CHAPTER 14: It Hurts

In that split second, Gu Sheng finally understood the meaning behind that pain range.

If the lung obstruction wasn’t severe, it would be a Level 5—tolerable for Wen Heng. But if it was serious, it would turn into full-blown suffocation—and that’s game over!

So Wen Heng’s “I can’t breathe” wasn’t some dramatic line—it was the cold, hard truth. Too bad no one watching the livestream had a clue.

Happiness Show production team: We’ve got the title for this episode! Golden quote of the year secured!
Wen Heng’s PR team: It’s over. Wen-ge is so down bad this time.
WenSheng shippers: AAAAAAA I can only scream AAAAAAAA!!!

But in Wen Heng’s mind right now, it was simple: I might not live to see tomorrow’s sunrise.

…Good thing the sun came walking back to him.

His vision was turning white when a soft light approached. Then Gu Sheng’s voice reached his ears: “You don’t look too good.”

[Wuwuwu how could he be okay? His wife got in the car and left while he’s stuck with a bike!]
[Ahhh jiejie came back! I knew you couldn’t let him go!]

Wen Heng blindly reached out and grabbed hold of something—he didn’t even know what—but the suffocating sensation vanished instantly. He coughed hard twice, then took a deep breath.

Alive.

Sweat still clung to his pale forehead. Wen Heng lifted his gaze and looked deeply at her. “…I’m fine now.”

[Because he held onto his wife so now he’s fine!!]
[Wuwuwu I can feel the top-tier love—I’m dying from the sweetness]

The audience had no idea what had actually happened, but they were high on the drama anyway.

The production team, monitoring the live feedback in real time, realized the show had gone beyond all expectations. The director, thrilled, finally cleared his throat and said, “So, have the guests decided on their transportation?”

Gu Sheng glanced back and saw Du Yanzhi sitting on the sightseeing car, watching with a look of amusement. The Mountain-Road Couple wore matching “look how in love they are” expressions. Clearly, there was no going back now.

She clicked her tongue twice. Damn that scumbag man, dragging me down again!

Meanwhile, Jiang Luwei had been ignored from beginning to end. Not only did Wen Heng not respond to her, he called Gu Sheng back and personally grabbed her! Everyone in the upper-class circles was watching this livestream—who knows how many fake friends were already laughing at her behind her back. Jiang Luwei felt like she’d just been dumped into an ice bath.

No problem… Jiang Luwei comforted herself. Watching Gu Sheng slap Wen Heng’s rear seat with a look of disdain, she thought: It’s fine. Gu Sheng won’t be laughing for long.

Tomorrow’s filming—that will be her moment of disgrace!

She made up her mind. No matter how much money it took, she had to make sure Gu Sheng ended up filming Farewell My Lord!

…

In the end, the “Sunny Couple” wobbled off on their skateboards, the “Mountain Road Couple” gave a ride to two of the guest participants, and Gu Sheng got on the back seat of Wen Heng’s bicycle.

The guests were spread across different live-stream platforms, but Wen Heng and Gu Sheng’s stream had more viewers than all the others combined. The screen was flooded with comments every second.

Only then did Wen Heng fully calm down. He wiped the cold sweat from his temple and asked the system, “So what level was it this time?”

System: “Final determination: Pain level 8.”

Wen Heng frowned slightly. …Not level 10, so there shouldn’t be a cooldown. The pain points will still strike randomly.

Perhaps because it had just detected an extreme fluctuation in the male lead’s will to live, the system calculated for a moment, then gave a notification: “A new random item has been added: [Time Bottle].”

Wen Heng raised his brows.

Explanation: “The Time Bottle can store the duration of your contact with the ‘antidote’ during pain-free periods. When a pain point strikes, the stored time can offset the pain duration.”

This was… a rather useful item. Wen Heng suspected he’d been in pain so often it had messed with his head, otherwise why would he feel vaguely moved upon hearing this?

He asked the system, with a touch of warmth, “How much time can it store?”

System: “The current capacity is ten seconds. (More capacity to be unlocked.)”

Wen Heng: “…”

Goodbye.

Beside him, Gu Sheng finished brushing off the rear seat, glanced at the absent-minded Wen Heng, and urged, “Let’s go.”

Since she hadn’t gotten the four-wheeled ride, she looked at Wen Heng like everything about him was an eyesore.

Wen Heng snapped back to his senses at her voice.

Lowering his eyes, he happened to see Gu Sheng’s little nose scrunched up in annoyance, and for some reason, it put him in a better mood.

He swung his leg over the bike first. His legs were too long to fit comfortably, so he propped a foot on the ground, then tilted his face slightly, motioning for Gu Sheng to hop on.

Gu Sheng didn’t stand on ceremony. She grabbed his shoulder and jumped onto the seat, hands holding the sides.

Wen Heng heard a soft notification in his Time Bottle: +1 second.

He said, “Hold on tight.”

Gu Sheng huffed, “I am.”

The corners of Wen Heng’s lips curled faintly. He pushed off with his legs, pedaling forward with her in tow.

The breeze lifted the silver-edged white fabric of their costumes, fluttering and overlapping—it looked unexpectedly intimate.

The movie town was full of winding bridges and narrow lanes. As Wen Heng pedaled uphill, a sudden bump made Gu Sheng reflexively reach out and wrap her arms around his waist.

His waist was lean, but even through the clothes, she could feel the firm lines of muscle.

Gu Sheng steadied herself and tried to let go, but the moment they hit a downhill slope—another bump—she had no choice but to grab onto Wen Heng again.

The CP system was howling: “Sweet romance! This is what sweet, sweet love looks like!”

Gu Sheng told it to shut up.

…Well, he wasn’t in pain right now anyway. She figured—worth it.

Wen Heng lowered his eyes slightly and saw a slender, pale wrist wrapped loosely around his waist. He wasn’t even thinking about the Time Bottle anymore—he just couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

[The visuals are too pretty help ahhh I can’t leave]

[God-tier faces belong together—I could watch this scene for a hundred years]

From the East Market to the West Market, past the Victory Tower, through narrow alleys and wine shops.

They were supposed to be guiding the audience through the movie town to see the sights. But in the end, the two of them became the sight.

That day, clips from Wen Heng and Gu Sheng’s livestream were cut into countless short videos.

Under the banner of the ultra-sweet line “I can’t breathe without you,” big-name fan creators all joined the party. Artists drew stunning scenes, popular fanfic writers who’d previously gone viral churned out several new works, and video editors mixed the livestream footage with perfect beats and posted it to short video platforms—tens of thousands of shares and likes.

[Hi there, interested in the ‘WenSheng’ couple?]

[Top-tier visuals, the leads themselves delivering sugar, sweet enough to cry!]

…

The amount of filming done that day had honestly been a lot, and the Four Laws of Happiness production team knew it well. So when it came time for the evening’s “room grab” event, they didn’t mess around. All the rooms they’d prepared for the guests were pretty decent: imperial palace rooms, city-center residences, a riverside cottage—the worst was still a proper tile-roofed house.

“Our room assignment tonight is based on the number of scenic spots each couple checked in at today~ The production team has already done the tally. The most check-ins were by the Mountain Road Couple, who exchanged their points for the sightseeing vehicle—you’ve earned the right to stay in the imperial residence~”

Yu Shanbei and Lu Yiyi came in first for housing two episodes in a row—truly blessed with incredible luck! The two of them bounced around in their clown costumes, happy as could be.

When Song Qingzhi and Qin Tian heard the rooms would be assigned based on check-ins, their expressions instantly soured. They had traded for skateboards, but couldn’t skate at all! They didn’t even make it out of Liang City—dead last, no question!

In the end, Du Yanzhi and Jiang Luwei got second place thanks to the Mountain Road team’s generosity, and landed the largest city-center residence. Wen Heng and Gu Sheng moved into the riverside cottage, and Song Qingzhi and Qin Tian were left with the tile-roofed house.

“Everyone can get a good night’s rest tonight. At the same time, The Four Laws of Happiness is officially opening its online support portal! We’ll be offering four classic film and television scenes for viewers across the web to vote on—your votes will decide which scene each couple will perform. And we’ve invited the renowned director Zheng Bin to come give on-site guidance tomorrow~”

This segment was designed to fully utilize the movie base and had already been hinted at to the teams, so the guests weren’t too surprised. But for the audience, this was fresh news—and fans across the board immediately got hyped.

[Beibeizi and Eleven are going to act hahaha I’m so excited]

[Let the rookies battle it out! Nothing to fear!]

[Ahhh someone give Sunny Couple a sweet script! I need sugar!!]

[Looking forward to President Du!!!]

Amid all the cheerful chatter, the WenSheng CP fans weren’t nearly as happy as they had been during the day.

[Even though everyone’s shipping hard, ngl, can Sheng-jie really keep up with Wen-ge’s acting?]

[Sis, you said what I was afraid to say!!]

[If not, then let’s at least go with an easier scene…]

[🙏🙏]

…

By the river, the small bamboo house had its windows open, letting in the night breeze. It was a comfortable place to stay.

After her shower, Gu Sheng lay on the bed, carefully watching all four video scenes provided by the production team. They were all scenes between a man and a woman—not much dialogue, but definitely classic moments.

In the original storyline, this scene existed too. Since it was a husband-and-wife acting challenge, the original character and Wen Heng were by far the most mismatched pair—Wen Heng had the best acting skills, and the original host… well, had none. Their performance was like the Jade Emperor talking to a toad—completely different levels. The original character ended up publicly humiliated, laughed at all over the internet.

But for Gu Sheng, having crossed into this world for so long, finally getting to return to her old profession made her genuinely excited. And acting opposite someone of Wen Heng’s caliber—pushing and pulling each other’s performance, exchanging intensity—that kind of scene was exhilarating in itself.

Votes on The Four Laws of Happiness official account’s support channel were climbing fast. Judging from the trend, the fans had picked a comedic and warm-hearted scene for the two of them, clearly showing some kindness toward Gu Sheng.

Gu Sheng turned and asked Wen Heng, “Which one do you want to do?”

Wen Heng didn’t interfere with the fans’ decision. What he was more concerned about was the person in front of him. He’d seen all four scenes—aside from Farewell to My Lord, which demanded a lot from the actors, the others should be manageable for Gu Sheng.

“I’m fine with any of them.” His tone carried a natural touch of arrogance.

“…”

Gu Sheng: I’m fine with all of them too, okay?! Stop acting smug!!

In the dimly lit room, the two of them stared at each other.

One pair of peach blossom eyes glimmered with a touch of anger, the other pair of dark pupils calm as the sea.

Gu Sheng really wished the system would do something useful right now—but it was dead silent, like a chicken.

After glaring at him for a while, Gu Sheng finally changed the subject like nothing happened. “By the way, remember that shocking thing I told you about last night? I still can’t figure out how he could act like that.”

Wen Heng looked at her silently.

This woman—using the same old trick again.

His eyes were deep and calm as he spoke: “Ah, really? That happened?”

Gu Sheng: “…?”

Wen Heng went on, “How could he do that? That’s too much.”

“…” Gu Sheng was quiet for two seconds. “I’m going to sleep.”

She turned and slipped under the covers, leaving behind a back full of quiet irritation.

Irritated, but also secretly pulling out her phone under the blanket to practice her lines with the video clips.

Wen Heng raised his eyebrows in satisfaction, smiling as he looked at her back.

—

That night, the system stayed silent, and the two of them slept soundly on their respective sides of the bed.

Wen Heng finally slept away all the memories of pain from his body.

What he didn’t expect, though, was that after one night, the voting situation had completely changed.

Originally, the scene Farewell to My Lord was leading in votes for Song Qingzhi’s team. But somehow, through a strange overnight surge, the top votes now belonged to Wen Heng and Gu Sheng.

With the deadline approaching, Song Qingzhi could no longer hide her anxiety. Ignoring Qin Tian’s reaction, she rushed out to call her agent several times. But whoever was working against her was playing hardball, and in the end, she couldn’t win the votes back!

Finally, as Jiang Luwei grinned smugly, Farewell to My Lord landed on Wen Heng and Gu Sheng’s plate.

This was the most heartbreaking scene of the four. Set in a turbulent era, the male and female leads had searched for each other for years, only to meet again on the execution ground. That reunion was their final farewell—a famous scene portraying fate, life and death, and deep regret.

The male lead faces death with composure, but upon seeing the lover he’s searched for so long, his silent emotional shift becomes incredibly complex. The female lead, swept along by the current of the times, has no control over her fate—biting through her teeth, unable to cry out loud.

Among all four options, this scene demanded the most from the female lead. Which was exactly why Song Qingzhi had fought so hard to get it.

Before filming, the production team interviewed each pair of guests. When it was Wen Heng and Gu Sheng’s turn, the assistant director asked:

“Farewell to My Lord is all about sorrow and pain—do you two feel confident?”

Wen Heng didn’t answer, turning instead to look at Gu Sheng.

Gu Sheng looked right back at him, thinking: What are you looking at, you dog man?

Are you trying to say I’m gonna drag you down?

Pfft!

She turned to the assistant director. “I’m confident.”

The assistant director was stunned. Wen Heng also narrowed his eyes slightly.

Just then, Gu Sheng heard the system’s delayed notification:
“13th pain of love: heartbreak.”

Gu Sheng: Oh-ho?

Wen Heng got the alert too:
“Pain level: 7. Duration of relief: one minute.”

The 10 seconds in the time bottle? Completely useless.

Wen Heng slowly covered his lower abdomen: “…”

The system encouraged Gu Sheng enthusiastically:
“Host, go on! You can heal the male lead! Together you can create a legendary emotional performance!”

Gu Sheng: “Haha, nope.”

Let the male lead suffer his sorrow and pain alone!

I feel even more confident now! (clenches fist)

…

Song Qingzhi had been sulking about missing her chance to perform in front of Wen Heng and Director Zheng. But when she thought about how Gu Sheng was about to get publicly humiliated, her mood immediately lifted.

Gu Sheng actually had the nerve to say she was confident? What a joke.

Wen-ge was famous in the industry for being harsh—on himself and on his scene partners. Back when Song Qingzhi acted with him, every time she messed up, she was on edge.

Jiang Luwei happened to overhear as well, and laughed softly, “Miss Gu’s confidence really hasn’t changed since childhood.”

Song Qingzhi met her gaze, and the two of them silently exchanged a knowing look, then proceeded to mock Gu Sheng in a tone full of false sweetness and fake praise—completely unaware that it was each other they had been battling with money the night before. They even clapped hands and promised to meet for dinner in the future.

The film segment for The Four Laws of Happiness officially began shooting, with live cameras set up inside the studio.

The audience was already glued to their screens, spamming the bullet chats to cheer on their favorite celebrities.

The production team followed the filming order of flying guests first, then the Mountain Road couple, and finally the Sunny Day couple. Fans enthusiastically encouraged their idols, but in the first group, Du Yanzhi couldn’t carry Jiang Luwei at all, and the second group—the Mountain Road couple—neither of them could act.

Director Zheng Bin gave a few brief comments. Other than Du Yanzhi, he honestly didn’t know what advice to offer the rest.

By the time Song Qingzhi stepped up, she clearly felt like she was standing out above the rest. She and Qin Tian were given a youthful campus script—the classic “school bully x top student” setup. Although formulaic, the youthful energy was enough to make fans squeal nonstop.

With the comparison from the previous acts, Director Zheng even gave them a couple of compliments.

Outside the studio, their agent quickly teamed up with the marketing team to ride the momentum. The hashtag #SunnyDayCoupleSoSweetOnSet shot up the trending charts. Their acting skills were hyped to the sky—and they didn’t hold back on undercutting the rapidly rising “WenSheng” pairing either.

[Now this is the standard for celebrity couples. I’m dying awsl]
[Balanced power dynamics—that’s what love should be. Not like someone just dragging the Movie King down]
[Good looks and zero acting—ugh, the secondhand embarrassment is already kicking in]

…

Meanwhile, Wen Heng and Gu Sheng had just finished hair and makeup backstage.

The staff stood in silence. The reason was simple: the two of them looked too good. Just standing there, they didn’t seem like ordinary people at all.

Right before going on set, Wen Heng slowly walked over and held out a hand to Gu Sheng. “Good luck.”

Nearby, the photographer frantically clicked away, nearly dropping the camera from the sheer beauty overload.

Gu Sheng glanced at Wen Heng’s upright, composed expression, then lowered her eyes and noticed his slightly trembling hand. She broke into a radiant smile.

She reached out and slapped his palm with a crisp smack. “Good luck!”

Wen Heng: “…”

Fine.

Level 7. He could endure.

The moment Wen Heng and Gu Sheng stepped onto the set, the live stream exploded.

Wen Heng was in full battle-worn attire, with cuts on his forehead and lips, his eyes cast downward in a cold and brooding expression. His military uniform was torn in several places, the collar ripped, revealing a wounded but unyielding neck.

Wild and cold.

In contrast, Gu Sheng wore a dark-embroidered cheongsam that hugged her elegant figure, draped with a fur shawl. Her face—already sharply beautiful—was almost aggressive in its allure, from her peach-blossom eyes to her red lips.

Years later, he was a prisoner under the axe, and she was the moon above the water.

One fallen, one exalted. One in light, one in shadow. And yet, the sexual tension stretched tight as a fully drawn bow.

[WTF!!!!!!!!]
[Battle-damaged beauty!! I’m licking the screen!!!]
[The real heiress. She’s so expensive-looking]
[The contrast is too much I’m ascfjsjdhf]
[I don’t care—just for Sheng-jie’s face, I’ll watch no matter how she acts]

It seemed Wen Heng entered character the moment he appeared. His expression was heavy and cold, his portrayal of pain uncannily real.

[Why am I already crying?]
[Wen God lives up to the name! Acting god forever!]

What really shocked people was Gu Sheng.

From the moment she entered the frame, every step, every movement was perfectly controlled.

The two of them were each walking the path of their own fate—until they collided without warning.

In that instant—startled, shocked, panicked, despairing—each emotion flashed through her eyes in turn. Her elegance shattered in a second. Clutching the railing tightly, her voice trembled and cracked: “You… how could you…”

Behind the monitor, Director Zheng sat up straighter, visibly surprised.

Wen Heng realized it too—Gu Sheng had fully immersed herself in the role. Deeply enough to catch even him off guard.

He wanted to do the same.

But his intestines… felt like someone had just wrung them out like a rag.

Still, Wen Heng was the best of the best. He closed his eyes for a moment, then dragged his body step by painful step up to the execution platform, reciting his final words with a bitter smile. With every step forward, the red in his eyes deepened.

His gaze hurt. His movements hurt. Every inch of him radiated the pain of love and hate twisted together—heartbreaking to the extreme.

It hurt so much. Gu Sheng could practically feel Wen Heng’s pain like a tangible force, and her crying scene flowed effortlessly.

Sadness welled at her lashes, finally falling as tears.

Each drop shattered against the stone-paved ground, like the audience’s hearts—crushed into pieces.

[AAAAHHH this crying scene I can’t take it!!!]
[Who taught Gu Sheng to act like this?! Was Wen God personally training her at home?!]
[Her crying is breaking my heart!!]

Even Director Zheng was stunned. He read out the next line himself: “—What, do you know this man?”

Gu Sheng’s tears stopped in an instant.

Though her eyes were red and her nostrils flared, after one last look, she turned away with a smile already on her face.

“How would I know him? I’m going to serve tea to the master.”

Bang! A gunshot rang out.

The woman flinched slightly.

The final shot was supposed to be the man watching her back as he knelt and collapsed.

But Wen Heng… seemed consumed by grief. He couldn’t hold it in—

With a sharp sound, “pfft—”, he coughed up blood.

He fell into the night, his blood blooming like a flower.

Director Zheng: “Cut!”

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Both of them were phenomenal!

And Wen Heng’s final moment—icing on the cake. In all his years of filming, Director Zheng had never seen such realistic blood-spitting.

From facial expression, to eye movement, to bodily reaction—it all felt real.

Truly worthy of the title Movie King!

Clips of their performance spread like wildfire across the internet. Hashtags like #WenHengGuShengActing, #GuShengCryScene, and #WenHengSpitsBloodTooReal instantly shot to the top of the trending list.

…

And Wen Heng lay there on the ground, as if he were still trapped in the scene.

He clutched his blood-covered hand, trembling slightly.

…Shit.

Can someone come save me?

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