Chapter 60
At 4 AM, just before dawn, the night was at its darkest. The typhoon had passed, but heavy rain was still falling.
It had been fifteen hours since Fang Huai was trapped in the parking lot. His phone had run out of battery and shut down—though, of course, the signal hadn’t been restored yet, so even if it were on, no one could reach him.
Inside a hotel, the Z City Diving Enthusiasts Association was anxiously negotiating with others. They had just finished a rescue operation at an underground mall and were exhausted. Casually, they asked:
“How many people are inside? …Oh, two people called for help, and then another went in?”
“We’re not made of iron—we need some rest. That parking lot has a complex layout, which makes the rescue effort difficult,” the association’s president said tactfully, clad in a raincoat, looking weary.
“Besides, fifteen hours—pardon my bluntness, but the optimal rescue time is four to five hours. Fifteen hours… you need to prepare yourselves mentally.”
Many people turned pale at those words.
Could it be that Fang Huai was really…
At 4 AM, the strongest winds of the typhoon had passed, leaving Z City in a post-disaster state. Trees had been uprooted and lay across the streets, shattered glass and debris were scattered everywhere, and the sky remained dark and heavy.
The signal was still down, but the media and reporters had arrived first. These were official news reporters who always rushed to the frontlines during major disasters to write pieces like “The People of China Overcoming Hardships Together.” In addition, there were journalists broadcasting live news coverage.
Because Frost was being filmed here, many gossip reporters also showed up, unwilling to miss a potential scoop.
—Throughout the entire night, the public’s outrage against Fang Huai had not ceased for even a moment.
[A song for a certain third-rate celebrity: “What Kind of Man Are You?”]
[Still trying to keep up appearances? Why not continue? Weren’t you enjoying it before? You had the ability to hold an umbrella for others, but you can’t lower yourself to help with disaster relief? Anyone can add to the celebration—where were you when help was truly needed?]
[Scared of dying, huh? Must be nice to be a big star with a precious life. Ha.]
[So selfish and cowardly. Honestly, I’m disappointed. Turning from a fan to a bystander.]
[Hugging my idol tightly. I bet the person above is a fake fan. There’s no proof of anything, and you’re already jumping on the hate bandwagon? Stop with the moral coercion. What if he’s unwell and really needed rest?]
The official news reporters and live broadcast journalists politely greeted the people on-site, but the gossip media were far less courteous. One of them shoved a microphone directly in front of Shi Feiran and asked:
“Hello, can you explain where Fang Huai is right now? Was he really unwell and unable to participate in the disaster relief efforts, or was that just an excuse because he was too cowardly to risk his life?”
Shi Feiran: “…”
He stared at the reporter in disbelief. “Say that again?!”
It wasn’t just Shi Feiran—many people around them reacted with shock upon hearing this question. Because the communication signal was still down, they had no idea what was being said outside. Another person asked:
“Are you saying… people think Fang Huai avoided the rescue efforts on purpose because he was afraid of dying?”
“What else?” The gossip reporter looked even more surprised than they did. “Is there another explanation?”
The man’s lips trembled. Almost everyone who had witnessed what happened the day before fell into silence. Some even showed expressions of grief, barely able to control their emotions.
A hero’s sacrifice, buried and forgotten.
They didn’t even know if Fang Huai was still alive—his chances of survival were slim. It was highly possible that he was already…
Yet those unaware of the truth seized upon this moment, trampling on his name in celebration. Some even went so far as to photoshop a memorial portrait of him just to mock his supposed cowardice and selfishness.
It wasn’t just heartbreaking. It was enraging—utterly absurd.
“He wasn’t afraid of dying,” Shi Feiran murmured, his eyes reddening. “No one… no one was braver than him.”
The gossip reporter raised an eyebrow, about to argue, but before he could speak, a commotion erupted around them.
“What’s happening?”
“Weibo is about to crash again…”
“Who posted something?”
The person who posted was Feng Lang. The signal in Z City had been unstable, but it had just returned slightly. The very first post to go out was from him.
It contained only two simple words.
@FengLangV: Apologize.
It was in response to another post:
@GossipMongerNo.1: Everyone’s out here helping with disaster relief. The Frost film crew is so kind-hearted But isn’t a certain celebrity being ridiculous? Even teenage girls are helping—where is he? Hiding away, sleeping while others work?
Apologize.
…Apologize for what?
The reporters on-site were stunned.
Meanwhile, after discussions between the diving team and the rescue personnel, they decided that due to the complex layout of the parking garage, they should first bring in water pumps to drain the area. By 4:30 AM, the darkest moment before dawn, the rain was still falling lightly.
A car pulled up by the roadside.
A tall, handsome man stepped out, holding a black umbrella. His usual easygoing smile was nowhere to be seen. His light golden eyes were cold and unreadable, his lips pressed into a firm line.
In his arms, he carried a bouquet of camellias.
At that moment, not only the gossip media but even the CCTV reporters on-site were taken aback, their expressions turning to shock and excitement.
“…Emperor Feng!”
“Emperor Feng, can you explain what you meant by ‘apologize’? Additionally, we’ve heard that you and Fang Huai have always had a bad relationship on set. Is it because of his character—”
The fastest one to react was the same reporter who had just questioned Shi Feiran. Overwhelmed with excitement, he shoved his microphone aggressively toward Feng Lang’s face, convinced that he was about to break a major scandal.
Feng Lang lazily glanced at him, then suddenly smiled and gestured. “Come here for a second.”
The reporter, caught off guard by this unexpected reaction, hesitated before taking a step forward. Just then, someone adjusted the angle of his camera. Feng Lang absentmindedly nudged it, shifting the lens to focus on something else.
“Poor character?” Feng Lang scoffed. “Why don’t you take a look for yourself?”
The water pumps had been running for hours—longer than the diving team had even been there. After nearly six hours of work, the water level in the parking garage had dropped significantly.
The divers, fully equipped, were preparing to enter and begin the rescue.
Journalists from all over, despite their exhaustion, readied their cameras to capture the moment. As countless lenses focused on the parking garage entrance—
The divers suddenly froze.
The site had been filled with noise—conversations, casual chatter, anxious discussions. But at that instant, every voice fell silent. The gossip reporters, in particular, widened their eyes in disbelief.
A figure emerged from the depths of the flooded parking garage.
As he walked forward, the water level gradually lowered, until it only reached his calves. And at last, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, his appearance became clear.
It was a man.
He was tall, wearing nothing but a thin, soaked dress shirt that clung to his frame, outlining his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Water dripped from his eyelashes, and his gaze was distant and indifferent. By all means, he should have looked utterly disheveled, yet the air around him was sharp and commanding—a presence honed from long-standing authority.
But in stark contrast to his intimidating aura—He was carrying a young man on his back.
His movements were careful, almost cautious. The young man on his back looked utterly exhausted, his damp hair clinging to his face. Yet he remained clean and strikingly handsome, his light amber eyes curving gently as he spoke softly to the child beside him.
A little boy, no older than a few years, followed closely behind, clutching the young man’s sleeve. Despite his near-death experience, he had been well cared for—he showed no extreme fatigue or distress.
The torrential rain began to subside. A moment later, the downpour softened to a drizzle, and faint rays of light seeped through the heavy clouds on the horizon.
There was an indescribable beauty to this scene.
The end of a catastrophe. Dawn breaking. A man carrying a young survivor on his back, the sky behind them shifting from gray to the first hints of color—like a vivid postmodern oil painting.
No one spoke.
It was impossible to tell how long the silence lasted until, at last, a reporter’s trembling fingers pressed the shutter.
…What’s happening?!
Was this—was this a survivor? The realization hit belatedly, and the crowd erupted in excitement.
“Someone made it out alive!”
“Wait… is that Ye Yuyuan?”
“No, no, hold on—Fang Huai?!”
Ye Yuyuan wasn’t a public figure, and apart from journalists in finance and technology, most people didn’t recognize him at a glance. Fang Huai, on the other hand, was instantly identifiable.
Especially after an entire night of controversy—there was no way the public wouldn’t recognize his face.
No one had expected this.
Before the divers could even enter for the rescue, the survivors had already walked out on their own.
For a moment, everyone stood frozen.
It was the little boy’s cry that finally shattered the oppressive silence.
“Daddy!”
The small boy who had been by Fang Huai’s side suddenly dashed forward, throwing himself into a man’s arms. The man’s eyes were bloodshot as he caught him, choking on his words.
“Lele, are you okay? Do you feel unwell? It’s okay, Daddy’s here… You’re a brave little man, you did so well…”
He forced himself to swallow the words “Where’s Mommy? Did she come out with you?”
When the typhoon struck yesterday, he had been on a business trip in a neighboring city. He received the emergency warning, followed immediately by a text from his wife—just three words:
“I love you.”
In that instant, he knew.
He rushed back overnight, only to find the parking garage submerged in seawater. He thought he had lost everything. But now, against all odds, his son was alive.
“Junjun,” the tall man—over six feet—was already crying uncontrollably as he held his son tight. “You made it out, that’s all that matters… Tell Daddy, who saved you?”
The little boy was crying too, but his voice was loud and clear. He turned, pointing to someone nearby.
“It was big brother!”
Fang Huai could have chosen to ignore the piece of paper that read “HELP”—like so many others would have.
But he didn’t.
He went in.
Without him, the little boy never would have lasted that long. Even though his mother had found a safe place for him and left him food, it wouldn’t have been enough. He was injured, had no access to water—by the time Fang Huai found him, he was already on the brink of death.
“……”
The moment those words fell, the media erupted.
What was happening?!
So, after an entire night of mockery—after people had spent hours ridiculing Fang Huai for being too cowardly and selfish to help with disaster relief—
The real reason he hadn’t been outside rescuing others was because…
He had already put himself at risk, deep inside the flooded parking garage, saving lives?
The full surveillance footage had finally been recovered. The public could now see Fang Huai walking toward the parking garage, calm and composed.
To spare the dignity of those around him, he hadn’t boasted about what he was doing. He had only said he was “going to the restroom.”
Then, without hesitation, he had waded into those dark, deep waters.
Everyone at the scene, if they were being honest with themselves, knew they would never have made the same choice.
They simply couldn’t understand—
Why would someone risk their own life… just to save someone else’s?
But that didn’t stop them from feeling deep respect for Fang Huai.
This time, even the most shameless tabloid reporters fell silent, overcome with rare guilt and shame.
A man who had risked his own safety to save others—who had ventured into the flooded parking garage while everyone else stayed outside—had been mocked online, cursed at, and even photoshopped into a funeral portrait.
This wasn’t just excessive. It was absurd.
And every single one of them had participated in the frenzy, feasting on the spectacle like vultures.
Countless cameras quietly captured this moment.
Among them was the live feed from CCTV News.
In the footage, the young man crouched down, hugging the little boy. The boy sobbed and clung to him tightly, while the boy’s father thanked him again and again.
Fang Huai smiled at the father—handsome, yet carrying a trace of guilt. Then, unexpectedly, his eyes turned red.
“I’m sorry… I was too late.”
If he had arrived just a little sooner, maybe he could have saved one more person. Maybe this man wouldn’t have lost his beloved wife.
The man nodded, then shook his head. His face was red with tears as he pulled Fang Huai into an embrace.
Not a single second of this footage was edited out. That night, it was broadcast in full on CCTV’s prime-time news.
As the segment aired, everyone—whether they had insulted Fang Huai, supported him, or only heard bits of the story—fell completely silent.
Even without any special effects or filters, Fang Huai still looked strikingly handsome on CCTV’s raw footage.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was—
“Hey, Xiaokai,” an elderly woman adjusted her reading glasses. “Didn’t you say yesterday that this kid—what was his name, Fang something—was lying? But he seems like a good person to me. He wasn’t hiding. He was rescuing people. It’s on TV.”
The young man rolled his eyes. “Tch, probably just his PR team trying to do damage control. What channel?”
“CCTV-1. National news.”
“…”
What the hell?!
As the news spread, people online began piecing together the full timeline. They analyzed exactly what had happened—how Fang Huai had saved people, how he had barely escaped death.
Under those circumstances, his chances of survival had been incredibly low.
People’s emotions shifted—from disbelief, to shock, to deep, crushing guilt.
And then, relief.
Thank god Fang Huai had survived.
Otherwise…
Every single one of them would have been complicit in his death.
*
Fang Huai was utterly exhausted. He fell asleep the moment he got into the ambulance.
Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze, pulling a blanket over him before stepping out of the vehicle.
His assistants were handling the aftermath, so he didn’t need to worry about excessive media exposure.
Oddly enough, though his shirt had been completely soaked not long ago, it was now bone dry. He put on his well-tailored suit jacket, buttoned it meticulously, and by the time he stepped out of the ambulance—
He had already returned to his usual, severe and immaculate self.
Nearby, Feng Lang stood waiting, idly twirling a camellia flower between his fingers.
Ye Yuyuan’s expression remained indifferent as he walked past without sparing him a glance.
Finally, Feng Lang couldn’t hold back anymore and called out—
“Hey.”
The man stopped, silent.
But he didn’t turn around.
“I never realized before—you’re this useless?” Feng Lang half-opened his pale golden eyes, smirking as he looked at him. “You couldn’t even get out of a flooded parking garage.”
Ye Yuyuan didn’t respond. Dawn had just broken, and he stood silently in the small patch of lingering shadows.
Feng Lang’s doubts weren’t unreasonable. And in fact—
Ye Yuyuan didn’t answer the question directly. In his palm, the wound that had refused to heal all night was now completely gone, as if it had never existed.
He remained silent, but Feng Lang, watching his back, suddenly understood. A look of disbelief crossed his face before he gave an appreciative nod. “The title of ‘Best Actor’ should really go to you.”
Only then did Ye Yuyuan finally speak, his voice calm.
“It wasn’t an act.”
At the time, he had genuinely believed he wouldn’t make it out. He had inflicted that wound on himself before going in—to fully immerse himself in the belief that he wouldn’t survive.
That way, it would feel more real.
“Are you insane?” Feng Lang stared at him, then finally asked.
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a moment, lips pressed tightly together.
“I just wanted him…” To belong to me.
He had once thought about letting go, about not fighting, about allowing Fang Huai to make his own choice.
But he was a despicable man—down to his very core.
He had tried. He couldn’t let go.
“After last night,” Ye Yuyuan paused, his voice a little tight, “he probably, at least a little…likes me now, right?”
Now I understand what “Dangerously in love” means