“You’re already planning a CP (couple pairing) for me?” Jian Yang tensed up. “Will the other party think I’m too low-ranked and just trying to leech off them?”

“Try thinking a little bolder,” Guan Ciyan encouraged patiently.

“Bolder?” Jian Yang ran through the top actors at Fuyu Sanctuary in his mind. They were either too old, too young, already had CP pairings, or simply didn’t do CP marketing. Guan Ciyan would never force an artist into a particular career path. Thinking boldly, Jian Yang hesitated. “Could it be…?”

Guan Ciyan gazed at Jian Yang seriously. For a moment, Jian Yang felt dazed—being this good-looking should be illegal. Those peach blossom eyes were too alluring; a simple glance could make someone feel special.

“Is it… Bai Shun?” Jian Yang counted off the reasons. “Although Bai-ge is popular, talented, and takes care of his juniors, we also get along well. Plus, he’s one of the most handsome actors in the industry. But he probably wouldn’t want to pair up with me, right? Though, at least Director Wen Ye wouldn’t misunderstand our relationship…”

“That good?” Guan Ciyan interrupted.

“Yeah, when you weren’t around, Bai-ge took care of me a lot and taught me many things.”

The repeated “Bai-ge” annoyed Guan Ciyan. “And when I’m around?”

“You’re barely around,” Jian Yang said bluntly. “You’re rarely here.”

Guan Ciyan had no excuse. Since Jian Yang joined the cast, he hadn’t visited much. Meanwhile, Bai Shun, who was clearly pursuing someone, showed up every few days. Not only did he linger around Wen Ye, but he also befriended everyone in Wen Ye’s circle.

Guan Ciyan didn’t blame Jian Yang for not remembering his kindness. He blamed himself for not being attentive enough.

After putting Jian Yang to sleep, he sat in his own room, contemplating how to make Jian Yang understand his feelings.

This was probably the hardest problem Guan Ciyan had ever faced in his life.

He scrolled through his contact list from top to bottom, searching for someone to discuss his feelings with. But the truth was, he didn’t have a single person he could define as a friend.

The only pinned contact was Jian Yang.

Inside their chat was the fanfiction Jian Yang had recently sent him. After hesitating several times, Guan Ciyan still hadn’t clicked on it.

Reading about Jian Yang in a romance with another man would only make him feel worse. But since Jian Yang said it was well-written, maybe the emotions in the story could serve as a reference?

Having no other options, Director Guan clicked on the fanfic.

In the story, Jian Yang blushed under the sunset as he accepted a confession from an anonymous man—the richest person in the country. The man casually bought Jian Yang an island, held a public proposal that made national headlines, and crashed social media servers. In the end, the entire internet blessed their love.

Guan Ciyan silently calculated his own net worth. Fortunately, he could barely match that level of wealth. Buying an island wasn’t out of the question—how could he lose?

Might as well throw in a yacht.

But since Jian Yang loved money so much, a yacht wasn’t enough. A cargo ship would be more practical.

Guan Ciyan sat up in bed, sorted through his thoughts, and finally contacted his executive secretary to acquire or merge with a suitable international shipping company. Just gifting Jian Yang a ship wouldn’t be useful—he wouldn’t know how to operate it. Learning from scratch would be too exhausting, so it was better to buy an entire fleet.

And if he was getting a fleet, he might as well buy the whole company.

Of course, acquiring a company wasn’t an overnight process—it would take time. Buying an island, however, was much easier.

At this point, Guan Ciyan felt that the emotional damage from reading fanfiction was worth it. But even then, he still felt like something was missing.

Jian Yang loved money, but both times he left, he hadn’t taken anything with him.

Guan Ciyan had a gut feeling that something was still lacking, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He opened their chat again.

“Do you have any other fanfiction recommendations?”

When Jian Yang saw the message, his eyes almost popped out of his head.

A world-dominating CEO, brought to his knees by trashy romance novels! Not even Guan Ciyan could resist their charm.

Excitedly, Jian Yang sent over two more stories.

“Are you okay with ones that have… some color?”

“What color?”

“The warm kind.”

“I don’t mind.”

Guan Ciyan thought Jian Yang meant sentimental, heartwarming stories.

But when he opened the file, he was met with a wild, utterly dominant version of Jian Yang. He instantly exited the page and deleted the entire app.

Did he have to fulfill this fantasy too?

Star-crossed lovers in an intergalactic adventure? Just to pursue someone, did he now need to build a spaceship?

For the first time in his life, the ever-exceptional Guan Ciyan felt outmatched. Maybe it was his love-struck brain talking, but why was he even comparing himself to a fictional character?

That night, he didn’t sleep a wink.

The next morning, Guan Ciyan got up early and went to Jian Yang’s favorite breakfast shop. He bought steamed buns, brown rice porridge, and a cup of soy milk, delivering them to Jian Yang’s dressing room so he could sleep a little longer.

When Jian Yang looked up and saw him, he blinked rapidly in surprise.

Last night, after some thought, he realized that sending that explicit fanfiction to Guan Ciyan had been a bit too much. He had no idea how Guan Ciyan felt about it.

Seeing Jian Yang’s hesitation, Guan Ciyan assumed he was just being shy. He walked over. “Eat your breakfast.”

“You eat first.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s just… I already ordered takeout.”

…

The foolish Director Guan.

Last night, after reading about grand romantic gestures in fanfiction, he had completely forgotten that modern food delivery services were incredibly efficient.

Guan Ciyan: What a terrible story!

“Sir, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

It’s only a little past seven, so it should be Guan Ciyan’s workout time.

“You should eat first, or… wait until I finish, and we can eat together.”

Guan Ciyan: Maybe it’s not that bad after all?

Just as Jian Yang finished getting his makeup done, his breakfast arrived. The two of them sat at a small table outside the dressing room to eat. The space was cramped, forcing them to sit with their legs spread apart awkwardly.

As a result, both of them had to bend forward so much that their heads were almost touching.

“Should I not have let you eat this with me? It’s pretty bland,” Jian Yang said, taking a sip of unsweetened soy milk, already feeling disheartened.

Guan Ciyan, who never cared much about food, replied, “It’s not bad. A little sweet, actually.”

“Yours has sugar,” Jian Yang blinked, staring at the soy milk.

Guan Ciyan knew Jian Yang’s taste preferences inside out and could tell he was probably watching his weight, so he had ordered unsweetened soy milk. He deliberately handed over his own cup, “Want to switch?”

Jian Yang glanced at his own cup. “You… don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” Guan Ciyan looked straight at Jian Yang, feeling an inexplicable tension rising inside him.

Jian Yang took the cup without hesitation and drank a big sip. “Sweet is definitely better!”

The tension in Guan Ciyan’s heart slowly melted away, replaced by an insatiable desire. Those lips, the ones he had just kissed indirectly, were pressed against the spot where he had just taken a sip. The white rim of the cup left a slight indentation on his lips—he wondered if they would look the same when bitten.

“Oh, yeah, on-camera makeup tends to be more exaggerated,” Jian Yang touched his face and asked uncertainly, “Does it look weird? You keep staring at me.”

“No.”

Guan Ciyan turned Jian Yang’s cup around in his hand, then placed his lips exactly where Jian Yang had just drunk from.

“You’re really… drinking it?” Jian Yang was surprised.

He remembered that Guan Ciyan was a bit of a germaphobe.

“I thought only we did this kind of thing,” Jian Yang muttered.

“We?” Guan Ciyan frowned. Jian Yang had shared drinks with someone else before?

“Winter and I. Sometimes we split food. And Su Jin, too—he has a small appetite but loves to snack, so he usually eats half and gives the rest to me. And then there’s—”

“Enough.” Guan Ciyan’s voice turned cold.

Good thing he was here. If he hadn’t come, this would’ve gotten completely out of hand.

Seeing that Guan Ciyan didn’t look too happy, Jian Yang shut his mouth obediently.

Just before filming started, Wen Ye finally arrived, and Bai Shun brought breakfast for him. They had ten minutes to eat before work began.

Guan Ciyan watched the entire scene unfold from the sidelines. When Wen Ye accepted the breakfast without a second thought, his brows furrowed.

Feigning nonchalance, he walked over to Bai Shun and glanced at the breakfast he had brought.

Bai Shun was puzzled—normally, this man was as aloof as could be, but today, he was actually approaching him. “Are you hungry too?”

“I already ate,” Guan Ciyan replied.

“Oh,” Bai Shun said indifferently, continuing to clean up the meal containers.

Guan Ciyan scanned the packaging but didn’t see any branding, so he had to ask, “Where did you get this breakfast from?”

“You…” Bai Shun squinted at him. “What are you up to?”

“Just asking. I don’t know which place nearby has good food.”

“Ohhh,” Bai Shun’s tone lifted. “Got rejected while delivering breakfast, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Keep at it. Good luck.”

Guan Ciyan: … Shut up.

“Seems like you have plenty of experience with rejection,” Guan Ciyan countered.

Bai Shun clicked his tongue. “Hey, hey, hey, watch your tone. I told you before—you’ll be coming to me for advice one day.”

Guan Ciyan remained silent.

Bai Shun hummed a little tune, slowly packing up the meal containers, clearly in a good mood.

Still unable to find any branding on the packaging, Guan Ciyan sighed internally. Outwardly, he kept up his sharp edge. “Wen Ye doesn’t order takeout.”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Bai Shun teased, “You’re still too much of a rookie.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Guan Ciyan warned.

Bai Shun wasn’t offended. Instead, he asked curiously, “With your temper, how does Jian Yang even keep you in check?”

Guan Ciyan finally found a chance to defend himself. “His temper is worse than mine.”

Bai Shun nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Jian Yang definitely knows how to hold his own.”

“So you come here every day not just to guard against me, but to guard against Jian Yang too?” Guan Ciyan smirked. “I should tell Jian Yang about this.”

“Why are you stirring up trouble in your own production team? How about I just tell you where the breakfast came from?”

Guan Ciyan was only teasing—if Bai Shun weren’t genuinely devoted to Wen Ye, he wouldn’t have allowed him to be around Jian Yang so much.

Bai Shun was one of the few people Guan Ciyan respected. He was cunning but had his limits, never greedy, and always knew exactly what he wanted. His character was, at the very least, acceptable.

Guan Ciyan stepped closer, and Bai Shun finally revealed the answer. He lifted the lid of the meal box, revealing a tiny strawberry fork inside. “You think you can beat a delivery rider? Of course, I made it myself.”

Guan Ciyan suddenly understood.

No wonder there was no branding.

“One more word of advice—this method works, but don’t try it lightly. You can’t outrun the delivery guys, and it’s hard to cook better than professional chefs.”

Guan Ciyan, who had never stepped into a kitchen and didn’t even care about food: … I’m doomed.

“You know how to cook?”

Bai Shun showed him the back of his hand, which had three small round burn scars. “Took a lot of practice.”

Guan Ciyan quietly compared himself to Bai Shun and felt like he had lost another round. While waiting on set, he spent the next eight hours watching cooking videos.

That evening, Jian Yang was making some handicrafts when he noticed Guan Ciyan was still there. “Sir, why are you still here?”

“Did your company go bankrupt?”