CHAPTER 4: It Hurts

Of course, Gu Sheng also heard the system alert.

In her head, she let out a full-on HA!

The production team had been counting on the notoriously “plastic” relationship between Wen Heng and Gu Sheng to stir up drama in the room selection scene. What they didn’t expect was Gu Sheng swerving the whole mess—and definitely didn’t expect Wen Heng to grab her out of nowhere.

That sudden twist flipped the entire situation.

Song Qingzhi, who was smugly waiting to see Gu Sheng humiliated, now looked like she’d seen a ghost. Wen Heng’s fans in the chat were too shocked to even type.

Gu Sheng looked down at Wen Heng’s hand on her wrist.

“Are you serious right now?” she asked the system, trying hard to keep her face neutral. “Didn’t he have, like, superhuman pain tolerance earlier? And now he’s crumbling over a level five?”

The CP system fell into a nervous silence. It had to admit—its gorgeous host, with her innocent face, was often a heartless little devil on the inside.

The system’s alerts only told her the pain location and intensity—not the length of time required for pain relief. So Gu Sheng had no idea that Wen Heng now needed to stay in contact with her for five hours and fifteen seconds to cancel out all his accumulated pain.

The system tried its best to hype it up:
“No one can resist the trope: I’m your only cure—it’s romantic gold!”

Gu Sheng, flatly: Romantic my ass.

She looked up at Wen Heng, wearing a textbook what do you think you’re doing? expression.

At this range, her luminous peach blossom eyes seemed even more captivating.

Wen Heng, a master of reading subtle expressions, could practically see the full sentence written on her face:
“Clause Three: Even in exceptional circumstances, do not initiate physical contact.”

He curled his fingers slightly.

The wrist in his grasp was slender and soft, the skin warm and smooth. It didn’t provoke the repulsion he expected—in fact…

Beep—10-second countdown complete. Pain #01: Relieved.

The twisting pain in his stomach vanished like a switch had been flipped. A gentle warmth spread through his core, even making his fingertips tremble.

Beep—5-second countdown complete. Pain #02: Relieved.

The dull ache in his wrist faded away. Strength and vitality returned to his limbs like spring water rushing through dry ground.

Please maintain contact with your cure. Five-hour countdown begins now.

The room fell dead silent.

Even Gu Sheng’s expression was starting to get weird.

Wen Heng used every ounce of willpower to release her hand.

Pain instantly stabbed through his temple like needles, and his nerves felt like someone was tap-dancing on them. Level five wasn’t the worst he’d felt—but it lingered.

“Don’t sleep on the couch,” he said, eyes shut tight. After a pause, he added stiffly, “…You’ll catch a chill. Take Room 1.”

The director, surprised he spoke up, quickly jumped in with a smile. “O-okay! So, Wen Heng and Gu Sheng will be staying in Room 1, the master suite with floor-to-ceiling windows! Congratulations!”

The comment section exploded in all directions, but no matter who they supported—Wen Heng stans, other fandoms, Gu Sheng antis, or just curious bystanders—everyone was thinking the same thing:

Weren’t Wen Heng and Gu Sheng just a fake couple? Didn’t Wen Heng have zero feelings for her??

So why was it Wen Heng who asked her not to sleep on the couch? Why did he insist on sharing the big bed?

Because of that one move from Wen Heng, the whole internet’s vibe shifted in a strange new direction.

Could it be…

They were all wrong about this?

….

Ding—Congratulations, host. Pain relief for events 01 and 02: complete √

As Gu Sheng strolled slowly toward the big bedroom, she heard the system notification in her ear.

Of course she was happy to sleep comfortably—but somehow, this whole situation still felt like she got played.

“Also! To help improve your luck, break free from your ‘supporting character’ fate, and form the sweetest CP ever, the system will now randomly drop a reward after each pain relief completion! You’re eligible to claim one now!”

“Oh?” Gu Sheng’s mood instantly brightened.

Sure, strength mattered most in showbiz—but let’s be honest, luck could make or break a career. Considering how cursed the original host’s life had been, Gu Sheng was very interested. “So what’s the reward?”

The system calculated for a moment. Then, with a cheerful ding:
“Congratulations, host~ You’ve received a[Breakout Viral Pic]! Guaranteed to go viral!”

Gu Sheng raised a brow.

A breakout meant crossing fandom lines, hitting the mainstream. Back when she debuted, one candid shot of her in costume on set had gone viral overnight.

Sure, it mostly attracted superficial fans, but for someone with almost no public favor left—thanks to the original host’s mess—it was still a big win.

So, once she returned to the room and got her phone, she immediately started scrolling through Weibo, trying to guess which moment the system had captured.

She was so focused, she didn’t notice Wen Heng’s awkward hesitation the moment they walked into the room together.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something—then hesitated.

He wanted to make things clear: even if it was just the two of them in one room, he had zero intentions. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing to misinterpret.

…But after standing there for what felt like ages, she still hadn’t looked up?

Wen Heng took a deep breath and quietly left the room to call his agent.

Back inside, Gu Sheng suddenly flung her phone down.

“Why is the viral pic a couple shot?! And why is Wen Heng in it?!” she demanded, glaring at the system.

The system answered innocently:
“This was objectively calculated as the most aesthetically pleasing and widely shareable image.”

Gu Sheng was both furious and amused—and it’s a damn GIF, too!

The moment captured was when Wen Heng had reached out to grab her wrist, and she turned back to look at him. A soft, subtle glance over the shoulder.

The GIF got posted by a major entertainment gossip account. First, it spread through industry circles, then fan pages picked it up, and eventually, it exploded across the platform.

[Holy crap, who ARE these two?!]
[The vibes are insane. Like, drama-level good.]
[Wait a sec—isn’t that top-tier actor Wen Heng? And… his WIFE?!]
[She’s gorgeous too?! Okay now I have to check this show out.]

The scene hit all the right notes. Wen Heng’s head tilted down, Gu Sheng’s eyes lifted toward him, hair swaying mid-turn—their gazes meeting midair. No sound, just visuals, but it felt ripped straight out of a K-drama.

Thanks to its organic traction, the post shot straight to trending.

….

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the villa—

Wen Heng was on the phone with his agent, rubbing his temples. Without the cameras on him, he looked genuinely worn down, his brows furrowed in fatigue and irritation.

“Find me the best psychiatrist in the city,” he said flatly. “Once filming wraps, I’ll take Gu Sheng for an evaluation.”

The agent was stunned for a moment but picked up on Wen Heng’s unwillingness to elaborate.

They quickly ran through the rest of his schedule, and just before hanging up, the agent added, “Oh, by the way… you’re trending again. Top spot on Hot Search.”

Wen Heng barely reacted. For someone at his level, that was nothing new. “Mm.”

Then the agent said, “It’s with Gu Sheng. You’re trending together.”

#WenHengGuShengDramaSceneGIF

A flicker of emotion finally crossed his face. He frowned. “People mad about it?”

“Nope,” the agent replied. “To be honest… you two have CP fans now.”

“…?”

….

Anything involving a top star like Wen Heng was bound to get attention, but this time the buzz was next-level. The comments under the viral post were going crazy, and Gu Sheng’s follower count was skyrocketing.

Most casual users didn’t care about fan factions or reputations—they judged with their eyes. And the CP shippers? They were thriving.

They dissected every frame of the gif, went back to rewatch the livestream of The Four Laws of Happiness, and promptly lost their collective minds.

[Did anyone else hear the slight tremble in Wen Heng’s voice when he said “Don’t go”? My soul left my body.]
[The way she looked back at him… It was everything. EVERYTHING.]
[Top actor secretly fragile? Hell yes I’m eating this up.]
[Denial in his words, longing in his eyes—this is better than any scripted romance.]
[Isn’t there a bedroom livestream tonight? Asking for science.]

“….”
Gu Sheng scrolled through the comments with a blank expression, then silently closed the app.

She didn’t check to see where Wen Heng had gone. Instead, she got up and headed for the shower.

The No. 1 room lived up to its name—spacious, clean, and came with its own bathroom. The bed was clearly prepped by the show staff, not the dusty old thing it looked like on camera. It was probably super comfy, too. In the far corner, a fixed camera was mounted, likely for late-night “couple content” streaming.

But just before, she’d vaguely heard that Song Qingzhi had ended up in the single bed room—the worst pick.

So… not much “sweet couple time” for them tonight.

After a nice, relaxing shower, Gu Sheng curled up on one side of the bed and pulled out her phone again, this time to actually research.

She was fascinated by the entertainment industry in this world, and the very first name she looked up was “Wen Heng.”

“Debuted at eighteen and instantly drew attention. Later discovered by acclaimed director Ji Qingsong and cast in Mad Bird, portraying a man caught between morality and madness—smiling as he walked toward his own destruction. A character unworthy of love, yet pitied by all.
The film became a sensation, sweeping awards and crowning Wen Heng as the youngest Best Actor in history.
His character, He Zhinan from Mad Bird, became an iconic role etched into the minds of a generation. Since then, Wen Heng has remained the untouchable ‘white moonlight’ in the hearts of millions.”

Gu Sheng’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
Now that was a film she had to see.

One comment below the article caught Gu Sheng’s eye: “Wen Heng pours all his emotions into his work, leaving none for real life. That’s why in nearly ten years since his debut, there hasn’t been a single scandal—no drama, no rumors. Just pure professionalism. A man like that doesn’t need someone to grow old with, just someone who can match him move for move.”

Gu Sheng couldn’t agree more.

Wen Heng was, without a doubt, an emotionally constipated show-off.

She kept scrolling until she stumbled upon the profile of the newly crowned Best Actor, Du Yanzhi. The guy was seriously good-looking—none of Wen Heng’s cold, aloof vibe. Du Yanzhi looked warm, composed, and approachable.

Intrigued, Gu Sheng clicked into his profile and skimmed through his filmography. Finally, she zoomed in on a shirtless photo that showed off his perfectly sculpted abs.

Hot damn. This man was fine.

Gu Sheng lit up inside. I need to work with him someday.

Just as Wen Heng walked into the room, his gaze unintentionally landed on Gu Sheng’s phone screen—and froze.

…Was that a half-naked man?

He stepped a bit closer. It was Du Yanzhi.

Wen Heng let out a cold, silent scoff.

So even if she’s in love with me, she’s still ogling other men?

Typical. Shallow to the core. Her so-called “love” for me clearly only goes skin-deep.

With his expression turning colder by the second, Wen Heng didn’t say a single word. He headed straight to the bathroom to shower. When he came back, he got into bed on the far side without so much as glancing at her.

The silence between them was so deafening, it practically echoed.

Even though it was late, there were still viewers glued to the live stream. Watching the icy distance between the two, the chat lit up with mockery.

[Wow. They’re lying so far apart it’s like they don’t even know each other from a past life.]
[Bet someone’s trying to keep it together. So excited he forgot how to function, huh?]
[There’s no way she can hold out forever. No way.]

Wen Heng didn’t feel like speaking. He closed his eyes and endured the dull, throbbing pain in his nerves, waiting for Gu Sheng to fall asleep.

Thirty minutes later, Gu Sheng was still on her phone.

An hour later—still on her phone.

The livestream viewers started to catch on.

[Is she seriously just… scrolling on her phone?? Next to Wen Heng??]
[Come on, sis! That’s Wen Heng! You’re allowed to be a little thirsty!]
[Does she even like him or not?!]

Wen Heng couldn’t help it—he opened his eyes, turned his head, and looked at Gu Sheng still browsing her phone with laser focus.

He took a deep breath. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Gu Sheng, still immersed in discovering the internet in this world and adding must-watch dramas to her ever-growing list, turned to him with a confused expression. “You can go ahead and sleep.”

Wen Heng: “…”

If only I could!

Nerve pain wasn’t like the stomach cramps or the aching wrist from before. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it gnawed away at his willpower. Even if he was sleepy, the sharp prickling pain kept him annoyingly wide awake.

He gave up on talking.

Another forty minutes passed before Gu Sheng finally shut off her phone, reluctant but clearly sleepy now. Given the production crew’s not-so-subtle hints, there were probably more tasks coming up in the morning.

Time to sleep.

Within minutes, she was out cold—hugging a pillow, her breathing soft and even.

Wen Heng: “…?”

Lying in the dark, still in pain and very much awake, Wen Heng suddenly felt a wave of helpless bitterness.

Once he was sure she was truly asleep, he quietly turned over.

He looked at her sleeping face. A soft glow fell over her features. Her long lashes rested quietly, her striking features now peaceful in sleep. Her lips parted slightly, one hand resting on the pillow, looking for all the world like an angel in a dream.

Was someone like her really that arrogant and obnoxious?

Wen Heng gazed at her for a moment, then slowly reached out and let his fingers lightly brush against hers.

Instantly, the stabbing nerve pain vanished. The system began its reassuring countdown, and for the first time in hours, a delicious wave of drowsiness began to take over.

Just then, Gu Sheng shifted in her sleep—rolled over—and kicked him squarely in the gut.

Wen Heng: “?!”

Pain exploded in his brain… and lower half.

…

The next morning.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Gu Sheng woke up refreshed and energized, vaguely remembering a dream about winning a marathon.

Behind her on the bed, Wen Heng stared at her back with dark circles under his eyes, his expression unreadable.

Five kicks.

She kicked him five times in her sleep.

This. Will. Not. Be. Forgotten, Wen Heng swore silently.