FLME Ch85

“…Am I some despicable person?” Xi Su asked.

The finale had just finished playing, leaving the living room in utter silence. Xi Su slouched on the sofa, wearing sunglasses.

He said, “I’ve been gutting fish at RT-Mart for ten years. My heart is as cold as the knife I use to kill fish.”

Yu Wen handed him a tissue.

Xi Su sniffled and said in a muffled voice, “One isn’t enough. Bring me a whole pack.”

Xie Heyu tossed an entire pack of tissues over.

The air was thick with an eerie silence. Yu Wen shrank back into the sofa slightly, sensing trouble.

He whispered to Xie Heyu, “Let’s sneak out…”

“Yu Wen.”

Chu Han suddenly called out.

Yu Wen jumped, freezing mid-action.

Chu Han, who had been lying motionless on the floor since halfway through the finale, looked as if he were dead. Now, with a lifeless expression, he slowly sat up under the startled gazes of Yu Wen and Xie Heyu.

His movements were stiff, his demeanor lifeless, eerily reminiscent of Sadako.

“Mingzhu’s storyline is well-rounded. I acknowledge the director’s arrangement. The male and female leads both leave a part of their spiritual totems on him. Every change in Mingzhu reflects and showcases the theme of the series…”

Chu Han calmly listed the merits of this plotline, concluding with, “But I feel like losing it now. Yu Wen, do you have any ideas?”

“…” Yu Wen cautiously advised, “Don’t lose it.”

Chu Han: “You played a dead man again.”

Yu Wen: “…Yeah.”

Chu Han: “And I shipped your CP again.”

Yu Wen froze for a moment, muttering, “I told you not to ship it…”

Chu Han ignored him, closing his eyes. “Are you happy now, you cold-hearted man? My CP is doomed. I’ll never be happy again…”

Though Chu Han and Xi Su’s mental states were delicate yet stable, the internet was a true wailing ground.

—“???”

—“I knew it! I knew it! This was aimed at me!”

—“You’ve ascended, but my head is spinning!”

—“I don’t like this ending. Director, bring Ninghua back.”

—“Lol, what even is this?”

—“Everything’s flipped… flipped…”

—“Teacher Melon King, stop acting. Let’s go home. I still prefer your carefree face when you’re just enjoying the fun. Crying with a smile emoji”

Yu Wen and the others weren’t in the country, so they weren’t receiving updates in real-time. However, Xie Jiamao kept reporting the show’s performance in their group chat daily. Just looking at the numbers was quite impressive.

Xie Jiamao said that when they returned home, they’d see posters, billboards, and bus stop ads everywhere.

There were official promotions and fans who couldn’t let go.

The spectacle was truly overwhelming.

The story had ended, but the buzz hadn’t. Since Director Miao rarely released behind-the-scenes footage, fans poured their enthusiasm into boosting the show’s data. Recently, there was a poll for the year’s most popular character, and Song Mingzhu easily claimed the top spot, crushing the second place.

Chu Han, despondent over Song Mingzhu’s ending for several days, decided to shift his focus. He firmly believed that if he shipped enough CPs, BE wouldn’t catch up to him again.

For the past two days, he had been obsessing over Xie-Yu in real life, hovering around them like a ghost. Whenever he saw them interact sweetly, he would flash a peculiar smile.

Xi Su, editing their group variety show, was constantly startled by Chu Han’s omnipresence.

The first weekend after Moon Harbor ended, Xi Su uploaded the first episode of their variety show on Weibo. “Security Love Studio” productions were guaranteed to be top-notch.

Honestly, both the editing and filming were rough, even the captions were stiff. But the material was solid, creating a relaxed and joyful atmosphere that comforted viewers’ broken hearts.

Xi Su wasn’t good at writing scripts, so the so-called variety show was just a tiny glimpse of their everyday lives.

Yu Wen’s schedule was decent. Though he occasionally stayed up late, he loved sleeping in, so Xie Heyu was usually the first to wake up in the villa.

The autumn and winter by the seaside felt like spring and summer—warm and gentle. Everyone wore light clothing, typically shorts and T-shirts.

Xie Heyu shuffled downstairs in slippers, his muscular arms visibly defined.

This was the first time fans saw his full face on camera, aside from airport photos.

—“Not bad-looking. Pouting emoji”

—“Barefaced… Hmm, not bad.”

—“What’s on his neck? A hickey? Did Xiao Yu give him a little nibble?”

—“Wow, looks like Xiao Yu’s eating well.”

—“…Eating what?”

—“Doesn’t matter. I’m shipping it first.”

—“Here comes the CP crowd with their bowls! Mommy’s not awake, so is Daddy feeding us first?!”

—“You fans…”

—“‘We’re ready to fight to the death. Why are you surrendering first, Your Majesty?’”

Xie Heyu stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows for a while. Still half-asleep, his gaze was blank, and his movements were slow.

After a moment, he headed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

He made simple sandwiches, nothing fancy. Three had bacon and eggs, while one was made separately. Standing in front of the fridge for a long time, he finally pulled out an avocado.

He paused abruptly after finishing the sandwiches, seeming a bit distracted.

He set down what he was holding and, under the confused gaze of the audience, slowly walked back upstairs.

The comment section filled with question marks, unsure of his intentions.

Xie Heyu pushed open a door, standing at the entrance without stepping inside. The camera only showed the doorway, with dim light filtering through the half-open door. Leaning against the doorframe, he gazed at the small lump on the bed. After a moment, he seemed to wake up a little, casually smoothing his messy hair. He softly closed the door and turned to head back downstairs.

—”What’s that about? Went upstairs just to check on his wife?”

—”This guy looks so cool and distant, but he’s surprisingly… affectionate.”

—”I told you, no one at Starlight Media is normal.”

He took fresh strawberries and blueberries from the fridge, opened them naturally, and popped a couple into his mouth to confirm their taste. Afterward, he washed and sliced the fruits, placing them in a bowl and drizzling yogurt over the top.

Fans knew about Yu Wen’s picky eating habits—he never hid it and often joked about being a “spoiled brat.”

In a relationship, adapting to each other’s habits is normal. Respecting each other’s preferences and caring for one another is the essence of getting along.

Xie Heyu’s practiced movements showed they’d been accommodating each other for a long time. Even the fans had to admit—they had shaped themselves into the most compatible versions of each other.

—”…I give up. Do they think adding a wholesome label hides the fact that they’re being suggestive?!”

—”I wish I could understand calculus as instantly as I understood this dynamic…”

After preparing the fruit, he went upstairs again, this time stepping inside. He didn’t stay long, but when he came out, his lips were slightly damp, a clear sign he’d gotten a kiss.

In the time it took to make breakfast, he’d gone back to check on Yu Wen three or four times.

When he finally finished, he made himself a cup of coffee. The caffeine seemed to jolt his sluggish brain awake, and the person who appeared on screen was finally the composed, sharp Xie Heyu fans were used to.

Everyone else gradually woke up and came downstairs in search of food.

During their vacation, there wasn’t much to do. The seaside was hot and sunny during the day, so no one felt like going out. Most of the time, the cameras captured them gaming, watching shows, or playing cards.

“…Pair of threes,” Yu Wen said.

Lying sprawled on the carpet, Chu Han glanced at his cards. “Pair of fours.”

Xi Su, munching on chips, casually played two cards with his clean ring and pinky fingers. “Pair of fives.”

None of them seemed particularly invested in winning.

The three-player Landlord game had losers rotating out. When Xie Heyu was eliminated, he stood behind the sofa, leaning down to look at Yu Wen’s cards.

Yu Wen wasn’t competitive either, but he loved calling Xie Heyu over to analyze his cards. They’d whisper nonsensical strategies to each other, and Yu Wen would laugh like a little roly-poly toy.

Xi Su always turned a blind eye to spare the “parents” any embarrassment.

But Chu Han, lacking any sense of tact, would slowly get up from the floor every time they interacted, zombie-like, drawn to the “scent of blood.” He’d lean on the coffee table, silently watching them for a while, his grin growing increasingly eerie.

Even Yu Wen occasionally got startled by him.

One day, Yu Wen and Xie Heyu were relaxing on the balcony, watching the rain. Yu Wen grabbed Xie Heyu’s hand, talking about how fans had read his palm.

“…They said you’re destined for great wealth. Ha-ha-ha… You’re already a CEO; how much richer can you get?”

Chu Han passed by and then stood in a corner of the hallway, silently watching for half an hour.

That day, the gloomy weather cast long shadows indoors. When Yu Wen turned around, he saw a blurry figure standing in the darkness, smiling strangely.

Yu Wen immediately grabbed a feather duster and changed his target. That afternoon, he chased Chu Han around the villa twice.

It was likely the first time Teacher Chu had been so flustered. “I wasn’t eavesdropping on your private conversation! I stood far away!”

This isn’t about privacy!

After Yu Wen’s rant, Chu Han nodded solemnly. “Got it.”

Next time, he’d hide better to avoid scaring Yu Wen.

The overall tone of the reality show felt like waking up on a sunny weekend morning, sipping warm milk—only to find a few peppercorns at the bottom.

Warm, serene daily life sprinkled with moments of madness.

Starlight Media had always been like this, and fans were used to it. Whatever antics these three got up to, no one was surprised. The show only reinforced their “chaotic energy” reputation.

Still, amidst the expected chaos, there were some delightful surprises—like Xie Heyu.

Xie Heyu was undeniably a model boyfriend: skilled at household chores and cooking, meticulous, reliable, and able to intuitively understand Yu Wen’s needs, providing abundant emotional support.

When Yu Wen draped a bedsheet over himself to cosplay as a fairy, Xie Heyu grabbed two sheer scarves, swirling them around as if they were the fairy’s ethereal ribbons.

The kicker? He did all this with his usual cool expression.

Effortlessly suave. Charmingly indulgent.

Every time Yu Wen had a whimsical idea, Xie Heyu’s deadpan cooperation became the highlight of the scene.

—”I’m done. Ha-ha-ha!”

—”Does he not realize how funny he is?”

—”Why did I think the Melon King would find a normal boyfriend?”

—”Comedy gold. I laughed so hard I lost my head.”

The reality show was short, only about 30 minutes, but fans couldn’t get enough. They rewatched it repeatedly, savoring even the smallest sweet moments.

As everyone knew, Xie Heyu wasn’t fully awake for about half an hour after getting up. During this time, he was unusually clingy with Yu Wen. Whenever his gaze went blank, it was a sure sign he was thinking about his “wife,” and the next step was inevitably heading upstairs—for a quick look or a hug.

Fans thought that was all there was to it.

In one segment, Yu Wen, Chu Han, and Xi Su were playing hacky sack in the living room while Xie Heyu worked quietly in a corner. His head stayed down, focused and unobtrusive.

On a second viewing, fans noticed that within the five-minute clip, he nonchalantly drank water four times. Each time, his eyes would sweep across the living room, lingering on Yu Wen before pulling away.

—”Half-asleep: blatantly clingy with his wife. Fully awake: secretly clingy with his wife.”

—”Summary: clingy rice cake come to life.”

—”Humanity has barely scratched the surface of the Xie-Yu dynamic…”

—”I’m swooning…”

—”This is a royal feast. Your servant dares not partake…”

—”There are no slaves in New China. Eat up, fans!”