Bai Qingzhou’s family background wasn’t some melodramatic soap opera.
His parents had fallen in love in college, married after graduation, and had a child. When Bai Qingzhou was five, they divorced amicably. No infidelity, no misunderstandings—just incompatibility. Their love had been worn down by the mundane frictions of daily life.
Freedom in marriage should never be shackled. But regarding her son, Shi Yumin had always carried guilt.
When she divorced Bai Qingzhou’s father, he was still a chubby-cheeked five-year-old. Yet overnight, he seemed to mature, learning to bury all his emotions deep inside.
After the divorce, Shi Yumin chose to leave home to start a business. As she left with her luggage, little Bai Qingzhou had tightly clenched his fists and tugged on her sleeve, asking, “Mom, will you come back?”
She bent down, pinched his cheeks, and said, “Don’t worry, Xiao Zhou. Mommy will visit you often.”
Little Bai Qingzhou had solemnly nodded and said “okay,” clearly taking her promise to heart. But life, swept up in the chaos of work and society, didn’t let her keep that promise.
That year, the film and TV industry was undergoing rapid transformation. Seeing the opportunity, she partnered with some friends to start a production company.
They had nothing—truly starting from scratch. She was so busy she barely had time to sleep, let alone go home. And by the time she had succeeded and carved out a place for herself in the industry, the little boy who once clung to her leg was already a grown man, unwilling to get close to her anymore.
Bai Qingzhou always said he didn’t resent her. But Shi Yumin knew his aloof and guarded personality was partly the result of her absence.
He was brilliant, composed, mature, and calm—but also repressed and emotionally distant. It was like he’d built a tall wall around himself, shutting out any love or concern from the outside world.
He never initiated contact with her.
But just half a month ago, out of the blue, her son Bai Qingzhou sent her a message recommending a novel and asking if she might be interested in a film adaptation.
At the time, they were between projects. She didn’t think much of it, but after reading the story, she found it quite good and had her team begin a detailed analysis.
The story, much like its title A Dog’s Life Among Humans, was whimsical and clever. Using the innocent and adorable perspective of a small animal, it depicted the joys and sorrows of the human world. It offered reflections on humanity alongside heartwarming, lovely tales. Readers couldn’t help but smile as they read—it certainly held solid adaptation potential.
Shi Yumin had primarily worked with original screenplays, but she had always considered IP adaptations. As IP’s influence in the film industry grew, her company had been exploring this direction. Yet most works were either snatched up quickly or too formulaic and uninspired.
This one—stumbled upon by accident—finally sparked her interest.
She convened the project team for an emergency meeting, drafted materials, and initiated contact with the other party’s website. Because the recommendation came from Bai Qingzhou, she was especially accommodating to the other side’s requests—so much so that she completely overlooked the most important detail: this kind of light, delicate web fiction wasn’t at all the type Bai Qingzhou would normally like. In fact, she had never once seen him voluntarily recommend any work before.
It wasn’t until her meeting with Xia Xinghe that all the oddities finally made sense.
Shi Yumin had seen Xia Xinghe before.
By chance, in the lock screen photo on Bai Qingzhou’s phone.
Bai Qingzhou had always been distant and reserved, yet there was a time he had blossomed emotionally—Shi Yumin knew this. Back in university, Bai Qingzhou had once been in a relationship.
He never intentionally brought it up, but neither did he hide it. When Shi Yumin saw the photo of Xia Xinghe on his phone back then, she had asked who it was. Bai Qingzhou, with an indifferent expression and neutral tone, had said: “My boyfriend.”
Bai Qingzhou had come out to his family quite early. Shi Yumin wasn’t a conservative person, and given her own guilt, after wrestling with it for a few years, she had come to accept her son’s orientation. After all, given his personality, she thought—having someone with him was better than being alone.
At the time, Bai Qingzhou had spoken casually, so Shi Yumin didn’t think much of it. She assumed it was just youthful impulsiveness and even reminded him to take care of himself. Later, when the two broke up, it was the first time she ever saw Bai Qingzhou drunk. His eyes were red, and he stubbornly drank one glass after another, refusing to say a single word.
It was at that moment Shi Yumin realized—when someone who’s usually indifferent falls in love, the pain runs bone-deep.
Later, Bai Qingzhou went abroad and returned. He became even colder, more withdrawn, and never again mentioned that night. Shi Yumin had thought he’d moved on—until she saw Xia Xinghe again and realized that he never had.
Of course. From beginning to end, the only person who could make Bai Qingzhou act out of character was this one person.
People are naturally biased toward those close to them, and Shi Yumin was no exception. When she realized Xia Xinghe was the one who had hurt her son, she couldn’t help but feel a little resentment. She even considered calling off the collaboration.
Though she genuinely liked Xia Xinghe’s story, it wasn’t irreplaceable. So she began to nitpick, to make things difficult for Xia Xinghe, hoping he would back off.
But as their conversation went on, her impression of him began to change bit by bit.
Xia Xinghe was nervous—Shi Yumin could sense that—but he remained composed, spoke appropriately, and maintained a respectful demeanor. He didn’t put on airs, nor did he try to flatter her.
Shi Yumin purposely asked difficult, probing questions, but he never got flustered. His clear eyes met hers steadily, without avoidance or irritation.
A child like this was hard to dislike.
Oh well, Shi Yumin thought. Since Bai Qingzhou likes him, as a mother, she wouldn’t make things harder for them.
Shi Yumin sighed lightly and said, “That’s all. I’ve asked everything I wanted to ask.”
Now it was Xia Xinghe’s turn to be surprised.
“But…” he hesitated and took a deep breath. “Aren’t you going to ask why I don’t want to include a romantic subplot?”
Before coming here, that had been his biggest concern.
All the previous production companies that approached him had brought up this issue again and again, trying to change his mind. But Shi Yumin hadn’t brought it up at all, as if she didn’t care.
But how could such an important matter be overlooked?
In truth, Shi Yumin had hesitated over this point as well. That’s why she had wanted to meet Xia Xinghe in person—to understand his perspective.
Now that she knew about Xia Xinghe’s relationship with her son, she no longer wanted to make things difficult. What she hadn’t expected was for Xia Xinghe to bring it up himself.
She asked him, “Do you want me to ask you?”
“…No,” Xia Xinghe replied.
“Then why bring it up?”
Xia Xinghe was silent for a moment before saying, “I was afraid you didn’t notice—and would get the short end of the deal.”
Shi Yumin froze, then suddenly burst into laughter. “Why would you worry about your partner getting shortchanged? If I suffer a loss, wouldn’t that mean you gain something?”
Her laugh was gentle, completely different from her earlier stern demeanor. Xia Xinghe looked a little embarrassed, hesitated, and then said, “It just didn’t feel right…”
His tone was calm, but firm. Shi Yumin looked at him for a moment, as if something had just clicked in her mind, and then let out a quiet sigh.
She seemed to understand why Bai Qingzhou liked this boy.
To remain kind and sincere in a complicated and chaotic world is not something just anyone can do.
Shi Yumin paused, then spoke frankly: “It’s true that most audiences like romance plots, but it’s not a necessity. If there’s no romantic subplot, there needs to be something else to make the story shine. That raises the production standards for the entire crew, and most companies don’t want the extra trouble. They’d rather take the easy route.”
As she spoke, she looked up at Xia Xinghe’s nervous face, and finally made up her mind: “But after talking to you, I think you—and this story—are worth the risk.”
Xia Xinghe was stunned, almost not daring to believe it. “Really?”
“Mm.” Shi Yumin nodded and smiled. “It’s still early—we’ll have to revise the script eventually, but I can give you this promise: no added romance or female lead.”
From the moment he first walked into the room and saw Shi Yumin’s expression, Xia Xinghe had mentally prepared himself for rejection. Now, receiving such good news out of nowhere, it felt like a massive cloud had suddenly descended from the sky and crashed right into his head—he was completely dazed.
He abruptly stood up and gave Shi Yumin a deep bow—so deep he hit his head on the table.
“Hiss—”
Xia Xinghe winced in pain, holding his forehead, then quickly straightened up, worried about looking ridiculous.
Shi Yumin was amused by his clumsy actions and laughed as she gently reassured him, “Good kid. This is what you deserve.”
Xia Xinghe smiled sheepishly, and Shi Yumin smiled back. “Shall we discuss the next steps, then?”
Xia Xinghe nodded and sat down again.
Unlike the earlier deliberate harshness, Shi Yumin’s attitude had completely softened. She’d gone from cold and aloof to warm and kind. After chatting a bit, she naturally shifted the conversation to casual topics.
With a smile, Shi Yumin asked, “Where’s your hometown?”
Then she added, “Do you have a partner?”
Xia Xinghe gradually relaxed, and the tension faded away. He kept a smile on his face while chatting with her, maintaining a respectful attitude throughout—except for the question about having a partner, which gave an answer that genuinely surprised her.
Xia Xinghe answered, “No.”
Shi Yumin guessed that perhaps the two of them hadn’t made up yet, so she deliberately steered the topic in that direction.
She chuckled and said, “If only my son were as good at talking as you.”
But to her surprise, Xia Xinghe blinked curiously and asked, “Your son? Is he about my age?”
Shi Yumin found it a bit odd and asked, “You don’t know?”
Xia Xinghe was even more confused: “Know what?”
Shi Yumin said calmly, “I’m Bai Qingzhou’s mother.”
“What—”
Xia Xinghe froze on the spot.
His expression didn’t look like he was lying—and there was no reason to lie about something like this anyway. Shi Yumin, understanding her own son, only needed a moment to figure out what had happened.
It must be that her proud and reserved son had secretly helped him, but couldn’t bring himself to admit it.
That wouldn’t do, Shi Yumin thought. They hadn’t even gotten back together yet. And knowing Bai Qingzhou’s tight-lipped personality, who knew how long it’d take for anything to happen?
Since Bai Qingzhou had already made up his mind about this boy—circling back and still choosing no one else—then as his mother, she might as well give them a push.
After thinking it over for a moment, she smiled and said, “You really didn’t know? It was my son who recommended your story to me. He said he liked it very much.”
The sudden news hit like a bomb, and Xia Xinghe’s heart skipped a beat.
Bai Qingzhou… had helped him?