WAM CH57

Shao Si always started his livestreams without the slightest warning.

The first batch of netizens to click in were completely baffled: Who am I, where am I, and what is going on?

“Today I’m livestreaming myself taking off my makeup,” Shao Si said, bringing his birthday-peach face close to the screen while looking for a steady spot to prop up his phone. “No chatting. Just watch if you want.”

In an instant, comments began flooding upward across the screen:

Netizen A: What, what, what? Why aren’t you chatting with us today?

Netizen B: …Makeup removal it is, then! As long as it’s you, we’ll watch anything!

Netizen C: Do you know you look just like a giant birthday peach bun right now, Daddy Shao? …Still think you’re super handsome, though.

[Netizen C sent you a Small Rocket.]

Once Shao Si propped his phone up to the side, he paid it no more attention. Li Guangzong continued removing his makeup, going through nearly half a bottle of cleansing oil just on his eyes alone.

Li Guangzong: “Does it hurt? Your skin is already turning red…”

“Do you even know how to wipe?” Shao Si wasn’t in a great mood. He snatched a mirror off the table to check his reflection. “Be gentle.”

“I’m not even using any force…”

Because the phone was set far away, Shao Si didn’t notice that the rapidly scrolling comments suddenly froze for a split second before everyone began spamming the exact same three characters: Gu Yanzhou.

“What’s going on?” When that voice suddenly sounded from behind them, Li Guangzong’s hand trembled immediately, wiping hard enough to nearly make Shao Si jump out of his seat.

Expressionless, Shao Si squinted one eye, the very eye that had just been ruthlessly manhandled: “Forget it, I’ll do it myself.”

“Best Actor Gu!” Li Guangzong subconsciously snapped to attention and took two steps back out of the way. “You haven’t headed back yet?”

Gu Yanzhou didn’t answer, asking instead, “What happened to him?”

“His skin is having a slight allergic reaction. The makeup was too heavy.”

Shao Si was squinting one eye while wiping off his own makeup when Gu Yanzhou unexpectedly reached over, steadied the back of his head, and tilted his face upward. Shao Si found himself looking straight at Gu Yanzhou’s freshly cleansed face. Even with his eyeliner removed, the man looked no different; perhaps because his eyelashes were so thick, his eyes resembled a pair of dark, unfathomable whirlpools.

Gu Yanzhou examined him carefully, lifting his chin lightly with his fingers: “Pass me the cotton pads.”

Shao Si: “Huh?”

Shao Si had initially meant to refuse, yet Gu Yanzhou’s touch was genuinely skilled, far gentler than a clumsy brat like Li Guangzong. His hand paused in midair, resting against Gu Yanzhou’s forearm as he hesitated over whether to push him away. Ultimately, his hand dropped down in compromise: “Fine, big brother will grant you this opportunity.”

“Who are you calling big brother? No respect for seniority.” Gu Yanzhou leaned in very close, barely daring to apply pressure with his fingers against Shao Si’s face.

After a moment, he paused to study him again, shifting his tone: “Your face…”

With his eyes shut, Shao Si’s heart skipped a beat: “What’s wrong with my face?”

Normally, red bumps resembling acne wouldn’t pop up until after he went home and slept through the night.

Gu Yanzhou stacked several cotton pads together, poured cleansing oil onto them, and bent down to wipe his skin. Once the rest of his face was clean, he moved to the corners of his eyes to wipe away the remaining smudges of bright crimson powder.

By the time Shao Si opened his eyes, Gu Yanzhou had already straightened up. Tossing the used cotton pads into the trash can, he leaned over to pull out two wet wipes, gently dabbing them over Shao Si’s face while looking at him with a half-smile: “Nothing’s wrong. Still very handsome.”

Shao Si’s face felt a little hot: “…”

Oh my god, what the hell did I just witness?

Force-fed a mouthful of PDA yet again.

I used to firmly believe all those previous scandals were just rumors, but now… I might have to switch sides. Our Daddy Shao really is coming out of the closet.

Someone tell me what this is if not true love. The sickly sweet stench of romance is practically overflowing through the screen.

Watching from the sidelines, Li Guangzong suddenly remembered something crucial!

“Hey, um… didn’t you forget something?” Li Guangzong slowly paced over to Shao Si’s side. “Stop looking in the mirror. Glance over to your left. Do you see something familiar? Does it jog your memory at all?”

Shao Si asked, “What?”

Li Guangzong gritted his teeth to remind him: “The live… livestream.”

“…” Shao Si blinked. “I completely forgot.”

With Gu Yanzhou appearing on camera during Shao Si’s livestream and the two interacting so intimately, another wave of commotion swept across the internet.

Top paparazzi Wang Moumou reposted the relevant Weibo clip along with a cryptic caption: What is real, and what is fake? Our footsteps in pursuit of the truth will never stop.

“Wang Moumou still has his eyes on you two,” Li Guangzong warned on their drive to the company. “He’ll probably try to drop some kind of bombshell in a few days…”

Saying this, he sounded a bit puzzled: “We’ve been cooped up on set filming this entire time. What dirt could he possibly dig up?”

Shao Si replayed that kiss with Gu Yanzhou back at Zuisheng Mengsi in his head, leaning against the car window without saying a word.

Glancing at him in the rearview mirror, Li Guangzong asked casually, “Why is your face getting redder and redder?”

Shao Si parted his lips: “Allergies.”

“Even your ears are having an allergic reaction?”

“Got a problem with that?”

Li Guangzong rubbed his nose: “Remember to put some ointment on when you get back. I packed a tube in your suitcase while organizing your luggage; dig it out later.”

Listening to him, Shao Si fished a mask out of his pocket and hooked one strap over his ear, getting ready to put it on once they stepped out of the car: “Yeah, got it… By the way, what are we heading to the company for?”

Hearing the question, Li Guangzong averted his eyes from the rearview mirror. His hands tightened unconsciously on the steering wheel, though he kept his voice steady and upbeat: “Our movie wraps up in a little over two months. The company probably wants to discuss your future plans with you.”

“Discuss with me? Isn’t that kind of thing always handled by you?”

Li Guangzong paused briefly before replying, “Well… it’s probably an important project, so they need to talk to you face-to-face.”

The car rolled slowly into the underground parking garage.

Shao Si stepped out, pulled on his mask, and walked ahead of Li Guangzong.

Inside the CEO’s office sat not only several top executives, but also Qi Ming.

Qi Ming sat with refined, gentlemanly posture, his hands clasped neatly on the desk. Seeing Shao Si walk in, he even offered him a polite smile.

While Li Guangzong busied himself greeting the company executives, Shao Si turned his face away, not even bothering to remove his mask. He picked the seat farthest from Qi Ming, crossed his legs, and said, “If you have something to say, just spit it out. No need to beat around the bush.”

What kind of major matter required gathering all these executives together, with even Qi the Pimp in attendance?

Qi Ming pulled a stack of documents from his briefcase and slid it toward CEO Liu, who took it and pushed it across the desk toward Shao Si.

Hooking the folder over with two fingers, Shao Si flipped open a random page. Printed boldly across the top were seven large characters: One Lifetime, One Pair. It looked like a television script.

Qi Ming tapped his fingers twice on the desk and began, “This novel is a massive IP. Jiaxing has already bought the adaptation rights and plans to remake it. They vetted quite a few candidates for the male lead, and in the end, you’re their top pick.”

Shao Si flipped through a couple of pages without offering any comment.

“It’s about time you took on a few solid TV dramas. Even though you’ve built up great acclaim through films over the years, you can’t afford to slack off on the television side. Look at the actors who’ve achieved legendary status; every single one of them blew up through TV dramas. No matter how high a movie star’s box office numbers are, if he limits himself strictly to film, his career won’t have long-term staying power.”

Qi Ming stood up to elaborate: “Take Gu Yanzhou, for example. His breakthrough masterpiece was the movie Path of Pursuit, yet relying on that film alone didn’t make him a true household name. Whenever most people mention him, they still bring up his character from such-and-such TV drama. To put it simply, TV dramas have high episode counts and long exposure cycles.”

Shao Si raised an eyebrow.

“So what you need right now are a few blockbuster television dramas.”

The more Shao Si listened, the more off the whole situation felt. He turned his head to look at Li Guangzong, who was sitting beside him like a silent auditor.

Shao Si lifted a foot and lightly kicked his calf: “Hey, Cub, aren’t you going to say something?”

Li Guangzong forced a smile without speaking, prompting Shao Si to snap, “What’s wrong with you? Are you my manager, or is he my manager? Did you go mute?”

Shao Si’s words were harsh, yet he was genuinely irritated, angry that the little calf he had sheltered under his wing was sitting completely silent in front of outsiders, taking a beating without speaking up.

Someone like Qi Ming could never be indulged; give him an inch and he’d take a mile, opening an entire dye shop if you tolerated him even slightly. Above all, what right did Qi Ming have to sit here dictating terms?

“I think Brother Qi makes a lot of sense,” Li Guangzong said. “Take a look at this script. If you think it’s good, we’ll accept it.”

Shao Si stared at him as if he were looking at an idiot.

On the ride back, neither Shao Si nor Li Guangzong spoke a single word.

“Li Guangzong,” Shao Si called out downstairs at the hotel after pulling off his mask, “hold right there.”

With that, he hooked a finger at him: “Come over here.”

Li Guangzong didn’t budge.

Shao Si walked over and smacked him squarely on the forehead: “Did you forget to bring your brain when you left the house today, huh? Qi Ming was running his mouth right in front of us and you didn’t even push back, just sitting there like a wooden dummy.”

Struck like that, Li Guangzong dropped his head and didn’t lift it for a long moment, calling out softly, “Daddy Shao.”

Shao Si’s hand froze against his forehead.

There was an unmistakable sob trembling in Li Guangzong’s voice. Choking up, he lowered his head even further, unwilling to let anyone see him like this: “I might not be able to stay by your side much longer.”

“Once Mask finishes filming, the company plans to assign you a new manager. Their preliminary plan is to transfer you back to Qi Ming…” Li Guangzong suddenly lifted his head, wiped his eyes, and stared up at the sky. “At the beginning of last month, they already pulled me in for a talk. They said if I couldn’t handle your scandals with Best Actor Gu properly, they’d replace me. It’s my fault for being useless…”

Never in a million years would Shao Si have guessed this was the reason.

No wonder Qi Ming had acted like the one calling all the shots in the conference room earlier.

“When he takes over your management this time, he definitely won’t pull those shady stunts on you again,” Li Guangzong said, unsure whether he was comforting himself or Shao Si. “He’s not that stupid. He’ll manage your career properly, and you’ll definitely stand even higher and go even further than you are now.”

“And what about you? What are you going to do?”

“I… I still have a few other artists under me. Don’t worry, I won’t starve.”

Shao Si felt a surge of anger with nowhere to vent: “Fine, great. If you’re determined to be an idiot, I won’t stop you.”

Li Guangzong sniffled and nodded: “Then I’ll head upstairs first. Get some rest early. Let’s part on good terms.”

[What a goddamn moron,] Shao Si muttered, pacing back and forth inside his room and itching to light a cigarette. [How can he still be this stupid after working with me for so many years? Qi Ming set an obvious trap for him, and he walked straight into it.]

System: [How so?]

Sitting down on the entryway rug, Shao Si explained, [None of the artists under Qi Ming have truly made it big over the past few years. All he thinks about day and night is either ruining me or getting me back under his wing so he can reclaim his title as the company’s ace manager.]

[Li Guangzong might be a little dense, but he’s never been this incompetent at his job. I used to assume the rumors between Gu Yanzhou and me wouldn’t die down because netizens were over-shipping us, but looking at it now, nine times out of ten, Qi Ming was the one fanning the flames behind the scenes.]

Hiring water armies, manufacturing trending topics, milking the gossip for all it was worth.

Ordinarily, the little interaction between him and Gu Yanzhou would never have blown up into such a relentless storm.

System: [Hm… so complicated.]

Shao Si was leaning back against the door when two sharp knocks suddenly vibrated against the wood. He straightened up and stood: “Who is it?”

Opening the door, he found Gu Yanzhou standing outside, his hair still dripping wet from a shower.

Gu Yanzhou raised the tube of ointment in his hand: “Go wash your face first. I’ll put some medicine on for you.”

When Shao Si came back out after washing his face, Gu Yanzhou was seated in the armchair, holding the exact script Qi Ming had shoved onto him at the company earlier.

“One Lifetime, One Pair?” Gu Yanzhou flipped through a couple of pages. “Are you planning to take this drama?”

Walking over, Shao Si pressed a warm towel against his face for a moment before answering, “…Not sure yet.”

“It’s been mired in heavy controversy lately, accused of plagiarizing the entire plot of another novel, Out the Eastern Gate. If you’re thinking of accepting this project, think it through carefully first.” Setting the script down, Gu Yanzhou beckoned him over with a crook of his finger: “Come here and get your medicine.”