While waiting at a red light, Gu Xingchuan noticed Song Yi’s listless expression and realized he had spoken out of turn. Clenching his jaw, he managed to say, “You’re more than just a friend.”

“Is that so?” Song Yi perked up slightly, feeling a bit better. It would be pretty disheartening to think that after all these years as classmates and colleagues, he wasn’t even considered a friend.

Gu Xingchuan pursed his lips, clearly uncomfortable with the term “friend.” Damn, friends.

Gu Xingchuan drove to his home, and Song Yi, momentarily stunned, followed him through the familiar door.

After changing into slippers, Song Yi settled onto the soft sofa in the living room and began sorting through work-related text messages on his phone.

In the kitchen, Gu Xingchuan was busy with something, washing and preparing food.

Finished with his emails and feeling bored, Song Yi wandered around Gu Xingchuan’s house.

The place was enormous—three floors, with a garden and a swimming pool. When he had visited before, he had been too preoccupied to take it all in.

Now, taking a proper look, Song Yi was struck by the grandeur of it. He thought that if he could manage another decade or so of good work, he might one day retire to a place like this, maybe even get a dog to keep him company. The idea of a comfortable, enjoyable late life seemed boundless.

He wandered back to the ground floor and paused in front of a half-hidden room. The door was partially concealed, and the room beyond was lined with soundproofing material. The walls were covered with musical instruments, and a jukebox stood prominently—it looked like a practice room.

Curious, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He picked up a microphone stand, testing the weight of the heavy mic, and noticed a projector linked to a teleprompter across the room. Was Gu Xingchuan spending his time recording songs at home?

As an actor who spends his workdays on set and prefers to avoid work-related tasks in his spare time, Song Yi wondered how Gu Xingchuan found the leisure to sing at home.

While thinking about it, Song Yi caught a faint aroma of rice—sweet and appetizing.

Gu Xingchuan appeared at the door, his expression curious. “What are you doing here?”

“Just taking a look around,” Song Yi shrugged, his eyes wandering. “This place is quite nice.”

Gu Xingchuan’s expression softened slightly. “There’s not much to see. I just record songs here occasionally.”

Song Yi noticed a trophy shelf along the wall, filled with various golden and crystal trophies, including a prominently displayed cartoonish trophy of a small figure. “Do you work for Station L?” he asked, pointing to the shelf.

Song Yi exclaimed, “The annual popularity award from Station L? Which district are you from?”

This trophy was a significant achievement, given only after a fan base reached a million. Did Gu Xingchuan really have a million fans on Station L?

Gu Xingchuan glanced at him with an unchanged expression. “It’s from the living area. The rice is getting cold—are you still eating?”

Curious, Song Yi asked, “What do you do in the living area?”

—