The background music in the video was soft and soothing. The entire frame showed nothing but the canvas and a pair of hands holding a paintbrush. There was no talking, no fast-forwarding, just a slow, steady scene.

Sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a warm and gentle glow over the pale, thin hands. They looked so fragile, as if they could shatter in the light at any moment.

Yet, those hands moved firmly across the canvas, filling the blank space with colors in a smooth, practiced manner. There were almost no fancy edits or effects. In theory, it should have been boring, but surprisingly, the video had a calming, almost healing effect that drew viewers in.

The group quietly watched the video on the phone screen, momentarily forgetting to comment until a crew member’s loud voice reminded them that the camera was ready for the next shot.

Li Lin quickly pulled his gaze away and handed the phone back to the assistant director without much fanfare. “Get in touch with him,” was all he said.

Knowing that Li Lin’s simple words meant approval, the assistant director smiled, patted Li Lin on the shoulder, and returned the phone to the eager young assistant, signaling him to handle the task.

The assistant, thrilled that he could contribute, happily walked off with his phone.

As the set bustled in preparation for the next scene, Qin Mingyuan lowered his gaze, his thoughts elsewhere.

The art style of this “Si Yu” in the video was quite different from the painting he had at home. Could it be a coincidence that they shared the same name?

Qin Mingyuan doubted it. Two artists with the exact same name and even the same characters? The odds of that were too slim.

His interest piqued, he narrowed his eyes, pulled out his phone, and downloaded the same app they had just used to watch the video.

So, when Zhou Yang sneakily turned to gauge his boss’s reaction to the affectionate scene between the two actors on set, he was baffled to find Qin Mingyuan engrossed in his phone.

Zhou Yang blinked in confusion, staring at his boss for a moment. Qin Mingyuan didn’t even glance up, focused as he was on his phone as if handling important work. Curious, Zhou Yang resisted the temptation to peek at the screen, fearing the consequences.

But seeing his boss so expressionless, it was probably just work-related.

After searching for “Si Yu’s” profile on the app, Qin Mingyuan found that there were quite a few videos posted. He scrolled through them and clicked on the latest one, which was the same video he had just seen.

Dragging the progress bar to the end, he stopped at the part where the signature appeared. The two characters were written in the same familiar handwriting. He rewound the video to the beginning.

Most of “Si Yu’s” videos were recordings of his painting process, and each one was usually over an hour long. In today’s fast-paced world, such videos weren’t typically popular. Few people would spend hours watching someone paint with no interaction or commentary.

But oddly enough, “Si Yu’s” videos had a strange allure. The view counts were high, and the number of comments was also impressive, indicating that many people enjoyed watching them.

Qin Mingyuan stared at the pair of hands in the video, feeling a strange sense of familiarity, as if he had seen them somewhere before. But for the life of him, he couldn’t recall where.

And he realized he had been wrong this whole time. He had always assumed “Si Yu” was a woman, but those hands, while slender, clearly belonged to a man based on their bone structure.

Since it wasn’t the right time or place to watch the full video, Qin Mingyuan temporarily closed the app and scrolled through “Si Yu’s” activity feed.

There wasn’t much besides videos. Occasionally, “Si Yu” would post a picture of a finished painting that hadn’t appeared in any of the videos, likely because it took too long to record the entire process.

There were also a few posts announcing live streams. The captions were short and to the point, and the comment section was full of playful complaints about how “Si Yu” was too aloof. Many viewers begged him to at least respond to the chat during his live streams, saying they were too curious about what his voice sounded like.

“Cut!”

A booming voice jolted Qin Mingyuan from his thoughts. He paused mid-scroll, lifting his gaze to see the two actors being stopped mid-scene. Only then did he remember why he was there. Turning off his phone, he slipped it back into his pocket.

“Yun Yuexian, tone down the emotions a bit. Watch your expression—don’t overdo it,” Li Lin said sternly, dissatisfied with the actor’s previous performance.

Yun Yuexian glanced over in Li Lin’s direction, apologizing with his eyes. As he looked around, his gaze landed on someone nearby—Qin Mingyuan, standing out even in a crowd. Yun Yuexian froze for a second.

“What’s wrong?” Liang Zichen, noticing his daze, lightly patted his arm.

“Oh, nothing. Let’s go again,” Yun Yuexian quickly shook off his thoughts, smiled, and refocused.

The shooting resumed. Qin Mingyuan shifted his gaze back to the monitor, thinking to himself that these actors were indeed pros at managing their expressions.

After a few more takes, they finally met Li Lin’s expectations. The director, looking more relaxed, wrapped up the scene.

Li Lin had other matters to attend to, so he gave a brief nod to Qin Mingyuan before leaving with the assistant director. The production manager nearby offered an explanation, but Qin Mingyuan simply shook his head, indicating he didn’t mind.

“You did well. It’s just that Director Li has high standards, so don’t worry too much,” Liang Zichen said, stretching back in his chair and casually massaging the back of Yun Yuexian’s neck.

Yun Yuexian smiled out of habit, but then, as if remembering something, glanced in the director’s direction. Qin Mingyuan was still standing there, looking at him with an inscrutable expression.

Suddenly standing up, Yun Yuexian turned to his colleague with a slightly awkward smile. “Brother Zichen, a friend of mine, came to visit the set. I should go greet him.”

Liang Zichen followed his gaze, spotting Qin Mingyuan. His eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Qin Mingyuan?”

“You know him, Brother Zichen?” Yun Yuexian was a little surprised, but after thinking about it, it made sense. The wealthy circles weren’t that large, so running into each other at some banquet was pretty normal.

Liang Zichen chuckled. “He’s the head of Qin Corporation. How could I not know him? Let’s go over together and say hi.”

Qin Mingyuan had no idea what the two were talking about, but he soon saw them walking toward him. He remained composed, observing them silently.

“Brother Mingyuan, what brings you here?” Yun Yuexian greeted him with obvious delight. “You’ve been so busy lately with work. Is it okay for you to take time out to visit the set?”

Qin Mingyuan’s gaze stayed on Yun Yuexian’s face, his tone flat. “Qin Corporation invested in this movie. I’m here for an inspection.”

There it is, Zhou Yang thought, rubbing his forehead as if to wipe away non-existent sweat. His boss’s knack for shutting people down was something else. He signaled the production manager to step aside with him to discuss business matters, leaving the three of them alone.

Liang Zichen waited until they exchanged a few words before greeting Qin Mingyuan himself. “President Qin, it’s been a while.”

That the original Qin and Liang Zichen knew each other didn’t surprise Qin Mingyuan. With their equal family backgrounds, it would’ve been hard not to cross paths at some point. Qin Mingyuan glanced sideways at him, sizing him up. “You know me?”

Liang Zichen’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile remained unchanged. “There was a business banquet some time ago. My mother and I shared a drink with you.”

“Oh,” Qin Mingyuan lowered his eyes as if trying to recall, then looked up again with an indifferent expression. “Sorry, I don’t remember.”

“No problem. A busy man like you can’t be expected to remember everything,” Liang Zichen laughed, unfazed.

Though Qin Mingyuan didn’t recall him, Liang Zichen had often heard his name—from his mother, no less. She frequently spoke of him with admiration, occasionally remarking how fortunate it was that their families didn’t operate in the same industry. Otherwise, Qin Mingyuan would be a tough competitor.

Although she didn’t outright compare the two, after hearing his mother praise someone else’s son so often, Liang Zichen’s impression of Qin Mingyuan was less than favorable. Nobody likes hearing their parents constantly praise someone else.

Now, after meeting him in person, Liang Zichen could confirm that Qin Mingyuan was indeed a tough character—difficult to deal with, for sure.

Still, he was a smart man who knew how to maintain a polite façade. As an actor, his expression management was spot-on. That was Qin Mingyuan’s assessment of the other protagonist from the novel.

However, Liang Zichen’s eagerness to approach him suggested a lack of patience. Keeping calm and composed is what makes others respect you. No wonder his mother hadn’t handed over full control of the company yet.

The rules of the entertainment industry were different from those of the business world. He still had a few more years of growth ahead of him.

Perhaps this was just part of Liang Zichen’s character development. If he had been more composed, handling his relationship with Yun Yuexian in a better way and calming his mother’s concerns, the story wouldn’t have been as dramatic.

“Brother Liang, it’s time to prepare for the next scene,” his assistant whispered, gesturing apologetically to the others. As the lead actor, Liang Zichen had a packed schedule with back-to-back scenes throughout the day.

Nodding at his assistant, Liang Zichen offered a polite smile. “I’ll get back to work then. Perhaps next time we can have dinner together. I hope President Qin remembers me by then.”

Qin Mingyuan gave a noncommittal nod, doubting there would ever be a next time.

“Yuexian, see you later this afternoon.” Whether intentionally or not, Liang Zichen reached out and tousled Yun Yuexian’s hair before leaving.

As Liang Zichen walked away, Qin Mingyuan turned his attention back to Yun Yuexian, his tone pointed. “You seem to have a good relationship with him. He treats you well.”

“Brother Zichen is a bit older than me, and since he’s my senior, he takes good care of me.” Yun Yuexian smiled a little sheepishly. “But Brother Mingyuan is the one who’s really good to me.”

Actors. For a brief moment, Qin Mingyuan felt the urge to roll his eyes, though his face remained expressionless.

“Brother Mingyuan, how long are you planning to stay? My next scene isn’t until the afternoon. If you have time, we could grab lunch together,” Yun Yuexian suggested, pulling out his phone to check nearby restaurants. “I still owe you that meal I promised.”

Qin Mingyuan had already accomplished his goal of meeting the male lead. Seeing that he had no special reaction to either of them confirmed that the key to returning to the real world didn’t lie with them. There was no reason to waste any more time.

Glancing at his watch, he replied, “I have work to get back to.”

Yun Yuexian’s fingers paused on the screen, and when he looked back up at Qin Mingyuan, there was a hint of caution in his expression. “Brother Mingyuan, are you upset about my father going to your company? You haven’t returned my calls or messages lately, and now you don’t even want to have lunch with me…”

The young man had a good-looking face, and the way he spoke made him seem pitiful, easily tugging at people’s heartstrings. Unfortunately for him, the person standing in front of him was the least susceptible to such tricks.

“No, lots of small companies come to my office seeking cooperation. It’s nothing that would upset me,” Qin Mingyuan said flatly.

Yun Yuexian’s eyes widened in surprise. Qin Mingyuan glanced at his watch again. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”

Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked past him. But before he could leave, someone grabbed his sleeve. Irritated, Qin Mingyuan let out a small, annoyed sound and pulled his hand free, turning back. “What now?”

Realizing his action had been impulsive, Yun Yuexian quickly withdrew his hand, glancing at the busy staff around them to make sure no one was paying attention. When he looked back, his familiar smile was already in place. “Nothing, I just heard from my mom that you drove my brother home in the rain the other day. I wanted to thank you. I worry about him every time he goes out.”

Was he trying to test him? Qin Mingyuan tilted his head slightly, a hint of mischief flashing in his eyes. Lowering his gaze to meet Yun Yuexian, he replied in a deep voice, “It’s nothing. Your brother… is quite interesting.”