Under the scorching sun, a cup of cold water was thrown directly at Li Wenshui. His hair was soaked, and the water ran down his chest, all the way to the tops of his legs.

Li Wenshui was currently playing a cross-dressing villain in Suge’s short skit. In the previous scene, he had just pretended to hit Suge, and in this one, Suge was supposed to throw water at him. The plot, filled with cliché and overly dramatic elements, was typical of Suge’s short video style.

Suge paused and said to the cameraman, “I didn’t quite get it right just now. Let’s do it again.”

Li Wenshui wiped the water off his face, the cold seeping into his body. This was already Suge’s third “mistake.”

Suge poured another full cup of ice-cold water, flashing an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Wenshui Ge, I’m just so clumsy. I can’t seem to get it right.”

A large crowd was watching. Suge’s repeated “mistakes” made it obvious that he was trying to embarrass Li Wenshui on purpose.

Li Wenshui glanced around. Liang Jin was lounging lazily on a bench, looking completely indifferent.^[1]Wow, what a total scumbag Ji Xingzhou seemed to be enthusiastically sharing something funny with him, laughing animatedly. Li Liyan was also chatting with Liang Jin, occasionally glaring at Ji Xingzhou, who returned the glares.

Pei Zhi was watching Li Wenshui with a playful expression, Luo Jianan avoided eye contact shyly, and only Li Wenqing looked genuinely worried, clutching the hem of her skirt tightly, her red, teary eyes full of concern.

Li Wenshui thought to himself that if Suge threw water at him again, his little sister would probably start crying. He wiped his face casually and got ready to shoot the scene again.

This time, Li Wenshui strode toward Suge, grabbed him by the collar, and slapped him squarely across the face.^[2]T/L’s note: In the end, he can defend himself, he doesnt need help. King you drop your crown. The slap was loud and crisp, leaving Suge stunned, his ears ringing. He stood frozen, unsure how to react.

The sound of the slap echoed, and the small influencers from the same company watching weren’t surprised. Li Wenshui had a history of making things hard for Suge. Their first collaboration had ended with Suge being scolded into silence, and the second time, Li Wenshui had made a big fuss over a costume. Slapping Suge this time was just more of the same.

The director didn’t call “cut” and instead motioned for Suge to keep going. Suge snapped out of it, grabbed the cup, and angrily threw the cold water at Li Wenshui.

By the fourth splash, Li Wenshui had grown accustomed to the chill. His soaked top clung to his chest, revealing hints of his pale, smooth skin. His short skirt stuck to his legs, accentuating his round hips.

When the director finally called “cut,” Suge’s friends rushed over to berate Li Wenshui.

“Why did you hit him? It was supposed to be fake!”

Li Wenshui yanked off his wig and retorted sharply, “He can throw real water, but I can’t land a real slap? Repeated mistakes, no professionalism—he’s been in the company for over a year, and there hasn’t been any improvement. Does he not have a brain? If he doesn’t need it, he can donate it to someone who does. Even the company’s mascot dog, Chai Bao, acts better than him.”

Chai Bao was the company’s famous influencer dog.

Suge’s friends rallied to his defense. “Do you have to talk like that, Li Wenshui? Don’t you understand why everyone hates you? You’re too serious, harsh, mean, and a bully.”

“Yeah! Plus, Suge has way more followers than you. What right do you have to criticize him?”

“Do you think you’re untouchable just because you’re skilled?”

Li Wenshui draped a towel over his shoulders and began speaking again. His bright red lips opened and closed rapidly, firing off words like a machine gun, without the slightest pause for thought.

“If his metrics are this bad even with a manager backing him, I could do just as poorly if I had one.”

Under the blazing sun, Suge covered his cheek, his face alternating between red and pale. “Then go ahead and cling to someone! Have you managed to? Does Mr. Liang even care about you? Only someone like you, Li Wenshui, would edit photos and post them on social media. None of us are as thick-skinned as you!”

A soft laugh broke the tension. Ji Xingzhou covered his mouth, looking at Li Wenshui mockingly. That laughter stung more than anything else. Liang Jin, who was mentioned directly, remained indifferent, his posture relaxed as if he were a bystander.

Li Wenshui felt as if a fishbone was stuck in his throat. His usually sharp tongue failed him; he couldn’t say a single word. The photos were real, and yes, he had managed to “cling” to Liang Jin, but he had no way to prove it. The misunderstanding and ridicule weighed heavily on him, suffocating and infuriating.

He glared fiercely at Suge, his eyelashes trembling slightly. Droplets of water slid down his face, making him look stunning yet sharp, like a blade. Even in silence, his presence was commanding.

Luo Jianan didn’t think Li Wenshui was losing this verbal sparring match, but he couldn’t understand why Suge would drag his cousin into it. Claiming Wenshui was “clinging” to his cousin was absurd—Wenshui and his cousin hadn’t even met more than a handful of times. Besides, if Wenshui wanted to rely on someone, wouldn’t it be him instead of going out of his way to rely on someone else?

Just as Luo Jianan was about to step forward to defend Li Wenshui, Pei Zhi slung an arm over Wenshui’s shoulders, playing the peacemaker. “It’s my grand opening today. Isn’t arguing a little inappropriate?”

Suge, now teary-eyed, quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Boss Pei. It’s not Wenshui Ge’s fault. I let my emotions get the better of me.”

Pei Zhi glanced at Li Wenshui, who remained silent.

Between Suge, who humbly took responsibility, and Li Wenshui, who stood defiant and unyielding, it was clear who was more likable. Suge’s approach made him seem approachable, while Wenshui’s made him seem aloof and difficult.

Not that Pei Zhi minded. Li Wenshui smelled amazing, and his slender waist, long legs, and rounded, perky hips made him irresistible. Pei Zhi let his hand wander and gave Wenshui’s hip a quick squeeze, the sensation making it hard to stay annoyed.

Liang Jin’s gaze shifted to Pei Zhi’s hand.

“What are you doing? Stop hanging all over him,” Luo Jianan snapped, pushing Pei Zhi’s hand away and pulling Wenshui back. “Wenshui, go change. That outfit is way too… revealing.”

Luo Jianan leaned in to sneak a peek and immediately felt a nosebleed coming. Wenshui’s chest was faintly visible, soft and pink.

When Li Wenshui returned in a change of clothes, his sister, Li Wenqing, was the first to rush over. “Gege, why don’t you quit this company? They don’t treat you well at all!”

Li Wenqing didn’t understand the details of her brother’s ironclad contract. He couldn’t quit—breaking the contract would cost him a 5-million-yuan penalty, a sum he couldn’t afford. Nor did he have the resources to fight the company in court.

Li Wenshui held his sister’s cold hands and comforted her. “Don’t worry. No one can truly bully me. If they treat me poorly, I’ll treat them just as poorly.”

Li Wenqing wasn’t convinced. Sure, her brother seemed to be holding his own—he’d hit someone, and for every insult he received, he had a hundred retorts. But he was also isolated, with no one to support or rely on. All he had was endless scorn and mockery.

It was precisely because he had no one else that he relied only on himself. Smooth river pebbles weren’t always round, and knives weren’t sharp from the start—they were shaped by harsh circumstances. Being forced to change wasn’t something to celebrate, and while her brother’s resilience was impressive, it only made her feel sad.

“How about I show you all my one-of-a-kind escape room here in Happy Valley?” Pei Zhi suggested, breaking the mood.

Li Wenshui turned to his sister. “Do you want to try it? You’ve never done one before, right?”

“Gege, have you done one before?”

Quietly, Li Wenshui replied, “I haven’t, either.”

As soon as Luo Jianan heard “unique,” his interest was piqued. However, he lacked the courage to participate and acted like a child seeking an adult’s reassurance, asking Liang Jin to accompany him. Once Liang Jin agreed, Ji Xingzhou followed suit, and naturally, Li Liyan joined as well. Pei Zhi took the lead, while Li Wenshui and his sister trailed behind.

They didn’t know how to play and decided to observe the others. Once inside the escape room, the surroundings turned pitch-black. In the darkness, they could hear occasional screams ahead.

Li Wenshui held his sister’s hand tightly and asked, “Are you scared?”

“Not really,” Li Wenqing replied. She wasn’t afraid of the dark or ghosts, but she knew her brother was. “Gege, are you scared?”

“What’s there to be scared of? It’s just people pretending to be ghosts in a silly game.”

He tried his best to act like a brave, invincible older brother in front of her, but his legs unconsciously slowed.

Suddenly, a group of excited customers ran past them, bumping into him and breaking his grip on Li Wenqing’s hand. When he came to his senses, his sister was nowhere to be seen.

“Wenqing?”

Li Wenshui quickened his pace in the darkness. Ahead of him were three doors, and he could only check them one by one. In the first room, he was startled by an NPC hiding on a blood-soaked bed.

His face turned pale as he moved to the next room. This one was eerily silent, with a massive painting of a python on the wall. The snake’s glowing blue eyes seemed to follow him, sending chills down his spine.

Suddenly, a hand covered his mouth. His scalp tingled as he shoved the person away, but they grabbed his wrist instead.

“It’s me,” a familiar voice whispered, warm breath brushing against his ear, faintly scented with cologne.

An arm encircled his waist, and as Li Wenshui turned around, he met Liang Jin’s gentle gaze.

“Scared?” Liang Jin asked softly.

“No,” Li Wenshui replied, trying to push him away, but Liang Jin didn’t budge.

Pinning Li Wenshui against the wall, Liang Jin leaned closer, his eyes locking onto the subtle trembling in Wenshui’s pupils. “Then why are your eyes tearing up?”

“Impossible.” Li Wenshui quickly wiped his eyes but found nothing there. That’s when he realized Liang Jin was teasing him.

The frustration he’d been holding in flared up again, only to be compounded by Liang Jin’s antics.

Liang Jin seized Wenshui’s wrist, pinning it above his head, and used his other hand to undo Wenshui’s belt.

Li Wenshui was wearing loose, oversized jeans that slid to his ankles the moment the belt came undone.

Liang Jin shamelessly looked him up and down. “What a shame. You’re not wearing a skirt today.”

Taking a deep breath, Li Wenshui asked coldly, “What do you want? Isn’t Ji Xingzhou here with you?”

Liang Jin undid the buttons of Wenshui’s shirt and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

What was there to be jealous of? He had no right to be jealous. What did he even count as? He was nothing—nothing more than someone who couldn’t even openly acknowledge his connection to Liang Jin.

Wenshui’s expression remained blank, but Liang Jin caught a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, like a fleeting glimmer of water. Liang Jin gently stroked the corner of Wenshui’s eye with his thumb, but the vulnerability disappeared as quickly as it appeared, replaced by defiance and a sharp glare.

Retracting his hand, Liang Jin said softly, “Ji Xingzhou and I are just friends.”

Wenshui frowned. “You can still be friends with an ex?”

“Why not?”

Liang Jin turned Wenshui around, pressing his back against his own chest. Tilting Wenshui’s chin up, he whispered, “We can be friends too—someday.”

Wenshui was speechless.

Suddenly, Luo Jianan’s voice echoed from outside the room. “Strange, where did my cousin and Wenshui go?”

Li Wenshui froze, his entire body tense with nervousness.

Liang Jin murmured in his ear, “Be good. Don’t move. It won’t be good if we’re caught.”