The man had an excellent physique—broad shoulders, a slim waist. Even while sitting, there wasn’t a trace of excess fat on him.

He pulled his shirt up to his chest and abdomen, revealing the bandages wrapped around his stomach.

The bandages were stark white, but they couldn’t hide his pale, cool-toned skin, faintly outlining the firm contours of his abdominal muscles.

On the pristine gauze, a slight red stain was spreading—it was blood seeping from the wound beneath.

The young man in front of him frowned, carefully inspecting the bloodstained gauze, his eyelashes quivering slightly.

“Did you bring a medical kit?” he asked softly, his voice light as air.

Fu Shicang shook his head—then froze.

Just now… did An Leyan just glare at him?

It had been purely instinctive, as if he’d done it a thousand times before, so naturally that even he hadn’t realized it.

He watched as the young man hurriedly dragged over his recently recovered suitcase, flipped open the lid, and pulled out a compact medical kit.

It was like a treasure chest—disinfectant, wound medicine, cotton swabs, gauze, bandages—everything was neatly packed inside. There were even several sets of single-use sterile tool kits.

Fu Shicang watched as An Leyan skillfully disinfected his hands and reached out to remove the gauze around his waist.

Fu Shicang’s brow twitched sharply, and he instinctively grabbed the young man’s wrist.

“What are you doing?” His voice was deep and steady.

“Changing your bandages!” An Leyan looked a little anxious. “Yinxin’s hit just now must have torn your wound open. If you let it bleed like this, how long is it going to take to heal?”

“Changing my bandages?” Fu Shicang’s sharp gaze locked onto him, his grip tightening slightly. “How did you know I was injured? And you even prepared all of this in advance.”

The young man’s wrist was slender—so delicate that Fu Shicang suspected he could snap it with just a little more force.

But the owner of that wrist wasn’t at all concerned about his own arm’s safety. Instead, he anxiously glanced at the pile of medical supplies and tools before turning back with a sudden realization.

“Oh, oh, oh, I forgot to tell you. That day when you went to the hospital, I was lying on the bed right next to you. Wang Xiaoyu—Dr. Wang—is my attending physician.”

Hearing the name Wang Xiaoyu, Fu Shicang’s grip loosened slightly.

That day, after getting injured, he hadn’t gone to the outpatient clinic but directly to the inpatient department where his old classmate worked. He had been placed in the only available hospital room.

He vaguely remembered that there had indeed been someone sleeping in the next bed, but the curtain had been drawn. Wang Xiaoyu had mentioned that the patient was still unconscious.

Later, when the bedside monitor suddenly alarmed, he had left quickly to avoid being seen.

So it had been him?

“I fell off a stage at a cosplay event that day,” An Leyan shrugged. “Since I was already injured, I brought these supplies with me.”

As he spoke, he lifted the corner of his shirt, peeled off a piece of gauze from his side, revealing a half-healed cut that had yet to fully scab over.

Fu Shicang’s gaze faltered for a moment. The young man’s muscles were thin, his abdominal muscles only faintly visible, but his waistline was strikingly defined.

An Leyan picked up a pair of tweezers, clamped a small iodine-soaked cotton ball, and pressed it directly onto his own wound.

“Don’t worry, the medical supplies are fresh and safe. And I’m a professional—I won’t hurt you.”

His words made Fu Shicang chuckle. Finally, he released his grip, and An Leyan swiftly unwrapped the bandages around his waist, carefully lifting away the gauze.

A bright red wound stretched across the man’s well-defined abdomen, with the deepest part still oozing blood.

The young man frowned in sympathy, then skillfully cleaned the wound, applied medicine, and carefully placed disposable adhesive sutures over it. Within moments, the bleeding had stopped, and Fu Shicang’s tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly.

“All done!” An Leyan pressed the final piece of gauze into place, then pulled out a piece of fabric from the medical kit.

“This is a brand-new abdominal binder—lightweight and breathable. It’s actually designed for postpartum recovery, but I think it’s perfect for your situation. It’ll fit under your clothes without being noticeable, and if anyone asks, you can just say it’s for back pain. Didn’t you strain your back while filming a historical drama before? If you say that, everyone will understand, no problem at all.”

He rattled off his explanation, only to realize that the room had gone silent.

An Leyan looked up at Fu Shicang.

The man’s expression had yet to recover—it was some mix of bewilderment, disbelief, and “I don’t buy this at all” all rolled into one.

An Leyan: …Heh, I’ve never seen that expression before. Worth it!

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, a knock came at the door.

It was Director Zhang Mao. “Xiao Fu, Xiao Yan, what are you two up to? The cameras and mics are off—got a secret in there?”

“Oh, oh, oh! Coming!” An Leyan quickly pressed Fu Shicang’s shirt down, not bothering to clean up the medical supplies, and ran to open the door.

“Sorry, Director. I wanted to change my bandages before changing clothes, and I accidentally delayed Cang-ge too.”

Zhang Mao knew about his injury but hadn’t expected it to be severe enough to require dressing changes. He glanced at the corner of An Leyan’s shirt, still lifted slightly, revealing the iodine-stained skin beneath, and softened his tone.

“Are you okay? Changing bandages yourself is a hassle. The production team has a doctor—let them take a look at you.”

“No need, Director Zhang.” An Leyan shook his head with a smile. “I study nursing. This is nothing—just consider it practical experience.”

He glanced down the hallway. “Is there an event going on? I’ll come right away.”

“Not really, just checking in on you two.” Zhang Mao peeked into the room. “Once you’re dressed, come on out. We can’t film if you’re holed up in here all the time.”

After watching the director leave, An Leyan returned to the table, quickly applied iodine to his own wound, slapped a piece of gauze over it, and packed the medical kit away.

“You heading down?” he asked Fu Shicang.

Fu Shicang had already straightened his shirt, regaining his usual air of refinement and elegance. He lifted his gaze with a slight smile. “Aren’t you going to change first?”

“Oh, right.” An Leyan nodded. “Since I already said I would, I might as well.”

He lowered his head and pulled a sky-blue T-shirt from his suitcase, sighing in amusement. “In just this short time, I’ve changed twice. Being on a show really is different.”

Seeing him reach up to unbutton his shirt, Fu Shicang frowned slightly and politely turned half away.

The bedroom window was clear and bright, faintly reflecting the figures inside the room.

The boy behind him, however, seemed completely unconcerned. He raised his arms, shrugged off his shirt with a shake, draped it neatly over the back of a chair, and then pulled on a T-shirt.

Even as a mere shadow on the window, his light frame, slender waist, and long legs were clearly outlined, his youthful lines flowing seamlessly.

Before Fu Shicang could snap out of his thoughts, An Leyan had already finished tidying himself up, greeted him, and dashed out of the room.

The other guests were already discussing dinner.

Since they had only arrived at the house in the afternoon, after half a day of activity, everyone was feeling a little hungry.

Bai Jingchen was the first to enter the kitchen, with Mu Wei following behind. A while later, Nie Changxing and Yin Xin joined them as well.

“How’s your cooking?” Mu Wei asked with interest as he watched Bai Jingchen take ingredients out of the fridge.

He had long noticed that since entering the villa, Bai Jingchen’s eyes had been glued to Fu Shicang. The moment the director said they’d be handling dinner themselves, Bai Jingchen had immediately stepped into the kitchen—clearly trying to impress.

Tsk, already set his sights on someone this early. But Fu Shicang didn’t seem interested, keeping his demeanor cold.

Mu Wei chuckled to himself.

He never really cared whether the people he got involved with were sincere. If there was mutual attraction, they could be together; if not, they could part ways just as easily. As long as they didn’t cause him any trouble, a simple hookup was no big deal.

Besides, this was a dating show—breakups and makeups were routine.

As for whether this idol would be heartbroken in the end…

Mu Wei’s gaze skimmed over Bai Jingchen’s profile. To be honest, that face of his seemed quite suited for shedding tears.

“My cooking is just average,” Bai Jingchen turned back and smiled. “Do any of you cook? If there’s someone better, I won’t embarrass myself.”

Mu Wei shrugged. “My skills pretty much stop at taking food out of the fridge.”

Yin Xin only shook his head blankly.

Nie Changxing, pulling a bottle of yogurt from the fridge, also shook his head. “I can only fry an egg.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do it.”

Bai Jingchen was pleased. Cooking wasn’t that hard—he had specifically learned a couple of dishes from his family’s housekeeper, studied several recipes, and even took notes, all saved in his phone for easy access.

Thinking of how he might win Fu Shicang’s heart through his stomach, he couldn’t help but smile.

By the time An Leyan entered the kitchen, Bai Jingchen had already started stir-frying.

Mu Wei was helping him out, while Nie Changxing and Yin Xin had been assigned to wash vegetables.

The small kitchen bar was already crowded with four people, so An Leyan didn’t squeeze in. Instead, he walked over to check the rice cooker. As expected, no one had thought to cook rice.

He silently set the rice to steam, then picked a head of garlic from the basket in the corner and sat at the dining table, peeling it slowly.

Yin Xin, having finished washing the lettuce, turned and noticed An Leyan. He immediately scurried over.

Fortunately, this time he wasn’t just staring. Instead, he picked up his phone and took several photos of An Leyan.

“Why are you only taking pictures of me?” An Leyan laughed. “Take some of everyone else too. Look at how warm the atmosphere is right now.”

Yin Xin obediently nodded, turned his camera toward the others, snapped a few shots, then returned to An Leyan.

“Should we season the soup now?” At the stove, Mu Wei suddenly stepped in closer, reaching an arm around Bai Jingchen’s back to grab the ladle on the other side.

An Leyan lowered his head, chuckling softly.

So flirty! For a moment there, Mu Wei had practically pulled Bai Jingchen into his arms. No wonder he had a reputation as the most notorious playboy in Haicheng—who could possibly resist?

Bai Jingchen must have felt it too. His face was flushed, partly from the steam rising from the soup pot.

“You two slacking off?” A voice suddenly sounded behind them.

The comment seemed oddly out of place amid the pink-hued atmosphere.

An Leyan froze for a second before realizing—it was directed at him and Yin Xin.

Turning his head, he saw Fu Shicang leaning against the kitchen doorframe. It was unclear how long he had been standing there.

Uh-oh—battlefield drama incoming!

An Lexian’s eyes lit up.

He raised the garlic clove in his hand as if to explain, then looked up at Bai Jingchen.

Bai Jingchen’s face turned even redder.

He quickly sidestepped out of Mu Wei’s arm’s reach, grabbed another ladle in a hurry, and headed toward the doorway. “Fu-ge, you’re here! Perfect timing—come taste the soup and see if it’s too salty.”

Fu Shicang paused upon hearing this. After a few seconds, he lazily walked over to the stove.

As he passed the dining table, he glanced back and saw An Lexian making a face at Mu Wei.

Mu Wei, however, didn’t seem to mind at all. He naturally stepped aside from the stove and sat down beside An Lexian, whispering something in his ear. The two of them laughed together.

Meanwhile, Bai Jingchen had already brought the ladle over, holding it up to Fu Shicang’s lips.

Fu Shicang slowly withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, took a sip of the soup, and frowned. “A bit bland.”

“Ah, I’ll add some more salt then.” Bai Jingchen reluctantly took back the ladle and sprinkled in another spoonful of salt.

Half an hour later, the dishes were served.

“Come eat, everyone!” Bai Jingchen, the head chef, stood proudly by the table but did not sit down immediately.

An Lexian understood.

Of course, this was a dating reality show—he had already laughed more today than he had in an entire year before this.

There were only six of them. The table was square, and not that big, so no matter how they sat, they would still be next to each other. Was there really a need to play seating mind games?

People always said that dating shows were full of hidden rivalries, and it turned out to be true.

Mu Wei, ever the easygoing one, let out a light chuckle and sat in the middle of one side.

This spot meant that no matter how the others arranged themselves, he’d be surrounded on both sides and could easily admire the handsome men across from him. A choice that suited his personality perfectly.

An Lexian walked over as well.

As an insignificant background character, he had no battles to fight. He simply took the farthest corner seat across from Mu Wei.

Yin Xin immediately sat in front of him, while Nie Changxing, on his own initiative, took the seat beside him.

That left two seats directly facing each other, seemingly reserved for Bai Jingchen and Fu Shicang.

Bai Jingchen, too embarrassed to sit next to Mu Wei, chose the seat opposite him instead.

Once everyone was seated, Nie Changxing opened a bottle of red wine and poured a little for each of them.

Mu Wei raised his glass with a smile. “It’s fate that brought us all together—let’s have a drink.”

The guests all lifted their glasses. The shining wine glasses clinked together, producing a crisp and pleasant sound.

An Lexian smiled brightly as he took a sip of the wine and picked up some vegetables with his chopsticks.

Hmm… The vegetables were a bit bland. But that was understandable—maybe Bai Jingchen just preferred a lighter taste?

He tried a bite of stir-fried pork next. The meat wasn’t fully seasoned, and the green peppers were still a little raw. Also… quite light in flavor.

He subtly glanced at the other guests at the table. Everyone seemed relaxed.

Mu Wei was telling a cold joke, Nie Changxing rolled his eyes but turned his head slightly, the corners of his lips curling up. Bai Jingchen was whispering something to Fu Shicang, while Yin Xin looked lost in thought.

Maybe I’m just too picky, An Lexian thought.

He got up and served himself a small bowl of rice, planning to make do with soup for this meal.

The rice was perfectly cooked, each grain distinct and glistening white, making it look incredibly appetizing.

The soup also looked good. He smiled and took a sip.

Then, he froze.

The soup was so salty!

The overpowering taste numbed his tongue. He had to quickly eat two bites of plain rice just to suppress the awful sensation.

But just now… hadn’t Cang-ge said it was bland?

Could it be that my taste buds are malfunctioning?

An Lexian stared at his bowl in confusion but couldn’t help following Fu Shicang with his gaze.

That man maintained his impeccable dining etiquette, chewing slowly, gracefully engaging in every conversation at the table.

But throughout the entire meal, he hadn’t taken a single sip of the soup!