In such a situation, Cheng Wenhui could not remain indifferent and simply leave. He glanced back at Qi Bailu and called out to Zheng Kunyu, "President Zheng." He was merely alerting Qi Bailu that the man had arrived. Having said his piece, he walked away as planned, disappearing from their line of sight.
From Zheng Kunyu’s perspective, he could only see Qi Bailu maintaining his original posture, still wearing the same pajamas from three days ago. His expression was hidden. Perhaps he had shuddered, or perhaps it was merely Zheng Kunyu’s hallucination.
The sound of the door closing, the sudden muffling of the chaotic rain, the clatter of an umbrella being set aside—Zheng Kunyu did not change his shoes. His leather soles struck the floor in a clear sequence of footsteps, accompanied by the rustle of damp fabric. Every sound was as distinct as ingredients laid out on a cutting board. Qi Bailu heard him approach and stop directly in front of him.
Those leather shoes were stained with a bit of mud and rain, likely splashed on while crossing the garden. Qi Bailu lowered his hand, and the sandwich he held fell back onto the plate. He looked up. Zheng Kunyu was looking down at him, smelling of rainwater. The scent carried a distinct chill.
Zheng Kunyu had been in a hurry; one side of his trench coat collar was turned inward. Qi Bailu’s gaze swept up from the collar to meet his eyes. Zheng Kunyu’s gaze held a suppressed, profound meaning. Before Qi Bailu could decipher what it was, Zheng Kunyu suddenly spoke.
"Will you come with me?"
He had said that when he returned, they would go to Paris together.
Qi Bailu stared at him in horror. Zheng Kunyu cupped his face, his grip forceful, as if Qi Bailu were an apple that could be plucked with enough strength. Zheng Kunyu said, "Come with me to Europe. Just the two of us. We’ll never come back."
His palm was cold, and Qi Bailu couldn't help but shiver. If they left—or more accurately, fled—they would spend the rest of their lives turning their backs on their homeland, their friends and family, their language, their reputation, and their careers. Qi Bailu could disregard all of those things, but at this point, could they truly find happiness even if they fled to the ends of the earth?
Zheng Kunyu rarely looked at him with such eyes—a gaze stubbornly demanding an answer. Qi Bailu did not want to look at him anymore; every second of eye contact felt like torture. He grabbed Zheng Kunyu’s hand that was pressed against his face, wrenched it down, and lowered his head.
"You can't leave," he said. "Turn yourself in."
Zheng Kunyu had risked arrest to come back and see him, only to receive this answer—only to hear him say he hated him. Zheng Kunyu could not see his eyes; he could only see Qi Bailu’s lowered lashes, cutting off their visual connection. Qi Bailu’s lips were pale, and his cheeks were bloodless, like a shard of ice on the verge of shattering.
Zheng Kunyu didn't know what he was thinking. For forty years, his life had been as precise as the hands of a clock; he knew exactly what he wanted and what he didn't, and exactly where the line between sex and love was drawn. Even in Shanghai, when he learned of Ruan Qiuji’s move and found himself overwhelmed and cornered, he had still painstakingly arranged a way out. If Plan A failed, there was always Plan B.
But today, the clock's needle seemed to have suddenly jammed, stalling in this storm, its path blocked. The clock on the wall read 7:05:28 AM; it felt as though the future would forever point to this moment, to 7:05:28 AM, with no time left and no possibilities remaining.
He was unwilling to accept it—he wouldn't be willing even in death. Zheng Kunyu asked, "If I do, will you wait for me?"
Such words did not sound like Zheng Kunyu at all. Sure enough, Qi Bailu faltered, casting him a startled, stunned look. Zheng Kunyu’s expression remained cold and stern. After staring at him for a moment, he answered his own question: "No, you won't."
He would only ask such a thing once. Even asking it once felt like a slow torture of his own soul.
Zheng Kunyu was too calm. Even his plea was so composed that it felt cruel to Qi Bailu. Qi Bailu broke down. "I don't see a single shred of remorse in you! How can you take it so for granted that you can hurt others, hurt me, and then act as if nothing ever happened? Don't you know? You deserve this! You brought this on yourself! I hope they lock you up for ten years—no, twenty!"
Zheng Kunyu gave a strange laugh. If anyone else had said those words, he wouldn't have cared; he wouldn't have been hurt. But it had to be him. It had to be him passing judgment.
He reached out to grab Qi Bailu’s arm, but Qi Bailu shoved him away violently. At the same time, Qi Bailu began tugging at his own finger. When Zheng Kunyu realized what he was doing, his expression shifted drastically, but Qi Bailu had already pulled the ring off. He thrust his hand out, holding it before him.
"Take it!" Qi Bailu cried. "I don't want it anymore!"
Zheng Kunyu stared straight at his face. Seeing that he wouldn't take it, Qi Bailu tossed the ring onto the coffee table. It hit with a crisp *ting*, bounced, and rolled across the floor, eventually disappearing into the darkness beneath the sofa. Zheng Kunyu was incensed; it was as if Qi Bailu hadn't thrown a ring, but his very heart. He lunged forward and grabbed Qi Bailu by the collar. Qi Bailu wasn't afraid of him going mad; he had already gone mad himself.
Zheng Kunyu snarled, "Why? Why did you betray me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your business with him—did you really think I knew nothing? When did you two start conspiring to deceive me? Tahiti? Xiamen? The set visit in Hengdian? Or was it from the very first time you met in Beijing? The way you look at him... you might fool others, but you can't fool me."
"I didn't!"
"Why did I only give up on you today?"
"If I told you I haven't had any contact with him for a long time, would you even believe me?"
Zheng Kunyu threw him back viciously. Qi Bailu was tossed against the back of the sofa. Zheng's suspicion hadn't formed in a single day; every scene from the past had been pieced together in his mind, turning their history into a conspiracy. Zheng Kunyu looked down at him coldly. "I will never trust anyone again."
With that, he straightened up and backed away. He didn't even seem to notice when his coat hem knocked over a glass of water on the table. Fearing he might lunge again and do something desperate, Qi Bailu reached for his phone, but Zheng Kunyu only let out a cold sneer. Then, he turned and left without a moment's hesitation. As Qi Bailu watched him walk toward the door, he had a powerful premonition: perhaps they would never see each other again in this lifetime.
Qi Bailu watched him leave. Zheng Kunyu did not look back. He didn't even take his umbrella, walking straight out into the vast, misty rain.
Cheng Wenhui had long since heard the commotion of their argument and walked out from the dining room to check.
Cheng closed the door and walked into the light of the living room. He saw Qi Bailu sitting on the sofa with his head bowed. Only when he got closer did he realize Qi Bailu was crying. Qi Bailu’s back was hunched, his hands clutching his shirt tightly, as large drops of tears fell onto the backs of his hands.
Earlier, he had gritted his teeth with all his might just to keep Zheng Kunyu from hearing him cry. Now that Zheng Kunyu was gone, he finally let out a sob.
Qi Bailu had avoided looking at the news—he hadn't looked at a single headline. He knew his endurance had its limits. Cheng Wenhui was currently his only link to the outside world. Cheng Wenhui mentioned that besides Chen Xiangfeng, another minor celebrity had come forward with a public accusation against Zheng Kunyu.
By now, public opinion was completely out of control. Even the unreleased drama *How Much Grief the West Wind Brings* was affected; the television station had returned it. Meanwhile, a spy drama from Jiaxing Entertainment, which was in the same time slot, had rushed through post-production to replace it.
As the second male lead of *How Much Grief the West Wind Brings*, Qi Bailu was naturally hit hard, but the impact was even greater for the male lead, Cai Tongyue. Because of the current scandal, Cai Tongyue’s past rumors, as well as Qi Bailu’s, were being dug up and discussed again. It was said that Cai Tongyue’s side had swallowed their pride and accepted spots on two acting variety shows to maintain his relevance for the time being. As for Qi Bailu, those "nude photos" were being brought up again, and there were even whispers that as an artist of Jinhe Media, he likely had an unsavory relationship with the company's top brass.
Ironically, at a time like this, his past dating rumors with female stars actually helped him. His former rumored girlfriend, Shen Mo, had casually mentioned in an interview that she and Qi Bailu were still in contact privately. When reporters pressed for more, she only smiled and remained silent. Later, Shen Mo posted a photo on Weibo of a luxury ring that Qi Bailu had once promoted, seemingly "flaunting their love."
Behind Shen Mo was Jiaxing Entertainment. And behind Jiaxing Entertainment and Pan Xiaoyan, it was likely Ruan Qiuji.
After Zheng Kunyu left, there was no more news of him. He did not turn himself in. The unease in Qi Bailu’s heart grew stronger, like knowing a time bomb was hidden in the room; he could hear the ticking of the clock but didn't know where it was hidden or when it would explode.
Cheng Wenhui was terrified that something might happen to Qi Bailu—to put it bluntly, he was afraid Qi would do something drastic—so he kept a close eye on him.
That afternoon, the rain that had fallen all day finally stopped. Qi Bailu finally spoke his first words to him. "Drive me somewhere."
"Where?"
Qi Bailu glanced at him and dialed a number right in front of him. When the other party picked up, Qi Bailu skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point. "I want to see you."
The person on the other end didn't seem particularly surprised, nor did he ask many questions. He simply said in a relaxed tone, "Alright. When?"
"Tonight. You pick the place."
"I'll send you the address."
The person seemed to have more to say, but Qi Bailu hung up without hesitation. When the message arrived, Qi Bailu checked it first, then held up his phone for Cheng Wenhui to see. Cheng Wenhui saw the contact name at the top of the chat: Ruan Qiuji.
Cheng Wenhui stared at Qi Bailu in shock. He looked at the address, then back at Qi Bailu’s face. This address wasn't a hotel or a public place; it was a private luxury mansion in a high-end residential area. He said hesitantly, "Bailu, why?"
Qi Bailu avoided the question. "You'll have to wait for me for a bit."
Cheng Wenhui didn't expect that "bit" to be half an hour. Qi Bailu changed his clothes and smelled of body wash. Cheng Wenhui realized he had showered and even blow-dried his hair. As Qi Bailu sat in the passenger seat, leaning down to tie his loose shoelaces, Cheng Wenhui noticed the skin on the back of his neck was rubbed red, leaving faint finger marks.
Outside vehicles weren't allowed into the residential area, so Cheng Wenhui prepared to head back after dropping Qi Bailu at the gate. He asked Qi Bailu if he wanted him to come back and pick him up, but Qi Bailu said no. Cheng Wenhui knew his advice was overstepping, but before Qi Bailu closed the car door, he leaned out and said, "If you regret it, call me. I'll be here quickly."
"No need. Drive safely on your way back."
The rain had only recently stopped, and it was a bit cold outside. Even with a shirt over his clothes, Qi Bailu felt a chill. The landscaping in the area was excellent; the dense foliage overhead was almost impenetrable, and the swaying shadows of the trees in the cold wind added to the sense of dread. Streetlights were few and far between, hanging distantly like mass-produced moons.
The light filtering through the leaves was ethereal, making the trees and flowers on both sides of the road appear indistinct. The puddles on the ground hadn't dried, painting the entire road a dark, wet black. The complex was huge, and Qi Bailu soon lost his way. He walked aimlessly for a while without seeing a single soul or having anyone to ask for directions, so he could only count the building numbers as he went. Just as he was considering whether to call Ruan Qiuji, a familiar figure appeared beneath a building ahead. The man was standing under a large pomegranate tree, smoking. From his posture, it looked like he had been standing there for a long time; the cherry of his cigarette flickered with fire.
When the man turned around, Qi Bailu saw that it was indeed Ruan Qiuji. He was dressed casually, wearing only a T-shirt on top, seemingly unfazed by the cold. Seeing Qi Bailu, Ruan Qiuji stubbed out his cigarette, tossed it into a nearby bin, and called out from a distance, "Have you had dinner yet?"
Qi Bailu walked toward him in silence. Ruan Qiuji had likely come down specifically to meet him, fearing he wouldn't find the place. Once Qi was close, Ruan Qiuji took his hand and remarked casually, "Why didn't you wear more layers?"
He didn't let go after taking his hand, and Qi Bailu allowed it. Ruan Qiuji led him into the building. They took the elevator up, and only then did Ruan Qiuji release him, saying with certainty, "You haven't eaten, have you?"
Qi Bailu nodded.
In fact, Qi Bailu hadn't eaten all day, but he hadn't come here for a meal.
Ruan Qiuji said, "You've come at a good time. I happen to be making dinner."
Once inside, Ruan Qiuji gave him his own slippers and told him to make himself at home. Then he went to brew some tea—the same Lu'an Melon Seed tea as before. Ruan Qiuji maintained his polite "welcoming a friend from afar" demeanor, making it seem as though Qi Bailu was the one with ill intentions. As soon as he entered, Qi Bailu realized this wasn't just one of Ruan Qiuji’s temporary residences—not one of a wily rabbit's many burrows—but a "home" filled with the traces of someone living there alone.
The slippers were a bit too large. Qi Bailu sat on the sofa, looking down at his sock-covered toes. Ruan Qiuji hadn't turned off the TV when he left, so a crime drama was currently playing. The remote had fallen onto the rug; Qi Bailu picked it up and looked up to see a fairly lavish spread of food on the dining table, with only the final dish—tomato beef brisket—left to be served.
Amidst the sound of bowls and chopsticks being set on the table, Qi Bailu finally felt the true flavor of attending a "Hongmen Banquet."
***
