

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“Sure, it’s my turn for the next scene. Perfect for waking up.” Luo Yu touched his chin and looked sideways into Gu Xiaowei’s eyes. “This is the first encounter between Lu Pingfeng and Wen Yuchi in the film.”

Gu Xiaowei poured some coffee into the lid of his cup and handed it to Luo Yu, completely unconcerned about sharing his things with him.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“En, you must have used some really good coffee beans. The acidity is just right, with a hint of fruitiness.” Luo Yu savored the taste.

At this moment, the crew called out, “The second scene will begin in three minutes!”

Luo Yu downed the remaining coffee in one gulp and handed the cup lid back to Gu Xiaowei.

The two walked side by side toward the nearby studio.

Nie Yangchen watched Luo Yu’s back and squinted his eyes.

Interesting. With Gu Xiaowei’s acting skills, he could easily outshine any actor his age. But Hao Xiang, the top agent at Dijun Media, had said that Luo Yu had a presence that matched Gu Xiaowei’s.

Then let’s see if Luo Yu can hold his own in a scene with Gu Xiaowei.

The studio was organized in a chaotic but orderly manner, the air filled with the scent of paint. The wooden floors carried the lingering scent of grass and soil, with old paint stains still visible.

Rows of easels stood like dominoes, some half-finished paintings left to dry, a thin layer of dust covering the tops of the frames.

Some were covered with cloth. A curious police officer lifted one, revealing a desolate forest with gnarled branches that looked as if they could crumble at any moment.

Every painting held a gaze fixed upon death.

The second scene began filming.

In the center of the studio was a chair and an easel.

Wen Yuchi, played by Luo Yu, wore casual clothes, a few strands of hair sticking up as if he’d left in a hurry, yet his expression was calm and composed.

He slowly took a small aluminum flask from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip, his gaze fixed intently on the painting in front of him. His eyes seemed to part the tangled grass, reaching deep into the earth.

Wen Yuchi embodied a paradox, exuding both indolence and meticulousness.

On the canvas before him was a dead nightingale, covered in moss, half of its body gnawed to the bone by ants.

A sense of decay and gloom seeped into the air from the painting.

Wen Yuchi’s gaze traced every line, every shadow on the canvas, deconstructing the painting with his eyes.

Lu Pingfeng walked up beside Wen Yuchi, first looking at the young man’s profile, then noticing his eyes.

Though he looked like a recent college graduate, his gaze was sharp and penetrating.

Lu Pingfeng saw the soft, fine hair on his cheek, the curve of his wrist as he held the metal flask, and the blade-like line of his jaw as he swallowed.

Gentle yet sharp.

“They all say death is my eternal theme,” Lu Pingfeng spoke.

The tone and voice sounded no different from earlier, but if you listened closely, you could detect a hint of provocation, perhaps curiosity, since Wen Yuchi seemed so different from the other officers.

The scrutiny in Wen Yuchi’s eyes gradually disappeared, replaced by a faint warmth, like the morning light on Lu Pingfeng’s profile.

“But what I see is life. The moss and ants survived because of this nightingale’s death. Just like a whale fall—when a whale falls, life blossoms.”

Lu Pingfeng raised his hand, stopping just beside Wen Yuchi’s ear. For a moment, he wanted to smooth down the unruly strands of hair, but perhaps because they weren’t familiar with each other, he let his hand drop and spoke as if chatting with an old friend. “You must really love life.”

Wen Yuchi turned his head, meeting Lu Pingfeng’s gaze.

“No, I love death. It is the ultimate form of life, the constant, the unchanging answer.” Wen Yuchi put the flask back in his pocket and extended his hand to Lu Pingfeng. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lu. I’m Wen Yuchi, forensic assistant.”

Lu Pingfeng lowered his eyes, looking at Wen Yuchi’s long, pale fingers, the veins visible on the back of his hand. These clean hands, once gloved and wielding a scalpel, could cut open a lifeless body and reveal the words left unsaid by the deceased.

“Hello.” Lu Pingfeng shook Wen Yuchi’s hand.

At that moment, Captain Zhao Sicheng walked over, nodding in Wen Yuchi’s direction.

Lu Pingfeng was about to release Wen Yuchi’s hand, but Wen Yuchi subtly tightened his grip. Though the gesture felt somewhat forceful, his face remained calm and easygoing.

“Captain Zhao, there’s a luminol reaction in this studio,” Wen Yuchi announced, drawing everyone’s attention.

Including Lu Pingfeng’s. He looked down coldly at the hand holding his, thinking that perhaps this forensic assistant wasn’t so different from the others.

Zhao Sicheng’s expression immediately turned serious. “Where?”

“Hmm, the floor under the middle easel. If I’m not mistaken, the bloodstains are from two to three weeks ago.”

Which didn’t match the time of death for yesterday’s victim.

“How do you know?” Zhao Sicheng asked.

Luminol alone couldn’t determine how long the bloodstain had been there.

Wen Yuchi flipped over Lu Pingfeng’s hand, showing a fine cut on the side of his index finger. “Look, this must be from when Mr. Lu was sharpening a pencil and nicked his finger with the sharpener, am I right?”

Lu Pingfeng nodded slightly. “Yes.”

“Please be more careful next time,” Wen Yuchi said, looking into Lu Pingfeng’s eyes with a playful smile.

It seemed that Wen Yuchi had pointed out the luminol reaction just to tease Lu Pingfeng.

In that smile, Lu Pingfeng seemed to glimpse the true meaning of “when a whale falls, life blossoms.”

Wen Yuchi released Lu Pingfeng’s hand and walked toward Zhao Sicheng. “Captain, the studio doesn’t seem to have any issues for now. Do we need to check other parts of the villa?”

“Then you might need a search warrant, Captain Zhao,” Lu Pingfeng’s ethereal, cold voice had a hint of liveliness compared to before in the living room.

Zhao Sicheng gave a formal smile. “Thank you very much for your cooperation today, Mr. Lu. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

With that, Zhao Sicheng and Wen Yuchi left the studio side by side.

Wen Yuchi, with his hands in his pockets, leaned toward Zhao Sicheng and spoke with a bit of childishness in his tone, “He must think I wasn’t sincere when I shook his hand earlier, so he’s upset.”

“Are you ever sincere when you shake hands?” Zhao Sicheng snorted. “You just wanted to confirm the cut on his finger, didn’t you?”

“Hehe. How do you know everything, Captain?”

Just then, Lu Pingfeng’s voice sounded from behind them.

“Forensic Assistant Wen, have you finished your sugar water?”

Wen Yuchi paused for a moment. His recent medical checkup had revealed low blood sugar, so he carried a bottle of sugar water with him.

Thermoses and plastic bottles were too large, so the small aluminum flask he had bought online fit perfectly in his pocket. Ever since he started using it, his colleagues joked that Wen Yuchi was sipping vodka while performing autopsies.

Today was the first time he had met Lu Pingfeng, yet after just a few words, Lu Pingfeng had guessed that the flask contained sugar water.

“I’ll have Uncle He prepare some for you. It wouldn’t be good if your low blood sugar caused dizziness and affected your work on the way back.”

Lu Pingfeng’s voice was always polite and gentle, as if he was carefully observing an invisible boundary.

Wen Yuchi turned around and looked at him. Clearly, this was Lu Pingfeng’s response to Wen Yuchi’s handshake, confirming the cut on his finger.

—While you were observing me, I was also watching you.

“Forensic Assistant Wen, you’re treating me as a shortcut to solve this case. It may seem like a scenic route, but it won’t lead you to the answer you seek.”

Lu Pingfeng stood in the center of the studio, surrounded by layers of canvases. Though the high-pressure sodium lamps lit the ceiling and the solid floor was beneath him, in Wen Yuchi’s eyes, it felt like a turbulent rainy night, with overlapping clouds about to break free from the sky.

Wen Yuchi dropped his carefree and lazy demeanor, his gaze turning serious.

This silence left Zhao Sicheng at a loss for words.

But just as the atmosphere reached its lowest point, Wen Yuchi smiled lightly. 

At that moment, it was as if a barely visible spark had fallen into the overgrown ruins of the old city, igniting a blaze that quickly burned everything to a faded hue. Yet, that fleeting smile from Wen Yuchi remained on the other side of the boundary. No matter how things deteriorated, he remained vibrant and full of life.

“This path, even if it doesn’t lead to the answer I want, can still lead to you.”

With that, Wen Yuchi took out the empty aluminum flask from his pocket and gave it a gentle shake. 

After a few seconds of waiting, the sound of “cut” finally came.

The staff then realized—the scene had ended?

The final exchanged glances at the end of the scene were neither confrontational nor probing but conveyed an indescribable sense of destiny.

Sheng Yunlan slightly lifted his chin, staring at the screen, and sighed in admiration—indeed, if Gu Xiaowei was the chosen one for portraying Lu Pingfeng, then Luo Yu was the irreplaceable Wen Yuchi. Without either of them, the final moment of this scene wouldn’t have had the same effect.

The sense of fate in their gazes could not be achieved through post-production.

Luo Yu flashed Gu Xiaowei a broad smile and tilted his chin, “Let’s go and check the shooting results.”

Gu Xiaowei stood in place, still seeing Wen Yuchi’s smile, as if the tide that had surged toward him had suddenly receded, taking with it his breath and heartbeat as it withdrew.

“Teacher Gu, your thermos cup.” A staff member holding Gu Xiaowei’s thermos approached him.

“Thank you.” Gu Xiaowei nodded lightly and then stepped forward to catch up with Luo Yu.

Nie Yangchen, who had watched the scene from the sidelines, was unsure how to describe his current feelings.

He thought he had a realistic understanding of acting, that many things could not be achieved through lines, expressions, and body movements.

But Gu Xiaowei had used his aura to create a powerful atmosphere, drawing the onlookers into his world.

Just when Nie Yangchen thought this was the closest to an ideal level of acting, Luo Yu refreshed his perception once more.

In the previous performance, Luo Yu did not use any deliberate confrontational tone or gaze with Gu Xiaowei, yet he possessed a kind of inclusiveness. He was not resisting Gu Xiaowei’s aura but rather subtly integrating and blending with it.

In Luo Yu, there was no sense of a “savior’s” halo, yet that final smile made everyone understand that even if Lu Pingfeng was in a dire state, Wen Yuchi would be the remedy for him.

Luo Yu moved closer to the monitor and asked the director, “Director Sheng, how was the result of the shot just now?”

Sheng Yunlan sighed, “If you and Gu Xiaowei maintain this level of performance, we might not stay in this resort for long.”

“That wouldn’t do. I actually quite like this place. The longer we stay, the better,” Luo Yu joked.

Gu Xiaowei stood at a not too far but not too near distance, and Luo Yu waved him over, “What are you dawdling for? Don’t you want to see how your performance was?”

After a couple of seconds, Gu Xiaowei walked over to Luo Yu, bending down to look at the screen.

“Tsk, look at your expression in this scene. I’m wondering if I could perform Lu Pingfeng to your level.”

Luo Yu turned his face and noticed that Gu Xiaowei was not looking at the monitor but at him.

Despite having a clear and cold gaze, it was as if his eyes were blooming like a queen of the night under the blazing sun—regardless of the heat or decay, they only sought to reveal the hidden secrets deep within the flesh and bones.

“Gu…”

“Watch the scene, not me,” Gu Xiaowei said.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Luo Yu felt like he was caught daydreaming in class, his ears subtly turning red.

But then he realized, no, it was actually Gu Xiaowei who was watching him first.

Sheng Yunlan’s comments on their performance pulled Luo Yu out of his embarrassment.

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