Chapter 80
The ring was made of white jade, its design plain and elegant. The engraved “Fang” inside was small, almost inconspicuous.
A few days ago, Fang Huai had picked it up from a small shop in an alley. Before moving abroad with Fang Jianguo, his father had left the ring in safekeeping there.
The moonlight was soft.
Fang Huai pulled the blanket up to cover his chin, then mumbled in a tiny, embarrassed voice, “Fang Jianguo said this is the Fang family’s heirloom ring, usually given to a daughter-in-law.”
“He told me,” Fang Huai cleared his throat, the tip of his nose slightly red, “that when I find a little girl I want to spend my life with, I should go to Grandma Li and retrieve this ring to give to her.”
“So, from now on, you’re part of the Fang family.”
Fang Huai hadn’t expected that instead of falling for a girl, he’d fall for a man. But he truly intended to spend his life with Ye Yuyuan.
Ye Yuyuan had no family, so he would be his family.
—He wanted to give him a home.
Under the soft glow of the nightlight, Fang Huai gazed at Ye Yuyuan.
His fingers were long and slender, with well-defined knuckles. The ring looked exceptionally good on him. Fang Huai was very satisfied.
Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze, carefully examining the ring. His eyes shimmered under the dim light.
He curled his fingers inward, his hand trembling slightly. He exhaled softly, his chest tight with an aching sense of fulfillment.
“Do you like it?” Fang Huai assumed he would, but he often struggled to read Ye Yuyuan’s emotions—he wanted to hear it from him directly.
Ye Yuyuan murmured, “I like it. I like it very much.”
He liked it so much… that he didn’t want to give it back.
The significance of this ring was overwhelming. It carried everything Ye Yuyuan had ever wanted but never dared to ask for. And yet, Fang Huai had given it to him so easily.
Fang Huai liked him—really liked him—more than anyone else.
But he didn’t love him.
Ye Yuyuan suddenly reached over and turned off the nightlight, plunging the room into darkness.
In the dimness, he found Fang Huai’s hand, clasping it tightly, intertwining their fingers before pulling him into his embrace.
Fang Huai was momentarily startled. Ye Yuyuan’s fingertips were cold, even trembling slightly. Fang Huai enclosed his hands around his, kissed them gently, and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a long time.
On Fang Huai’s birthday, Ye Yuyuan had prepared another gift for him—a watch named Galaxy. Ye Yuyuan himself owned a watch called Abyss, designed by an elderly Swiss watchmaker.
But Galaxy—Ye Yuyuan had designed it himself. When the final product was finished, he didn’t dare to give it to him. Galaxy and Abyss—they looked too much like a matching couple’s set.
And knowing Fang Huai’s personality, if Ye Yuyuan gave it to him, he would definitely wear it in public.
Right now, Fang Huai liked him. He wasn’t afraid of others knowing. He didn’t care. But the world was still filled with prejudice. Ye Yuyuan could protect him, but he couldn’t silence everyone’s judgment.
And what about ten years from now? Twenty years from now? What if, someday, Fang Huai changed his mind and fell for someone else?
Fang Huai didn’t care—but Ye Yuyuan had to think ahead for him.
Just as Fang Huai was about to drift off to sleep, he heard Ye Yuyuan’s hoarse voice, “Huai Huai, have you really thought this through?”
“Even if you regret it in the future, I won’t give it back.”
Fang Huai yawned, replying casually, “Then don’t.”
Once he gave something to Ye Yuyuan, he never intended to take it back.
He didn’t understand where Ye Yuyuan’s insecurity came from, as if he could leave him at any moment.
Ye Yuyuan’s embrace was restrained yet gentle, carrying a faint scent of cedar—familiar and comforting. Before long, Fang Huai fell asleep.
What he didn’t know was that, after he drifted off, the man holding him had red-rimmed eyes, tightening his embrace in silent desperation.
“I will return it.”
The man finally said in a low voice, “If one day you don’t want me anymore, I’ll give it back to you.”
“…”
He remained silent for a long time. Only when the first light of dawn faintly appeared on the horizon did he whisper in the sleeping boy’s ear, his voice slightly hoarse, “Don’t leave me.”
Fang Huai, still half-asleep, turned over and unconsciously pressed a light kiss to the corner of his lips.
*
The next morning, Fang Huai was the first to wake up in the entire villa. Ye Yuyuan was still asleep when Fang Huai opened his eyes, kissed his forehead, and carefully got out of bed.
He loved sleeping next to Ye Yuyuan. It truly felt like they were lovers, even if they did nothing at all.
Fang Huai pulled on a sweater, slipped on his slippers, and went downstairs to get some water. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Fang Huai: “?”
In all this time, he had never seen a guest visit before. Feeling a little puzzled, he opened the door. Standing outside were two people—one was a chubby, slightly balding man with a kind expression, and the other was a thin, small man who seemed to be his assistant.
“Hello.” Fang Huai greeted them uncertainly with a nod.
“I’m Xu Tuanyuan, a director,” the older man spoke in slightly awkward Mandarin, extending his hand with a smile. “Fang Huai, nice to meet you.”
Fang Huai looked at him and couldn’t help but think that he resembled the uncle who sold pancakes at the market rather than a director. But he quickly nodded politely and smiled.
“Hello, I’ve heard of you. Are you here to see Mr. Feng? He’s still asleep, I think.”
“No,” Xu Tuanyuan shook his head with a smile, studying him. “I’m here for you.”
*
Meanwhile—
Seeing the rising buzz around Frost online, Xu Shu, along with everyone who knew him, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions.
Almost everyone was aware that the role of “Lin Shuheng” was originally supposed to be Xu Shu’s. But he had backed out of Frost at the last moment to take a role in Chronicles of Spring and Autumn. Now, watching Fang Huai gain immense popularity from Frost, how could he possibly feel at ease?
If Lin Shuheng had never been associated with him in the first place, it wouldn’t have been so frustrating. But the fact that he had been so close to playing the role made it unbearable.
Xu Shu was so consumed with jealousy that he barely slept the entire night. The next morning, he had to attend a luxury brand’s red carpet event, forcing himself to pull it together. Frustrated, he even had a brief argument with his manager that morning—his manager wanted him to prepare for potential media questions, but Xu Shu, in a foul mood, snapped at him and refused.
When he finally stepped onto the red carpet, the reporters wasted no time cutting straight to the point with their questions:
“Mr. Xu, yesterday the trailer for Frost was released and generated widespread attention, particularly for the character of ‘Lin Shuheng.’ What are your thoughts on this? And if possible, do you have anything to say to the actors in Frost?”
Everyone knew that Xu Shu had broken the contract first and missed out on such a great opportunity. Now, they were all eagerly waiting to see his reaction.
Xu Shu was in an extremely foul mood and couldn’t even maintain a polite facade.
“I do have some advice for Fang Huai,” he raised an eyebrow mockingly, “but are you sure he’ll even see this show? I doubt someone like him, with his level of spending power, can even tell the difference between Chanel and Canon.”
This was a blatant jab at Fang Huai’s rural background, as well as a subtle warning to luxury brands—implying that hiring Fang Huai as a brand ambassador would be a disgrace.
“We’ll assume he might see it,” the reporter, slightly taken aback by Xu Shu’s directness, still pressed on.
“Alright then,” Xu Shu shrugged. “I hope he keeps a clear mind and understands the difference between skill and luck. Director Lin is a great director—he explains every detail to the actors and even demonstrates the scenes himself sometimes. It’s no surprise Fang Huai could pull off this performance, but he better not let it go to his head, or he’ll fall even harder later.”
Xu Shu had spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering: why Fang Huai? If he had known that Lin Shuheng was such a good role, he would have played it himself and done even better. Fang Huai had just gotten lucky.
“Acting isn’t as easy as it seems,” Xu Shu said with a patronizing smile. “To be blunt, Director Lin hired him out of desperation. Now, if we’re talking about someone like Director Xu Tuanyuan or Director Thompson? Honestly, Fang Huai is far from being at that level.”
Xu Shu had once played a minor five-minute role in a film directed by Xu Tuanyuan. That movie later won an Oscar, and he had been bragging about it for years, acting as if it elevated him above other actors.
Reporter: “…Alright, thank you.”
With Xu Shu’s attitude, it was clear there was drama brewing. This was definitely going to make headlines.
*
That afternoon.
Fang Huai, Shi Feiran, and Xu Tuanyuan sat in a conference room, staring at each other.
Shi Feiran glanced at Xu Tuanyuan’s face, then at his beer belly. Unable to believe what was happening, he pinched himself—once, then again.
“So… you’re saying you want Fang Huai to play the lead in The Song of the Nameless??”
He still couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Shi Feiran was screaming internally.
Holy crap, this is Xu Tuanyuan!
Xu Tuanyuan wasn’t just a talented director—he had an incredibly sharp eye for talent. His films were magnets for major awards. Just last year, his movie A Kite was nominated for eight Oscars and nearly swept them all, winning seven.
No wonder Xu Shu was so smug—landing a role, even a five-minute one, in one of Xu Tuanyuan’s films was a big deal. And now, they were talking about giving Fang Huai the lead role? Shi Feiran almost suspected this was some kind of elaborate scam.
Skipping the audition process was already unusual, but for Xu Tuanyuan to fly back from Spain just to find Fang Huai? That was insane!
Shi Feiran could only imagine how Xu Shu would react when he heard this news—he might just have a stroke from sheer rage.
“Yes,” Xu Tuanyuan chuckled, his round face resembling a kindhearted Buddha. “No rush, filming won’t start until after the new year. I just wanted to finalize things early. If possible, I’d like to secure Fang’s schedule in advance, haha.”
Of course, Xu Tuanyuan wasn’t crazy.
How should he put it? He felt like he had hit a bottleneck. It was the nature of any career—reaching a peak and then facing stagnation. But he didn’t want to stop there.
He needed fresh ideas and new actors to work with. After watching the Frost trailer, he shamelessly pestered Lin Shengyun for all the raw footage. He stayed up all night watching it and concluded that Fang Huai… was indeed quite good.
This kid might just be the key to breaking through his bottleneck.
Fang Huai watched the two of them talk, glancing left and right, hesitant to speak.
Shi Feiran noticed his expression and felt a bad premonition.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Shi Feiran said, leading Fang Huai out of the room. He lowered his voice and asked, “What’s wrong? You don’t want to do it?”
Fang Huai hesitated for a moment, then nodded honestly. “I’m a little busy.”
His main focus was still on writing songs and releasing albums. Plus, he was in a relationship now—he didn’t have time for acting. Acting was fun, but he still preferred music.
And if he took on a film, he wouldn’t have time to be with Ye Yuyuan. He couldn’t bear that.
Shi Feiran: “…”
“You do realize who Xu Tuanyuan is—never mind.” Shi Feiran waved his hand.
He knew that reasoning with Fang Huai was pointless. The kid was just stubborn. He had struggled with money before, but he never really cared about wealth, power, or fame. He lived freely, even a little recklessly.
“Let’s go back and at least hear him out,” Shi Feiran sighed. “If you really decide against it… I’ll turn him down for you.”
So, they went back inside.
“Director Xu,” Fang Huai exchanged a glance with Shi Feiran, hesitated for a moment, then said, “I really appreciate your offer, but—”
Xu Tuanyuan could already guess what he was thinking. He chuckled and shook his head.
“Why don’t you listen to my script first before deciding?” he said. “It’s never too late to reject me afterward, right?”
Since he put it that way, it would be rude for Fang Huai to refuse outright.
Xu Tuanyuan took a pen and paper. His handwriting was neat and structured, a classic thin-gold script. On the pristine white paper, he wrote down a few key words—
“Music” “Disability” “School Bullying” “Homosexuality”
Two hours later.
Fang Huai returned to the Signal Cabin and collapsed onto the sofa, letting out a long breath.
A camera was installed inside the cabin, and today, the livestream was still running.
[Frost was impressive, sure, but let’s be real—Fang Huai just got lucky. His skills aren’t actually at that level yet, so what’s there to argue about?]
[Come on, Xu Shu is such a jealous lemon spirit, you can practically smell the sourness through the screen. And you actually believe what he says??]
[Fang Huai has worked with some affordable luxury brands before, but a high-end luxury endorsement… Hmm, I agree he’s not quite qualified. His background is what it is—even if he’s talented, no top brand would consider him. It would bring down their image.]
[The Qing Dynasty has been gone for years.]
[Can we talk about the jade ring on President Ye’s ring finger? Did anyone notice??]
There was a noise at the door, and a few seconds later, someone walked in.
Ye Yuyuan had just gotten off work. As he unbuttoned his wool coat, he changed into slippers. His expression was indifferent. He glanced at the camera, and the AI smartly cut the livestream feed.
He walked over to the sofa.
Fang Huai naturally hugged him and kissed his ear. He loved kissing—on any spot. Sometimes, Ye Yuyuan… couldn’t handle it, but Fang Huai never seemed to realize anything was inappropriate.
To him, kissing was simply an expression of affection, without any deeper, suggestive meaning. He was still too young.
“I signed the contract. I’ll be filming in a while,” Fang Huai murmured.
“Not happy?” Ye Yuyuan looked down at him.
“Because I’ll miss you,” Fang Huai said matter-of-factly. “Teacher Ye.”
Ye Yuyuan touched his earlobe, coughed lightly, and said, “…Mm.”
“There’s a banquet tonight, meeting the producer with Director Xu.”
At that moment, Fang Huai deeply empathized with the struggles of ordinary employees—having to entertain people at night just to make a living. But when he looked at the paycheck in the contract, he realized that after filming The Song of the Nameless, he could support Ye Yuyuan.
Ye Yuyuan’s job was too dangerous. If possible, Fang Huai hoped he could change careers—or even stop working altogether.
Even though he was in a same-sex relationship, Fang Huai never saw himself as the weaker party. In his eyes, he and Ye Yuyuan were equals. In fact, because Ye Yuyuan lacked a sense of security, Fang Huai felt an even greater responsibility to spoil him.
The banquet was in Nan City, quite a grand event, with many well-known figures attending, including Xu Tuanyuan. Attending would only benefit Fang Huai—if he wanted to establish himself in the industry, he couldn’t be too reclusive.
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a moment before saying, “I’ll take you there.”
Time was tight. After a short rest, they would have to leave.
“What about your suit? Which one are you wearing?” Ye Yuyuan asked.
“I still have a suit from a previous light luxury endorsement,” Fang Huai said. “Mm… there’s one left.”
Light luxury was still light luxury. Its price point was something upper-middle-class professionals could afford, but wearing it to an event like this might feel a bit out of place.
Fang Huai did have another option—the custom midnight blue suit Ye Yuyuan had gifted him. He had worn it once on the red carpet and was reluctant to wear it again.
Ye Yuyuan frowned slightly, fell silent for a moment, then said, “I’ll decide, alright?”
Fang Huai: “…?”
*
One Hour Later – VENES Hotel, Downtown Nan City
Because of tonight’s banquet, the area was flooded with industry elites. Flashing cameras flickered non-stop, and there were several times more reporters than actual guests.
Since they were all from the same industry, naturally, some gossip was being exchanged—like how Xu Shu had publicly mocked Fang Huai on the red carpet earlier that morning.
“I think Fang Huai’s only shortcoming is his background. Otherwise, his aura is actually quite impressive—what a pity.”
“Director Xu will be here tonight too. I heard The Song of the Nameless is casting domestic actors for the lead role this time? Wonder if he’ll drop any hints, haha.”
“The Song of the Nameless, huh? Even if it gets made, there’s no telling if it’ll be allowed to screen domestically. The regulations are tightening again.”
A few minutes later, their conversation abruptly stopped.
A young man stepped out of a Maybach, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. A single-button, three-piece ensemble with a vest underneath, a bow tie replacing the traditional necktie. The suit was a soft gray—not too light as to seem frivolous, but rich in texture, accentuating his striking features.
But more importantly…
That was unmistakably an Oranto haute couture suit.
One of the world’s top luxury brands, known as the “blue-blood aristocrat” of fashion. Even wealthy upstarts couldn’t get their hands on it, and even high society families struggled for an invitation to purchase. A single suit reportedly cost anywhere from eight to nine figures.
Reporters: “…”
Onlookers: “…”
Fang Huai took a couple of steps before pausing. He turned back and rested one hand on the edge of the Maybach, locking eyes with the person inside.
Ye Yuyuan, still inside the car, gently fastened a pair of sapphire cufflinks onto his wrists. His gaze was tender yet restrained as he asked softly, “What’s wrong?”
Fang Huai whispered, “Everyone’s taking pictures of me. I’m a little nervous. Can I kiss you?”
“…”
“Of course.”
Ye Yuyuan leaned in, kissed him, and murmured in a husky voice.
