588.
Since the hospital photos had already circulated, continuing to film with a “sick body” only reinforced the image of: “even if my acting is mediocre, I am extremely dedicated and work hard every day to improve.”
On top of that, I had to constantly put effort into improving my relationship with Gu Yiliang, focusing on the little details to win even more of his affection.
I couldn’t waste a second—every moment counted!
So, as the afternoon approached, under Gu Yiliang’s complicated and emotion-filled gaze, I carefully brushed William several times, washed my hands ten times, fed him his canned food, double-checked all the doors and windows, packed up his bag, and headed out with him.

 

589.
When we reached the car, I quickly stepped forward and opened the door for him. He cast me a glance, pressed his lips together, and slid into the driver’s seat.
I dashed around to the passenger side, sat down, and was about to reach for my seatbelt when he leaned over and buckled it for me himself.
Did he really have to be this competitive?
I refused to lose!
I lowered the sun visor for him; he adjusted the AC vents so the air wouldn’t blow on me.
I reached to fix his rearview mirror for better visibility; he reclined my seat so I would sit more comfortably.

 

590.
…Fine, I admit defeat!
Just one second away from a showdown inside the car, I raised the white flag: “Alright, let’s go. If we stall any longer, filming will be over.”
He gave a brief smile, started the engine, and drove off.

 

591.
Gu Yiliang never liked talking while driving, and I no longer dared to press the button to turn on the stereo. Instead, I secretly texted Lao Huang on my phone, complaining about his flashy style.
Lao Huang: “What did I do wrong?”
William: “…Using money to smash windows?”
Lao Huang: “It was a huge transfer, but the bank was closed at night.”
William: “…”
William: “…And the signature really was ‘Your dad’?”
Lao Huang: “Didn’t the money come from me?”
William: “Yes…”
Lao Huang: “And wasn’t it spent on you?”
William: “Yes…”
Lao Huang: “Am I your dad?”
William: “…”
Lao Huang: “Nothing suspicious about that signature, right?”
William: “…No.”
Lao Huang: “Remember—your father will always be your dad.”
I snapped my phone shut with a grimace of frustration.

 

592.
I was staring straight ahead, deep in thought, when Gu Yiliang suddenly turned his head toward me and, to my surprise, started a conversation: “...You were chatting with that Mr. Huang, weren’t you?”
I froze—wait, how did he know about Lao Huang?
Had he overheard my phone call the other day?
If so, he must have heard all my unrestrained words of praise!
Embarrassed, I answered shyly: “Ah… you heard that call, didn’t you?”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened: “…Yes.”
Ah, so he was embarrassed too!
I smiled to myself. I’d just have to compliment him even more in the future!
But since I had already meddled in his family matters, I didn’t want to say too much. Afraid he might ask what I’d written to Lao Huang, I quickly brushed it off: “Oh, it was just a routine check-in, nothing important.”
The moment I finished, he shifted posture, one hand on the wheel, the other propped against the window supporting his face, looking completely laid-back—like Fujiwara Takumi (NT: character from the manga/anime Initial D) in some idol drama. Then he replied coolly: “Oh, I see.”
I was nearly dazzled by the sight—then he asked: “You don’t have to explain to me, but… what is Mr. Huang doing now?”

 

593.
Lao Huang? What else would he be doing? Swimming through piles of gold coins like a rich old man cosplaying Scrooge McDuck.
Seriously, how unfair—while other families couldn’t even hold onto wealth for three generations, the Huang looked like they could stretch it out for seventy!
Comparing yourself to others only brings misery. If only I had been his legitimate son…
Even though he had never mistreated me or my mother—in fact, he was practically a model father and husband—I still couldn’t quite accept that our relationship was so unofficial. At home, I called him Lao Huang, and outside, Mr. Huang. He always supported me in the industry, which led everyone to believe I was his protégé. It was a complicated, burdensome situation.

 

594.
I glanced at the time on my phone: “He didn’t have anything urgent, at this hour he should be… walking his bird.”
Gu Yiliang froze for a second, then answered with a hesitant expression: “…Mr. Huang has… peculiar hobbies?”
Me: “…?”
Me: “…”
Me: “Oh my God, what on earth were you thinking?! Were mountains and rivers collapsing inside your mind??? A bird! With wings, the kind that flies—not the kind that shrinks or grows and can be eaten!”
Him: “…”
Him: “Misunderstanding, misunderstanding.”
Him: “…The kind that can be eaten?”
Me: “…”
Me: “Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue.”

 

595.
His words completely threw me off balance, and it took me real effort to calm down, ready once again to compete with Gu Yiliang, trying to outdo him.
The set was a place where accidents could happen at any moment. As soon as I changed into costume, I switched into level-one alert mode: eyes sharp as demon mirrors, legs swift as the wind. I watched everything, prepared to respond instantly. Wherever he went, I followed, sticking to him at every moment, missing no detail.
He did the same to me, which made the whole situation a bit awkward.

 

596.
After finishing a scene together, I quickly held out a parasol for him; he immediately handed me a bottle of water. I passed him blotting paper for his makeup; he gave me a towel to wipe the sweat off my face. I reminded him to check the safety of the props for the next scene; he reminded me about handling the particular emotions needed in the upcoming shot.
I suggested we rehearse our lines, just in case he had forgotten something, and he replied with a smile: “That’s great, I really appreciate you being here.”
After a whole string of coordinated gestures, our performances were perfectly matched.
When I suddenly turned my head, I noticed the entire crew staring at us, dumbfounded. Assistants stood around holding parasols, water bottles, towels, blotting papers, and scripts, not knowing where to put them—looking as lost as a restless heart.
Gu Yiliang: “Hm…”
Me: “Hm…”
Me: “What lovely weather today, a most auspicious day. How about we swear brotherhood in front of everyone here?”
He burst out laughing, tugged lightly on my sleeve, and with a soft chuckle said: “Don’t fool around.”

 

597.
Those tender words, so gentle, pierced through the clouds like an arrow, leaving me nailed to the spot.
But hadn’t I sworn I wouldn’t fall today?
I felt awful! As if my heart were being ripped to shreds!
Was this what they called emotional withdrawal?

 

598.
My heart racing, I left Gu Yiliang behind and ran toward the lounge, clutching my phone like a mother searching for her child, hesitating whether to open the forum to calm myself down and soothe my pounding heart.
Eh?
Since when did sugar calm me down more than being with Gu Yiliang?
I stared blankly at the dark screen of my phone, lost in thought.
Suddenly, the phone lit up with a QQ notification—someone was contacting me.

599.
WilLiam: “!!! Where did you come from, some kind of insider informant? Could you be a messenger from heaven sent to bless the Niangzi Army?!”
Yantastic: “…?”
WilLiam: “Sugar! Sugar, I’ve been completely destroyed by this sugar, my mind is in tatters, my liver and my brain have been pulverized (literally)! It’s too sweet, I’m dead!”
Yantastic: “…What’s going on?”
WilLiam: “It’s just that the girls in the group refuse to see the obvious! They’re blind and foolish! They kicked out this great goddess! Do you want to come back?!”
I didn’t understand a thing, a little dazed, but I accepted the invitation to rejoin the group.

 

600.
The moment I joined, hundreds of messages flooded the screen, with the members frantically cheering the arrival of the “divine queen.”
Me???
I immediately left the chat and sent a private message to WilLiam asking what was happening.
She explained that one of Gu Yiliang’s big fans, who had some sort of semi-private connection to him, had just unfollowed and criticized him, spilling “inside info”—some true, some false.
Before I could even make sense of it, she sent me a screenshot of a chat. The avatars were blurred, showing only two lines of dialogue:

“May I ask what exactly is your relationship with the other party? Is it agency promotion, or is it a private affair? The other fans would like a clearer picture.”
Liam: “I’m the one paying his assistant’s salary.”

 

601.
Me: « …………………………………………… »
My heart clenched as if I’d just taken a punch from Saitama (NT: the main character of the manga/anime One Punch Man).
A chibi version of Gu Yiliang started dancing in my mind, cheerfully singing: “Baby, are you hungry? If you’re hungry, just tell Yiliang, Yiliang will send you giant sugar!”

 

602.
It was so sweet—like a torrent of sugar syrup pouring over me from head to toe. I felt like a candy coated in sugar, ready to attract all the bees, flies, and mosquitoes in the park.
Gu Yiliang never spared me. He had never once shown mercy to me, this delicate little flower.

 

603.
At that moment, both for professional and personal reasons, I had the overwhelming urge to go out, jump into a car with Gu Yiliang, and rush straight to the civil affairs bureau. But I was terrified he might take a detour, drag me into an internet café, and spend the entire night playing online games!
How on earth was I supposed to deal with this guy?
I drifted off into a dazed daydream, frantically searching for insulin to save my life, when three soft knocks came at the lounge door.

 

604.
Gu Yiliang poked his head in, eyes narrowed in a smile: “Don’t be lazy, come finish the scene. Tonight the whole crew is going out for dinner together.”
I nodded absentmindedly and followed him outside.

 

Source: Pinterest (Sana jung)

 

Translator : DarNan