After getting home, Rong Jing habitually went next door to check on Gu Xi’s room, only to remember that Gu Xi had already left.
He’d heard it takes 21 days to form a habit, but it hadn’t even been that long. Shaking his head, he muttered, “This isn’t right.”
Before going to bed, Rong Jing tackled a few tasks assigned by his manager, then settled down with the script. Gu Xi had given it to him over breakfast, claiming it was originally meant for himself but that he realized he wouldn’t need it. So he passed it to Rong Jing.
The script was filled with notes and highlighted sections, all focusing on Fu Qianming’s character. Gu Xi had written personal insights for each scene and even left a small character bio. On the last page, he’d drawn a chibi version of himself with the word “You can do this!”.
Rong Jing didn’t need all the guidance, but the Rong Jing of this world did. Receiving such a thoughtful gift made him feel unexpectedly moved.
He was genuinely captivated by the script, deeply engrossed in it. By the time he noticed the trending topics on social media, diligent netizens had already uncovered his Weibo account, and his follower count had jumped from 10,000 to 50,000—five times the original, pulling him out of obscurity.
Rong Jing saw Xun Jiarui’s interview and the new comments under the trending topic.
“At first, I thought he was just a normal person with a super high face value. Turns out he’s pulling some marketing stunt?”
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“Fs xydu valdekdt rspvp kd sdl eyu! Rv’p tlvvkdt sze. Rp vbkp dlockl elprlayvl qsa qyxl sa obyv? Rq vblal’p alyzzu y pvsau clbkde bkx, prkzz kv yzalyeu. Psd’v zlyhl wp bydtkdt!”
“Mbl oyu R pll kv, vbkp dlonsxla sa bkp nsxrydu xwpv cl zsyele, nsdpkelakdt bso xwnb kv nspvp vs valde zkjl vbkp.”
“Xb, R alxlxcla obs bl kp! Tl’p vbyv xyzl tse kd #UyxrwpTlyavvbasc# ulyap yts. Tkp zssjp yal pvkzz vsr-dsvnb. Fs xydu ulyap byhl rypple okvb ds dlop sq bkx, yde R vbswtbv bl’e ekpyrrlyale. R eked’v lmrlnv vs pll bkx ytykd vbkp oyu—R’x dsv pwal oblvbla vs zywtb sa nau. Wllzp zkjl xu uswvb fwpv pbyvvlale.”
“R’hl tsv psxl ekav sd bkx, yde kv’p bwtl. Jynj obld bl oyp pvkzz yv vbl wdkhlapkvu, bl oyp vbl vsr zywtbkdtpvsnj. Tlal’p vbl zkdj okvb yzz vbl elvykzp. R plakswpzu vbkdj vbyv vbl Rxrlakyz Vsola’p ekalnvsa xwpv byhl clld nwaple vs rknj vbkp twu. Rq lhld bl nyd xyjl kv, vbld ps nyd R.”
“Gnnsaekdt vs DKS, kv pllxp zkjl vbkp dlockl byp QD’p qyhsa. Gal ol zssjkdt yv psxl pbyeu elyz blal? (Psd’v byvl sd xl, QD qydp, fwpv ypjkdt!)”
“Usxl sd, QD yzoyup osajp okvb Gzrbyp obs yal ycpszwvl blye-vwadlap. Ls oyu oswze bl akpj bkp nyalla sd psxl dlockl yzxspv ds sdl byp blyae sq. Zsw vbkdj bl’p awddkdt y nbyakvu?”
“Nlyhl QD swv sq vbkp! Myjl xu cycu yoyu qasx vbkp.”
Ssdt Kkdt byed’v lmrlnvle vbkp vs eayt Qw Dk kdvs vbl xwe yp olzz. Fllkdt Qw Dk, y rlapsd ps eleknyvle yde alprsdpkczl, ynnwple zkjl vbkp—yde clnywpl sq bkx—xyel Ssdt Kkdt kdpvydvzu vyjl ynvksd.
He called Zhou You quickly, getting straight to the point, “Do you know any PR companies that can help bury the negative comments?”
Zhou You worked fast, and since the Xie family already had a long-standing partnership with such companies, he soon found one. However, he found something odd, “Young master, it looks like another PR company is already working to drown out the comments. It looks like we’re on the same side. Should we keep going?”
Rong Jing was stunned, “Ah?”
“They’ve hired five PR companies—two are already active, and three are standing by… Should we still jump in?” It seemed they’d already signed on, leaving no room for duplicates.
“Eh… maybe hold off for now,” Rong Jing replied, baffled by such an overwhelming PR presence.
Who would do this?
So idle.
And so rich.
Can’t they find something better to do? Did they really need to prepare five of them?
Not long after, the Imperial Power’s official account posted the cast list, tagging all the lead actors. Netizens quickly noticed the timing and pointed out that the production was clearly taking advantage of the trending topics for free publicity.
Director Liu Yu received an international call from Rong Jing, who wanted to ensure that his own issues wouldn’t drag down the team or Gu Xi.
Liu Yu was a bit irritated by the whole thing. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with Xun Jiarui but wasn’t sure about Rong Jing either. Truthfully, he hadn’t seen anyone perfectly suited to play Fu Qianming yet.
And now, with a newcomer already caught up in a scandal before they’d even started, it was hard to tell whether it was a good or a bad sign for the team.
Yet Liu Yu appreciated Rong Jing’s sense of accountability and that he wasn’t ungrateful—perhaps this was part of why Gu Xi was willing to look out for him. “It’s fine, it’s already happened. You didn’t start the rumors anyway. Gu Xi doesn’t let gossip get to him, but just to be safe, the two of you should avoid getting too close in public. It’ll be easier that way.”
Liu Yu then posted a statement, expressing that he found Rong Jing to be a promising newcomer with potential that far outweighed any shortcomings, and he hoped fans would give him space to grow. He noted that he was personally looking forward to Rong Jing’s portrayal of Fu Qianming.
With this, the trending topic shifted away from linking Gu Xi and this new actor together.
Although Xun Jiarui tried hard to paint the other person in a negative light, Gu Xi’s reputation was solid. His fans weren’t swayed by his unspoken lie. But even with his fan base unfazed, seeds of doubt had already been planted in the public’s mind.
Just then, as if it had all been planned, a certain marketing account1营销号 – I’m not sure how to translate this but this is a kind of blog that writes and/or shares content to get attention of other people and makes money out of it. leaked the video of Rong Jing’s previous performance mishap from the past.
Back at the pre-festival event, Gu Xi was distracted, realizing the opposition had come prepared. His PR team was struggling to keep up.
One of the most effective and discreet ways to push down a trending topic was to release an even bigger piece of news.
Suddenly, he had an idea and dialed the pheromone matching center.
A match with a 99% rate was usually announced within three days if neither party backed out.
The matching center had never seen such an eager Omega wanting to announce their pairing to the world, so they immediately called the other party to confirm their intentions.
Moments later, an official announcement was released: “Congratulations to Mr. Rong * and Mr. Gu * on achieving a successful match! This marks our 1000th Alpha and Omega pairing with a compatibility rate exceeding 99.9999%. Thank you for your trust in our pheromone matching center. We wish you both a smooth journey together.”
The statement was very formal, carefully omitting the names of both individuals.
Once this breaking news hit the internet, it spread like wildfire. Netizens across all six gender categories went into a frenzy.
Whatever other news had been trending moments before was immediately overshadowed.
“Now that woke me up!”
“Did I just see four decimal points? Am I seeing things? That’s almost a perfect match!”
“It’s been three years, matching center! Finally some action! But your efficiency has been lacking recently—you need to step it up!”
“Omg, it’s been ages since we’ve had a match of this caliber! And it’s a male Alpha and Omega pair, my ideal pairing! Woooooo, totally worth the wait!”
“A single person’s lament: When will I ever get matched?”
“I was just snacking on gossip and literally dropped all of my food!”
“Why aren’t there any photos this time? Didn’t they take any? Not even an interview? I wanted to see what they look like!”
That night, Gu Xi stared at his Weibo feed and didn’t dare to sleep.
Although negative comments about Rong Jing couldn’t fully be suppressed, with some fans even messaging the Imperial Power’s official account—requesting to replace the new actor, the official announcement from the matching center at least drew some of the heat away.
The next day, Rong Jing called, calculating the time difference.
“Did you see the trending news? I got you caught up in my mess, like you were part of some shady deal.”
Ignoring the quickened beat of his heart, Gu Xi quipped, “Well, technically, I did use you—as my ‘tool’, so to speak.”
“Even to be a tool, I have to be willing, right?”
“Weren’t you the one who was unwilling? Didn’t you decline the match?”
“Are you bringing up old scores?”
The atmosphere lightened instantly, and even Rong Jing wondered if last night’s sudden feeling of distance had been just his imagination. They chatted a bit, each intuitively avoiding mention of the awkward hotel encounter.
Gu Xi didn’t want to pry into Rong Jing’s personal matters, while Rong Jing found it too embarrassing that he got tangled up with an AO and let Gu Xi see it. Explaining it felt like overreacting, but staying silent left him uneasy.
“Gu Xi, there’s one more favor I might need to ask. Do you know anyone skilled in filming techniques?”
Bounce back from where you hit the ground, Rong Jing thought.
The original soul had his first episode on stage, so to overcome it, he needed to create that moment from actor to camera.
Rong Jing was certainly aware of the significant impact the recent Weibo incident had caused. While the uproar hadn’t fully subsided, many people were still waiting for updates. No one would give him time to adjust; he had to conquer his camera phobia before filming began.
Gu Xi quickly rattled off a list of names and then asked, “Will these work?”
His speed was as if he had been prepared in advance.
“Isn’t it… too good to be true that all of these people are free. Don’t these people need to clear their schedules?”
“Yeah, they just happen to be free,” Gu Xi didn’t mention how he’d been chasing down their availability behind the scenes.
How could they just happen to be free? Rong Jing recognized the names he heard. They were all big names in the industry, whether it was photographers, actors, lighting technicians, or script editors, these weren’t just your average professionals.
These people were always swamped. Booking them usually meant waiting in line for ages. Some had a reputation for being really hard to book. Even with the Xie family’s name, Rong Jing doubted he could pull off something this good.
As their chat was winding down, Gu Xi switched to a more mentor-like tone and said, “I hope you can set aside all your other achievements for now. When you choose to act again, you’re just an actor. This path isn’t just about flowers and applause. There’ll be hurdles too. Don’t give up so easily. Believe in yourself—and in me. I didn’t pick you just because I know you.”
Finally, Gu Xi said the words he’d been holding onto for the right moment.
Rong Jing loved how positive and bright Gu Xi’s attitude was. Who would’ve thought someone like him dealt with so much pressure every single day?
“Alright. Even if I don’t believe in myself, I’ll believe in you.”
Gu Xi: “This time, every second counts. You’ve only got a few days. At the launch event, there’ll probably be entertainment reporters and gossip bloggers sniffing around. No one knows what they’ll write. Director Liu said the crew won’t clear the set this time because they’re trying to save their reputation. This might be your only shot.”
“If I mess it up, will they replace me?”
“Maybe.”
Rong Jing smiled, his expression warm, “Wow, it’s rare to hear you talk like this. You sound like a… mature old man.”
Gu Xi’s serious face cracked, just a little. “I’m not joking. And… don’t call me old.” I’m only a year older than you. Stop reminding me that.
After hanging up, Rong Jing stared at his phone. Gu Xi’s attitude during the phone call hadn’t seemed that different—if anything, he’d been a bit more upbeat than usual, even teasing him.
But something about it didn’t sit right.
It was like a cat’s paw gently scratching at his heart, leaving a strange, ticklish feeling behind.
Gu Xi’s smile slowly faded as he put his phone down.
He could keep things friendly—no unnecessary awkwardness, no weird tension. Judging by how Rong Jing had acted, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about what happened yesterday.
Gu Xi let out a breath. This was the right move.
The red carpet was next on Gu Xi’s schedule, but his outfit hadn’t arrived.
Yesterday, the brand had been all smiles, promising it would be sent right away. But today, they were full of excuses. First, it was the wrong style. Then, the delivery guy had a sudden emergency. It was just one lame excuse after another.
Mo Dian burst into the room, clearly panicked, “Gu Xi, the brand just pulled the plug on our deal. They canceled the delivery.”
In situations like this, there’s usually some prior discussion. Who waits until just a few hours before the event to suddenly change plans?
Gu Xi decided to handle it himself. He tried calling, but at first, the other party outright refused to answer. It was clear they treated Asian celebrities and Western ones differently—otherwise, they wouldn’t have pulled such a two-faced stunt.
Eventually, the other party picked up, but their response was subtle, almost veiled. They implied that if Gu Xi was willing to apologize to someone, they could still continue the collaboration.
The moment Gu Xi heard the name, he instantly knew who they meant—it was that red-haired celebrity from the banquet, the one who tried to harass him but failed. With his level of international fame, just a single word from him could sway the brand’s decision. Of course, the brand knew exactly how to weigh their options.
Gu Xi didn’t even hesitate. He hung up the phone. Apologize to a harasser? Not a chance!
Mo Dian was pacing frantically around the room, practically wearing a path into the floor.
“What do we do now? If we try to reach out to another brand, there’s no time!
“Even if we manage, they won’t be able to prepare the right pieces. This is the only Chinese-language film in the competition this year! We can’t just give up—this is about pride, if nothing else!
“Well, even if they deliver something, what if it doesn’t fit?”
They’d ordered the outfit weeks in advance, tailored perfectly to Gu Xi’s measurements. Designers typically made small adjustments to ensure the borrowed pieces fit their stars impeccably. It wasn’t something the average person would notice, but to professionals, the flaws would stick out like a sore thumb.
Mo Dian turned to Gu Xi, who still looked as calm and collected as ever, and nearly exploded.
“Gu Xi! At least say something!”
“You’re acting like this isn’t a big deal—calm as the emperor while the servant is losing their mind! I–ugh, forget it!”
But Gu Xi wasn’t indifferent. If anything, he was too anxious to show it. Staying calm was the only way to keep thinking clearly.
He was racking his brain, going over every possible contact who might be able to help. Even if it meant borrowing something from last season’s collection, anything would be better than embarrassing himself on the red carpet.
Then, suddenly, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a call from the official Pear brand website’s contact number.
Gu Xi answered, and the representative’s tone was polite but regretful. They explained that the raw materials for the ruby accessory he’d ordered were delayed and asked if he could wait.
Gu Xi, already feeling defeated by the day’s endless setbacks, answered calmly, almost too calmly, “Sure, no rush. Just send it over whenever it’s ready.”
Even the arrival of this faint hope had to be postponed.
However, Mo Dian’s eyes lit up. He smacked his forehead and practically jumped. “Wait a second, Gu Xi!”
He suddenly remembered something and bolted to his room. A memory struck him. When Rong Jing had sent him to grab the luggage, there’d been an extra box in the car. It was beautifully wrapped, and Rong Jing had casually mentioned that it might come in handy if Gu Xi ever found himself in a pinch.
At the time, Mo Dian thought nothing of it and had stuffed the oversized box into his spare suitcase. Jetlagged and overwhelmed, he hadn’t even opened the suitcase since arriving and had completely forgotten about it.
He tore back into his room, yanked open the spare suitcase, and quickly ripped the ribbon off the box.
Inside, neatly pressed and perfectly packed, was a full suit, complete with a watch, cufflinks, and a brooch.
Rong Jing couldn’t predict the future, but he knew how chaos always seemed to swirl around the protagonist. Where Gu Xi went, trouble followed—it was practically a law of nature.
Anticipating this, Rong Jing had simply prepared for the worst. He’d packed up a backup plan, just in case.
Mo Dian let out a sharp gasp and practically collapsed on the floor. The panic had drained from him so quickly that his body could no longer hold itself together.
He didn’t believe Rong Jing was some kind of all-knowing prophet—how could anyone have seen this coming? But that man… that ruthless Alpha. He really was too perceptive, too prepared.
No wonder Gu Xi treated him differently.
Someone like that deserved to be special, and Mo Dian couldn’t help but think he always would be.
Mo Dian walked back into Gu Xi’s room like he was holding a treasure, and Gu Xi was on the balcony, speaking with a designer he knew.
He had been trying to borrow a suitable outfit within three hours, but by the time he called the fifth designer, all of them had said it was too rushed. They told him they would try asking around for him, but it wasn’t guaranteed.
“No problem. Let me know as soon as you hear anything,” Gu Xi said, thanking the designer in fluent American english.
He returned to the room, his expression serious, only to see Mo Dian grinning like he’d just hit the jackpot, his whole demeanor completely different from before.
Gu Xi: “What are you holding?”
“Just look! Come over here and see!” Mo Dian said, speaking so quickly that it was clear he couldn’t keep his excitement to himself.
Gu Xi walked over and opened the box. The moment he saw what was inside, his expression froze.
It was rare for Mo Dian to see Gu Xi, who always kept his emotions in check, react so strongly.
You were just as stunned as I was earlier, weren’t you?
Gu Xi gently touched the white suit, feeling the impeccable fabric and stitching. Beside it were diamond accessories that clearly had been matched and arranged by the designer.
Tha brand was Xie. Yes, that Xie from the Xie family.
Xie was a top-tier luxury brand, with a history that stretched back several generations. Despite being owned by the Xie family, its headquarters were in Country F, where it had been acquired by Xie Ling’s great-grandfather, who transformed it into the brand it was today.
Xie Ling, the current heir, had kept the traditional style of the brand alive, refusing to ask anyone for endorsements. Instead, he had focused on elevating the brand’s prestige and style.
Xie Ling had once publicly stated that every Xie product was handcrafted, and that hiring someone to endorse it would strip away its soul.
Those words had made waves in the fashion world. Though Xie Ling was low-key, his reputation was anything but, both domestically and internationally. His status as a diamond aristocrat attracted people of all ages.
Being highly fashion-conscious, Gu Xi could immediately tell this outfit hadn’t been released yet.
Sure enough, when he checked the website, it wasn’t listed as part of the current season’s selection. It was clearly a custom piece.
With Xie’s reputation, the outfit wasn’t any less prestigious than the ones he was supposed to borrow. In fact, because the Xie never used endorsements and was known for its air of mystery, it actually had an even higher status in the fashion world.
He had discovered this radish, buried deep in the soil, hidden and growing in secret.
Gu Xi had found it, carefully brushing away the dirt, watering it with care, letting it bask in the sunlight, nurturing it in silence.
He always told himself it was enough, that he shouldn’t ask for more, that he should be content with just this much.
But this radish… it never seemed to realize the danger it was in.
And every time, it would catch him off guard, striking his heart without warning and leaving him stunned.
Gu Xi changed into the suit, the white fabric fitting perfectly against his frame. It was a color he had never tried before. Gu Xi had always thought of white as too clean, too pure–a color he couldn’t possibly pull off.
When he walked out, Mo Dian opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t get a word out.
“Does it look good?” Gu Xi asked, feeling slightly uneasy.
“Yes! Yes!” You’re blinding me with how good you look!
He finally understood. That Alpha’s taste was impeccable. White suited Gu Xi perfectly.
There was a knock at the door, followed by voices of the other crew members urging them to hurry. It was time to head to the venue.
“We should—”
Gu Xi’s words faltered as his gaze shifted to the gift box sitting in the corner.
That box. That was Pandora’s box.
If he opened it, he would fall under its spell.
Guided purely by instinct, Gu Xi found himself walking towards that Pandora’s box. At that moment, his mind was blank. The only thing he felt was an overwhelming desire surging from his chest, burning away all reason.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to do something, anything, to stop that fire from consuming him completely.
In one swift motion, he opened the box, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for his Pandora’s box. He opened it gently, almost hesitantly.
“Ah!”
TN: hehe the box has been opened :>
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