Chapter 40

He felt so deeply grateful to Duan Baisui—and loved him so much.
Duan Baisui had never once looked down on his origins, or on his slowness. With everything he did, he was accepting Zuo Nian’s past and quietly telling him how much he loved him.
That night when he got home, Zuo Nian took out all the little toys and skimpy outfits he’d hidden away in the wardrobe. He’d bought them himself before, carefully read all the instructions, even asked the sales clerk how to use them. He’d prepared everything down to the last detail, ready to offer himself up as a gift to the person he loved.
When Duan Baisui stepped into the bedroom, he saw a completely different side of him.
Surprised by his enthusiasm and initiative, Duan Baisui laughed as they tangled together. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” he asked.
Breath unsteady, Zuo Nian straddled him, taking the lead as he moved up and down. “I want Gege to be happy,” he said.
“Oh?” Duan Baisui arched a brow.
When he grew tired, Zuo Nian slumped against his chest, kissing his chin with sleepy affection. “I went to see Director Mama and the kids today,” he said. “The place is really nice now. There’s plenty of fruit and fresh meat—so, so much meat. The little brothers and sisters don’t have to cut one apple into eight slices anymore, or drink that soup with nothing but a couple bits of meat. They can eat until they’re full. I… I’m really, really happy. Thank you, Gege. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
A warm palm stroked slowly down his back. “So this is my reward?” Duan Baisui asked.
“Does Gege like it?” Zuo Nian asked. “Nian‑nian doesn’t really know what to do. But when I was waiting for you to come home, I really, really wanted to hug you, and really wanted to do this with you. So it’s not just a reward for you… because I like it a lot too.”
Rolling him over, Duan Baisui took control. His movements were slow and deep. Listening to the sounds spilling from Zuo Nian’s throat, he said, “I like it. As long as it’s with you, I’ll like anything.”
In mid‑March, Duan Baisui had to go to T City for a week on business. The company’s talent show was in full swing, entering a fierce battle for the top eight. As a special guest judge for that round, he needed to record an episode with the trainees. At the same time, the Qinghua Awards had invited him to present a trophy. His entire week was packed tight.
Zuo Nian helped him pack his suitcase, nagging at him for ages—telling him to be careful, to remember to eat on time.
Duan Baisui almost didn’t want to leave. He hated to be apart from him. But Zuo Nian couldn’t go along: his little fool had promised the welfare home kids he’d come every afternoon to teach them crafts. They each had things they needed to do.
He couldn’t selfishly drag Zuo Nian away from his own life.
The first night he arrived in T City, he went straight to the set to go over the process with the director.
There was no script. What they wanted from him was his most honest feedback.
He headed to the practice room first to see how the contestants were doing. It was already past eight in the evening, but everyone was still drilling in front of the mirrors.
Partway through a dance, one Omega slipped and fell. It was the kind of tiny accident that happened all the time. Trainees were forever getting bruised or banged up. Usually they rested for a couple of minutes and then went right back to work. Time was tight.
But this Omega’s first reaction was to throw himself on the floor and burst into loud sobs. Everyone thought he’d really hurt himself. They rushed to get the team doctor. After a careful check, they found it was only a small scrape.
People hovered around him, soothing him, even crying along with him. Someone called an ambulance.
Duan Baisui was speechless. “Is this some ‘brotherhood’ storyline you arranged?” he asked the director.
The director chose his words with care. “No. Maybe Omegas are just more delicate. And the contestants are very close.”
Duan Baisui: …
There were behind‑the‑scenes interviews afterward. Everything would be edited together for broadcast.
“Today was your first time at the recording site,” the host said later. “After seeing how the contestants did just now, what would you like to say to them?”
“Nothing much,” Duan Baisui said tersely. “Just… do your best.”
“Compared to the star contestants from last season, how do you think they measure up?” the host pressed.
“Not as good as last season,” Duan Baisui said bluntly.
The first three days were all spent interacting with the contestants at the practice venue. On the fourth night came the Qinghua Awards ceremony.
It was one of the industry’s most prestigious awards. Not only did Xingyu’s artists take home both Best Actor and Best Actress, two newcomers also won Best Supporting Actress and Most Popular Newcomer.
The latter went to Ju Xiao.
Onstage, he thanked his fans and his director, then placed special emphasis on the company that had nurtured him—and on President Duan Baisui, who had supported him.
On paper, it was the same boilerplate speech almost every actor gave.
But to those listening, the way he said it carried a different weight.
After the ceremony, Ju Xiao ran into Duan Baisui at the venue doors.
His drama hadn’t wrapped yet. He’d lost a few more kilos for the role, leaving him looking almost sickly thin, but his eyes were clear and bright. Nothing showed a person’s current life like the light—or lack of it—in their gaze.
“President Duan,” he said, bowing deeply. “I never got the chance to apologize for what happened with Rong Jin. I didn’t think he’d say something so irresponsible because of me. I’m really sorry. I dragged you into it.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Duan Baisui said coolly. “And congratulations on your award.”
Ju Xiao smiled. “Thank you for giving me a chance back then.”
“Do your best,” Duan Baisui said.
“I will.”
They chatted as they walked out of the venue, then parted and got into their own cars.
By the time Duan Baisui returned to the hotel, it was already after eleven.
Zuo Nian had said goodnight at ten‑thirty. Duan Baisui hadn’t sent another message—he hadn’t wanted to wake him. Instead, he counted silently on his fingers.
Just three more days until he could go home.
Without his lover beside him, he hadn’t slept well at all. Night after night, he dreamed of Zuo Nian. Every time he woke up, the space next to him was empty. The hollow feeling in his chest was hard to shake.
Sunday was live‑broadcast night, and the show opened with a bang.
As the special guest judge, he held a one‑vote pass card—the right to send one contestant straight through, same as last time.
But unlike last season, when he’d used that power on Ju Xiao and pulled him from the brink of elimination, this time he kept the card in his hand and didn’t give it to anyone.
After watching their performances, he’d been struck by a depressing thought: so this is the end of the industry.
When the host asked him for a few comments, the words stuck in his throat. He had no praise to offer. One by one, he picked out each contestant’s weaknesses, sparing not a single bit of face.
The moment the show ended, he headed straight for the airport, caught the red‑eye back to City A.
He couldn’t wait another minute to see Zuo Nian.
He missed him so badly it felt like he was losing his mind.
At three in the morning, the villa district was silent.
Bone‑tired, he shrugged off his coat and went upstairs.
The bedroom light was still on. Wearing an eye mask, clutching A‑Beibei and Duan Baisui’s pillow, Zuo Nian was curled into a tiny ball, fast asleep.
The sight made his heart go soft.
Moving quietly, Duan Baisui sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Did you miss me that much?” he whispered.
The Omega didn’t stir. He only lifted a hand to scratch at the ticklish spot where he’d been kissed.
Too exhausted to hold out any longer, Duan Baisui took a quick shower and slid under the covers, wrapping himself around Zuo Nian from behind.
All the loneliness and emptiness of the past week faded at once.
With him here, he felt like he finally belonged again. At last, his heart could rest.
At first light, Zuo Nian woke.
He felt the solid heat at his back, the firm weight of an arm around his waist—but the familiar scent calmed him instead of frightening him.
Lifting off his eye mask, he turned his head slowly.
The tired line of a man’s face filled his vision.
Surprise and joy crashed through him. He swallowed the little scream that jumped to his throat, afraid to wake him.
They were sharing a single pillow, foreheads almost touching.
Zuo Nian rolled over carefully, and at that movement, Duan Baisui’s eyes opened.
Their gazes met.
Heart aching, Zuo Nian reached up to touch the shadows under his eyes. “Gege, when did you get back?” he asked softly.
Kissing his palm, Duan Baisui said, “Three o’clock last night.”
“So late? Why didn’t you just come back today? Were you in that much of a rush?” Zuo Nian asked.
His voice was hoarse with sleep, low and sweet. It stirred something deep in Duan Baisui’s chest.
“I was,” he said, tone lazy, words a warm rasp against his ear. “I missed you too much.”
Zuo Nian squeezed him tight. “You’re awful,” he murmured. “Saying things like that first thing in the morning. You’re going to make me cry.”
“Really?” Duan Baisui chuckled. “Did you miss me, baby?”
“Mm~ I did. So, so much~”
A short separation really did feel sweeter than a long marriage.
Neither of them got up. They stayed wrapped in the blankets, clinging to each other.
Zuo Nian told him little stories about the welfare home—funny moments with the kids, Director Mama’s nagging—and shyly admitted he’d watched the previous night’s live show. “Gege was so handsome,” he said.
Eyes full of softness, Duan Baisui said, “Don’t open the shop today. Stay with me.”
Zuo Nian’s curled lashes fluttered. Smiling, he nodded. “Okay.”
Just as things were warming up again, Duan Baisui’s phone rang.
Luo Yin’s name flashed on the screen.
He remembered telling his assistant he was taking today off. Calling this early could only mean something big had happened at the company.
He picked up. “Hello?”
“President Duan, the hot search blew up,” Luo Yin blurted.
“What hot search?”
#Meng Cheng’s live stream explodes#
#Ju Xiao & Taizi‑ye#
#One‑Vote Pass#
After terminating his contract with Xingyu as a co‑bully in the old scandal, Meng Cheng had relied on his leftover popularity to start streaming and selling goods.
Last night, a surge of former group fans had flooded into his room, mocking him for how far he’d fallen—from endorsing luxury brands to hawking spicy snacks. They asked if he had any thoughts about Ju Xiao winning an award while he’d sunk to selling junk food.
The chat filled with barrage comments: “Ju Xiao wins Most Popular Newcomer,” “Bullies deserve the worst,” and so on. At first Meng Cheng had tried to ignore it.
Then he snapped.
He started hurling insults back—and completely lost control.
“You think Ju Xiao’s so clean?” he shouted. “He’s just a slut.”
“During the show he was stringing along both Rong Jin and Duan Baisui. Rong Jin pulled votes for him, and Duan Baisui used the one‑vote pass to push him through.”
“Everyone knows Duan Baisui’s played him to pieces. Isn’t it only right for him to get him an award? He was the plainest one in the whole group. His resources are this good now—don’t you idiots ever wonder why?”
The stream was quickly taken down.
But the recording spread across the internet in minutes.
Earlier, Rong Jin’s audio had already implied something dirty between Ju Xiao and Duan Baisui. Now, Meng Cheng’s rant made it sound even more like the truth.
On top of that, last night’s show made it obvious how dissatisfied Duan Baisui was with this season’s crop. He hadn’t even tried to hide it, flatly stating they “weren’t as good as the last season.”
Some people “analyzed” it like this: of course he was picky now—his heart’s favorite had been in the previous group. And he hadn’t used the one‑vote pass this season at all.
CP fans screamed that they were “so fed,” that this was “proof.”
“The one‑vote pass is only for the most special person,” they gushed.
What really sent them into a frenzy was the Qinghua Awards clip. Onstage, when Ju Xiao thanked the company and singled out Duan Baisui, someone had cut in a shot of Duan Baisui smiling in the audience. Edited together, it made it look like they were exchanging loving glances, oblivious to the world.
Heaven and earth knew that moment had actually been an old actor joking onstage. Duan Baisui had glanced over and laughed. It had nothing to do with Ju Xiao at all.
PR had already done their best to tamp things down. The company had issued a clarification and sent a lawyer’s letter to Meng Cheng.
But the combined heat of “Taizi‑ye + Ju Xiao,” plus CP fans running wild, was a mess of threads no one could cut clean.
Duan Baisui’s day off went up in smoke.
Utterly annoyed, he got out of bed and started pulling on clothes. Zuo Nian sat on the duvet, watching him.
With no basis in fact, the rumor was so ridiculous he didn’t even know where to begin.
In the past, he’d never cared what anyone thought. He’d always believed that “a clean heart needs no defense”—that people who trusted him didn’t need explanations. He rarely wasted words on strangers.
But now, those clear eyes were full of questions. Obedient as he was, Zuo Nian didn’t ask out loud—but his expression was tangled and a little sad.
It made Duan Baisui’s chest ache.
He didn’t want him stewing over this.
Leaning down, he kissed his forehead. “Aside from you,” he said quietly, “I’ve never been with anyone. Not before. Not now. And not ever in the future.”