Chapter 69 – Love is Hard to Hide
The girl who had handed him the flowers raised her head, smiling, “These flowers were made by my brother. He’s also a fan of yours.”
She then raised her voice slightly and wished him great success with his new drama.
Chen Bai thanked her and her brother for the kind gesture, stood up, and waved with the hand that wasn’t holding the flowers.
He thought that would be the end, but it turned out to be just the beginning. After the pink and white bouquet, more people stepped forward to give him flowers. One was a large white and green arrangement, so big that it didn’t seem possible for him to hold it with just one hand.
With no space left in his hands, he and his assistant brother Liu took it together, with brother Liu holding it for him in the end.
The amount of flowers that day was unexpectedly large, and in the end, even Xiao Meng and the agent helped carry them as they made their way into the hotel.
The sunlight still shone brightly, and just before entering the hotel lobby, Chen Bai turned around, smiled, and waved once more, remembering to politely say goodbye.
In return, he received an amplified, thunderous chorus of “Goodbye” from the crowd.
What should have been a short walk from the car to the hotel entrance ended up taking nearly half an hour. As the sounds outside gradually faded, and they rode the elevator up to their rooms, everyone sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from their bodies and enjoying the rare coolness.
Chen Bai, who typically didn’t sweat much, had already returned to normal. With a shirt on over his outfit, he looked clean and fresh, as though he hadn’t just been pulled from a sea of people. Glancing at the time on his phone, he remembered something and asked, “Was all that commotion disruptive to the neighbors?”
The agent leaned against the elevator wall, too exhausted to speak. The hotel staff, who had joined them in the lobby, explained, “No, the production team booked the entire hotel, so all the guests staying here are part of the crew.”
With the crew busy with the opening ceremony, there were no other guests to be disturbed. If it had been an issue, the hotel security wouldn’t have allowed the fans to gather downstairs in the first place. Since the hotel was fully booked, there was more flexibility in how things could be handled.
Chen Bai nodded, saying, “Good.”
Their small team had expanded, and one suite wasn’t enough to accommodate everyone. Their rooms were separate this time, and they headed to Chen Bai’s room first to drop off their belongings. After being shown to his room, the staff left them alone.
Once the bouquets were placed on the table, the coffee table in the living room was completely filled.
There was still some time before the scheduled rehearsal for the opening ceremony, and the agent, after putting down the flowers, didn’t leave. She and the assistant carefully inspected the bouquets.
They handled them delicately, not damaging them, as if searching for something. But they found nothing. Relieved, they seemed to relax a bit.
Chen Bai glanced at them, and, not understanding, asked, “What are you looking for?”
“We’re not looking for anything in particular, and it’s not that we don’t appreciate the flowers,” the agent said, “but it’s just a matter of safety.”
She added, “You haven’t touched these flowers yet, right? Want to hold one?”
Chen Bai nodded.
As soon as he nodded, the agent, who doubled as their photographer and videographer, whipped out her phone.
Chen Bai “…”
No wonder she had been so thoughtful—it turned out she just wanted more material for her photo archive.
Seeing the look on his face, the agent defended herself, saying, “This isn’t for storage. When you get a chance later, you should post an update on your account.”
Then she said, “And put down that peace sign.”
Realizing he’d been trying to sneak a peace sign into the photo, Chen Bai put his hand down.
The agent quickly snapped some pictures, made her selections, and sent them over.
The photos didn’t need much editing, as Chen Bai’s natural looks were good enough that he looked great even through the phone’s camera. No adjustments were necessary—she sent the originals as they were.
The agent sent the photos and said, “I’ve sent you the photos, take a look and post them when you’re ready.”
After the shoot, Chen Bai was still looking at the small cards that came with the flowers. Upon hearing this, he put the cards away in his pocket and reached for his phone.
He hadn’t logged into the app in a while and was still logged in under Chen Er Bai’s account. He quickly switched back.
Close to ten in the morning, the occasionally active account posted an update.
[Chen Yi Bai V: Thanks, friends [image] [image]…]
Each bouquet had its own photo, with the sunlight streaming perfectly into the room, casting green shadows. Both the flowers and Chen Yi Bai himself looked radiant.
Not even a minute after posting, notifications began to flood in.
Since Chen Er Bai’s account had notification permissions turned on, the pop-up messages wouldn’t stop, and the constant influx of likes made it impossible to see the usernames clearly.
After finishing the post, stylist sister Jing arrived with her suitcase and said, “Your hair’s a bit messy. We still have time before we head down, let me fix it.”
Chen Bai set down his phone.
The notifications continued, and the fans kept chatting in the comments, never pausing.
[I was there in person! The flowers in the third photo were from us! Chen Yi Bai is so good-looking in real life! It was so crowded, I nearly bumped into him. He looks even better up close!]
[Wait! There’s no fancy caption or emojis this time; this was posted by the man himself! Front row selfie! ]
[I knew it was worth waiting since this morning! He’s always so considerate and polite. He was about to leave but stayed a little longer for fans who had traveled from afar. (I was close, so I overheard him talking to his assistant.)]
[So polite +1. I saw him hand his assistant a tissue—it seemed so natural. You can tell that’s their normal dynamic.]
[You all act so innocent! Out here you call him Chen Yi Bai, but in here, you’re secretly calling him “wife” (wide-eyed).]
Some people were really just pretending, acting all proper in public but calling him “wife” in private. Others suddenly realized they had been missing out and joined in.
[I used to be against calling a grown man ‘wife,’ but I’m sorry, brothers—I’ve switched sides. Chen Yi Bai really smells good, not like cologne but just naturally. His voice is also so pleasant, and his smile is so gentle. My heart still hasn’t calmed down (peacefully lies down).]
[Hahaha, am I the only one who noticed the security blocking Chen Yi Bai several times? It’s the first time I’ve seen security guard the actor instead of the fans.]
[What I noticed was the stylist on the side; she kept giving his hair a death glare hahaha.]
[Go ahead, call him “wife.” If he starts dating one day, y’all will be crying silently (cursing those of you who were there in person).]
After fans waited outside the hotel for Chen Yi Bai, photos and videos of the opening ceremony were released, successfully making it to the trending list, dominating several keywords.
The TV drama hadn’t even started filming yet, so ratings couldn’t be determined, but judging by the buzz on the day of the ceremony, the lead actor had already brought significant attention and engagement, a promising start.
Every day was packed, and from the day of the opening ceremony, the crew entered full-speed mode.
The cast included veteran actors as well as newcomers chosen by the director. The quality of the production would determine its success and the amount of revenue they’d all earn. As a result, in addition to his regular filming duties, Chen Yi Bai had to rehearse scenes with other actors, especially the newcomers, from morning until night.
Because of the nature of the show, there were a lot of night scenes, with the total number far exceeding that of a typical production.
Most of the night scenes were shot on location, and after wrapping up one night, they’d often have to return to the filming base for daytime scenes. The back-and-forth and the upside-down schedule meant that Chen Yi Bai, who usually drank one cup of black coffee a day, was now having two—one in the morning, one in the afternoon.
By May and June, the weather had warmed up again, making outdoor shoots even hotter. He didn’t have much appetite, so iced black coffee became his go-to.
In the evening, during dinner time, the cameras stopped rolling, and the quiet space became lively as people moved around.
After finishing the last scene, Chen Bai naturally walked over to his agent and assistant.
Having filmed night scenes last night, today wasn’t suitable for more work. This scene marked the end of his filming for the afternoon, and he could rest, conveniently tying into the break scheduled for the next day.
Dinner had already been delivered, and while he was filming, his agent and the others had managed to eat. As Chen Bai approached, the assistant handed him his saved meal.
“You didn’t eat much at lunch,” the agent said, “so eat dinner now, and then we’ll head back to the hotel.”
Chen Bai removed the non-prescription silver-framed glasses resting on his nose and rubbed his waist. His refined, forensic doctor character instantly transformed into an elderly man in his eighties. He took the dinner, supporting his back as he sat on a small stool.
Before he could start eating, someone came to see him.
It was a newcomer he frequently rehearsed with, often the target of the director’s scolding, so they’d worked together a lot.
“Teacher Yi Bai, do you have a moment?”
The newcomer jogged over, script in hand, but upon seeing Chen Yi Bai holding his dinner, he paused, realizing he hadn’t eaten yet. He abruptly stopped and swallowed the words he had prepared, unsure of what to say, and just stood there.
Chen Yi Bai noticed and asked, “Is there something you need?”
“I wanted to rehearse some upcoming scenes.”
The newcomer blurted out, his mind still scrambling to find the right words. He quickly added, “But Teacher Yi Bai, please finish your dinner first, I won’t disturb you.”
“It won’t take long to rehearse.”
Chen Bai temporarily set aside his dinner, grabbed his script, and stood up, saying, “I’m off tomorrow, so I won’t be able to rehearse then.”
The newcomer paused for a moment before realizing that Chen Yi Bai had agreed. He quickly thanked him.
The agent didn’t say much more as Chen Yi Bai stood up, watching him and the newcomer leave.
The scene rehearsal didn’t take too long, nor was it particularly short—about twenty to thirty minutes. The newcomer wanted to finish quickly so as not to waste Chen Yi Bai’s time, but they kept getting out of character and missing the right feel, so both were stuck in the process.
The assistant, sitting beside the agent, glanced at the distant, slender figure of Chen Yi Bai and then at the dinner, which was probably cold by now. She asked, “Is this okay?”
These days, with alternating indoor and outdoor shoots, their schedules were already chaotic. Add to that the heat, which had suppressed his appetite, and most of what Chen Bai had consumed was morning soy milk and black coffee. He had only taken a few bites of food, not eating much at all.
The agent exhaled, “It’s definitely not okay.”
She said, “Let’s check if there’s any food suitable for hot weather around here tonight.”
Time passed quickly, and as they discussed, the evening light dimmed, and the clouds shifted from pinkish-purple to a deep blue-violet.
Chen Yi Bai returned just as the last bit of light disappeared. His figure was illuminated by the fading glow, making his expression hard to discern.
The agent had a gut feeling that his steps didn’t seem as light as usual. She stood up, squinting to get a better look.
As he got closer, his pale face, highlighted by the faint light around, became visible.
“We finished rehearsing.”
Despite usually staying dry even in this kind of heat, there were beads of cold sweat on his forehead. He rubbed his hair as he normally did and said, “I’m feeling a little off.”
As he spoke, the cold sweat trickled down from his forehead.
“…”
Both assistants immediately stood up.
Yup, there was definitely a problem.
The last of the light disappeared from the horizon.
It was nearly time to head back to the hotel. The driver was already waiting in the car and saw someone approaching from a distance.
It was a bit unusual, the pace seemed faster.
He got out, intending to open the car door, but before he could reach the back seat, the agent had already rushed forward, opened the door, and quickly got into the car. She turned back to him and said, “Start the car, we’re going to the hospital.”
“The hospital?”
The driver was momentarily stunned but quickly caught on. He didn’t ask any more questions and immediately returned to the driver’s seat, started the engine, and punched in the nearest hospital on the GPS.
The lights on either side of the road receded as the car sped toward the hospital.
The strong smell of disinfectant always hung in the air in hospitals.
The fake forensic doctor had now encountered real doctors, and after some tests, he was diagnosed with a bout of gastritis. He was awarded a hospital bed and patient gown.
“The patient’s condition isn’t too serious. After taking the medication, the symptoms should be under control. However, there’s still a slight fever, so if you’re concerned, we recommend staying for observation overnight,” the doctor said.
The contrast between being on location and lying in a hospital bed was immense, in both time and space. Night had fully fallen, and the patient lay quietly in the hospital room while the agent stood outside, talking to the doctor. She nodded at his words.
After handling all the necessary paperwork, the agent returned to the hospital room to find the patient, eyes wide open, trying to get his phone from the assistant.
Despite his pale face and half-dead appearance, the fact that he was still thinking about his phone meant his condition wasn’t too dire.
The agent walked over to the bedside, let out a sigh, and sat down. “You’re still thinking about playing with your phone at a time like this?”
“No.”
Taking the phone that the assistant quickly handed him, the patient lay back down and glanced at the time on the screen. “I had plans to call a friend after work.”
It had already been over two hours since the scheduled time for the call, and he couldn’t just ghost his friend without an explanation. He felt he at least had to explain the situation.
Even though he was weak, his mind was still fixated on his friend.
His friend’s brain must be functioning well, the assistant thought as she averted her gaze. The agent wiped her face and said, “I’ve already informed your friend.”
She continued, “Your friend couldn’t reach you, so they contacted me, asking if something had happened.”
Chen Bai unlocked his phone and, sure enough, saw several missed calls. He opened the chat window and casually asked, “What did Sister Qian say?”
“The truth.”
The agent glanced at him. “Did you really plan on hiding this?”
Chen Bai gestured with his fingers, indicating “just a little,” and said, “It’s not a big deal. He’s still busy with work for the next couple of days, so the fewer things he has to worry about, the better his mood will be.”
So, he really did intend to hide it.
From a logical standpoint, the agent thought there was no way he could have hidden this. Even just from hearing his voice, anyone could tell something was wrong, let alone his close friend.
Speaking of which, the agent asked, “Where is your friend working right now?”
“Yesterday, it was the neighboring city,” Chen Yibai replied while typing, then looked up and added, “I haven’t asked today, but it’s probably the same.”
That question was supposed to come up during their conversation tonight, but since they didn’t get to talk, he missed his chance. A real shame.
That likely meant his friend wasn’t in the city. The agent let out a breath. “Good thing we’re here.”
If his friend wasn’t in town and they hadn’t been around either, it would have been hard to imagine how he’d manage to get himself to the hospital.
For the first decade or so of his life, Chen Bai had always gone to the hospital alone, handled the paperwork alone, and seen the doctor alone. Upon hearing her words, he looked up, smiled, and nodded, “Good thing you’re here.”
And so, his usual late-night routine was cut off. Lack of rest was one of the triggers for his gastritis, and the agent, with a smile, firmly expressed that she hoped he wouldn’t stay up tonight.
He agreed. Skipping a late night was fine with him. If he was going to spend money on a hospital stay, he might as well get more sleep to make it worth the cost. His condition wasn’t severe enough to require someone to stay with him overnight, and since the hospital’s accommodations weren’t exactly comfortable, there was nowhere for them to sleep anyway. After taking care of everything, the agent and assistant left the hospital just after ten o’clock, heading to a nearby hotel since their usual one was too far away.
The next day was overcast.
It had rained the night before, and the clouds hadn’t dispersed. The morning air was heavy with moisture, and as someone walked past the entrance of the hospital building, the atmosphere felt dense.
The hospital operated a visitor registration system. It was still early, not long after the start of the workday. A nurse at the registration desk, yawning behind her mask, suddenly noticed footsteps approaching and a shadow blocking the light above her.
The person, wearing a hat, handed over an ID card, saying they wanted to register for a visit.
The tall figure exuded an imposing presence, causing the nurse to instinctively recall past incidents of hospital disturbances. She took the ID without thinking much.
“…”
It wasn’t until she saw the name on the ID that she snapped awake, her eyes widening. She unconsciously looked up and met a pair of dark eyes, shadowed by the brim of a hat.
Those eyes weren’t looking at her. The man, head down, was filling out the visitor form. “I’m here to see Chen Bai in room 302.”
Though her mind was still racing, her professional instincts kicked in. The nurse swiftly completed the registration and reminded him that a doctor would likely check in on the patient in about half an hour. She then watched as he made his way upstairs.
It was still early. The first and second floors were busy, with people already moving about in the corridors, but the third floor was quiet. There wasn’t a soul in sight, and the echo of footsteps on the tiled floor was loud and clear.
Xu Sinian reached for the doorknob, turning it gently.
At that moment, lying in bed, the patient who had gone to bed early the night before and woken up early this morning opened his dull, unfocused eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The room was dim, and even without checking his phone, he knew it was still early.
It was early, but he already heard footsteps in the room. Only the agent, assistant, or doctor would be here at this time.
Hearing the sound, he slightly turned his head and lifted his eyes.
His vision, which had been perfect the night before, had dropped to near-blindness this morning, and he could barely make out a man in a white shirt and black pants.
He immediately ruled out the doctor, who should have been wearing a long white coat, and began guessing who it could be among the remaining possibilities. Tentatively, the patient asked, “Brother Liu, when did you get so tall?”
Even though his vision was blurry, he thought the person’s legs seemed unusually long.
Xu Sinian “…”
The brother Liu lookalike responded, “It’s me.”
The voice was low, pleasant, and very familiar.
Chen Bai “?”
In an instant, the patient sat up straight.
The sudden movement caused by his low blood pressure and low blood sugar made him sway unsteadily. His arms, weak from illness, gave out, and he toppled forward.
He didn’t fall to the floor, though—he fell right into the chest of his neighbor, who had quickly moved to the bedside. The familiar scent, slightly mixed with rain, filled his nose. His limbs were still weak, so he stayed where he had fallen, resting his face against the man. “So it’s not brother Liu, it’s brother Xu.”
His voice was muffled through the fabric of the shirt. He shifted to a more comfortable position and asked, “Why did Comrade Xu come here?”
That “brother Xu” was just a fleeting moment. After that, it was back to the usual “Comrade Xu.” Comrade Xu replied, “I wanted to check on you.”
That brief sentence concealed a whole night spent driving. He asked, “How are you feeling now?”
“I don’t really feel anything.”
Finally regaining some strength, the patient managed to sit up straight on his own. He thought for a moment, trying to gauge how he felt, but couldn’t come up with anything definitive. “I might already be fine.”
Xu Sinian still carried the moisture from his journey, and his dark eyes lowered slightly, gazing directly at the patient. His hand, hanging by his side, twitched slightly.
The patient thought for a moment, analyzed the situation, then looked up and asked, “Want a hug?”
Xu Sinian asked, “Can I?”
The patient smiled, “You can.”
——
Feeling that the patient should be awake by now, the agent and the assistant finished their morning routines and headed to the hospital before the doctor’s rounds.
By this time, the hospital was bustling with people. It was bright inside, completely separated from the gloom outside. While completing the registration, the nurse informed them that someone had already come to visit earlier.
Climbing the stairs to the third floor, the assistant’s footsteps echoed in the hallway as she whispered, “Who could have come at this time?”
The hospitalization had been kept quiet, so not many people should have known about it.
No one had an answer. Worried that an unfamiliar person might have slipped in, they quickened their pace slightly.
To allow nurses to check on patients easily, the door to the room had a long, narrow glass panel for viewing inside.
Their footsteps halted in front of room 302. The agent, leading the way, raised her hand to knock on the door.
Through the glass, she caught sight of the person who had arrived before them.
He was familiar—it was the friend of the patient, the one who was supposed to be in the neighboring city.
She watched as the “friend” bent down gently, wrapping the patient, clad in a blue and white hospital gown, in his arms. One hand was deeply buried in the patient’s tousled hair.
