Chapter 56

On the plane, Director Liu Yu sat beside Gu Xi. Out of nowhere, he said, “Gu Xi, outside of this drama, it’s best if you and Rong Jing act like total strangers.”

Gu Xi was silent, but his eyes seemed to speak for him. He stared at the director, a look that seemed both disapproving and confused.

Liu Yu: “I know your decision wasn’t driven by selfishness. It’s just that you saw a promising newcomer and wanted to help, I understand that. But outsiders don’t know that. When they see us making such a big deal about casting and then picking someone with a questionable past, even you, as a netizen, would wonder if there’s some backstage deal going on. The public doesn’t want the truth. They want gossip.”

Gu Xi: “Didn’t you say earlier that we needed the publicity?”

Liu Yu: “It depends on what kind of publicity. The current backlash is beyond what we expected. Even the producer suggested we rein it in a bit.”

“Then by that logic, with all the past rumors linking me to different people, should I have followed this rule every single time?” Gu Xi asked rhetorically.

“That’s different. Did any of them have major scenes with you? Besides, things aren’t like they used to be. Your market value has skyrocketed, you can aim for the very top now. Do you really think that if there’s any interaction between you two outside of filming, people won’t spin a whole new narrative? If that happens, all the past rumors will resurface, and all the credibility we’ve built up will go up in smoke. Can you accept that? You’ve put everything into this film—if it flops, you won’t even have enough left to settle down.”

He paused before adding, “Especially now, with so many eyes on you, watching your every move under a magnifying glass, just waiting for you to slip up. They can make up rumors even when there’s nothing—imagine what happens if there’s actually something. You’ll be stirring up a hornet’s nest.”

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After deplaning, Liu Yu immediately created a small group chat with three members, dragging both Rong Jing and Gu Xi into it.

He repeated to Rong Jing everything he had just told Gu Xi.

Rong Jing had come to pick up Gu Xi, but when he saw the overwhelming number of reporters at the airport alongside the fans, he realized that if Gu Xi’s whereabouts became unclear, they’d be trending on the hot search by tonight.

So, he abandoned the idea and stood faraway, blending into the crowd like just another passerby.

In the distance, within a small group of fans, someone caught sight of a heavily disguised Rong Jing lurking in the corner.

He had kept as low a profile as possible. When he didn’t want to be noticed, he could usually hide himself well. But there were always exceptions.

“Luo Luo, what are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Xi Xi’s flight has landed so he’s probably getting his luggage now,” the girl named Luo Luo discreetly took a photo of the man curled up quietly in the corner, looking like a large abandoned dog waiting for someone. She carefully saved it in a hidden folder.

She didn’t have any ulterior motives—she just found the scene both artistic and amusing, so she couldn’t resist capturing it.

Even though she kept quiet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this man looked a lot like the refined and gentlemanly Alpha who had helped her pick up her banner the last time Gu Xi boarded a flight.

It also looked like the man who had recently been dragged through the mud on the trending page, bombarded with accusations of clout-chasing, playing dirty tricks, and sabotaging productions.

But Luo Luo had never participated in those discussions. She was part of the fan community’s artwork circle. She just wanted to be a photoshop machine.

She had seen the comments in group chats saying that Rong Jing would soon fade into obscurity and wasn’t worth worrying about. But she knew that things could turn around quickly in this industry. People who were buried in scandals either disappeared completely… or soared so high they washed away all the dirt thrown at them.

Rong Jing read the director’s request and found it reasonable. It was in the best interest of both the production team and themselves. At a time like this, instead of worrying about damage control, it was better to avoid any speculation altogether.

Besides, the director’s request only applied during filming. He hadn’t said anything beyond that.

And in the first place, his connection with Gu Xi had been nothing more than a coincidence. Technically, after helping Gu Xi through his heat, he should have made a clean exit. He had no real reason to linger, except that he couldn’t quite bring himself to walk away from the little cabbage he had painstakingly nurtured.

Rong Jing still sent a private message to confirm, “Are you coming back to my place later?”

Gu Xi: “Not for now. Too many eyes on me lately. I’ll stay at a hotel first. [smiley face][smiley face]”

Rong Jing paused before replying, “Good.”

As long as the little cabbage was safe, he needed to let go of this misplaced sense of responsibility.

That small pang of melancholy… was probably just an old habit of his.

Just as Rong Jing was about to stand up, the airport erupted into deafening screams. If not for security, the crowd might have surged forward.

The entertainment reporters were the first to strike. “Director Liu, how do you feel about winning this award?”

Another microphone was shoved in Gu Xi’s direction. “Gu Xi, was winning this film festival award something you expected?”

Gu Xi smiled as he answered, but his gaze was searching through the gaps in the crowd.

He was a little nearsighted, but today, before landing, he had swapped to contact lenses, making it easier to pick people out.

Finally, he spotted a man standing on the steps in the distance.

Clearly afraid of being photographed, the man was dressed inconspicuously, fully bundled up for once, as if determined not to be recognized.

Gu Xi couldn’t help but chuckle and blink playfully.

Rong Jing, seeing that Gu Xi’s smile wasn’t his usual PR expression, also couldn’t help but respond.

He gave a slight nod, signalling that he’d make himself scarce before he got caught. Gu Xi used the excuse of waving to his fans to casually bid Rong Jing farewell.

Just as Gu Xi raised his hand, the space between them was quickly blocked by passersby. Both could only watch the shifting crowd before withdrawing their gazes.

Rong Jing walked to the roadside and signaled Zhou You to bring the car over.

He stood on the curb, waiting, when he noticed a little girl stepping into the street to pick up a stuffed doll she had dropped. Not far from her, a runaway bus was barreling straight toward her.

Rong Jing had incredible explosive speed. With an Alpha’s physical strength and sharp reflexes, he was confident he could grab the child and dodge in time.

A life was about to vanish before his eyes—he had no time to hesitate.

He didn’t even hear the phone in his pocket ringing loudly.

Halfway into his sprint, a sudden realization hit him.

The afternoon sun cast a consistent light across the buildings and people around him—except for the little girl. The sunlight on her was at an odd angle, more like the direct overhead glare of midday. Her shadow was smaller than it should have been. Could light really behave differently like that?

Rong Jing stopped in his tracks as if a sudden jolt of realization hit him. He stopped so abruptly that he almost tripped, instinctively leaping backward.

In that instant, the scene before him shifted. A speeding bus whooshed past, barely missing him.

“Honk—!” The bus driver blared the horn in alarm, rattled by the near collision. If Rong Jing had been a split second slower, he would have been hit.

This bus—a real one—was the actual threat.

He looked back at the road. The little girl was gone.

Was it… an illusion?

Rong Jing stared at his very much intact body, exhaling sharply. That was a close call.

Above him, the sun blazed in a cloudless sky, as if mocking his insignificance.

From the changing traffic lights to the misplaced manhole covers, and now, even living beings—each illusion was growing more intricate, more convincing.

It always struck when his guard was down, always delivering a perfectly timed blow.

This time, it had exploited his compassion.

It knew his nature. Because he had empathy, he was given this.

Why bother saving others? Just look out for yourself. Maybe if you stop trying to be a hero, I’ll let you live.

The words weren’t spoken, but that was probably the message.

But how could he ever do that? If he turned a blind eye, the story would still unfold as intended. People would still die, including himself.

Faces flashed through his mind. The smirk of Xie Ling. The recklessness of Xie Zhanhong. If he failed, what would become of them?

Yet the most unsettling thought was that today’s illusion had a flaw, one that allowed him to detect danger and evade it.

Maybe the force behind this had never encountered someone so hard to kill before. But what about next time?

The more it adapted, the more flawless the illusions would become. One day, it might be indistinguishable from reality.

Would he still be able to escape then?

Rong Jing finally noticed the phone vibrating in his pocket. It was Gu Xi calling.

The call had just disconnected, but before he could call back, another call came through.

Gu Xi: “…” Having witnessed everything, Gu Xi was too stunned to speak.

Just minutes ago, he had gotten into the car, surrounded by fans and media.

The car slowly started moving. Gu Xi had just settled in, ready to rest for a bit, when he happened to glance out the window, only to see Rong Jing’s figure sprinting at full speed toward the middle of the road.

A bus was speeding straight toward him. Gu Xi’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. Without thinking, he immediately dialed Rong Jing’s number. He had set it as a speed dial, so it connected in an instant.

Rong Jing’s bizarre, reckless behavior made Gu Xi think of that manhole incident—both times, it had been utterly inexplicable, without any warning.

“You… didn’t you hear your phone ringing just now?” Gu Xi tried his best to keep his voice steady.

“I did. Did you see what happened?” Rong Jing glanced around and quickly spotted a discreet nanny van passing by. The glass was specially tinted, so he couldn’t see the inside of the vehicle.

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

Rong Jing: “I sometimes have strange hallucinations. Things that no one else can see. Only me.”

This time, he didn’t try to brush it off. Gu Xi was no fool, this was already the second time. It was better to reveal a half-truth rather than keep making up excuses. Even if that truth sounded ridiculous.

Gu Xi didn’t even hesitate to ask, “What do you mean… you’re a psychic?”

Gu Xi probably thought he had spirit sight or something. Rong Jing nearly burst out laughing, “Where the hell did you get that idea? It’s probably some kind of illness.”

An illness where the heavens simply don’t like you.

No one can help me. I have to pass this test on my own.

But if these hallucinations were so persistent, and if the heavens were truly determined to kill him, wouldn’t they happen all the time?

Yet, this was only the third time. Each time, it happened after a period of time had passed. Maybe, just maybe, this ‘fate’ he was disrupting actually had limits. Perhaps, the more he changed things, the more the protagonist’s life deviated from its intended course, the more the original plot crumbled, the less power this ‘fate’ had over him?

“Can it be cured?”

“I go for regular checkups, don’t worry. I always manage to get through it, don’t I?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If I’m lying, you can curse me—”

“You’ll be impotent.”

Gu Xi blurted it out before he even processed the thought.

The moment the words left his mouth, both of them froze. 

It must’ve been the impression from their very first meeting, and the fact that Rong Jing had once mentioned it over the phone. Somehow, those words had lodged themselves in his brain. Then, in this precise, delicate moment, they just slipped out.

Rong Jing: “…”

Rong Jing: “You’re… Gu Xi, right?” Has someone swapped him out?

Gu Xi immediately hung up. He acted like he had never said a word. Inside the car, the entire crew was staring at him.

Flustered, he snapped, “What the hell are you all looking at?! Never seen someone get pissed off before?”

Everyone: “…”

No, they had just never seen him look this guilty yet so aggressive at the same time.

Even though Rong Jing had brushed everything off lightly, even though he had been seconds away from death yet showed no panic at all, Gu Xi still felt a lingering sense of unease.

“…G-Gu Xi.” Mo Dian cautiously called his name, “Can you let go of me first?”

Only then did Gu Xi realize he had been gripping Mo Dian’s wrist so tightly that it was already bruised. No wonder he himself didn’t feel any pain. 

Awkwardly, he let go and reached into his bag, pulling out a tube of ointment, the same one Rong Jing had given him before.

Liu Yu quipped offhandedly, “You’ve got everything in there. What’s that, Doraemon’s pocket or something?”

“Someone put it there.” I don’t even wanna think about him, or I’ll start overthinking.

“Who did?”

“Nevermind.”

For the rest of the trip, Gu Xi fell into deep thought.

Was it really just an illusion, like Rong Jing said?

Gu Xi called his psychologist, who sighed when he heard from him. Gu Xi had already skipped three therapy sessions, but now he was calling not for his own condition but for someone else’s.

A few days later, Rong Jing temporarily handed over his company affairs to two professional managers and his ever-capable assistant, Zhou You. With his luggage packed, he headed to a hotel near the filming venue.

As soon as he arrived at the hotel entrance, he saw a swarm of entertainment reporters and cameras, clearly waiting to interview the cast.

Fortunately, the hotel had strict regulations. Unauthorized personnel were not allowed inside.

Flashing his word ID, Rong Jing entered smoothly, finding most of the crew waiting in the lobby.

From a distance, he spotted Gu Xi sitting on a chair, chatting with another lead actor.

Their gazes met briefly before they both looked away, as if they were strangers. No one noticed their subtle interaction.

The reporters outside had their cameras aimed at them, eager to capture the rumored couple. But instead of secret glances or whispered conversations, there was nothing—no approach, no acknowledgment, not even a look. It was cold.

Maybe that Xun Jiarui was just making things up.

Gu Xi taking advantage of someone? And an Alpha at that? If that’s even true, they must have gotten things completely backward.

Maybe the truth was just as Director Liu Yu had said. This was all a ploy by the production team to promote a newcomer. After all, it seemed like Gu Xi wasn’t exactly getting along with the new guy.

Rong Jing spotted a familiar face among the cast—Qi Ying.

Qi Ying acted like he didn’t see him, brushing past without a word.

Ever since the whole candle confession incident back in their university, Qi Ying had been cold toward him. That was fine. Rong Jing preferred it that way—keeping their distance.

During the room assignments, Rong Jing ended up with room 1209.

He didn’t notice Qi Ying sneaking a glance at his key card. Nor did he see Gu Xi, mid-conversation with an assistant director, subtly shifting his gaze in the same direction.

The production team had booked two entire floors. The room next to Rong Jing’s, 1207, had already been taken by the director. The other room next to him, 1211, was still available.

The staff laid out the remaining key cards, about a dozen of them, including room 1211. “There are too many people. Pick your own from what’s left.”

Almost simultaneously, two hands reached for the key card to Room 1211.

Qi Ying snapped his head around, eyes sharp. Which little bitch is trying to pull something here?

Gu Xi looked back at him indifferently. Who the hell is trying to mess around right under my nose?

Thinking of cozying up next door? Did you ask for my permission first?