Chapter 4
Old Town, outside a convenience store.
Fang Huai: “…?”
He looked around.
This area was relatively secluded, mostly residential, and at this time of day, most people were home eating dinner. The streets were quiet and empty.
But the man was definitely staring at him.
Tall and imposing, the man stood silently beneath the streetlamp. His custom-tailored suit was impeccably fitted, the top button of his dress shirt neatly fastened; His thin lips were pressed flat, and his jet-black eyes—cold and emotionless—were fixed directly on Fang Huai.
His gaze was icy, completely devoid of warmth.
Even from a distance, Fang Huai could make out the sharp features. The man’s absurdly handsome face was almost unreasonable—high, straight nose, thin lips, and a cold, indifferent aura under the streetlight.
Fang Huai: “…”
He instinctively took half a step back, suddenly feeling the urge to take a different route.
But before he could move, another person suddenly stepped forward—blocking his path.
In fact, the aura of the man under the streetlamp was so overwhelming that Fang Huai hadn’t even noticed there was someone else standing beside him.
The young man in a suit—whose receding hairline was rather concerning—clutched a briefcase and held a document as he stepped in front of Fang Huai, blocking his way.
“Mr. Fang, hello. Sorry to disturb you. I’m Wang Qiang, the personal secretary of Mr. Ye Yuyuan. Do you have a moment? Could we find a quiet place to discuss a potential collaboration? Our car is parked over there.”
He gestured toward a Maybach, then gave Fang Huai a once-over, and a few words popped into his mind:
Poor. Dirt poor. Nothing but a pretty face.
Calling this a ‘collaboration’ was probably giving him too much credit. ‘Charity’ would be more accurate.
Fang Huai blinked blankly. “Oh. Let’s just talk here.”
His gaze flicked toward the man standing not far away.
Strangely enough, maybe because the man’s stare was so cold, simply being looked at by him gave Fang Huai an intense psychological pressure—not exactly fear, but something close.
But…
He was really good-looking.
After spending some time in the city, Fang Huai had met plenty of people, but rarely had he seen someone this handsome.
He didn’t have any special feelings, but there was a mix of surprise and curiosity—like spotting a particularly beautiful pumpkin flower in a field.
Even though being stared at made him a little uncomfortable, Fang Huai still couldn’t resist lifting his eyes again for another glance.
And in that instant, he locked eyes with a pair of unexpectedly soft, dark pupils.
The deep black irises caught a trace of light, making them look unexpectedly gentle and lingering. His lips were still pressed into a straight line, but his gaze had softened, holding Fang Huai in quiet focus.
Fang Huai: “…?”
They stared at each other for half a second.
And in that fraction of a moment, Ye Yuyuan’s gaze flickered almost imperceptibly.
He cleared his throat twice, hurriedly averted his eyes, and his thin lips pressed together slightly.
By the time he looked up again, his dark eyes had returned to their usual cold indifference.
Fang Huai: “…?”
Was that just his imagination?
A strange feeling stirred in Fang Huai’s chest. Curious, he glanced back at those eyes again—but this time, they were once again cold and distant, and that same psychological pressure returned.
Unable to keep looking, he turned to Wang Qiang and lowered his voice:
“Is that your boss?” His clear, light-colored eyes carried a hint of embarrassment. “Sorry, but his stare is a little… intimidating. Could you ask him to, maybe, tone it down a bit?”
Wang Qiang: “…”
There was quite a bit of distance between them and Ye Yuyuan, and since Fang Huai had lowered his voice, logically, Ye Yuyuan shouldn’t have been able to hear him.
But—perhaps it was just his imagination—the moment Fang Huai finished speaking, the air pressure around Ye Yuyuan seemed to drop even lower.
His face remained expressionless, lips pressed flat, and his deep black eyes lowered slightly—unreadable.
A few moments later, the driver stepped out, pulled open the Maybach’s back door, and—just like how he had gotten out—Ye Yuyuan silently got back in.
The door closed, the windows rolled up, cutting off any outside gaze from peering in.
Fang Huai nodded approvingly: “Thanks. That’s much better.”
Wang Qiang: “…”
With no new instructions from Ye Yuyuan, he had no choice but to press on.
“Mr. Fang, I noticed you went to Starlight Entertainment’s Star’s Light auditions this afternoon, correct? I was wondering if you’d be interested in directly signing an A-level contract with Starlight, bypassing the competition and debuting immediately?”
An A-level contract was Starlight’s highest tier—all of their top-tier artists were on this type of contract.
But the contract they were offering Fang Huai?
Even compared to other A-level contracts, this one was unbelievably generous.
Fang Huai thought for a moment and casually said, “No need, but thanks.”
He didn’t really understand.
Everything after “registration desk” had pretty much gone over his head, but it didn’t really matter.
Wang Qiang: “…Huh? May I ask why?”
Fang Huai answered honestly, “I just don’t really want to sign.”
He might have been lacking in common sense, but he wasn’t stupid. Whether this was a mountain of gold or a pit of knives was still unclear.
Being a professional secretary, Wang Qiang recovered quickly. He gave Fang Huai a slight nod and said, “Alright, please wait a moment.”
He walked over to the car, exchanged a few words with Ye Yuyuan, then came back to Fang Huai.
“Alright, then we won’t disturb you further. Where are you headed? If you don’t mind, we can give you a ride.”
To be honest, Wang Qiang was baffled. From the moment he received this A-level contract, everything about the situation had felt strange.
But when it came to President Ye’s decisions, as subordinates, they naturally had no right to question them.
Fang Huai waved goodbye to Wang Qiang, shouldered his backpack, and continued walking down the street.
This was the old district, not very bustling. A few small shops were scattered along the road, their dim lights flickering.
An old stray dog lay dozing by the curb, its breathing slow and heavy, like a broken bellows.
Fang Huai squatted down, reaching out to gently pat the dog’s head.
He had raised a dog before, a mutt he’d found dirty and scruffy, but well-behaved, with particularly beautiful eyes.
“Are you sick?” Fang Huai murmured, studying it for a while. Then, he muttered to himself, “Not sick, just old.”
The stray didn’t look at him, only flicked its ear weakly.
“What, you’re ignoring me too?”
Something suddenly came to mind, and Fang Huai chuckled softly.
His voice, slightly lower than usual, was clear and pleasant, the gentle tone of a young man, warm and soothing.
He didn’t talk much with people, but he loved talking to animals. As a kid, he could spend an entire day chatting with his pet fish. He vaguely remembered—it had been a beautiful fish, with silver scales, but it had a cold personality and didn’t care for human attention.
“It’s not your time yet,” Fang Huai murmured, completely unbothered by the stray’s dirtiness. He squatted down, gently lifting the dog into his arms, stroking its belly lightly. “You’ve still got some time left.”
Then, in a soft, soft voice, he sang a lullaby.
His pure, crystalline voice carried through the night air, so tender under the moonlight that it felt almost unreal.
The dim yellow streetlights cast a quiet glow over him.
The tips of his hair caught some of the light, curling slightly upward. His light amber eyes were soft and luminous, as if they might spill over at any moment, his whole figure bathed in a faint, warm glow.
Something miraculous happened.
In less than half a song, the stray dog’s eyes visibly regained their brightness, and soon, it wobbled to its feet.
“Alright,” Fang Huai patted its head, then stood up, dusting off his clothes. “I’m leaving now.”
The dog gazed at him with its wet eyes for a long moment before slowly lowering its head and walking away.
The Maybach remained parked silently on the street until the tall, slender figure of the young man disappeared around the corner of the alley.
Inside the car, Ye Yuyuan sat in the backseat, silent.
His hands were clasped in front of him, his expression calm, eyelids lowered, half-concealing his dark, indifferent eyes.
Wang Qiang, assuming he was in a bad mood, didn’t dare to speak much. He only asked quietly, “President Ye, where to next?”
Ye Yuyuan’s thin lips parted, just about to answer—when his voice suddenly stilled.
—In his Bluetooth earpiece, a voice unexpectedly rang out.
A clear, warm young voice, like a flowing stream, with a hint of laughter in its tone, softly whispered in his ear:
“What, you’re ignoring me too?”
Fang Huai’s way of speaking to animals was different from how he talked to people.
He had been around animals more than people since childhood, making him more familiar with their company. His usual guardedness was absent, his voice softer, even with a touch of sweetness.
Then, the voice in the earpiece switched to an AI system’s mechanical tone:
“A spike in your adrenaline was detected when you heard this sentence. Would you like to set it as your alarm?”
Ye Yuyuan: “…”
He fell into silence.
“President Ye?” Wang Qiang reminded him. “Your destination?”
“The gala,” Ye Yuyuan said lightly.
After saying this, he reached out, set the audio clip to loop, and played it again.
For a fleeting moment, a hint of warmth flashed through his dark eyes, but it quickly faded back into calm indifference.
Wang Qiang nodded, and the Maybach’s engine started.
*
“Feng Lang (Verified): Guess again. \@Lin Rui’s Little Cutie: I bet that superpowered street performer is my dear Rui Rui, right? Rui Rui, how can you be so adorable![Image].”
[Wait, wait, wait, I’m confused]
[Hubby, you finally remembered your Weibo password?!]
[Guess wrong? Guess wrong?! The street performer isn’t Lin Rui?]
[I thought the voice didn’t match from the start. Lin Rui’s voice is sharper—not as good as that one.]
[Didn’t his team already confirm it, though?]
[Taking my Rui Rui away—trolls and haters, not interested.]
[Hahahaha, trolls? Feng Lang, you’ve been gone too long winning awards overseas—newbies think you’re just some random troll now, lmao.]
[…]
On Weibo, Feng Lang’s repost caused the street performer video to continue gaining traction, and comments about Lin Rui began shifting from pure praise to some skepticism.
However, Lin Rui’s fans reacted quickly:
[I’m sure the street performer is Rui Rui! The video was posted at 3 PM, and Rui Rui started a live stream at 4 PM. How could he have changed outfits so quickly?]
[Still pretending, huh? Not done with the act yet?!]
[Jealous much? Lin Rui’s singing blew up, and now you can’t stand it?]
[If he dares to go live and sing on the street again, I’ll believe him. LOL.]
[Hehe, love you Rui! Your singing is amazing, and secretly performing on the streets is so cute!]
[I’m siding with Best Actor Feng. Lin Rui’s voice is obviously sharper and more feminine than the street performer’s. Where does he get the nerve?!]
At 10 PM, Lin Rui scrolled through Weibo, his brows knitting together.
Why would Feng Lang get involved in this?
He had done his research—the boy in the video was just some kid from the countryside, with no background, no connections, and no relatives in the country. That’s why he dared to act so recklessly.
“Lin Rui,” his agent rushed into the room. “Get ready.”
Lin Rui: “Huh?”
“Huh, what?” The agent rolled his eyes. “You’re going live tomorrow to clear things up.”
They had already reaped the benefits—gained followers, stirred up hype—and since Lin Rui never explicitly claimed it was him in the video, issuing a clarification now would cause some losses, but it was still manageable.
But Lin Rui didn’t respond immediately.
His expression darkened. He remained silent for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
The agent frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A lie has to be fully committed to,” Lin Rui’s face gradually relaxed, and he even smiled as if something had just occurred to him. “Go borrow a few trained performance birds from an acrobat. The more obedient, the better.” He paused. “And—can we find that boy? Offer him hush money.”
Lin Rui had always been bold.
If he weren’t, he wouldn’t have come up with the idea to use a stand-in for his own gain—let alone acted on it so quickly.
As he strategized in his mind, he opened Weibo and began typing a post.
*
Half an hour later.
The city had fallen into night, but many people were still awake. Those working late or staying up took breaks to scroll through Weibo, and just happened to come across this post:
[Lin Rui on a diet (Verified)]: Never thought even Brother Feng watched that video… Things have really blown up. [Shrug]
Fine, fine—you all forced me to say it: that street performer was me.
Brother Chen told me today that the video made it to the trending list—I was totally shocked. If I had known it’d cause such a stir, I would’ve changed my outfit before streaming again. Didn’t expect you all to recognize me—that was my mistake. [Doge emoji]
Singing is just a hobby. When I was on vacation in the mountains, I learned from an old man how to use music to attract animals.
Seems like a lot of people are curious about it—I’ll be live streaming again tomorrow at 10 AM. [Doge emoji]
Comments Section:
[Whoa, he’s really gonna live-stream his superpower.]
[@Haters, y’all better show up, lol. My Rui Rui is fearless—time for y’all to get slapped in the face.]
[So hyped! Rui Rui, fighting!]
[Keep acting. This time, I’m siding with Film Emperor Feng. But seriously, why would Feng Lang, an A-list actor, even bother getting involved in this drama?]
[Whether it’s a donkey or a horse, we’ll find out tomorrow.]
*
Author’s Note: Don’t worry, the gong won’t just disappear—he’ll keep showing up again and again… Overall, this is still going to be a sweet, sweet, sweet romance! ~
