296.
To hell with singing!
The company told us to “sell” fanservice—not actually fall into bromance!
Thinking about it, we already lived together, slept together, and even had to wear matching outfits in the series. If we went so far as to sing Niangzi, we might as well leave the industry and go abroad to get married.

 

297.
I pretended not to understand: “Jay Chou has a song like that?”
Gu Yiliang looked at me in surprise: “Were you born after 2000?”
“…Oh, Niangzi, that’s an old song,” I replied, pretending to suddenly remember, “I don’t even recall the lyrics.”
He took my phone and waved it openly in front of the camera: “No problem, I can look them up.”

 

298.
Phone! Case!

 

299.
I felt shattered inside. I tried to control my body language, like I was negotiating with an armed criminal to release hostages. My hands slowly lowered, signalling him to put the phone down, while I said, “That song has a weird rhythm—there’s rap in it—it’s hard to sing.”
He ignored my signals and glanced at the live chat: “A lot of people want to hear it; they’re spamming it. Come on, just sing a bit. Even if it’s not perfect, it’s for the audience.”
No, their Niangzi is not the name of the song!
I looked at him in despair as he unlocked my phone.

 

300.
I was stunned. So was he. Ten full seconds of silence filled the live chat.
He stared at the screen of my phone—clearly not his—realized his mistake, and handed it back: “Sorry, I thought it was mine… Your passcode is 8888 too?”
I laughed nervously: “Yeah, it’s a lucky number.”
He nodded: “Same here, easy to remember.”

 

301.
No point fighting it anymore!
He entered the passcode without even looking—I thought he was using his fingerprint to unlock it.
Honestly, even if we emptied the Yellow River, we couldn’t wash this clean.

 

302.
I smiled through tears: “Then sing, go ahead. Afterward, I’ll treat you to a late-night snack.”
Whether we sang or not made no difference—better to get this disaster over with.
I just hoped I could still eat a bowl of noodles before being kicked out of the industry.
I might never get the chance again after this.

 

303.
Once the song ended,
Gu Yiliang looked at me in slight surprise and smiled as he complimented me: “I didn’t know you sang so well—you were being so modest earlier.”
Yes, I could sing. I had studied music. I had just poured in 120% of my effort. It was probably the last song I’d ever sing on camera.
I gave him a sideways glance and straightened up, bowing slightly: “My voice isn’t as good as yours. I was just following the rhythm.”
He smiled, gave my shoulder a friendly pat, and turned to the live chat with a mock-wounded expression: “Yanyan says I can’t keep up with the beat and I was off-key.”
Enough with Yanyan!
I grabbed him and said, half laughing and half crying: “I told you it was hard, but you insisted on singing…”
He smiled and asked: “So, next time, do you want an easier song?”
I replied enthusiastically, “Yes, yes, sure,” but deep down, I thought—there won’t be a next time; get a new partner for the next ship.

 

304.
We exchanged a few polite lines with commercial smiles.
Then Gu Yiliang picked up my phone, said a few closing remarks, and hit the button to end the livestream.
This hour of torture was finally over.

...
I collapsed onto the couch like a salted fish (NT: Someone who has no ambition, nor motivation), breathing heavily, eyes blank, silent.
Gu Yiliang quickly packed up his things. Seeing me still sprawled out, he came over and gently nudged me by the waist.
I had no strength left: “What are you doing?”
He replied, “Helping you turn over?”
I sat up suddenly, furious: “Gu Yiliang!”
He looked at me innocently: “Hmm?”
I stared at him, the scolding stuck on the tip of my tongue. Then I sighed and waved my hand: “…Forget it, let’s go eat something.”
He smiled with squinting eyes: “Okay.”

305.
Smiling, he walked briskly, while I wore a bitter expression and stumbled along behind.
Once we arrived at the restaurant, we sat down. I rested my heavy head in my hand and watched him unwrap the cultery and pour hot water to disinfect them.

He seemed to notice I’d gone quiet for a while and reached out to pat my head, but I stopped him with a sharp gesture.
He chuckled softly and pushed the bowl and chopsticks toward me, then picked up a pair of chopsticks for himself.
“You’re mad? This is what the company wants…”
I cut him off in a low voice, “But you have to know how to control it…”

Wait.
I froze, eyes widening as I stared at him. “You knew the company was telling us to do fanservice?”
Then what was with all that intense bro energy in the beginning?!
He scratched his nose. “…Yeah.”
I looked at him, completely dumbfounded. “What?!”

 

306.
The skewers came first.
He pulled the meat off the bamboo sticks and placed it into my bowl.
“I didn’t plan to follow the company’s orders,” he said. “We don’t need that kind of popularity. It’s not how I got here in the first place.”
He paused before continuing, “But then I saw you playing along so naturally, like you were enjoying pushing back against the company…”

Wasn’t that because I didn’t want to be outdone by you?
I paused for a second and adjusted my expression. Picking up a pair of chopsticks, I held them up to his mouth like a mic, pretending to be a reporter. “So, what made you change your mind?”

He was silent for a moment, then replied, “I suddenly realized that more popularity is never a bad thing. Why not ride the wave a little? It might open up new opportunities for my career.”
Before I could say anything, he added in a falsely aggrieved tone, “All I wanted was to call you ‘Yanyan’ and that you share some fruit with me, but you wouldn’t play along… Is it really that hard for you to act like a couple?”

So now it was my fault?!
I’m not your concubine—your sad little face doesn’t work on me...
Well… maybe a little.
My voice trembled slightly: “Fine, it’s my fault for not reacting in time. But the key is knowing how to pace things… Come on, be a good boy, okay?”

He froze for a second at my words, gave me a mock-offended look, then burst out laughing. “What are you so scared of?”

That smug tone of his was seriously infuriating.
I chomped into a skewer, frustrated. “With your talent and skills, of course you’re not afraid. I’m already a notch below you in every way. If this fake couple act fails, I’ll be the one who gets blamed. You realize that, right?”

 

307.
He said, “…You should really think about what you just said.”
I replied, “…It’s not small. Not small at all. It’s huge!”

 

308.
He laughed so hard he looked like he might break apart.
Only after I shoved him in mock annoyance did he manage to pull himself together, adjust his tone, and say, “I know how to handle things. Don’t worry.”

I looked at him coolly. “Maybe your version of ‘handling things’ and mine aren’t quite the same.”
He asked, “Then where exactly do you see the problem?”

I answered, “Yanyan?”
He smiled, “You know your assistants and fans call you that. And in the comments, no one found it weird.”

I shot back, “You’re disturbing my rest.”

He replied, “We’re neighbours, right? Guan ge is a strong man—when he knocks on the door, it’s bound to be loud.”

I asked, “What time do you go to bed?”
He smiled, “Your answer was very clear. The Chinese language is rich and full of nuance. If fans misinterpret something, that’s on them.”

I asked, “Our clothes in the show match each other very well?”
He said, “You’re the one who said that, weren’t you?”
I was speechless.

 

309.
It’s my fault! Everything is my fault!
My very existence is a mistake!

 

310.
I waved my phone in front of him. “…And the phone case—how do you explain that?”

He took a sip of Jiaduobao and blinked. “Just come back and we’ll sign a few together. You can do a Weibo giveaway for your fans.”

…A true genius.
He even had a cover story for that post on Weibo.

He tugged gently at my cheek. “At first, selling fanservice was just a bit of fun. Everything else—it’s up to the fans to imagine. Our interactions are totally clean, no bad intentions. You overthink too much.”

Ah… Maybe this was how I should be thinking too?
But how could I not overthink it? I was a fan of our CP in real life!

After hearing his somewhat convincing explanation, my heart eased a little.
I pointed my chopsticks toward the fried noodles in my bowl, hesitating. “…Then why were you so insistent on singing Niangzi?”

“Huh?” he replied, looking confused. “Wasn’t that what the fans requested?”

 

311.
So you know how to sing Niangzi, but don’t even know the name of our CP?
A captain who doesn’t even know his own fake couple’s name— and still manages to sprinkle sugar with every move…
Some people really do have it all!

 

312.
I looked up at the sky, thinking maybe it was time to ask Man-jie to step in and manipulate public opinion a bit.
I hoped some other scandal would break out in the entertainment industry to bury this whole mess.
If not, maybe I could spread a few dating rumours about myself to dampen the popularity of Niangzi, and in a little while, Gu Yiliang and I could each go our separate ways.

Gu Yiliang, seeing that I seemed a bit more relaxed, also loosened up and smiled: "You're really not happy about this, huh? Does working on this project with me bother you that much?"

I bit into a meat skewer and murmured, "That's not it… It's just that I lack the skills. We're not from the same world. You deserve better than me."

He smiled, eyes narrowing: "I told you I’d teach you how to act. Just give it a little effort."

That implication… Was he saying he'd already made up his mind?

I was so charmed by his smile that I forgot the company hadn’t necessarily intended for us to keep selling this fake couple long-term.
With a naive expression, I replied, "Oh, okay."

He nodded and handed me another skewer, placing the crispy bones into my bowl.

 

313.
As I thought about everything he’d done, I felt a bit moved.

He pinched my face, patted my head, spoke to me gently—and whenever he noticed I wasn’t feeling great, he tried to comfort me.
He never mocked my lack of skill; instead, he said he wanted to help me improve.
He looked after me by making things easier, advising me on camera angles, reminding me to finish dinner, disinfecting my utensils, and remembering my preference for crispy bones.

As a fanservice partner, he was honestly perfect. And all those sweet moments we shared… they were delicious.

 

314.
And then suddenly, I realized— None of that had been done under the company’s instructions, or even in front of the cameras… had it?

 

Translator : DarNan