The candlelight was dim, the scent of flowers filled the room, and even the air seemed to quiet itself, as if unwilling to disturb the two of them in this moment.
Yu Zhi stood amidst the room, enveloped by the sea of flowers and lights, feeling as though Ji Xingyu himself had surrounded him completely. For a fleeting instant, he felt suffocated.
Ji Xingyu’s gaze met his without the slightest evasion, making Yu Zhi almost want to look away.
The longer the silence lasted, the heavier the air became, inch by inch, slowly pressing from the outside inward until it weighed on their hearts.
Yu Zhi watched Ji Xingyu, watched the hope in his eyes gradually sink and vanish, watched the subtle curve of his lips relax, watched…
“Sorry.”
Yu Zhi’s low, controlled voice cut through the quiet, reaching Ji Xingyu’s ears. The weight on his heart finally settled.
His eyes glazed over for a brief moment before sharpening once more, as if by putting on this protective shell, he would no longer show weakness or vulnerability in front of Yu Zhi.
His palms were tightly clenched, sweat soaking every inch of his skin.
He had expected this possibility before, yet when it arrived, the ache in his heart did not lessen by even a fraction.
He bit down on his lip so hard it seemed he might draw blood. “Why… I know I made so many mistakes at the start, but I realized them, I apologized, I tried to make it right… and yet you… you wouldn’t even give me a single chance?”
Yu Zhi lowered his gaze, pressing down the tangle of emotions within. “If it was wrong from the beginning, then everything was wrong. I know you wanted to make amends, but did you ever ask me if I needed it? If I wanted it?”
“What do you want, then?” Ji Xingyu interrupted sharply, his voice steady and resolute. “Whatever you want, even if I don’t have it, I’ll find a way to give it to you!”
Yu Zhi looked up at him, almost scorched by the intensity blazing in his eyes. “You don’t understand me.”
“What I want, I will naturally fight for myself.”
“And the reason I don’t agree with you… is simply because I don’t want it.”
Ji Xingyu was already forcing himself to restrain his emotions, yet he couldn’t help but let a sharp, intimidating glare slip through. But Yu Zhi showed no fear; even under that piercing gaze, he remained calm, composed, and utterly unshaken.
“So, Ji Xingyu,” Yu Zhi said, each word deliberate, flat but carrying unyielding certainty, “it’s not a matter of whether I’m willing to give you a chance. It’s that I don’t want you.”
“From the very beginning, you approached me only because you saw me as someone else’s stand-in, and I only objected to being treated that way. That’s how this mistaken encounter came about.”
“From start to finish, I never intended to develop any closer relationship with you.”
“In other words, I only approached you out of a desire to get back at you and you misread it.”
His words, blunt and unrelenting, shattered the tiny spark of hope in Ji Xingyu’s heart.
Ji Xingyu stared at Yu Zhi, trying desperately to detect any other emotion flickering across his face, but there was none.
As always, he was calm. As always, he was unmoved. It was as if Ji Xingyu held no trace, no place in his heart at all.
Ha!
Ji Xingyu wanted to laugh, but the sound wouldn’t come out. His face was twisted in anger and humiliation, like someone who had just clawed their way out of hell, only to be cast back into the abyss before seeing the sun.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly reached out, grabbing Yu Zhi’s collar and pulling him close.
So near that if he leaned forward, he could kiss him, Ji Xingyu could even catch the scent of Yu Zhi’s perfume, the fresh, earthy aroma mingling with the subtle fragrance of soil.
“Yu Zhi… are you really this heartless?!”
The words, gritted and searing, rang in Yu Zhi’s ears. He didn’t need to look to know just how fierce and bitter Ji Xingyu’s gaze was at that moment.
But Yu Zhi couldn’t back down. He could not give Ji Xingyu even the slightest inkling that there was still a chance, could not allow him to sense any softness, any feeling, any hint that Yu Zhi might yield.
Since that was the case, it was better to be ruthless, to cut everything off cleanly, leaving no room for doubt.
So even when his collar was grabbed, even when Ji Xingyu pressed close, Yu Zhi showed no softness, no hesitation.
“Sorry.”
The single word struck, and Ji Xingyu felt as if all his strength had been drained. The hand clutching the collar relaxed.
He closed his eyes, lowering his head. A long moment passed before he lifted it again, gazing at Yu Zhi with deep, unwavering intensity. He tugged the corner of his lips into a faint smile.
“It’s alright. You can refuse my pursuit, but you can’t stop me from pursuing. Even if you don’t agree now, who’s to say what the future holds?”
Seeing Ji Xingyu so clearly determined, stubbornly set on his path, Yu Zhi frowned.
“Ji Xingyu, if you know that I’ve never been moved by you, never had feelings for you, then why persist so stubbornly?”
“I’m stubborn for myself,” Ji Xingyu said, eyes dark and piercing. “If you won’t accept me, what right do you have to control me?”
A soft, almost teasing laugh escaped him as he leaned close to Yu Zhi.
“If you don’t want to see me stubborn, then you better have the guts to feed the demon with your own flesh, accept me, and control me!”
Yu Zhi’s brow tightened. This person… was he threatening him with himself?
Yu Zhi felt a laugh rising in his chest. He had tried to reason with Ji Xingyu to prevent him from wasting effort, to save him from useless struggle, but now Ji Xingyu was daringly using that very goodwill against him.
“Then suit yourself,” Yu Zhi said flatly.
Ji Xingyu’s expression darkened, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Yu Zhi.
Even someone as calm and composed as Yu Zhi felt slightly unnerved under such scrutiny.
He shifted his gaze slightly, letting it pass over the sea of flowers and candlelight filling the room, and turned toward his own bedroom. His expression was cool and even.
“At this point, I think it’s not appropriate for me to stay. We both know that contract is meaningless; there’s no significant entanglement of interests between us, so there’s nothing to divide.”
Ha, so that was it. Ji Xingyu hadn’t asked for so many of his resources, he had been waiting for this moment.
Ji Xingyu realized he had read Yu Zhi’s intentions clearly: he truly hadn’t intended to use him to climb higher. Otherwise, the resources he’d provided would have been utilized. The only audition had been earned entirely on Yu Zhi’s own merit; the role Ji Xingyu gave him was merely an opportunity.
So that’s how it was; all along, the traces were there from the very beginning.
Although Yu Zhi had moved in over half a year ago, he spent the vast majority of his time on set. His actual time living here hadn’t even reached a full month, so he didn’t have much; one suitcase was more than enough.
As Yu Zhi dragged his suitcase to the door, ready to leave, Ji Xingyu naturally fixed him with bloodshot eyes, his stubbornness and obsession unchanged.
Yu Zhi studied him seriously for a moment, as if lost in thought, then spoke suddenly:
“Ji Xingyu.”
Ji Xingyu straightened, his gaze flickering with sharp intensity.
“In truth, I had many ways to refuse you back then. I also knew you wouldn’t actually ruin me over it, yet I still agreed.”
“To get back at you… so I drew close to you, threatened you with your white moonlight, did all sorts of things to provoke you…”
“What exactly are you trying to say!” Ji Xingyu snapped, recalling the bitter experiences of the past.
Yu Zhi was silent for a moment, then said in a tone that was half serious, half casual:
“What I did to you wasn’t out of justice. I wasn’t standing on the side of right; I was only venting my own desires.”
“To you, I wasn’t sincere. I’m not some purely good person. Trampling yourself for me? Not worth it.”
Ji Xingyu’s gaze froze for a moment, his expression softening slightly. The grief and indignation in his heart seemed to drift away lightly, leaving behind a swirl of mixed emotions.
Bang!
The door closed. Only then did Yu Zhi let himself breathe a little easier.
Just as he hadn’t expected Ji Xingyu to break free from the script’s control so quickly, he also hadn’t anticipated that Ji Xingyu would confess to him even faster.
But regardless of the reason, Yu Zhi had no intention of developing anything with him. Since that was the case, the only option was to refuse firmly, leaving no room for ambiguity.
But as he was about to leave, seeing the other standing alone amid the sea of candlelight and flowers, Yu Zhi couldn’t fully suppress the twinge of pity. He ended up saying words that sounded like self-reflection but were really meant to console.
From beginning to end, he hadn’t understood. Why did Ji Xingyu like him? And why had it been so immediate, so clear, culminating in a confession?
Did Ji Xingyu really see him as his white moonlight? Yet that ethereal, elusive white moonlight, what exactly had it been anchored on?
Inside the room, a figure slowly emerged from the bathroom. Xue Yan, having overheard everything, felt like he might be blindsided.
He cautiously lifted his head, only to see Ji Xingyu still standing in the floral and candlelit glow, inhaling the carefully arranged scent of roses and a smile slowly spread across his face.
Oh no, oh no! His friend’s been rejected and is spiraling. What was he supposed to do?!
Xue Yan wished he could instantly send a message online for help, but with Ji Xingyu right there, he dared not.
Gritting his courage, he asked carefully, “Are you… okay?”
Ji Xingyu’s smile faded.
Trying to console his friend, Xue Yan awkwardly scratched his head and chuckled nervously: “Haha… well, Old Ji, there’s plenty of other fish in the sea. This Yu Zhi doesn’t recognize your worth, but someone will. And surely you’re not the only one in the world who has a white moonlight like that. If you lose this one, we just find the next. It’s not worth clinging to him.”
Ji Xingyu turned to look at him, his gaze heavy, deep beyond measure.
Xue Yan immediately fell silent; indeed, it was all acting; his aura was so overwhelming that even someone who considered themselves a true domineering CEO couldn’t move him, couldn’t even breathe wrong.
“He said he didn’t want me, but I never agreed.” Ji Xingyu left that line hanging, then called the housekeeper to tidy up the room.
Oh no… he really was going to go head-to-head with that little stand-in.
Xue Yan’s heart skipped a beat.
Looking at Ji Xingyu, Xue Yan felt his friend was probably about to get thoroughly tangled up with that little stand-in.
Chen Yue only learned the next day, from Yu Zhi himself, that he and Ji Xingyu had parted ways. For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether he felt more regret or more relief. Without Ji Xingyu, Yu Zhi’s opportunities were limited, but having spent months by Yu Zhi’s side and witnessed his true abilities, Chen Yue wasn’t worried.
Even without Ji Xingyu, Yu Zhi could still rise to stardom on his own, though it might take a bit longer.
Ending things with Ji Xingyu clearly carried more benefits than drawbacks. If someone were to dig up any unusual ties between him and Ji Xingyu and try to use them as leverage, it could spell trouble.
With that thought, Chen Yue relaxed.
“Do you think Ji Xingyu might…?” he hinted delicately, considering a certain possibility.
“He won’t.” Yu Zhi knew what Chen Yue was worried about. But he trusted that Ji Xingyu wasn’t the type to let unrequited love turn into hatred, or to seek revenge out of shame or frustration.
A leading actor of his stature wouldn’t resort to such petty schemes.
Not long after, 《The Chronicles of Imperial Court》 wrapped filming.
Because this series was adapted from a major IP, the broadcasting rights had been sold even before production began. Backed by such a strong foundation, post-production and censorship approvals went smoothly. One month after wrap, Strawberry TV, ranked among the top three in viewership, premiered it in a prime-time slot.
When a drama has a solid script, skilled actors, and a capable director, it’s already more than halfway to success; the remainder often comes down to luck.
Luck, in the case of 《The Chronicles of Imperial Court》, was on its side.
Other networks airing new shows at the same time were all modern dramas, such as urban idol dramas and family dramas. Only this one was historical, with political intrigue and serious themes.
It had production quality, a gripping storyline, strong performances, and well-executed pre-release promotion. As soon as it aired, it immediately went viral.
Across platforms like Douban, Weibo, and Zhihu, discussions about the drama exploded.
From costumes and set design to characters, from the plot to the acting, every aspect was dissected and praised. Audiences widely agreed it was shaping up to be the year’s finest production.
Yu Zhi, playing the much-anticipated second male lead, rode the wave of the show’s success.
His acting and looks were exceptional, one-in-a-million, leaving no room for criticism. As a newcomer, he held his own in scenes with veteran actors, earning the praise of original fans who had initially feared he would ruin the role.
With the current craze for on-screen pairings (CP), Yu Zhi’s character had numerous potential pairings: with the young emperor as a brotherly figure, with the empress’s childhood friend, with an adversary as a rival… nearly any pairing worked seamlessly.
The production team wasn’t about to let this sudden popularity go to waste. Even without heavy promotion, the show quickly climbed the rankings. Organic fans were even more fervent than paid shills, and in the top ten CP fanboards, Yu Zhi alone occupied four spots. His Weibo following skyrocketed by several million, now approaching ten million. The frenzy stunned industry insiders, while Yu Zhi’s commercial value surged rapidly. Before the drama had even finished airing, his popularity was already nearing that of a third-tier star.
Notably, within the CP fanboards, there was one pairing entirely unrelated to 《The Chronicles of Imperial Court》: Yu Zhi and Ji Xingyu.
Yes, thanks to the relentless digging of netizens, the fact that Yu Zhi had been the one at the airport seeing Ji Xingyu off was uncovered. Some insiders even revealed that Ji Xingyu frequently visited the set to check on Yu Zhi, hinting at a close relationship.
With Ji Xingyu being an international superstar, the CP known as “Pisces” rocketed to first place. For a time, it became even hotter than the canon pairings from the show.
The fans of the Film Emperor who were originally supposed to attack these CP fans largely stayed quiet, maintaining peace. Why? Because the top-tier fans mediated and everyone knew why: it was Ji Xingyu’s choice.
So, were they, this top-tier film actor and that obscure, suddenly trending unknown actor, really friends? Close enough to push a CP for mutual exposure? To ride the heat like that?
Some fans refused to accept it, yet couldn’t deny it. Their resentment and disbelief drove them to watch 《The Chronicles of Imperial Court》, determined to find fault with this Yu Zhi.
Yet once they watched, there was no turning back. Many were captivated by Yu Zhi’s looks and acting, quietly switching sides and becoming fans themselves.
Some even became Pisces CP fans. After all, it was their two favorites; even if there was barely any content (scant scenes, mostly rumors), they happily indulged in shipping.
Chen Yue had recently been basking in the joy of his artist’s rising fame. Yu Zhi had indeed exploded in popularity, so much so that he could be recognized on the street even while wearing a mask. The company had already renewed his contract and arranged a chauffeured vehicle for him.
Yu Zhi had no interest in any of this. His goal was simply to rise to stardom, and judging by the current trajectory, it wouldn’t take long.
By contrast, Chen Yue was far from calm. Every day he scrolled through Weibo on his phone, watching Yu Zhi’s follower count soar as if the fame belonged not to Yu Zhi, but to himself.
One day, Chen Yue showed Yu Zhi the Pisces CP thread on Weibo Super Topic, sighing: “The Film Emperor’s traffic is insane… even 《The Chronicles of Imperial Court》can’t compare. Too bad you cut off contact with him.”
Without interaction, even the hottest CPs cool off eventually. The current dominance of Pisces in the fandom was unlikely to ever be seen again.
“Pisces… Pisces. The name sounds nice,” Chen Yue mused, feeling dangerously close to becoming a CP fan himself. But knowing the backstage truth, he forced himself to resist. He couldn’t fangirl, no way. All those substitute white moonlight and benefactor rumors were just shards of glass.
“Pisces probably comes from the line ‘A guest comes from afar, leaving me two carp.’[mfn]A valued guest arriving from far away and bringing gifts that symbolize good fortune and mutual respect; a gift from afar = a meeting that feels destined; “双鲤鱼” (two carp) = two fish = Pisces[/mfn], not the zodiac,” Yu Zhi said.
Chen Yue blinked, slightly stunned. “Really?” He hadn’t thought much about it and had assumed the zodiac like many others probably did.
Glancing at the heated discussion on the Super Topic, Yu Zhi frowned slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he finally sent Ji Xingyu a message.
Yu Zhi: 【Ji Xingyu, don’t stir up heat for the CP fans.】
Since they were already separated, why should he help fans hype it up? Yu Zhi didn’t want to owe him anything.
Previously, he had leveraged Ji Xingyu’s popularity, but he had also helped him break free from the story’s control. In Yu Zhi’s mind, he didn’t owe Ji Xingyu anything. Now, after their split, Ji Xingyu was still helping, this was a bit much.
Yu Zhi waited a while, then heard the notification sound. He opened the message and immediately went speechless.
Ji Xingyu: 【What kind of relationship do we have? Are you telling me how to do things?】
Did this person even realize who he was doing it for?
Soon after, Yu Zhi discovered that his reminder might have been better left unsent.
After that, on one occasion, Ji Xingyu attended an event and was interviewed by reporters. When asked about his relationship with Yu Zhi, he smiled like a spring breeze and spoke with a meaningful undertone:
“We, huh? We’re friends. Very good friends. Better than you can imagine.”
Yu Zhi: “……”
Once the interview was released, the shipper fans went absolutely wild!
They flooded Weibo and the super-topic threads with posts about “socialist brotherhood.”
If the main parties were dishing out sugar, of course the fans were going to keep eating it!
By contrast, Yu Zhi himself remained relatively cold. Whenever anyone asked him about Ji Xingyu, he deftly avoided the topic, showing absolutely no intention of riding the hype.
This made some of the film emperor’s fans quietly reconsider. Perhaps these two really were just good friends, not deliberately trying to milk attention. Otherwise, why wouldn’t this small-time celebrity even mention Ji Xingyu?
As a result, tolerance for the Pisces super-topic grew. Even some nitpickers quieted down. If these two were truly friends, causing trouble for Ji Xingyu would be pointless and pointless meddling.
The twist came one night.
Several marketing accounts posted a photo. In the dim lighting, Ji Xingyu and Yu Zhi were clearly kissing, with the caption:
⟬ Turns out these supposedly good friends really know how to help each other. (Eating melon 🍉) ⟭
It was a real kiss! No camera trickery, no clever angles, no obstruction!
The moment the photo appeared, fans went insane.
The super-topic was flooded, and Ji Xingyu’s Weibo became a massive unfollowing scene.
⟦ Ugh! So you’re gay! ⟧
⟦ Thinking I was stanning a gay person makes me want to throw up last night’s dinner! ⟧
⟦ Promiscuous scumbag, ex! ⟧
Even with loyal fans supporting him, their strength could not match the sheer force of furious unfollowers or the opportunistic trolling by water-army accounts.
Meanwhile, Yu Zhi’s Weibo became a sea of abuse.
His own fans cursed, Ji Xingyu’s fans cursed, and some bystanders joined in too. The shipper fans went silent, afraid to make a sound.
Shipping a CP is one thing, but if the CP actually became real, that would no longer be a trivial matter. Better not to cause trouble for the idols.
Everyone was eagerly waiting for an official statement to debunk the rumors.
Yet, before the fans could get any clarification, the haters got their gift. They didn’t get long to vent before noticing an infuriating fact—Yu Zhi had turned off comments on his Weibo.
Crowd: “……” Dammit!
So thorough, no place left to curse him. This guy was unbelievable!
Some innocent bystanders saw this and couldn’t help laughing, unintentionally becoming Yu Zhi’s casual fans.
Yu Zhi himself, however, didn’t look pleased. Furrowing his brows, he said, “Call Director Zhang immediately and ask him why the stills were leaked.”
Chen Yue: “Got it! I’m on it!”
Yu Zhi then walked to the window and dialed Ji Xingyu.
====================
