The warm white light filled the room, bright and even. A half-full glass of red wine on the table rippled as a breeze, origin unknown, swept past, the liquid catching the light and casting a brilliant, almost showy shimmer across the tabletop.
For a brief instant, Ji Xingyu felt as though the man before him had become more three-dimensional, his features sharper, clearer, like a vivid imprint on his mind.
Ji Xingyu let a small, teasing smile curl his lips, his cold voice laced with amusement. “If your goal was to get my attention, you’ve succeeded.”
At the very least, he would never forget this man who, claiming he wanted to undergo plastic surgery to distinguish himself from his white moonlight, now stood in front of him.
Yu Zhi’s expression remained calm. He did not display anger or humiliation in response to the light mockery; instead, he looked appropriately puzzled.
“Do I still need to attract your attention?”
“Wasn’t it you who came to me first?”
Ji Xingyu: “…”
He found himself unable to argue.
Yu Zhi picked up a wine glass from the table and poured himself a drink with effortless ease, as if no one else were present. He swirled it lightly, letting the aroma drift to his nose, then took a sip. Every movement was casual, natural, and fluid, completely betraying no trace of someone coerced into selling themselves.
“When the positions of demand and authority are reversed, the one who controls and the one who submits are no longer determined by the person who initiated the transaction.”
The weight of his words made Ji Xingyu glance involuntarily at the already-signed contract on the table. There was an uneasy feeling that perhaps some trap lay hidden within.
Yu Zhi withdrew his gaze from the black-diamond earring on Ji Xingyu’s ear, forcing himself to focus not on the distractions of desire or intrigue, but on engaging fully with this world.
Ji Xingyu paused for a moment, then impatiently pushed aside his irritation. His cold eyes locked onto Yu Zhi; contract signed or not, this person was now his. No matter how formidable Yu Zhi might be outside, here he could only obey as a substitute.
“From now on, you can move in with me. I can also sign you into my studio. If you want to bring anyone along, they can be signed too.”
Of course, Ji Xingyu had already done his research on Yu Zhi, and was quite satisfied with what he found—no boyfriend, no messy entanglements.
But Yu Zhi refused politely: “No need. My current company works fine for me.”
Ji Xingyu had founded his studio years ago and cultivated several promising artists; his resources and status were unquestionable.
Still, Yu Zhi had no intention of lingering in unnecessary entanglements. Too many intersecting interests could become tricky to separate later; not a major problem, but he disliked complications.
Once the deal was settled, Yu Zhi emerged to see his worried manager, Chen Yue, hurrying over. “How did it go?” he asked cautiously.
Yu Zhi adjusted his cuff and replied calmly, “I agreed. I’ll move in within a few days. If he offers any work resources, you don’t need to refuse. Just make sure I personally review them first.”
He had no intention of rejecting Ji Xingyu’s resources. After all, if he declined, they might eventually go to the protagonist instead.
He had no particular interest in this world’s protagonist.
Blind in his previous life, he now valued diligence and ambition after being reborn. As for the resources offered by those pursuing him, that was up to them to give, and the tangled emotions involved were purely mutual consent.
From now on, just treat him like any ordinary person.
Still, Yu Zhi had complaints about the plot. The protagonist had already been reborn, and the path ahead was smooth; soaring straight to the top wouldn’t have been an exaggeration. Then why insist on designing a golden finger male supporting character who gives everything only to end up with a bad outcome?
Even without Ji Xingyu, the protagonist could succeed; the ending’s heights in the story could still be reached. So why arrange for a Ji Xingyu at all?
Simply to highlight the protagonist’s charm or luck, only to let someone who helped the protagonist so much suffer such a fate; how utterly unfair to Ji Xingyu.
Yu Zhi sympathized with him, pitied him even, which was why he was willing to find a way to help. The mission was just part of the reason.
But that didn’t mean he thought Ji Xingyu deserved to be beaten.
Threatening someone into being a kept man right after meeting them? Selfish and reckless, definitely needed a lesson!
Chen Yue cautiously glanced at Yu Zhi’s expression. Seeing the slight crease between his brows, he felt a pang of concern. He knew Yu Zhi had never wanted to be kept before, having made that clear in the past. Now agreeing had to be because of Ji Xingyu’s pressure.
Damn Ji Xingyu! Handsome, international movie star, and public heartthrob, but clearly a lust-driven man!
Thirty years old and already daring to make a move on a barely twenty-year-old boy. Truly shameless!
“Xiao Yu, look… if you really don’t want this, you don’t have to force yourself. We don’t have to do it. Worst case, you leave the industry. He can’t exactly take it by force, right?” Chen Yue tried to comfort him, worried the boy might overthink things.
Yu Zhi: “…Don’t worry. I’m not unwilling.” No need to get so anxious.
Chen Yue thought for a moment. “Could it be that you’re interested in Ji Xingyu’s face? Well, not wrong. He is an international movie star. Even though he hasn’t had many projects in the past two years, that look still holds up. Sleep with him, and you won’t be at a loss.”
Yu Zhi didn’t want to hear any of that and quickly changed the subject, moving on to discuss future career plans.
Chen Yue finally let go of all those thoughts about the rookie actor and the international movie star, focusing on work instead.
Two days later, Yu Zhi officially moved into Ji Xingyu’s home.
It was a high-security, highly private apartment, reportedly favored by many well-known celebrities.
Yu Zhi didn’t bring much luggage. Ji Xingyu frowned when he saw a single suitcase in Yu Zhi’s hands, then shot him a glance loaded with implication: “How long do you think you’ll be staying here? Planning on leaving so easily?”
Yu Zhi ignored the remark and asked instead, “Which room am I staying in?”
Ji Xingyu froze, falling silent for a moment, because he hadn’t thought about that at all.
Yu Zhi looked surprised. “Could it be that you expect me to share a room with you?”
“I thought you cared so deeply for that white moonlight.”
So much for all that.
Hearing the implied mockery, Ji Xingyu’s expression darkened. He said coldly, “Yu Zhi, don’t think you can get away with anything just because you resemble him!”
Yu Zhi let out a light laugh. “Mr. Ji, you’ve forgotten. I’m planning to have surgery. How could I dare compare myself to your white moonlight?”
Ji Xingyu: “…”
“No surgery.” He ordered.
Yu Zhi glanced at his watch, calm as ever. “I thought that wasn’t covered by any clause in our contract.”
“I said no surgery.” Ji Xingyu drew in a deep breath, stood up, and walked over to Yu Zhi, trying to assert dominance with sheer presence.
Even standing face-to-face, with less than a foot between them, Yu Zhi remained perfectly composed, showing no hint of fear.
For a moment, Ji Xingyu wondered if his fame and status had diminished so much that even a rookie actor dared to face his intimidation without flinching.
Yu Zhi looked at him calmly. “But what if I desecrate or offend your white moonlight?”
Ji Xingyu pressed his lips together, gritting his teeth, enunciating each word: “I don’t care!”
Yu Zhi’s tone was even, unflustered: “I see. Well, I do care.”
Ji Xingyu couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation, his voice sharp. “Yu Zhi, have you forgotten why I even noticed you in the first place?”
Because he resembled him, that was why he had caught Ji Xingyu’s attention.
“If you insist on being so stubborn, what do you think the consequences will be?”
Yu Zhi smiled faintly. “But I never needed to be noticed by Mr. Ji in the first place, did I?”
Ji Xingyu froze. His expression went blank as he recalled Yu Zhi’s words from that day:
“When the positions of demand and authority are reversed, the one who controls and the one who submits are no longer determined by the person who initiated the transaction.”
Yu Zhi remained calm, his gestures measured as he faced him. “Ji Xingyu, when you need me, and I don’t need you, you’ve already lost.”
Suddenly, Ji Xingyu felt his legs weaken. A deep, internal sense of helplessness wrapped around him, his hands and feet growing cold.
“Now, I’m giving you another chance,” Yu Zhi said, pushing him back slightly, then stepping in front of him again, serious. “I’m going to have surgery.”
“What should your answer be?”
The young man in the black-and-white patched shirt held his gaze evenly, calm and unmoved, showing no resentment, no pride, no sarcasm, and not the slightest hint of expectation.
He just watched quietly, waiting. Whether Ji Xingyu answered or not made no difference; it didn’t matter to him, and he showed no concern.
But… if it didn’t matter, then why even ask?
Ji Xingyu realized clearly that, at this moment, he wasn’t thinking about his white moonlight, nor the contract for keeping him, nor that this man had been bought for his amusement.
He just wanted to see some hint of care in this man, some sign that he felt anything at all, rather than facing a spectator who watched quietly as his fury went unspent, grievance nowhere to pour.
Ji Xingyu stared intently at the man before him, as if trying to imprint every inch of him into memory.
After a long silence, his sharp, obsessive gaze finally relaxed. His beautiful features softened, and he let out a light laugh, each word carrying a weight that seemed to grind against his teeth.
“You win.”
Yu Zhi waited silently for him to continue.
“You and him… you’re nothing alike,” Ji Xingyu said slowly, enunciating each word.
Satisfied with the answer he received, Yu Zhi finally allowed a subtle, eased smile to appear.
“I think so too.”
“No two people in this world, not even identical twins, are exactly alike.”
“No one is anyone else’s substitute. Learning to respect another person’s existence is a basic courtesy everyone should have.”
“Congratulations, you’ve finally taken your first step.”
That smile painted his already striking features with an almost celestial glow, ethereal and peerless, a beauty that seemed untethered from the mortal world.
Ji Xingyu was momentarily dazzled by the light. When he came back to his senses, he saw Yu Zhi picking up his suitcase and turning toward the guest room.
It was as if the previous confrontation had been nothing more than a casual, effortless matter, not a duel between the two of them.
“Yu Zhi.”
Yu Zhi paused in his tracks.
“You… are impressive!” Ji Xingyu pressed his lips together tightly, finally managing to speak the words.
Yu Zhi turned his head and smiled at him. “Thank you. I think I’m impressive too.”
“Now… Mr. Ji, could you tell me which room I should stay in?”
………………
“This is Pineapple TV’s flagship variety show, here’s the contract for a full season as a main guest. And this, S.K.M.’s Asia-wide endorsement. Plus, there’s a major production drama directed by Li Wen, supposedly next year’s hot release…” Chen Yue, Yu Zhi’s manager, rattled off the contracts and information with the giddy excitement of someone who had never really seen the world.
It was like a bumbling father proudly presenting a set of luxury properties, then gesturing wildly at Yu Zhi: “Kiddo, pick whichever you like! We can move in wherever you want!”
At his company, Chen Yue was only a B-level manager, with limited access to top-tier resources and connections. Usually, just seeing one major resource would get him giddy for hours. Now, multiple coveted resources from different fields were all on the table at once, and all he could do was beam like an idiot.
Yu Zhi scanned the options carefully, finally selecting one and placing it on top of the pile.
Chen Yue picked it up and froze. That was the only resource here that required an audition, nothing was guaranteed.
“Director Zhang’s film… His works are always solid—critically acclaimed, commercially successful, or both. But he’s notorious for being demanding and unreasonable. If someone doesn’t meet his standards, even the biggest stars can’t save them. Back in the day, a very popular young idol sneaked into one of his sets, but failed to meet his expectations. Director Zhang risked losing his investors’ money and still had them removed overnight.”
“Uh… I’m not saying you won’t do well,” Chen Yue said cautiously, “but even though we have Ji Xingyu as a safety net, we still need to be realistic. Don’t overreach or aim too high too fast.”
Yu Zhi understood. The original owner’s displayed talent couldn’t convince the other party. He didn’t need to argue blindly; reasoning worked far better.
“An audition is just an audition. If I get it, great luck. If not, no real loss.”
“A movie from shooting to release takes a long time. I can handle other work during that period. I’m not famous yet, so a little delay doesn’t matter.”
To fulfill the original owner’s wish of rising to stardom, Yu Zhi knew that advertising endorsements or variety shows could never give a breakthrough with long-lasting impact.
Looking at the drama and movie options, he favored the film. In recent years, TV series were heavily watered down, and truly good ones were rare. He could instantly see the upper and lower limits of that non-costume drama:
The lower limit: a flop without even a ripple.
The upper limit: brief popularity, but without follow-up, it would fizzle back to nothing.
However, the film had explosive potential, considering the genre, story, director, investment, and other cast members.
“Alright, now we can discuss what work I can take before the film’s release, the expected results, and how to maximize and maintain my popularity.”
Chen Yue blinked in confusion. “???”
What was he talking about?
Weren’t they just discussing the audition?
How did the conversation suddenly jump to filming and release?
And release… what if he doesn’t even pass the audition? What if filming doesn’t go smoothly? What if he gets kicked off the set? What if the movie never gets released?
Are all these possibilities not worth discussing?
And what was this rigid, step-by-step career planning talk about anyway?
Didn’t he remember he was an artist, not a manager?
………………
“Doesn’t someone live at home? Why are you still coming here? I thought you’d be hiding your little canary in a golden house, staying home for a while.”
Xue Yan was a friend Ji Xingyu had met when he first entered the entertainment industry. They were on the same set at the time, roughly the same age, with similar screen time, both newcomers. Their friendship developed quickly and solidly. Later, when Xue Yan realized he wasn’t cut out for this world, he left the industry to take over the family business, but their friendship remained and continued to this day.
The last time Xue Yan saw Ji Xingyu at an engagement banquet, Ji Xingyu had inexplicably taken a shine to a young newcomer. Xue Yan had nearly lost his mind in public and was worried. Was Ji Xingyu’s years of reputation and status about to be ruined over this?
He shouldn’t have made that careless remark, telling him to find someone.
He thought his friend would be happy after getting what he wanted. But just a couple of days later, Ji Xingyu came looking for him to drink.
Drinking was fine, but Ji Xingyu didn’t say a word, leaving Xue Yan, curious and anxious, fidgeting inside.
Still, this was his brother, he couldn’t just say nothing.
“Since it’s done, don’t carry too much mental burden. Just because your white moonlight is out of reach, that doesn’t mean you have to stay single forever. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you owe your white moonlight anything; that’s just torturing yourself.”
Ji Xingyu’s cheeks flushed from the wine, glistening softly in a way that was oddly captivating. Listening to Xue Yan, he let out a quiet “heh.”
Thinking of the man who had threatened him to get plastic surgery, Ji Xingyu felt a twinge of amusement.
What exactly was that guy after?
The TV on the wall started playing a drama.
The male lead’s handsome face filled the screen.
Ji Xingyu glanced casually, then suddenly froze.
Xue Yan noticed and asked anxiously, “What’s wrong? You’re not eyeing what’s in your bowl while watching what’s in the pot, are you?”
Ji Xingyu snapped back to reality, withdrew his gaze, and shook his head. “Nothing.”
For a moment, he felt as if the young man on the screen was the truest stand-in for his white moonlight.
A voice seemed to whisper in his mind: it’s him. He’d misjudged Yu Zhi. The one he should be searching for, watching, and helping… was the man on the television screen.
He should devote everything he could to him, support him, and witness him.
Ji Xingyu closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a derisive laugh. Was he really letting anger muddle his thoughts?
Despite how infuriating that Yu kid could be, he knew perfectly well who was more like his white moonlight.
Annoying.
Even going out for a casual drink could leave him with his brain scrambled by a completely inexplicable person. Ji Xingyu simply told Xue Yan he was leaving and went home.
On the way, he received a call from Director Zhang.
“Xingyu! Where on earth did you dig up this talent? I want Xiao Yu for my movie! I have to thank you for giving me such a perfect male lead! Alright, I’ll take you to dinner next time! Oh, do you want to cameo in the film? You and Xiao Yu are friends, collaborating could really spark some chemistry!”
Even through the phone, Ji Xingyu could feel Director Zhang’s excitement radiating.
He froze for a moment in disbelief, then a flicker of doubt crossed his mind: “He passed the audition?”
Director Zhang said excitedly, “Of course! Xiao Yu’s acting is incredible. I’ve never seen such a talented newcomer. Is he really a newcomer, or your secret weapon? His acting style isn’t even like yours; it’s clearly not taught by you.”
Of course not.
Director Zhang’s audition had just been one of the resources Ji Xingyu casually threw into the pile. He had expected Yu Zhi to pick something easier, flashier, more profitable, but Yu had chosen this.
And, he had succeeded incredibly.
At that moment, Ji Xingyu suddenly recalled what Yu Zhi had once said:
“But I never needed to be noticed by Mr. Ji in the first place, did I?”
It was true. He really didn’t need him.
If Yu Zhi could pass Director Zhang’s audition purely on his own merit, then his talent was undeniable.
He genuinely didn’t need Ji Xingyu.
It was Ji Xingyu who needed him.
With that realization, Ji Xingyu pressed the accelerator, speeding up the car.
When he returned home, the lights were on.
A ring of wall sconces on the ceiling bathed the room in warm, soft light, never harsh, giving the space a faint, hazy glow.
From the kitchen came the gentle clatter of utensils, and on the dining table were neatly prepared, appetizing dishes.
The scene, surprisingly, gave Ji Xingyu a fleeting illusion that a family was waiting for him.
Yu Zhi emerged from the kitchen, and upon seeing him, said calmly, “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
Ji Xingyu pointed at the meal. “If I weren’t coming back, why would you bother making all this?”
Yu Zhi glanced at him and said casually, “I passed the audition. I’ll be joining the crew soon and won’t be back for a while, so I can only make sure my service here is done properly before I leave.”
Ji Xingyu: “…”
Why did it feel like he was just a quest to be completed?
“And you didn’t even tell me you passed the audition. Don’t you have any sense of being a canary?”
Yu Zhi looked at him, and strangely, Ji Xingyu found himself feeling a little pleased.
Ji Xingyu: “…?”
“What are you feeling pleased about?”
Yu Zhi’s voice was gentle. “Congratulations. This time, you didn’t say substitute.”
====================
