Countless Blossoms: The Actor's Gamble | Chapter 17 | The Chilling Wind | Novela.app

Chapter 17 - The Chilling Wind Zheng Kunyu closed the photos, and the screen was instantly replaced by a flood of text. The images had clearly ignited a digital carnival of voyeurism across the internet. Anonymous netizens were dissecting Qi Bailu’s sexuality, speculating with lewd curiosity about his relationship with the photographer. Even his more provocative scenes from *Dewy Night Run* had been meticulously clipped and circulated; as soon as one link was taken down, another ten would sprout in its place. This particular sequence was the subject of endless fascination, with many "experts" claiming his reactions were too visceral to be mere acting—insinuating that the fiction had bled into reality. Qi Bailu watched with a numb, hollow expression as Zheng Kunyu’s cursor hovered over a video file and clicked. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of heavy, ambiguous breathing. On the screen, a younger version of himself lay between two men, their hands wandering restlessly over his skin. Qi Bailu had never viewed these moments through the lens of shame—to him, they were scars of a past life—but he could no longer endure the weight of Zheng Kunyu’s scrutiny. He lunged forward, snatching the mouse to kill the video. "Don't make me hate you," he whispered, his voice trembling with a cold, sharp edge. He stood up, intending to flee the suffocating atmosphere of the room, but Zheng Kunyu’s hand shot out, gripping his arm and swinging him back into the chair with effortless strength. "This won't affect your career," Zheng said, his tone maddeningly pragmatic. "Then should I say thank you?" Qi Bailu spat back, his eyes flashing with resentment. "You aren't a female star." Qi Bailu understood the cruel subtext immediately. If a rising actress were caught in such a scandal, the industry would devour her whole. But for a male actor, as long as it wasn't a definitive sex scandal, the controversy would eventually act as fuel. Once the storm passed, he would likely emerge even more famous. The internet had a long memory, but the public had a short attention span; in a few days, they would be chasing a new thrill. Yet, his career was the furthest thing from his mind. "So, you didn't even think to ask me?" Qi Bailu asked, his voice cracking. "You just went behind my back and bought them?" Zheng Kunyu reached out, his fingers grazing Qi Bailu’s cheek in a gesture that was meant to be soothing but felt like a brand. Qi Bailu recoiled as if touched by a viper, but Zheng’s grip on his wrist was like iron. Consumed by a sudden, white-hot flare of rage, Qi Bailu grabbed the cup of tea from the desk and hurled the contents directly into Zheng Kunyu’s face. The lukewarm liquid splashed across his features, dripping down his chin and soaking into his pristine shirt. The impact finally forced Zheng to release him. He didn't explode in anger; instead, he slowly removed his glasses, which were speckled with droplets, and pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his face. His dark eyes remained unreadable, harboring depths of emotion that Qi Bailu refused to acknowledge. Without another word, Qi Bailu set the empty cup down and walked out. A cold war settled between them for the rest of the afternoon. When evening fell, Zheng Kunyu came to the hotel to see him, but Qi Bailu kept the door bolted. A short while later, Cheng Wenhui knocked, claiming he had urgent matters to discuss. When Qi Bailu opened the door, he found the manager standing alone. He didn't invite him in, instead stepping out into the hallway and closing the door firmly behind him. "There’s nothing to talk about," Qi Bailu said flatly. Cheng Wenhui noted the heavy coat and the wool scarf wrapped tightly around the younger man’s neck. "Where are you going? The paparazzi are still camping outside." "To eat." "With whom?" "Lin Yuewei." Cheng Wenhui fell silent. Whether for business or personal reasons, he had no grounds to stop Qi Bailu from meeting his director. However, as Qi Bailu turned to leave, the manager’s professional composure wavered. He hurried after him, insisting on driving him. Inside the car, Cheng Wenhui attempted to bring up Zheng Kunyu again. Qi Bailu shot him a frigid glare, but Cheng persisted. "You know President Zheng’s temperament. I’ve worked with him for years, and I’ve never seen him show this much restraint with an artist. You two have been together for over two years now..." "If you say one more word, I’m getting out of this car and walking," Qi Bailu interrupted, his voice dangerously low. Cheng Wenhui caught his eye in the rearview mirror and finally fell silent. After a long moment, he softened his tone, speaking with a rare, weary sincerity. "You can throw tantrums, you can even throw water in his face, but don't truly provoke him, Bailu. Don't push him to the edge." Qi Bailu had a sarcastic retort ready, but when he looked at Cheng Wenhui, he saw a face stripped of the "Gold Medal Manager" mask. There was a genuine, exhausted fear in the man’s eyes. "Are you afraid of him?" Qi Bailu asked. "Aren't you?" Cheng countered. Qi Bailu didn't answer for a long time. He turned his head to watch the city blur past the window. Christmas was only a few days away, and the trees lining the road were draped in festive lights, their reflections dancing across the glass in a kaleidoscope of artificial cheer. Just as Cheng Wenhui assumed the conversation was over, Qi Bailu spoke softly. "The thing I was most afraid of... has already passed." Lin Yuewei had chosen a quiet barbecue restaurant. Once they were settled in their private booth, she looked at him with concern. "How did you get so thin?" Qi Bailu shed his coat, feeling a rare sense of ease in her presence. "Filming a TV drama is much more exhausting than a movie." "Good timing, then. I have a role waiting for you," Lin Yuewei said, pulling a fresh script from her bag. It still smelled of printer ink. Qi Bailu flipped through it; years of practice allowed him to grasp the narrative arc quickly. He let out a surprised, ironic laugh. "A story about a romance between a mother and daughter? Who do you want me to play?" "If you have time, you can do a cameo as the daughter’s boyfriend." Qi Bailu continued to smile at the pages. When she asked what was so funny, he replied, "This will never be allowed to screen domestically." Lin Yuewei shrugged, turning the meat on the grill. The sizzle and the savory aroma began to ground Qi Bailu’s frayed nerves. They drifted into shop talk, discussing the script’s nuances and her recent experiences in Spain. She complained about the difficulty of casting, mentioning that she might have to look for an amateur if she couldn't find the right actress. "You'll find her," Qi Bailu assured her. Lin Yuewei smiled, recalling their first meeting. "When you came to audition for *Dewy Night Run*, I knew the moment I saw you that you were the one. Then Zheng Kunyu kept blocking it, which made me quite frustrated with you for a few days." At the mention of Zheng’s name, Qi Bailu’s hand faltered as he raised his glass. Lin Yuewei, ever observant, noticed the hesitation. Qi Bailu didn't take the bait. Instead, he asked, "Did you see the photos?" She nodded slowly. After a moment of silence, Qi Bailu said, "Those photos... they weren't taken with my consent." Lin Yuewei sat up straighter, giving him her full attention. "My uncle kept pushing me to apply for the film academy. I thought he just wanted me to succeed, but on my first day of school, he started calling himself my manager. He introduced me to all sorts of people—directors, producers, or so he claimed. One day, he took me to an audition. The man there made me drink a lot. He took off my clothes and took those pictures... then he started touching me. I ran away." It was the first time he had ever spoken of the harassment aloud. Though the shadow of that day no longer haunted his every waking moment, the words were still difficult to form. "I'm sorry," Lin Yuewei said softly. "Why are you saying that?" "Did it make you afraid when we were filming *Dewy Night Run*?" Qi Bailu shook his head. He took a deep breath as if wanting to say more, but ultimately just looked away. The atmosphere in the booth grew heavy, punctuated only by the sound of them eating. Just as Lin Yuewei was about to change the subject, Qi Bailu spoke again. "I've saved up some money." "Are you looking to switch agencies? I have a lawyer friend I trust who can look over your contract." "What if I want to quit?" "Quit what?" "The game. All of it." Lin Yuewei studied his face, searching for a sign of a joke, but found only a profound weariness. "But you still love acting, don't you? You never say it, but I can see it in your eyes." "Acting is the only thing I'm good at." "I remember you saying you only went to film school for the money," she said, hesitating before continuing. "So... are you with Zheng Kunyu for the money, too?" Qi Bailu didn't answer. After a few seconds, a small, ambiguous smile played on his lips—neither a confirmation nor a denial. "Money is a good thing," Lin Yuewei said, sensing his reluctance to delve deeper. "Without it, nothing gets filmed." Qi Bailu nodded in somber agreement. After dinner, she drove him back to his hotel. As they stepped out of the restaurant, Lin Yuewei lit a cigarette. They stood side by side on the steps, the biting wind whipping around them. Qi Bailu leaned in, shielding his hands to light his own cigarette. In the shadows of the nearby bushes, a camera flash flickered. Lin Yuewei glanced at him, but seeing his indifferent expression as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, she simply shrugged it off. Cheng Wenhui had expected a simple dinner, but by the next morning, Qi Bailu was back in the headlines. The media was having a field day with titles like "Qi Bailu Appears Unfazed After Scandal" and "Spotted Smoking on the Street," speculating about a new collaboration with Lin Yuewei. Cheng was too overwhelmed with the investigation Zheng Kunyu had assigned him to care about the gossip. Zheng had ordered him to dig into the photographer’s background. What Cheng found sent a chill down his spine. The man was a third-rate director with a long history of sexual harassment. If any of this had leaked during the initial scandal, the "artistic" defense would have crumbled instantly. When Cheng reported his findings, Zheng Kunyu’s face remained a mask of calm, simply stating that he understood. His task complete, Cheng was then told to go and open Qi Bailu’s door. Knowing the two were still in a standoff, he felt like a man being sent into a minefield. When Qi Bailu opened the door, script in hand, and saw Zheng Kunyu, he immediately tried to slam it shut. But Zheng’s hand was already braced against the frame, his strength overwhelming Qi Bailu’s resistance. He forced his way in, grabbing Qi Bailu’s arm and pinning him against the wall. The script fell to the floor, forgotten. Qi Bailu was tired of the games. As Zheng’s face hovered inches from his, his hand reaching for Qi Bailu’s waist, the actor didn't pull away. Instead, he began to unbutton his own shirt with a mocking sneer. "Is this all you want? Then hurry up." Zheng Kunyu seized his wrist, stopping the movement. He stared into Qi Bailu’s eyes and spoke a word that was entirely unexpected. "Sorry."