232.
Probably, in my previous life, I must have been someone who built bridges and roads, bringing blessings to millions, working for the well-being of the people, contributing my brick to the party and the edifice of the nation, and aiding the progress of humanity — all so that in this life, I could board a ship like Niangzi with such endless surprises.
After the first day I fell into this fandom, by the second day, the CP was already locked in. It was shallow in terms of interaction, but sweet — and there were even “sugar bricks” (TN: evidence of romantic hints). One fan was enjoying it alone, another had turned into a sugar-creating maniac, flooding everyone with that sweetness.
Whether you wanted it or not, there was no escaping it.
Digging for sugar? Extracting it? No need. Whether you liked it or not, the sugar was just there — persistent and inescapable.
Look at them — their love was so deep, so intense.

 

233.
If I weren’t the one creating and consuming this sugar, I would’ve rushed straight to the courthouse and threatened to die unless Niangzi got married on the spot. Right there, right now.

 

234.
What a coincidence — I, humble as I am, happened to be one of those who had uncovered the truth.

 

235.
The Wei Yanzi who was enjoying the sugar had already been sent to the ICU for emergency treatment.
The lucid Wei Yanzi, however, felt utterly hopeless.
When Gu Yiliang posted that simple message on Weibo, he hadn’t thought it through at all! Ahhhhhh!!!
I wanted to storm into his room, grab him by the collar and shake him awake!
Open your eyes and look at the situation! A supposedly “genuine” display of affection could land you in serious trouble!
Forget the environment for a moment — what if the fans believed it, accepted it, and gave their blessing?
What would we do when we had to officially announce our relationship?!
No, I mean — what would we do when we had to announce our respective relationships?!

 

236.
I unconsciously put my hand over my chest and, without realising it, started refreshing his Weibo page again and again.
I had opened his selfie, and there I stood, blank-headed, staring at the massive, clearly visible signature sticking out just beyond his fingers.
Deep down, I thought: it’s over.

 

237.
Under his two latest posts, there were only joyful comments from his fans — a real celebration, a lively vibe.
But under the next two, there was dead silence. Ten minutes had passed, and there were only two or three hundred comments from strangers and spam ads for adult video sites.
I could already imagine the reactions of the fans who saw the thank-you photo and rejoiced — only to scroll down and see a joint photo and my hated face.
And the next second, they saw “gift for fans” and rushed to click the image, hoping for a bit of emotional comfort — only to be hit with a name they despised…
Gu Yiliang’s Weibo had become a box of poisonous chocolates: you never knew whether the next bite would be crap or candy.

 

238.
A full ten minutes.
The " Gu’s Imperial Consorts", who spent all day making up rumours about Wei Yanzi, were completely silent — the situation was too absurd to believe.
The Meiyan fans who had insulted Gu Yiliang yesterday were also quiet, silently watching the unfolding drama.
The fans who had visited the set were lost too, not daring to make a sound.
Even the Niangzi army seemed to have gone mute — total silence.

 

239.
At the ten-minute mark, the Niangzi forum exploded.
I watched the feed fill with wedding photos with beautiful filters, marriage certificates, edited images of wedding ceremonies, and sweet congratulatory messages.
I took a big hit of sugar… and then immediately plunged back into despair.

 

240.
I closed my eyes, took three deep breaths to calm down, then calmly reposted the photo with a caption:
#LanJue# What line of dialogue do you like the most? [Laugh][Laugh] @LanJueTeamV @WriterLiangLiang //@GuYiliang_Liam
Then I watched as the official account reposted my tweet, tagging me along with other actors.

 

241.
As expected, this drew a wave of discussion among fans of the original novel. Some responded earnestly, others praised the cast, a few questioned my acting — which helped divert attention.
Fans in the comments and reposts came back to life, patting their chests and sighing in relief:
"Oh? So it turns out this was just a planned promo by the production team."
"You can see my child has no choice but to do these things."
They relaxed, cheerfully helping promote the team’s work, savouring their idol’s perfect appearance with excitement.
I smiled, pleased.

 

242.
As for that mirror selfie, the question was too difficult — I couldn't come up with an answer, so I gave up and left the fate of my fragile little life to destiny.
I smiled with tears in my eyes.

 

243.
I didn’t sleep well. In my dreams, my phone kept vibrating. When I opened it, it was all notifications of new Weibo posts from Gu Yiliang.
I woke up five times, startled each time.

 

244.
I sat listlessly in the dressing room while the makeup artist worked on my face. Every time my phone vibrated, my heart skipped a beat.
"Big Sis Man is wondering why you haven’t replied to her message," said Xiao Chen, who was sitting behind me, fanning me with one hand and holding his phone with the other. "She said the company signed a partnership with a livestreaming platform, and the announcement has already been made. They’ve scheduled you and Gu-ge to do a livestream together tonight at 9 p.m. for an hour — to chat with fans, promote the new drama, shape your public image, and do a bit of selling..."
He handed me his phone with a puzzled look: “Brotherly friendship? How do you sell that — by the kilo?”

 

245.
Oh heavens, do something! Save me from this disaster!
I snatched the phone from his hand, startling the makeup artist so badly that he nearly drew my eyebrows up on my temples.

 

246.
The recent Weibo interactions between Gu Yiliang and me had created a bit of a buzz, and #LanJue# was still trending this morning.
The company had sniffed out the traffic and acted quickly.
Perfect!
With the company pushing the narrative, we could turn this romance into a public game — everyone would know it was just for show. The company, the idol fans — everyone got what they wanted, and nothing would spiral out of control.
And on top of that, I could blame the whole phone incident on the company.
I could also enjoy the homemade “sweets” without guilt.
Perfect!

 

247.
With renewed energy, I spent the whole day filming — even the director looked at me in surprise, praising my enthusiasm and telling me to keep it up.
See, that’s what real teamwork looks like.

 

248.
As 9 p.m. approached, I finished getting my hair done and walked over to Gu Yiliang. He had already launched the livestream software and was adjusting the beauty filters.
He wore casual clothes, his hair a little tousled — looking effortlessly good. The moment he saw me, he turned and smiled.
That smile held three parts intimacy, seven parts tenderness, and the remaining ninety parts warmth.
Ah — even though I knew it was all part of the act, seeing that smile still made me a little nervous and flustered.
It definitely wasn’t shyness.

 

249.
I snapped out of it, sat down beside him, and glanced at the screen. “The filter’s a bit much.”
He looked at me, then at the screen, and adjusted the settings, reducing the eye enhancement. “How about now?”
“Better,” I nodded. “But with this filter, don’t you think it’s a little too overexposed?”
“Then let’s change it.” He adjusted a few more filters, and once I nodded in approval, he finally stopped.
I was a little thrown by how obedient he was.
What was this behaviour? Was he trying the spoiled-and-doting route?

 

250.
There were still a few minutes before 9. He propped his phone on the coffee table and, while adjusting the angle so we were both visible, he struck up a conversation. “What did you have for dinner on set?”
“I think the same as everyone else,” I replied, slouching on the couch and running a hand through my hair in front of the camera. “The last shoot ran late, so I didn’t even get to eat.”
He glanced over at me and furrowed his brow slightly. “Want to fix the angle? I’ll grab something for you.”
“Uh…” I didn’t even have time to stop him before he stood up, fetched two sandwiches, and tossed them to me when he returned.
“Thanks, thanks.” I took the sandwiches and placed them on the coffee table.
He sat down beside me and put the sandwiches back into my hands. “Eat.”
I looked at him, a bit confused. “But... the live starts in five minutes...”
He replied firmly, without room for negotiation: “Then eat during the livestream.”
Oh no… was he shifting into tyrannical bossy mode now?

 

251.
Didn’t matter what role he picked — as long as the energy was there, I just had to go along with it.

 

252.
At exactly 9 p.m., we went live. Viewers flooded into the stream — the "Imperial Consorts," "MeiYan" fans, and the "Niangzi" crowd all showed up, making for a lively atmosphere.
The comments exploded on screen — declarations of love, greetings, you name it.
I quietly took a bite of sandwich, leaving the intro to Gu Yiliang.
He greeted the fans with a smile, then casually wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
Eh? Jumping right into it, huh?
I thought about keeping things under control, managing the dynamic properly, all while smiling at the camera. Then I heard Gu Yiliang say: “This is my good buddy, my brother, Wei Yanzi.”

 

253.
A piece of sandwich got stuck in my throat.

 

254.
That’s how you interpret the “brotherly friendship” the company asked for?! Ahhh?!

 

Translator : DarNan