Chapter 35
Meng Xueyuan joined the crew to film for half a month. He wasn’t playing a romantic male lead basking in love and moonlight, but the second younger brother of the male lead—someone who had thrown himself into the revolution early on.
The TV drama The Eldest Young Master of the Wang Family mainly tells the story of a rich second-generation heir who indulges in pleasure, lives extravagantly, and ignores national affairs. Gradually, however, he discovers that the courtesan he frequents at the theater, the driver who chauffeurs him, and even his usually taciturn younger brother… one by one have joined the resistance against the Japanese invasion, all using him as cover to hide their identities. As a result, he often ends up beaten black and blue, utterly confused. The story has both laughs and tears; the supporting characters shine, and in the end the male lead is inspired to rise up and work for the salvation of the nation.
Meng Xueyuan had especially many action scenes. The fight choreography in the script blatantly defied physics—jumping from the second floor to the first, then from the first back to the second. On top of that, there were espionage elements, so night shoots were frequent.
Meng Xueyuan liked going to bed early and waking up early. Although his routine was disrupted, he never felt drowsy on set, because he had a special skill—no matter if he only had ten minutes of rest, he could lean against a wall and fall asleep, then wake up refreshed.
The upside of being busy filming was that he had no time to think about Lu Xiao. Shooting day and night, sleeping whenever he could—his filming schedule was irregular, and with a four-hour time difference between him and Lu Xiao, they couldn’t even sync up for video calls. Their WeChat chats, however, could scroll for several pages.
In the blink of an eye, half a month passed, and scorching June arrived. The furnace-like heat suddenly enveloped the set, and Meng Xueyuan could no longer nap peacefully anywhere and anytime like before.
Most of the time, he sat in some corner with a small fan blowing, eyes closed, dozing lightly. Fortunately, the director cared about visual texture, and the actors’ makeup was kept very light. Sometimes Meng Xueyuan didn’t even need makeup. Without foundation, his skin looked clear and flawless, and it was easier for sweat to evaporate.
Sensing someone approaching in the night, Meng Xueyuan opened his eyes. His jet-black, jade-like pupils silently looked toward the newcomer.
The male lead actor, Fei Luoluo, awkwardly touched his nose and straightened up. “Teacher Meng, the director’s calling you.”
“Thanks.” Meng Xueyuan set down his ice water bottle and stood up to leave, only to have his path blocked.
Fei Luoluo looked a lot like his character—handsome with a frivolous, playboy appearance. He chased after Meng Xueyuan and asked, “Didn’t you say you weren’t wearing makeup? Then why can’t I see your two moles?”
Meng Xueyuan replied, “Partial makeup to cover them.”
Fei Luoluo seemed like he wanted to reach out and wipe it off to check. Meng Xueyuan turned and took another route.
Fei Luoluo clicked his tongue, unwillingly staring at Meng Xueyuan’s retreating back, and asked his assistant, “Did you get it?”
The assistant nodded hurriedly. “Got it, got it.”
The next day, since all the scenes were shot under blazing sun, many actors who cared about whitening complained nonstop after a full day of exposure. Seeing that the temperature would drop the following day, the director simply gave everyone a day off to cool down.
The set was in a central province, far from Nan Cheng. With only one day off, there was nothing to do but stay in the hotel and enjoy the air conditioning.
Meng Xueyuan lay on his stomach on the bed, scrolling through his chat history with Lu Xiao. Lu Xiao said he had to spend the whole day negotiating business with foreigners, bringing along five interpreters.
He couldn’t disturb Lu Xiao during business talks.
Meng Xueyuan kept scrolling through the chat interface when he suddenly noticed a conversation with the cameraman buried underneath.
When the first episode of Harmony of Marriage ended, the skinny cameraman had sent him a compressed file of deleted footage. He had unzipped it on his computer but hadn’t had time to watch it.
Meng Xueyuan immediately pulled his laptop out of his suitcase, found the cloud drive, and hit play.
The cameraman was surprisingly considerate—he’d stitched the deleted footage into a long video, over four hours long, even with background music.
Meng Xueyuan had thought the video would mainly focus on himself—beautiful scenery, high visuals, but no conflict or highlights useful for the main cut.
He came in with the intention of spotting Lu Xiao in his own footage. Randomly dragging the progress bar a few times, he found that every time it stopped, it landed on Lu Xiao’s high-definition handsome face.
Huh? Had the cameraman sent him a compressed file full of Lu Xiao? Did he accidentally mix up the one meant for Lu Xiao with the one sent to him?
Meng Xueyuan certainly wasn’t going to return it.
He went back to the beginning and watched patiently.
Why did the cameraman keep filming Lu Xiao’s gaze? The camera followed Lu Xiao’s line of sight—and it was Meng Xueyuan.
Lu Xiao watched Meng Xueyuan anytime, anywhere. When Meng Xueyuan wasn’t looking at him, Lu Xiao’s gaze was deep, affectionate, tireless. When Meng Xueyuan turned his head, Lu Xiao would casually withdraw his gaze, pretending indifference.
The cameraman was excellent at capturing atmosphere—numerous close-ups of Lu Xiao, like a long, silent inner monologue.
Meng Xueyuan was deeply shaken. He felt as though Lu Xiao’s gaze pierced through the screen, crossed time, and fell directly onto his face.
His cheeks grew warm, and under Lu Xiao’s gaze, he found himself unable to move.
The looks he had missed returned to him in another form.
Sometimes the frame stayed still, and the cameraman thoughtfully added a note: “Not a static image.” When Lu Xiao moved again, a heart-stirring, passionate love song would play.
Only when his legs went numb did Meng Xueyuan realize he had been sitting motionless for two hours.
With trembling calves, he got up from the bed. The video continued playing as he washed his face, ordered dinner, ate, hand-washed his underwear, rinsed his mouth, and tidied the room… When the four-hour video ended, he had finished everything he could possibly do.
The screen went dark, leaving him oddly empty.
Suddenly, Meng Xueyuan had an urge to confide in someone, to share how he felt—but there was no suitable person.
Wait… he could go check Lu Xiao’s solo-fan forum. The people there must feel the same way.
Cleverly, Meng Xueyuan clicked in. Sure enough, the forum was filled with gloom, everyone chewing over Lu Xiao’s classic film and TV works just like him.
Meng Xueyuan liked several threads, even liking posts where the Night Watchers were furiously cursing Lu Xiao as a scumbag and Meng Xueyuan as a vixen who stole him away.
“Right now, Lu Xiao’s job is the real vixen—and it’s a foreign one.”
The more viciously the Night Watchers cursed, the more it showed how unwilling they were to let Lu Xiao go. For the first time, Meng Xueyuan felt nothing being cursed—he even empathized a little.
Poor Night Watchers, with no new content to consume.
Meng Xueyuan made a new post.
[@hhhh (Level 13): o(???)o]
All of us Night Watchers wandering the ends of the earth—when we meet, let’s post a few more pictures. Soft-hearted, Meng Xueyuan opened his album. Today, he’d post twelve.
He selected handsome photos of Lu Xiao, hoping fans would be a bit happier tonight.
Bzz bzz bzz—the phone vibrated. His manager, Lin Mu, was calling.
Meng Xueyuan declined the call, hurriedly sent the selected photos, then immediately called back. “Sorry, I was busy just now. What’s up?”
Lin Mu said irritably, “It’s nothing major. Just that a few press releases popped up online, hyping a CP between you and Fei Luoluo.”
Marketing a new CP for a new drama was a low-cost way to get high exposure.
But Meng Xueyuan already had a partner, and dragging him into it was rude. Especially since a certain vinegar jar must not see it.
“We’ll just ignore it,” Meng Xueyuan said.
Lin Mu replied, “The problem is, it’s getting quite a bit of traction. You and Lu Xiao haven’t had any news for half a month—CP fans are prone to jumping ship. I don’t know who leaked the set photos, but one picture looks like he’s leaning down to kiss you. Take a look.”
Lin Mu sent over a photo.
In the night, Meng Xueyuan was leaning against a wall asleep, while Fei Luoluo bent down toward him.
Meng Xueyuan immediately remembered how Fei Luoluo had deliberately leaned close to call him—it had been for a forced-perspective photo. The picture was extremely blurry, clearly shot by paparazzi, and precisely because it was blurry, you couldn’t tell there was actually more than half a meter between them.
“I’ve contacted marketing accounts to delete it,” Lin Mu said, “but the photo’s already been saved on several CP forums.”
“As long as it doesn’t hit trending,” Meng Xueyuan said, “it’s fine. Also, release a piece saying I’m aloof, that without Lu Xiao on set I don’t talk to anyone, and that Fei Luoluo tried to strike up a conversation and failed.”
That kind of press release would kill three birds with one stone: reinforce his relationship with Lu Xiao, slap down Fei Luoluo’s hype, and elevate Meng Xueyuan’s status.
“I already did,” Lin Mu said. “Yao Lin released it immediately.”
Hearing Lin Mu hesitate, Meng Xueyuan asked, “What is it?”
“Do you know who’s shipping that CP in such a twisted way?” Lin Mu asked.
“Who?”
“Your CP fans with Lu Xiao.”
Meng Xueyuan was shocked. Even such a premium CP could jump ship after half a month without sugar?
“Their mindset is complicated,” Lin Mu said. “In short, Lu Xiao retired from the industry, so some people are into the ‘entertainment industry widow’ trope.”
The ‘departed’ big brother’s partner struggling alone in the entertainment industry, cold and distant to everyone, surrounded by wolves.
“They don’t care who the wolves are. They just want to create a sense of crisis for big brother, to see if they can lure him back from the dead. And with how cold and lonely you look in that photo, it really has that…”
Widow vibe.
Meng Xueyuan was utterly shocked, deeply impressed by the CP fans’ tactics—because this might actually force Lu Xiao to react.
After observing the forums, Lin Mu felt deeply that exposing weaknesses was deadly. The CP fans now clearly knew how to handle a love-brained man.
“Does Yao Lin have a way to stop them from shipping this?” Meng Xueyuan frowned slightly. Lu Xiao was at a critical point in his career, and he didn’t want him distracted by such trivial matters.
Besides, retirement was retirement—there was no way he’d respond to everything.
“Yao Lin suggests you post some sugar on Weibo,” Lin Mu said. “Like screenshots of you greeting each other in chats—you must have plenty. CP fans are actually easy to satisfy. Shipping a cult CP is novel once, but next time they won’t be able to mobilize so many people again.”
“That makes sense,” Meng Xueyuan said.
He was about to screenshot Lu Xiao reporting the local weather to him that morning when Lin Mu suddenly screeched on the phone.
“AAAAAA Meng Xueyuan, you’ve been exposed on Lu Xiao’s solo-fan forum!”
Meng Xueyuan’s mind went completely blank.
Lin Mu continued screaming, “You even posted Lu Xiao’s bed photos!!!”
“Impossible! I don’t have that kind of thing!” Meng Xueyuan shot to his feet, switched out of Weibo, and opened the solo-fan forum.
He had posted twelve photos. The first eleven were perfectly normal. The twelfth—
Lu Xiao, fresh from washing his hair, wearing blue loungewear, leaning against a pillow, reading documents by the bedside lamp.
It wasn’t the twelfth photo Meng Xueyuan originally intended to post—his finger had slipped—but it was still a pretty normal picture.
At first, the thirsty comments were normal too, until a veteran Night Watcher raised a question—
“Eh? What drama is this still of Brother Lu from?”
The entire solo-fan group went into a frenzy of investigation and found no source anywhere online.
The photos Meng Xueyuan had posted before were all from public occasions or sets—legitimate-looking sources.
[@hhhh, please explain. Did you install surveillance cameras in my brother’s house?]
[What surveillance? This is clearly a bedside perspective.]
[I remember the variety show pilot went to Lu Xiao’s house. The bedroom door wasn’t fully closed—there was a flash of the bedside table background that looks just like this? Image.jpg]
[Case solved. This is Lu Xiao’s home.]
[@hhhh, sis, please explain—how do you have my brother’s bed photo? My brother has honorably retired, please don’t let him collapse!]
[@hhhh, admit it. You’re Meng Xueyuan. I’d rather you be Meng Xueyuan.]
[@hhhh, sorry, I used some methods to trace your IP. My apologies—because you had no IP protection, you were browsing naked… but!!! Why is your IP address in the same city as Meng Xueyuan’s crew?!]
The morally bankrupt CP fans who’d just been shipping the widow trope caught the scent and rushed in.
Fei Luoluo? Who? Some nobody? Kick him out! Right now, all we care about is @hhhh!
[There’s a luxury essential oil on the bedside table. A rich lady posted the wedding gift set from the Chu family’s eldest son’s wedding—it included this oil. Based on Lu Xiao’s hair length, bold guess: this was taken the night he attended the wedding.]
[That day they arrived and left in a sports car with only two seats. There’s no way a manager or assistant followed them home to take photos.]
[The wedding banquet ended at 9 p.m. Lu Xiao and Meng Xueyuan got home, washed up, tidied themselves—wouldn’t that be at least 10? At 10, who else could take the photo besides Meng Xueyuan?]
[No wonder there are so many photos saved on the phone—it’s Meng Xueyuan.]
[I counted—@hhhh posted 34 times over two years. Because of many replies, level 13, second only to the admins.]
[Not only is Lu Xiao a love-brain, Meng Xueyuan, you’re super in love too!]
[Sorry, this is now the Snow-Night subforum.]
[Don’t get it—why does Meng Xueyuan come here every day to get cursed? Is it to bide his time and give solo fans a fatal blow?]
[Take a step back—can’t our YuanYuan also be a solo fan?]
The trending topics exploded instantly.
#WhatDoesItFeelLikeWhenTheSisterInLawRidesOnSoloFans’Faces#
Unprecedented…
The solo-fan world was shaken to the core, to the point that major solo-fan forums began investigating whether their own fansites were secretly run by the sister-in-law.
[Baby, you’re so fierce. I don’t even dare enter toxic-solo territory.]
[Getting cursed by solo fans for two years and still falling in love with Lu Xiao… baby, you…]
[Snowflakes, I’ve lurked here too. Rounding up, that makes me life-and-death buddies with YuanYuan.]
[Don’t make Meng Xueyuan sound like the victim—solo fans are the real victims!]
[Deceiving Lu Xiao’s solo fans’ feelings, playing with them in the palm of his hand.]
[No, no… are there still people who don’t know this is Meng Xueyuan’s deep-closet forum? Using full names every day without abbreviations. Search “Lu Xiao”: 234,223 results. Search “Meng Xueyuan”: 321,211 results. In a real solo-fan forum, Meng Xueyuan would be officially banned from head to toe—mention him and you’re banned.]
[Lu Xiao eats a meal, there’s a thread saying he ate alone, Meng Xueyuan wasn’t there. Lu Xiao gets a haircut, there’s a thread saying it’s because he doesn’t want the same hairstyle as Meng Xueyuan… what kind of toxic solo fans are these?]
[Exactly! We orthodox solo fans aren’t even there! That place is heretical! Meng Xueyuan has always been their spiritual leader.]
Rival fans tried to stir trouble, wanting to find a typical case—like a solo fan who’d been professing love to @hhhh daily and was now deeply hurt—to use as a weapon against Meng Xueyuan.
But the forum was immediately cut off by Lu Xiao’s orthodox solo fans. The “local victims” remained silent.
“…”
Fine, fine—you’re the orthodox solo fans, everyone here is heretical. But why the hell are you orthodox solo fans personally stepping in to clean the floor for Meng Xueyuan???
Can anyone still find a real Lu Xiao solo fan online?
[Got it. Fans take after their idol—you’re all deep-closet Meng Xueyuan fans.]
……
Lin Mu was so shocked his mouth wouldn’t close. He’d managed Meng Xueyuan for two years and had no idea Meng Xueyuan even had an account on the solo-fan forum. He distinctly remembered telling him not to read anti-fan comments.
“I told you to post a little sugar, not smash the entire sugar jar…”
The effect was indeed great. Who even remembered who Fei Luoluo was anymore? He wasn’t as memorable as Lu Xiao’s Ferrari.
Meng Xueyuan: “….”
Absolute denial.
It was 10 p.m. in China, 6 p.m. where Lu Xiao was.
Yao Lin reported the good news but not the bad—she told him about Meng Xueyuan being exposed, but since no one cared about Fei Luoluo’s hype anymore, she didn’t mention it.
—Your wife is a veteran user of your solo-fan forum. Aren’t you thrilled?
Later, Yao Lin received instructions to contact marketing accounts and hint that this was Lu Xiao’s narcissistic alt account, unrelated to Meng Xueyuan.
[No way, bro, aren’t you abroad? Different IPs—are you still taking the blame?]
[You take the blame for Meng Xueyuan every day. Back when Meng Xueyuan was embroiled in that prostitution rumor, wasn’t it you too?]
[I’m starting to doubt the authenticity of the rumors you cleared up for him back then.]
Lu Xiao never imagined that while he himself had been lurking in CP forums, his wife had been thoroughly brainwashed by solo fans for two years. No wonder whenever he dared to be bold, he never got the reaction he expected!
Who the hell could’ve thought of this?!
His second reaction was worry—afraid Meng Xueyuan would feel uncomfortable after being exposed—so he claimed the account.
But netizens, being contrarian, dug up the fact that he had previously cleared rumors for Meng Xueyuan too.
This concerned his wife’s reputation; it couldn’t go unclarified.
He hadn’t lied—he really had been with Meng Xueyuan that night. It was just that he was downstairs, and Meng Xueyuan was upstairs.
Lu Xiao immediately had Yao Lin log into his encrypted online dashcam account and retrieve the footage from that night.
Ordinary dashcams only keep footage for a week, but Lu family cars keep it for at least two years, for reference at any time.
Soon after, Lu Xiao’s studio released dashcam footage from two months ago.
Lu Xiao’s car was parked outside the hotel where the Little Mountain God crew was dining. At a quarter past seven, Meng Xueyuan appeared at the entrance with other crew members. They split up; the others took taxis to their next destination, while Meng Xueyuan walked along the road with his assistant back to the nearby Baihua Apartments.
Meng Xueyuan went upstairs. Lu Xiao’s car stayed downstairs until midnight—Meng Xueyuan never came out.
Lu Xiao had heard rumors about the original director of Little Mountain God abroad, things that weren’t very good. How could he be at ease letting Meng Xueyuan entertain alone inside?
The assistant had to stay with him, and Lu Xiao himself had to wait outside.
That night, he hadn’t seen his wife for a month already, so he lingered downstairs a bit longer. When boarding time approached, he drove straight to the airport and took a red-eye flight back to the southwest to visit graves.
[Brother Lu… I repent for shipping widow literature for one second.]
[Bro, you really didn’t need to expose your stalker behavior. @hhhh had a post exposed—it was posted that very night.]
[You guarded him downstairs; he posted about you upstairs. You’re made for each other.]
[What’s wrong with you two idiot lovebirds?!]
……
Meng Xueyuan was still steeped in guilt and unease over being exposed. No matter what, he had accidentally posted photos of Lu Xiao’s private life, infringing on his privacy.
He played dead for a while before remembering to delete the post. Even though screenshots were already everywhere, deleting it would only draw more attention.
But he had to delete it anyway.
He logged into the forum again—only to find no posts loading.
[Your IP has been banned from access.]
Huh??? The wrath of the solo-fan admins?
One minute earlier, a certain big shot who’d spent a fortune upgrading servers issued an order to lock the barn after the horse had bolted—banning his wife from accessing solo-fan forums ever again.
Suddenly, Meng Xueyuan received a video call from Lu Xiao.
He’s come to settle accounts with me…
Publicly and privately, Lu Xiao had reason to demand an explanation—for teasing fans and randomly posting photos.
Startled, Meng Xueyuan instinctively declined the call.
He couldn’t avoid it.
He obediently called back and proactively confessed, “I know—even in a relationship, both sides need privacy and personal space—”
Such a serious tone from his wife made Lu Xiao instantly think of the newly released dashcam footage. He dropped to his knees in spirit.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have followed you!”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have posted your photos!”
“……”
Lu Xiao pressed his forehead. Sometimes chickens talking to ducks wasn’t the forum’s fault—his wife just needed proper guidance.
“Baby, can you sleep?”
Meng Xueyuan replied, “I can’t.”
Lu Xiao said, “Now, open the CP forum and read ten fanfics.”
Meng Xueyuan cautiously asked, “Did you see them calling you ‘ex-husband’?”
Right now, the CP forum was full of widow literature. Lu Xiao must be angry, sending him there to reflect.
Lu Xiao exploded. “What?!”
