By the time the auction concluded, Qi Bailu had bought nothing, choosing instead to donate his check. As the lights brightened, celebrity guests were invited onstage for a group photo, but Zheng Kunyu had already slipped away. Qi Bailu scanned the crowd but didn't see the man who had purchased the music box. He realized then that the man likely wasn't an actor or a singer, but someone working behind the scenes.
The group photo was followed by a collective interview, and the team had arranged for a photographer to take shots backstage. By the time they finished work and climbed into the commuter van, it was already eleven o'clock at night. His manager escorted him through the throngs of people. Outside, the snow had grown heavier; by the time they reached the outdoor parking lot, Qi Bailu’s scarf was dusted with white flakes. The assistant stepped ahead to pull open the car door. Qi Bailu hadn't expected Zheng Kunyu to be waiting for him inside and hesitated for a beat before sliding into the back seat.
Zheng Kunyu gave the driver the name of a nightclub. Qi Bailu understood there was more socializing to be done, though he didn't know the nature of it. He sat beside Zheng Kunyu, leaning back against the seat to rest. He watched as a layer of condensation began to fog the windows. When Zheng Kunyu reached out to take his hand, he remained perfectly still.
After a moment, the manager turned around to remind him, "Bailu, aren't you going to post on Weibo?"
Qi Bailu had spent the entire morning filming in Hengdian, and as soon as his plane landed, he had been tied up by Zheng Kunyu at the hotel. He hadn't eaten much all evening and felt nothing but exhaustion. Nevertheless, he reached for his phone, using the movement as an excuse to pull his hand out of Zheng Kunyu’s grasp. He opened the front-facing camera and snapped a quick photo of his face.
Zheng Kunyu watched him and asked, "That’s all you’re posting?"
*What else?* Qi Bailu shot him a glance, opened Weibo, uploaded the image, and quickly hit send.
The manager let out a sharp "Hey!" of frustration. Qi Bailu had posted so abruptly that he hadn't even had a chance to intercept and review it. Fearing the photo might be unflattering, he hurriedly pulled out his own phone and refreshed the homepage to see what Qi Bailu had done. The signal in the car was poor, and it took a while for the image to load—the angle was bad, but at least he didn't look ugly.
The manager turned back. "What about the caption?"
"Forgot," Qi Bailu said, fiddling with his phone without looking up.
The manager had handled many artists over the years, but he had never seen anyone as dismissive as Qi Bailu. If Zheng Kunyu hadn't been sitting right there, he would have forced Qi Bailu to come up with something. Swallowing his irritation, the manager began monitoring fan comments while simultaneously messaging the studio’s graphic designers, telling them to post the professionally retouched photos from the photography team as soon as they received them.
"Let me see."
Zheng Kunyu suddenly reached over to take Qi Bailu’s phone. Qi Bailu instinctively tightened his grip for a second before finally letting go. Zheng Kunyu opened the photo gallery. In the latest selfie, the lower half of Qi Bailu’s face was buried in his wool scarf, leaving only his beautiful, elegant eyes visible. In the dim light of the car, those eyes looked somewhat somber.
Zheng Kunyu’s finger slid across the photos, lingering briefly on each one. Qi Bailu knew he hadn't taken any strange pictures, so he let him look. There were very few selfies; the rest were mostly photos of scenery.
"What are we going to do?" Qi Bailu asked as he took his phone back.
"Discuss a new project."
"A series? Or a movie?"
Zheng Kunyu was a well-known producer in the industry. A television drama he had produced in his youth had been a massive success, earning both high ratings and critical acclaim. Later, he established his own production company, focusing primarily on television. Qi Bailu had even watched his shows when he was a child.
"I showed you the script before."
"That suspense film?"
"Once you finish *How Much Sorrow the West Wind Bears*, you’ll be the second male lead in that movie."
Zheng Kunyu gave Qi Bailu a look of confidence, but to Qi Bailu, that confidence felt cold—like a gambler looking at the chips he had just pushed onto the table.
The project he mentioned, *How Much Sorrow the West Wind Bears*, was the Republican-era drama Qi Bailu was currently filming. He played the second male lead, a ruthless young military officer driven by unrequited love.
Qi Bailu’s previous two films had been niche arthouse productions. His debut, *Afternoon Youth*, was a coming-of-age story. Although it only earned thirty million at the box office, it was a solid performance for a low-budget production of only a few million. Most importantly, after the film's release, fans had affectionately dubbed Qi Bailu the "National First Love." He became an internet sensation due to his extraordinary looks, which was when Zheng Kunyu’s company had signed him. His second film, *Dewy Night Run*, never saw a public release and only garnered some discussion online; most people who knew him were hardcore cinephiles.
It was his third film, a commercial piece titled *The Anonymous Letter* released during the summer season a few months ago, that truly brought him to the public's attention. Although Qi Bailu was only the third male lead, the character was exceptionally well-written. Ultimately, he even earned a nomination for Best Supporting Actor at a domestic film festival based on his standout performance.
He was on the verge of superstardom, just waiting for the right wind to carry him. Before a sufficiently prestigious film came along, Zheng Kunyu had picked a Republican-era spy drama for him. First, it was to fill his schedule; second, it was to attract a television audience and broaden his national recognition. Although the company’s plan for Qi Bailu was to focus on film—and the industry had always regarded film as a higher art form than television—the recent "industry winter" had caused a sustained slump in the film market. Many movie stars and producers had begun trying their hand at television dramas and variety shows.
Qi Bailu exchanged a look with Zheng Kunyu, then looked back down to continue scrolling through his Weibo comments. Within moments, the new post had thousands of messages. He picked two to reply to. Seeing him interacting with fans, Zheng Kunyu withdrew his gaze, leaned back, and closed his eyes to rest.
Half an hour later, they arrived at Cassini. The manager, assistant, and the rest of the staff headed back to the hotel first. Qi Bailu had been here with Zheng Kunyu a few times before. As soon as they entered, uniformed staff members came forward, greeting them familiarly as "Mr. Zheng" and "Mr. Qi," before leading them toward their reserved private room.
Cassini was a nightclub owned by a retired actor. Because it operated on an invitation-only basis, entry was strictly controlled. Those who came here were either industry professionals or friends brought by regulars. The place offered high privacy, making it a favorite for most people in the circle.
They passed an open dance floor where young men and women in modern attire were drinking and dancing to metallic music. A young woman glanced at Qi Bailu and whispered something into her companion's ear. Both of them then looked over, their expressions tinged with surprise.
With half his face buried in his scarf, Qi Bailu noticed them watching him, but the waiter quickly led them away from the noisy crowd.
An entire corridor was painted a deep rose red, with the carpet matching the hue. Walking through it provided a powerful visual impact. Their shoes made no sound on the carpet, and under the glow of crystal wall lamps, the entire space felt thick with ambiguity. After a short walk, the door to a private room was opened. Standing at the entrance, Qi Bailu saw that someone was already seated inside.
A man in a double-breasted suit sat on a high stool, looking down at the computer used for selecting songs. In the dim room, the touchscreen cast a stark white light onto his face, making his features look exceptionally sharp. Realizing someone had entered, he looked up, his eyes meeting Qi Bailu’s.
Qi Bailu saw his face clearly, and the man saw his. They recognized each other, but neither spoke.
The stranger from the VIP lounge, Guest No. 47 from the auction—he seemingly hadn't expected the newcomer to be Qi Bailu. Qi Bailu observed the subtle shift in the man's expression and felt certain that everything prior had been a mere coincidence.
The man stood up from the stool, staring at Qi Bailu thoughtfully for a moment before shifting his gaze. He smiled at Zheng Kunyu, who was standing beside Qi Bailu—a smile of greeting between acquaintances.
Zheng Kunyu led Qi Bailu to the man, placing a hand intimately against Qi Bailu’s back and giving him a gentle nudge forward. "This is President Ruan of Yuntian."
Yuntian Media was one of the most famous film investment companies in the industry. Qi Bailu had naturally heard of it. He looked into the man's eyes, smoothly addressed him as "President Ruan," and extended his hand. "I am Qi Bailu."
A powerful hand gripped Qi Bailu’s before letting go a moment later. The hand's owner gave a lazy smile. "Ruan Qiuji."
Qi Bailu let his hand drop to his side, offering a polite, faint smile. Zheng Kunyu also had a smile on his face, likely because Qi Bailu was being cooperative for once.
"I should have introduced you two sooner, but the opportunity never arose." Zheng Kunyu’s hand moved to Qi Bailu’s shoulder, guiding him to sit on the long sofa.
Zheng Kunyu took off his overcoat and signaled to the waiter standing by the door. The waiter hurried over with a tray. Qi Bailu draped his coat over the back of the sofa and sat down beside Zheng Kunyu.
The waiter set down the ice bucket and glasses and left the room. On the computer, songs played automatically one after another—all lingering, sentimental love songs. The female singer’s voice was charming yet melancholy, singing lyrics about lovers who were close yet distant. It sounded somewhat desolate.
After sitting down, Ruan Qiuji leisurely pulled out a cigarette. "I didn't realize he was yours," he remarked.
Zheng Kunyu didn't engage with the topic, asking instead, "When did you get back?"
"Just last week."
Zheng Kunyu put a cigarette in his mouth and glanced at Qi Bailu. Knowing Zheng Kunyu’s rules, Qi Bailu leaned his shoulder against him and brought a lighter to his face. Zheng Kunyu turned his head slightly, taking a deep drag from the flame Qi Bailu held. The tip of the cigarette glowed bright red.
Ruan Qiuji watched from the side, one hand resting on the sofa's armrest, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. He seemed to find the scene before him quite amusing, smiling as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.
For the next while, the two men talked about everything from Hollywood production companies to the latest gossip about industry celebrities. Their conversation was warm and lively, as if Qi Bailu weren't even there. They weren't of the same generation, but they appeared for all the world like two old friends reunited after a long absence. From their dialogue, Qi Bailu learned that Ruan Qiuji had spent the last two years in Los Angeles.
Qi Bailu sat quietly to the side, smoking. From his vantage point, he could see every nuance of both Zheng’s and Ruan’s expressions. For a long time, he stared at Zheng Kunyu’s profile. Those wrinkled eyes were smiling gently, radiating an air of total amiability that completely hid his treacherous and heartless nature.
Two years had passed, but he didn't seem any older.
Qi Bailu shifted his gaze slightly, looking past the bridge of Zheng Kunyu’s nose toward Ruan Qiuji. The man was leaning forward to flick ash from his cigarette; even in such a simple motion, he appeared elegant and dashing. *He truly does have a fine face,* Qi Bailu thought. It wasn't surprising that he had mistaken him for a fellow actor.
