Who is Cai Hong?

Yu Min asked.

Exactly the message he’d expected.

Liang Yan’s eyes were half-lowered, the cold glow of his phone screen lighting his face, reflecting only a flat coldness in his irises.

He didn’t waste time answering; instead he directly forwarded the document Zhou Jiaye had helped compile earlier to Yu Min.

The other party fell silent for about twenty minutes upon receiving the document, then asked: Do your parents know?

Liang Yan: Not yet.

Yu Min: Good. Don’t tell them yet.

Yu Min: I’ll go see her myself first.

Whether to tell them or not — did it even matter anymore, at this point?

Liang Yan set his phone down, and along with it, seemed to set down something else that had been weighing on his heart.

Probably the confusion.

And that self-blame, rooted deep.

He was a normal person, and normal people, naturally, couldn’t make sense of the logic behind a madwoman’s actions.

A few more seconds passed; Liang Yan found a lower stool, sat down at the bedside, using the bed as a makeshift table, resting his arm on the soft blanket, propping his chin up with one hand, watching Qiao Qi on the bed with no particular expression.

Like some idle male classmate with nothing better to do, utterly absorbed in staring at the girl he liked.

Until Tong Shuqu came in to change the IV bag.

Tong Shuqu looked no better off than Liang Yan, but duty kept him at his post regardless.

That morning he’d cleaned himself up briefly in his office, changed his clothes, put on his white coat, and once again became the composed, capable Dr. Tong, moving smoothly between patients and their families.

Liang Yan, though, had no such luck — the hospital wasn’t his home, and he had no change of clothes on hand.

So he was left looking, frankly, rather the worse for wear.

Tong Shuqu spoke, his voice hoarse. “Go get some rest.”

Liang Yan said nothing.

Tong Shuqu knew he had no intention of leaving right now. “She won’t sleep too much longer. If she wakes up and finds you still like this, she’ll blame herself.”

Liang Yan paused, but still said nothing.

Still, Tong Shuqu could tell his resolve had loosened somewhat. “Did you two get time off from the production?”

Liang Yan hummed an “Mm.”

His voice sounded no better than Tong Shuqu’s.

Tong Shuqu said, “Isn’t it a problem, both of you taking leave at once?”

It was, in fact, a problem.

But in this world, when did things ever go exactly as one wished?

Tong Shuqu knew he’d asked a pointless question. Before leaving, he said, “Well, we can’t both collapse at once, at least.”

Liang Yan hardly had time to collapse — no sooner had he stepped out to wash his face than commotion broke out again from Liang Xumo’s room.

Liang Yan stood outside the ward, watching Liang Xumo’s episode with cold detachment.

Human emotion, so often, changes in an instant — the instant he’d been on the phone with Zhou Jiaye, the instant he’d stepped out of what felt like a visitation room, the instant he’d caught sight of the Mingtian Orphanage gate clearly, and the instant, last night, when Qiao Qi, beside him, in a voice so fragile yet somehow carrying such enormous weight, had said “maybe it’s its own kind of blessing for the rest of her life”……

Though it had only been a matter of days, Liang Yan felt as though he’d walked through half a lifetime.

At last, once the ward fell silent again, the wreckage inside quieting down too, Liang Yan looked once more, deeply, before turning to leave.

Light spilled from the far end of the hallway; behind Liang Yan, his shadow stretched long.

The shadow grew thinner, longer still.

Suddenly, a pair of high heels stepped onto that shadow.

Liang Yan?

He Nianyi was quite surprised to run into Liang Yan here; at first she almost didn’t dare believe it — after all, how could someone who so prided himself on being a dashing, stylish public image possibly be willing to be seen looking so utterly disheveled?

But a person’s essential air doesn’t change just because of something as superficial as appearance, so despite her disbelief, He Nianyi felt certain — this was indeed Liang Yan.

The Liang Yan who was supposed to be filming in the neighboring city.

How was he here in Hu City?

And looking like this, no less?

He Nianyi watched his figure disappear around the corner before reaching up to adjust the cap on her head.

She wore a mask over her face, a black down jacket, and a pair of over-the-knee heeled boots that rather clashed with the idea of “keeping a low profile.”

Her heels clicked crisply as she walked toward the spot where Liang Yan had just been standing for so long, and, just then, a nurse happened to push a door open and come out, visibly shaken.

Nearly running straight into He Nianyi.

Fortunately the nurse reacted in time and caught He Nianyi’s arm — and He Nianyi, seizing the opportunity, stretched her neck to peek into the ward.

One glance was all it took — she saw a woman lying on the bed.

——Was that Liang Xumo?

Liang Yan’s sister?

“Sorry, sorry……” the nurse apologized.

He Nianyi’s eyes swept over the fresh scratches on the nurse’s arm, the side of her face, and her neck, and flickered briefly. “It’s fine,” she said. “Wasn’t paying attention, must’ve been daydreaming.”

As she spoke, she deliberately cast a mournful glance toward the ward.

The nurse promptly, on her own initiative, took He Nianyi for a friend of Liang Xumo’s, sighing. “The patient’s condition has only just barely stabilized — visitors aren’t advised right now.”

He Nianyi deliberately hesitated, as if torn. “Is she still……”

Then swallowed the rest of the sentence back.

Because she wasn’t sure whether to say “improving” or “recovering” or something else entirely.

But the nurse filled in naturally enough. “Don’t hold your breath — nerve issues are usually very hard to fully treat, and hers is quite severe……what a shame.”

He Nianyi startled, blurting out, “You mean her nerves……”

The nurse, thinking she’d chosen her words poorly, apologized at once. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by ‘nerves’ — the patient just needs to cooperate with treatment. Visits aren’t recommended for now. Sorry you came all this way.”

He Nianyi said it was fine on the surface, putting on a worried, troubled expression as she glanced once more toward the ward, but inside she was utterly stunned.

Liang Yan’s sister — a mental patient?

Now that was quite the piece of news.

He Nianyi, standing there just as stiffly as Liang Yan had, only turned to leave once the nurse hurried her along.

Reaching the corner where Liang Yan had vanished minutes earlier, He Nianyi couldn’t wait any longer and pulled out her phone to call someone.

The moment the call connected, she couldn’t hide her excitement. “Lin Chu! Our chance is here! Our chance has finally come!”

Today, for whatever reason, both Liang Yan and Qiao Qi had taken leave at once, and the crew had spent most of the day with Lin Chu carrying solo shots, so busy he was practically dizzy; he was a beat slow picking up the call. “What chance?”

He Nianyi’s good mood, dampened somewhat by Lin Chu’s flat tone, made her pout. “Why the unhappy attitude again?”

Lin Chu glanced over at Cheng Yueming, not far from him, thought it over, and still stood up, feigning urgency to head to the restroom, lowering his voice as he walked. “Nothing. What chance were you talking about just now?”

When Lin Chu actually pressed for details, He Nianyi found herself, for once, in no rush at all. Her earlier excitement over the “good news” had gone slightly to her head, but Lin Chu’s cool response had sobered her up.

The fact that Liang Xumo was mentally ill was already settled, indisputable — a madwoman didn’t just spontaneously recover overnight.

What was there to rush about?

What mattered more right now was……

He Nianyi thought of Lin Chu’s cool, detached manner and couldn’t help feeling her heart flutter.

She hadn’t even expected herself to fall for someone like this so easily.

Nor had she expected him to respond to her so quickly, either.

The only shame was that this dull, old-fashioned man of hers insisted on keeping things secret, playing at some clandestine affair.

Though granted, some things couldn’t exactly be done out in the open, sneaking around together did have its own thrill, once in a while.

Thinking of the ways Lin Chu behaved so differently from his usual self in private, He Nianyi couldn’t help going a little weak in the knees.

She also couldn’t help privately resenting Director Cheng — as if it weren’t enough having Unit A and Unit B running simultaneously, did they really have to spread them across two different cities too?

Was it really necessary?

She whined, “Guess who I ran into at the hospital just now.”

Lin Chu, distracted, said, “Who?”

He Nianyi huffed. “You didn’t even ask why I was at the hospital!”

Lin Chu, hearing this, glanced up at his own reflection in the restroom mirror. He turned on the tap absentmindedly, water running over his palm, softening the calluses there.

He stared at it, and said, meaningfully, “I know your stomach’s been bothering you lately. You think I haven’t been worried about you?”

His words were perfectly proper, but his tone carried something else entirely.

He always managed a perfectly upright manner regardless.

And He Nianyi ate it right up, huffing once more, but letting him off the hook.

She said, “I ran into Liang Yan.”

Lin Chu’s first reaction was to frown and ask, “What did you two talk about?”

He Nianyi: “Didn’t talk. I didn’t run into him face to face, but I found out something else.”

Didn’t run into him face to face?

Lin Chu, quietly, let out a breath of relief.

He was well aware of Cheng Yueming’s relationship with Liang Yan; though Cheng Yueming was always complaining and grumbling about Liang Yan to him, how many people in this industry actually dared badmouth Liang Yan behind his back?

He’d taken up with Cheng Yueming for the sake of his own career — the girl clearly had backing behind her, so he couldn’t treat her the way he treated other disposable flings.

But what about his physical needs, then?

Well, that just meant finding someone else.

And so, he’d set his sights on He Nianyi.

This woman — all looks, no brains.

Thinking of how easily He Nianyi threw herself at him, Lin Chu couldn’t help but sneer inwardly, though on the surface he still played along, asking, “What happened?”

“Something huge!” He Nianyi said, practically buzzing with excitement.

Lin Chu noticed the odd swing in He Nianyi’s mood and couldn’t help frowning.

Had he slipped up somewhere without noticing?

But it was only a fleeting thought, quickly dismissed by Lin Chu.

On this front, he’d always been extremely careful, never leaving behind anything anyone could use against him.

“Mm, go on,” he said, his tone landing exactly right — gentle, faintly helpless, giving off the sense of someone being fondly indulged.

He Nianyi, predictably, brightened. “Liang Yan’s sister — the one who caused that whole scandal a while back — turns out she’s a mental patient! An actual lunatic!” “I guarantee no one else knows this. If we find the right moment to leak it, the public’s bound to turn all their attention onto the Liang family because of Liang Yan — with a scandal like that, there’s no way Chairman Liang won’t have to deal with it!”

She added, “Lin Chu, if Liang Yan’s out, the male lead role is definitely yours!”

Idiot.

With this kind of lineup and this level of buzz, even without Liang Yan, there’d just be some other “Liang Yan” to replace him.

But still……if there really was a chance like that.

Why not go for it?

After all, whether Liang Yan stayed or left made no difference to him except upside, no downside.

Lin Chu, thinking it over, said, with practiced sanctimony, “What do you think? Whatever you decide. Whatever makes you happy.”

What would make her happy?

Obviously, getting Qiao Qi taken down along with him.

He Nianyi hung up the phone, and on her way back to the crew, kept turning over in her mind how best to make this happen.

Not until she was scrolling through an anonymous app on her phone did it suddenly occur to her — right, since Liang Yan clearly cared so much about Liang Xumo, whoever had hurt Liang Xumo, Liang Yan surely wouldn’t let that person off easily.

So why not pin the whole thing on Qiao Qi instead?

Meanwhile, far off in the neighboring city, Lin Chu had also made his way back to set. He’d just sat down when Cheng Yueming casually sidled over, as if by chance.

Lin Chu smiled at her, and, in a corner where no one else could see, hooked his finger around hers.

Cheng Yueming’s ears flushed red. She said quietly, “Tired?”

Lin Chu shook his head.

Cheng Yueming sighed. “I don’t even know what’s going on — Liang Yan and Qiao Qi both took leave.”

Lin Chu, feigning indifference, asked, “For how long?”

“No idea,” Cheng Yueming sighed again. “Real troublemakers, the both of them.”

Lin Chu said, “You should ask. Just in case it’s something serious.”

Cheng Yueming thought it over. “Okay.”

So she texted Qiao Qi on WeChat — no response. Texted Liang Yan — no response either.

No luck.

But just as she was about to close out of WeChat, a news notification popped up at the top of her screen:

【Liang Yan Spotted Looking Disheveled at Hospital, Qiao Qi Rumored to Have Miscarried】

Cheng Yueming: “……?”

She blinked, dazed. “Wh-what is this?”

Lin Chu leaned over to look, and said, “Fake, probably?”

The other cast members, overhearing, asked curiously, “What’s fake?”

Before Lin Chu could answer, several others had already gotten the same news push.

Gasps rippled through the group. “Wait, they went to the hospital on leave?”

Lin Chu said, “These news outlets these days just make things up on a whim.”

Cheng Yueming chimed in, “Exactly. And people in the industry, of all people, should know better than to fall for that.”

Just then, her phone buzzed with a reply from Liang Yan.

Liang Yan: At the hospital.

Liang Yan: Something wrong?

Cheng Yueming: “……”

I’m not the one with the problem.

Big brother.

You’ve got a big problem now.

Author’s note:

I know this part of the plot’s probably boring to you all, but it had to happen, right……