Song Yu had worked himself into a full-on sweat, and by the time he thought he might actually die young if he stayed buried any longer, he finally crawled out, face flushed red, and cautiously unlocked his phone.
After switching to his alternate account and logging into Weibo, he first checked the trending list—only to find that aside from one hashtag, #SongYuAwake, and another, #SongYuToStarInWebDrama, there was nothing else at all. It was nowhere near as dramatic as he had imagined. What was going on? Had fans already gotten so used to him and Shuangshuang being together that they no longer reacted?
Why did he feel a little disappointed about that?
Or… had he already lost his popularity, with no buzz left? Thinking about it, it wasn’t impossible. He was a traffic-star type idol, and after such a long break without schedules or any breakout work to his name, how long could fans’ enthusiasm really last? It was normal.
Still, though Song Yu felt a bit down, he wasn’t discouraged. Once he recovered, he was determined to work hard, engage with fans more, and repay their support! At the same time, he would hone his acting skills and strive to show them a better version of himself.
Song Yu was thinking about this when, almost without realizing it, he tapped into the “Double Fish” supertopic. Seeing over ten million fans there left him feeling a little complicated—had it really grown that big? Then, after scrolling through a few posts, he quickly sensed something was off.
No matter how well the fan club presidents tried to control things, it was impossible for everyone to follow the rules. In the Double Fish supertopic, some fans—confident that Song Yu would never actually look—were talking much more freely.
[Did the Double Fish couple get their marriage license today?]: Double Fish supertopic awsl—just look at Yu Yu’s flimsy attempt to cover up, that blushing shy little expression, it’s simply too much. I boldly predict it won’t be long before they post their marriage certificate. Civil Affairs Bureau, can’t you just come over here yourself already?
The attached video was precisely the part where Song Yu had flusteredly denied the Double Fish rumors.
Song Yu covered his face again—he had really been brain-dead at that moment.
[The Double Fish are a perfect match]: When will Yu Yu let us see Qian Qian? With such a deep-feeling top, what if someone else steals him away?
Song Yu pouted. Impossible. That guy’s love for me is rooted deep as the ocean.
[The Double Fish are so good to ship]: 15551—another day of crying over this gorgeous love! I’ve only casually rewatched that sulky little expression a few hundred times. But you fish fans are cruel—empty bottles, forbidding discussion of the livestream accident to keep Song Yu from catching on. I’d gladly sacrifice ten pounds of fat from my body to pray for the day Song Yu-ge will see the Double Fish supertopic.
Comment control? Song Yu sensed the issue. Fans could restrain themselves—but the marketing accounts? Would they really let go of such a juicy bit of news? And yet, nothing. Seeing this familiar handiwork, Song Yu naturally thought of Fu Yuqian—he was the only one with the ability and the means to do such a thing.
So… had he helped him again?
Song Yu bit his lip. But… shouldn’t Fu Yuqian want this kind of thing to blow up?
Song Yu felt he still didn’t understand him enough.
Yi Yi had been keeping him company in the room for a while before leaving to go pee. When he returned, he meowed a few times: “Daddy, the person outside asked me to tell you—can he come in and help you with rehab, meow?”
Song Yu: “…” What kind of strange phrasing was that?
Why did it feel like a mom-and-dad cold war situation, where neither wanted to lose face, so they used their kid as a go-between? He was “Dad,” so Fu Yuqian was “Mom”?
Come to think of it… it wasn’t entirely unacceptable. Besides, he really should start rehab early so he could get back to work soon. So he said to Yi Yi, “Yi Yi, please tell that person he can come in.”
“But he can’t understand me, meow.” Yi Yi—whether influenced by Song Yu’s soul, or simply because cats were smart but often too lazy to engage—spoke with the logic of a five- or six-year-old child.
Song Yu: “…” How was it that even Yi Yi’s IQ now seemed higher than his?
But asking Fu Yuqian to come in himself? Way too embarrassing. Suddenly, Song Yu thought of a brilliant idea. “Yi Yi, repeat after me—‘hao.’”
Yi Yi froze. As a cat, was he now expected to master human speech? Daddy seemed… not so bright. Still, as a considerate master who took care of his servant, Yi Yi followed along: “Meow… ao… hao~”
“Yi Yi, you’re so smart! Whatever reward you want, I’ll give it to you.” Song Yu was impressed—it only took a few tries for Yi Yi to get the pronunciation perfectly.
“Want a tomcat, meow.”
Song Yu immediately agreed. “No problem. Once I can walk, I’ll personally take you to pick the most handsome tomcat!”
“Hao.” Yi Yi applied his new skill on the spot, then flicked his tail and padded off to deliver the message.
Song Yu quickly adjusted his posture, trying to look calm and nonchalant.
Fu Yuqian soon walked in, eyes carrying a smile. Clearly, that single “hao” had let him guess Song Yu’s little awkwardness. His little Yu was simply too adorable.
The moment Song Yu saw that smile, he felt irritated—his face heating again—so he forced a straight expression. “Let’s start now.”
“Mm.” Fu Yuqian strode over, scooped Song Yu up in his arms, and, at Song Yu’s startled gasp, gently set him on the floor. Still, a strong arm stayed wrapped around Song Yu’s slim waist, steadying him in case he lost balance and fell. The cedar scent surrounding him made Song Yu’s earlobes flush even redder.
His legs really were weak, struggling to hold him up. Since Fu Yuqian’s hands stayed perfectly proper—no taking advantage—Song Yu could only try to ignore the arm around his waist and start moving his legs.
Every step was difficult, and sweat soon dotted his forehead, but he didn’t give up, continuing to practice walking around the room. Fu Yuqian, heart aching for him, simply scooped him up like a child, one arm supporting under his thighs, easily holding him steady.
Song Yu immediately struggled. “Fu Yuqian, what are you doing? Put me down!”
“Rest for a bit.” Taking advantage of the fact Song Yu couldn’t run right now, Fu Yuqian carried him back to the bed, then went to the bathroom to soak a towel in warm water and wipe him down.
Song Yu knew Fu Yuqian meant well, so he didn’t get stubborn or angry. As he caught his breath, Fu Yuqian sat by the bed, completely calm and unflustered—his stamina was simply too good.
No wonder—this was a man who had run marathons.
“The livestream thing—was it you who handled it for me?” Song Yu asked. “Thanks.”
“It was,” Fu Yuqian admitted, “I was worried your fans might not be able to accept it all at once. Remember what I told you back when you first turned into Yi Yi and I didn’t recognize you? You’re very good to your fans, so I also want to take care of their feelings—let them slowly accept my presence.”
Such an explanation was too gentle, too moving, hitting Song Yu right in his soft spot. Still, he kept his mouth stubborn. “If you didn’t pursue me, my fans would never be upset.”
“That won’t do.” Fu Yuqian’s voice was both deep with affection and touched with roguishness. “Between your fans and you, I’d choose you without a doubt. Even if your fans object—too bad.”
“If I say no for the sake of my fans, then what?” Song Yu was genuinely curious.
Fu Yuqian paused in thought for a moment, then his expression suddenly changed—dark and dangerous, like a fit of obsession had taken hold. “Then I’ll buy a private island and lock you up there. After a few years, when your fans have completely forgotten you, you’ll have only me.” As he spoke, he actually felt the idea was feasible—keeping Song Yu somewhere no one knew about, where his eyes would only ever see him, where eating, bathing, everything would be arranged by him, until Song Yu depended on him completely… No. He couldn’t bear that. He liked the bright, lively Song Yu too much.
His acting was so good that the cold possessiveness in his eyes felt like real chains binding Song Yu, making him shiver involuntarily. He knew Fu Yuqian was probably acting, but it was too real, as if he might actually do it.
“Don’t be like that.” Song Yu was startled. This man was way too bad—switching into a role like that, and so fast. “You could totally play a villain. You’d scare kids to tears.”
Fu Yuqian chuckled, the darkness melting away, and he became the same gentle, considerate man again. “Alright, I’ll pick a script. I really do want to try that.”
Song Yu secretly let out a breath of relief. He didn’t soften his tone, but in his heart, he had gained a bit more respect for Fu Yuqian—his acting really was impressive.
Guessing what Song Yu was thinking, Fu Yuqian reached out and took his hand, holding it firmly so he couldn’t pull away. “If you want to learn, I’ll teach you slowly. In a few days, once you’re recovered and back on set, we can start.”
The way Fu Yuqian said it made Song Yu start to look forward to it, too.
After resting for a while, Song Yu began walking practice again. This time, the atmosphere between them was harmonious—there was even a hint of warmth.
Mama Song stood at the doorway holding Yi Yi, quietly watching for a moment. Seeing her son practicing walking with Little Fu’s arm around his waist, she sighed inwardly. She had raised a son, so how had she ended up marrying him off?
Still, she told herself—as long as her son was happy, it didn’t matter. Marriage to a woman wasn’t everything; even male-female couples could be unhappy. She only worried that in the future they might face many storms, so she would just have to be their strongest support.
Fu Yuqian did eventually get the chance to make Song Yu longevity noodles. He kneaded the dough himself, cooked it until soft for easy digestion, and Song Yu graciously finished a whole bowl.
In the following days, Song Yu kept up with his rehab. After just over a day, he could walk steadily. Then he moved on to posture and basic skills training, sweating through each session but persevering. He was young, and his body recovered quickly—in just five or six days, he was back to peak condition. In fact, he felt even more flexible and springy than before—maybe a gift from having turned into a cat. For example, though doing a split had never been too hard before, it had still been a little painful. Now, he could easily go to a full 180° without discomfort.
Only when he caught Fu Yuqian’s heated gaze did he remember that fanfiction they had once read—and immediately bristled, kicking him out from watching practice without the slightest guilt.
Occasionally, he posted training photos on Weibo. Fans felt sorry for him, but Song Yu reassured them that it was all so he could start work sooner, and they didn’t need to worry—every profession was hard, and studying or working was even tougher. This was simply what he should be doing.
His fans were already used to his kindness, so they became inspired—if their idol worked this hard, how could they laze around? Countless student fans threw themselves into studying with renewed energy. Parents, upon hearing this, developed a very good impression of Song Yu. Even those who had previously disapproved of their kids idolizing him began to praise him, posting in their WeChat moments that “this is the kind of celebrity worth following.” Song Yu even trended because of it—though Fu Yuqian quickly had the topic removed, knowing Song Yu would never want to hype himself up over something like this.
Song Yu’s reasons weren’t just that—being pushed onto a moral high ground wasn’t always a good thing. First, he had no matching work to back it up; second, if he ever made a mistake later, the backlash would be worse. Something like coming out…
But that reason he’d never say out loud. If he did, Fu Yuqian would probably eat him alive.
After all, he still remembered Ying Qi’s bet.
Once his body had recovered, the phone calls started pouring in. Although his fame had dipped, major entertainment companies still believed in his potential and extended offers.
But looking through their development plans and preliminary contracts, Song Yu felt dissatisfied. He didn’t intend to stay on the “traffic-star” path, and though these companies’ terms were much better than Xingyue’s, the schedules were still packed too tightly, leaving him no time to study.
So he politely declined them all.
He even considered starting his own studio—but after a little research into the investment and effort it required, he quickly backed out. Despite having been top-tier for three years, his assets only totaled in the tens of millions—barely enough to buy a single house in Beijing.
That was when Huacan reached out.
The head of Huacan’s management department personally called him, frankly laying out their cooperation proposal. Song Yu could hear the sincerity instantly—and if he signed, he would have full freedom in his career development, with all the resources he could need. For a company as big as Huacan, with so many award-winning actors, why would they give such treatment to a traffic star like him?
Aside from Fu Yuqian, there was no other answer.
This man always understood him best.
Song Yu didn’t agree immediately, nor did he reject them—he asked for three days to think it over, and Huacan accepted.
He didn’t call Fu Yuqian. Instead, he called Ying Qi. “Ying Qi, did we set a time limit for our bet? I’m not sure I can hold out much longer.”
“Damn it, Xiao Yu, have some backbone! Don’t let that dog man Fu Yuqian win so easily. I’m telling you, men are all the same—if they get you too easily, they won’t treasure you!” Ying Qi was so anxious she even cursed herself along with him.
“…Then I’ll hold out for a few more days,” Song Yu said.
Ying Qi calculated the time. “Four days. In four days, Fu Yuqian will be dancing a girl group routine. Don’t you want to see it? I can even give you the right to buy the cheongsam!”
Song Yu gritted his teeth. “Alright!”
The next day, when Fu Yuqian came over, he was once again greeted by a cold, sharp-eyed Xiao Song Yu, as if they had gone back to square one overnight.
By now, Fu Yuqian vaguely guessed the reason, but since he had hurt Song Yu once before, he completely let Song Yu take the lead this time. He only treated him more gently and attentively—personally guiding him in acting, rehearsing scenes with him again and again, helping him find the right emotions and practice his lines. Song Yu was burning with guilt inside, but the thought of seeing Fu Yuqian wear a cheongsam kept him holding on.
Even Fu Yuqian grew curious about what kind of punishment Ying Qi had come up with to convince Song Yu.
When Ying Qi finally announced excitedly that he had won the bet, Fu Yuqian at last learned what Song Yu had been looking forward to.
He trapped Song Yu in a corner, his arms like a cage keeping him from escaping, and lowered his voice. “You really want to see me cross-dress and dance that badly, hmm? Want me to give you a private striptease instead?”
Author’s Note: Tsk tsk~
By the way, I updated 4,300 characters today—does that count as an extra 1,000-character update? Can I pay it in installments? (:з」∠)
Thank you to the little angels who cast [霸王票] or watered me with nutrient solution between 2020-03-15 21:04:05 and 2020-03-16 20:59:34~
Thank you to the little angel who threw a grenade: 五行缺钱好多年 – 1 grenade;
Thank you to the little angels who watered me with nutrient solution: 五行缺钱好多年, 伯贤很爱難難 – 20 bottles;
Thank you all so much for your support! I’ll keep working hard!
[mfn]If you enjoy my translations, you can show your support by leaving a comment or donating to my Ko-fi. It will be much appreciated. Thank you! [/mfn]
