FLME Ch83

Although it trended on social media, neither Yu Wen nor the company paid it much attention. After all, online chatter was a common occurrence.

By the time the drama reached around twenty episodes, Song Mingzhu’s backstory had fully emerged, the main storyline was more than halfway through, and the female protagonist had traced the explosion to an old feud between the Fu and Song families. She needed to find and deal with the person who planted the explosives; otherwise, even if this explosion was stopped, another act of revenge would follow, leaving the hidden danger unresolved.

This was her eighth restart.

She swam up from the sea, sat at the harbor, and pondered how to greet her old friends when meeting them for the first time again.

The same trajectory, a predictable future—she knew the path well. She smoothly infiltrated the Fu family and investigated the previous clues. Yet, this time, an unexpected deviation from her memories occurred.

The deviation stemmed from Song Mingzhu.

As the young master of the Song family, with tensions high between the Fu and Song families, Song Mingzhu naturally stood in opposition to the male and female leads. Moreover, the explosion was orchestrated by the elders of the Song family. In the early and middle stages, Song Mingzhu consistently played the role of a villain, indirectly or directly hindering the female protagonist’s actions.

However, at a crucial juncture during this restart, when Song Mingzhu was supposed to block the female protagonist from taking a key individual, he unexpectedly gave her the green light.

Standing amidst the crowd, he slightly nodded at her.

This should have been their first meeting in this restart.

The Fu family’s car was parked in front of the mansion. Before leaving, Gao Qin couldn’t suppress her curiosity and asked, “Why did you let me go?”

Song Mingzhu stood surrounded by tall, robust bodyguards who eyed her like hawks, a force clearly intended to block her.

Rain drizzled from the sky. Under his umbrella, Song Mingzhu tilted his head slightly.

“Didn’t you say it yourself? ‘Follow your heart.’”

He smiled warmly and innocently, but Gao Qin felt as if a thunderclap had exploded in her ears, rendering her momentarily deaf to everything else.

Those two words were her advice to Song Mingzhu… yet in this cycle, Song Mingzhu didn’t know her.

That night, Gao Qin went to find Song Mingzhu.

The two stood outside a side gate of the Song family estate, talking. The drizzle from earlier had turned into a downpour. Song Mingzhu held a black umbrella, the dark fabric accentuating his porcelain-like complexion.

“Young Master, we only met for the first time today. When did I ever tell you to ‘follow your heart’?” Gao Qin cautiously probed.

Song Mingzhu gazed at her, his eyes slightly curved, as soft and misty as the rain.

“I don’t know. Perhaps… in a past life.”

A monster’s instincts were always sharper than a human’s. From the moment he saw Gao Qin, he felt a sense of familiarity, especially with the way she looked at him—a gaze filled with a mix of familiarity, pity, displeasure, and melancholy.

So he stepped aside. When questioned, he inexplicably uttered a strange phrase.

Follow your heart…?

What was that? A warning?

Song Mingzhu slowly asked, “Do we know each other?”

The noisy rain drowned out their silence.

Gao Qin remained quiet for a long time before finally saying, “‘Follow your heart’ isn’t a warning; it’s advice. I hope you’ll think what you want to think, love who you want to love, and not be swept along by your environment, carving out your own space.”

She knew what Song Mingzhu would think because once upon a time, Mingzhu had smiled and asked her the same question: Follow my heart? Is that a warning for me?

“But I know that’s hard for you,” Gao Qin continued. “Fu Mingshen said you don’t have a heart for now… He knows you better than I do, after all, you two grew up together. So now I have to give you a different piece of advice. Mingzhu, listen carefully.”

Song Mingzhu’s smile slowly faded from his lips.

This mysterious woman, who seemed to know him unnaturally well, was not a good omen.

Gao Qin looked earnestly into his eyes. “The Song family is not a good place. Don’t follow in your brothers’ footsteps. If you must emulate someone, emulate Fu Mingshen. He’s a good person and a normal one.”

Song Mingzhu said nothing, his expression in the rain a mix of coldness and mockery.

Memories from the previous cycles intertwined, countless versions of Song Mingzhu flashing before Gao Qin’s eyes, finally settling on the cold and wary boy before her.

She felt a pang of regret.

If she failed this time, everything she said today would be forgotten by Mingzhu, and all her efforts would be in vain. No matter how many times she tried to pull Mingzhu out of the abyss, it would always end in failure.

“Wasting effort is a common thing for me. I’m a bit stubborn and particularly fond of meddling. But I’m just an ordinary person, crashing into walls even when I know it’s futile… This isn’t the first time I’ve done something so foolish.” Gao Qin suddenly laughed. “I’m telling you this because I might fail again this time. Next time, I might not be lucky enough for you to remember me, and I won’t get to talk to you. Mingzhu—”

She stepped forward under her umbrella and reached out, seemingly intending to pat Song Mingzhu on the shoulder.

Song Mingzhu instinctively dodged.

“…”

Gao Qin’s hand froze mid-air. Then, under Song Mingzhu’s guarded gaze, she slowly raised her hand.

She casually ruffled Song Mingzhu’s hair.

Although Song Mingzhu didn’t dodge this time, perhaps he was simply too tired to avoid it.

“Your memory is the best. Try harder to remember this older sister.”

Leaving behind such an inexplicable remark, Gao Qin walked away, waving her hand with her back to him. “Go inside; no need to see me off—”

When this episode aired, viewers who liked Mingzhu were moved to tears. Although the heroine’s approach to saving him was misguided, it was heartfelt! At least she genuinely cared for Mingzhu, who had never experienced such kindness since birth. Madam Fu truly cared for him, but her strict and unsmiling nature made her affection hard to perceive—rendering it practically nonexistent.

While everyone celebrated Mingzhu’s rare stroke of luck, some sharp-eyed viewers recalled the overall backdrop of the drama—Gao Qin’s sincerity was genuine, but she was an outsider destined to return to the modern world.

In other words, her connection with Song Mingzhu was fated to be brief.

Netizens once again erupted in lamentations, wishing they could pull “Baby Mingzhu” out of the TV screen. They remarked how Song Mingzhu seemed like an easy child to raise: someone who went to bed on time, ate meals without fuss, and watched TV quietly when left alone.

In one scene, when he was locked in the basement, there was a shot of him eating food brought by the mute nanny. Starving at the time, he stuffed his mouth full with each bite but still chewed carefully. The basement door was open, and strands of sunlight spilled in. Yet he didn’t try to escape; instead, he sat in the sunlight, eating obediently and occasionally glancing at the spring scenery outside.

“Ahhh, my baby even moved a chair to sit on before eating! He didn’t sit on the floor! Fu Wanrong, if you can’t raise him properly, give him to someone else! I’m furious—do you think we’re fools if we don’t get angry?”

Others noted that Song Mingzhu seemed like a very quiet type: someone who didn’t fuss over food, slept without moving around, avoided crowds, and could spend an entire day alone.

…Yu Wen felt personally attacked.

The audience’s emotional attachment to Mingzhu extended to Yu Wen and Xie Heyu’s relationship. They frequently trended on social media, with netizens shouting random comments:

—“Come out and show some PDA, I’m begging you.”

—“Do I have to kneel? Huh?”

—“Can you two have a little Mingzhu for me to play with…”

—“Yu Wen, suddenly I think it’s a good thing you have a boyfriend. The world now has one more person to love you. You’re a happy little baby surrounded by full-on love.”

The company adopted a wait-and-see approach to these comments, taking no immediate action.

Gao Qin’s eighth restart ended in failure.

On her ninth attempt, she brushed past Song Mingzhu in front of the Song family’s trading company. With her previous experiences, she neither bumped into him nor dropped a pocket watch.

However, as they passed, Song Mingzhu seemed to sense something and murmured, “Sister…”

Behind him, Gao Qin abruptly stopped in her tracks.

…

Mingzhu remembered Gao Qin. Even though the memories were vague, like dreamlike illusions, her shadow lingered in Song Mingzhu’s mind.

He was a very clever little monster.

From this point on, Song Mingzhu’s role shifted from a villain to one of ambiguity.

He didn’t help the protagonists, nor did he assist the Song family. He stayed on the periphery of these disputes, seemingly observing and pondering something.

Occasionally, he intervened to stir up trouble, like a mischievous child, leaving Gao Qin exasperated.

When questioned by Fu Mingshen, Song Mingzhu remained calm and thoughtful.

“Brother, why are you angry?”

Fu Mingshen’s gaze darkened. Though displeased, his face revealed nothing as he replied in a flat tone, “Because you did it on purpose.”

“…I see.” Song Mingzhu seemed to understand. “I did it on purpose, so that makes me bad, and people don’t like me. Is that it?”

Fu Mingshen narrowed his eyes, understanding the meaning behind these actions.

He was searching for the person he wanted to become.

He still lacked inner desires and subjective initiative, but he had begun selecting and emulating role models. No longer reckless, this was progress.

Fu Mingshen said no more and turned to leave, but Song Mingzhu called out to him.

“Brother.”

Fu Mingshen stopped.

Song Mingzhu descended the steps. He wore a thin white coat, faintly reminiscent of the year Madam Fu passed away—a young boy dressed in mourning white.

“What’s the difference between you and me?”

“…”

This question had troubled him for years. Song Mingzhu had drawn countless conclusions, noting many differences between them. Yet he had never found the opportunity to ask outright.

“I’m human.”

The expected answer. Song Mingzhu nodded.

—He was human; Mingzhu was an anomaly. After careful consideration, this seemed the most reasonable explanation.

“You are Mingzhu.”

Song Mingzhu froze.

By the time he recovered, Fu Mingshen had already walked away. His brother’s words were always like this—leaving people confused. Though he had received an answer, Mingzhu felt even more puzzled.

Still, at least his brother hadn’t outright called him a monster. Mingzhu thought this might be why his brother was so likable. Even when he found someone odd, he wouldn’t show it directly but instead described them as “Mingzhu”—a beautiful, flawless, and radiant pearl.

He was starting to like his brother.

After causing some chaos, Song Mingzhu decided he wanted to become someone like Fu Mingshen.

—“Today, we gather here to celebrate our precious one turning over a new leaf.”

—“Baby Mingzhu has redeemed himself! Hahaha, though he wasn’t really bad to begin with.”

—“Can Qin Qin take him back to the modern world? Baby is so well-behaved.”

—“Mingzhu can’t swim.”

—“The heroine swims back and forth every time…”

—“Grassroots cop (×) Swimming champion (√)”

—“Speaking of which, is Mingzhu imitating Fu Mingshen because he likes his brother, or because he wants to be liked?”

—“I think it’s half and half. Mingzhu is also very fixated on being liked. He lacks love.”

—“Our baby is so deprived of love that he’s confused… Even Fu Wanrong’s ghostly behavior, he managed to brainwash himself into believing that his mother loved him.”

There was a two-day hiatus before the finale, and by now, the main storyline had become very clear. With the original novel in place, everyone already had an idea of how it would end, so there was no rush.

Online, fans had already started creating various fan works and character analyses.

Chu Han, who loved finding sweetness amid the shards of glass, had been quite happy these past few days. He said to Yu Wen, “Mingzhu’s redemption arc means he probably won’t die, right? The female lead will return to the modern era later, leaving this era with only him and his brother… Turns out, we shippers of the ‘brotherly love’ pairing are the ultimate winners.”

Yu Wen thought about it, hesitating to speak but then holding back again.

Fortunately, Chu Han had asked casually and moved on to watching fan videos. Otherwise, if he had kept looking at Yu Wen, Yu Wen couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t spoil the ending.

He had told them not to ship, but they didn’t listen… When it ends tragically, will they really be happy?

Yu Wen sighed quietly in his heart and withdrew his gaze, catching a glimpse of Xie Heyu scrolling through Weibo out of the corner of his eye.

“Teacher Xie—” Yu Wen pounced onto Xie Heyu’s lap, completely blocking the phone screen. “Didn’t I tell you to uninstall Weibo? Why didn’t you listen?”

The sudden leap caught Xie Heyu off guard. His phone slipped out of his hand, but he instinctively wrapped an arm around Yu Wen to steady him. “I just reinstalled it… Xie Jiamao said I should take a look.”

Yu Wen glared at him. “What’s there to see?! Xie Jiamao’s just messing with you—how can you fall for it?”

Before Xie Heyu could argue, Yu Wen got up to pick up the phone. It had fallen just off the edge of the carpet but wasn’t damaged, thanks to its silicone case.

“Let’s see what Xie Jiamao told you to look at…” Yu Wen mumbled as he checked the screen. It was Weibo’s private message interface, showing a single image. Opening it required flipping the image in a mirror.

“…”

Yu Wen sternly criticized Xie Heyu, “In broad daylight, you’re looking at indecent books.”

Xie Heyu: “Did you look at it?”

Yu Wen: “No.”

Xie Heyu: “Then how do you know it’s indecent?”

“Do I even need to? I’ve got 5G-level instincts! The moment I saw it required flipping in a mirror, I knew exactly what it was.” Yu Wen pouted but decided to verify before accusing Xie Heyu unfairly. He saved the image and flipped it.

… He hadn’t wronged him.

It was indeed an explicit fanfic about their pairing.

Yu Wen exited the page and browsed further, discovering that this was Xie Heyu’s private account’s inbox. Many fans had sent him images, most requiring flipping in a mirror.

Yu Wen asked, “This is what Xie Jiamao told you to see?” Then, realizing something, he became wary. “Wait, does that mean Xie Jiamao has read these fics?!”

“No, Xie Jiamao wanted me to see the fan edits.” Xie Heyu watched Yu Wen’s expression shift from shock to horror, unable to hold back a chuckle. He pulled Yu Wen over to sit beside him and opened the videos Xie Jiamao had shared.

Most were pairing edits. After their relationship was revealed, fans had quickly dug up the rare instances they had been seen together.

These videos were set to gentle music, and in the fragmented clips, Xie Heyu’s gaze was always on Yu Wen. He stood quietly in the corner, but his love seemed to follow his gaze, crossing the crowd to reach Yu Wen.

Even before they were together, even before Yu Wen realized Xie Heyu’s feelings, that gaze had already existed.

Love, like a cough, cannot be concealed.

These edits silenced even the previously nitpicky “mother-in-law” fans. Xie Heyu had been by Yu Wen’s side for a long time, and his character and temperament were clear to those who had followed him for years.

Yu Wen had never noticed these details before. Watching the edits, he unconsciously leaned into Xie Heyu’s arms.

Just as he was about to be moved by their heavenly romance, Xie Heyu swiped the screen, exiting the video and opening another.

“This one is more important.”

… Yu Wen rolled his eyes, annoyed at his lack of romantic understanding.

Out of Yu Wen’s sight, Xie Heyu chuckled softly.

It was another pairing video, but this one was about past and present lives. The past life was, of course, Song Mingzhu, and the present life was Yu Wen, who now had so much love.

“Mingzhu’s current popularity has already surpassed that of the male and female leads. From these videos alone, you can see how much fans love him. If Mingzhu doesn’t get a satisfying ending, you might need to make an appearance and film a short video to comfort the audience.” Xie Heyu said, then asked, “I’ve only read the first draft of the script, so tell me, Teacher Yu, what’s Mingzhu’s ending?”

Yu Wen blinked and looked up at him.

“That depends on how fans define ‘satisfying,’” he said. “I think it’s satisfying, but… he dies.”