By the time An Leyan returned, Bai Jingchen had just finished cooking the pasta.

“I think it’s ready,” Nie Changxing, holding his phone like a food critic, nodded seriously. “Hurry up and take it out.”

Bai Jingchen immediately lifted the pot and poured the pasta, along with the water, into a strainer.

Steam rose in thick clouds, making Nie Changxing take a step back. “So… can we eat it now?”

“It needs to be rinsed with cold water and mixed with olive oil,” Mu Wei chimed in while checking his phone.

“Uh… how do we do that?” Bai Jingchen looked at him blankly.

“Don’t ask me, I have no idea,” Mu Wei raised his hands in surrender. “The instructions just say to rinse it with cold water, but they don’t say how.”

The three of them exchanged glances, then simultaneously turned to Yinxin, who had been silent the whole time—only to collectively roll their eyes when he also remained quiet.

“Fu Shicang is the smart one,” Mu Wei sighed. “He came to the kitchen early, gets to eat without lifting a finger, and doesn’t have to deal with this mess.”

He glanced up. “Wait… where is he? Don’t tell me… he went shopping with Leyan?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked at each other, a hint of unease creeping in.

Even though it was only the first day of the reality show and they had only spent an afternoon together, this unknown young man had already left a strong impression on everyone.

Was he always like this? Bai Jingchen wondered. Beautiful, youthful, always smiling, yet somehow taking care of everyone?

And during dinner, when he helped pour water for him—his usual warm and approachable expression had suddenly turned serious. It had startled Bai Jingchen. But his tone had remained just as gentle and considerate. That was… really cool.

It was a completely different kind of cool from Fu Ge, but still…

Bai Jingchen looked down at the pasta in his hands, feeling the weight of it, but unsure what to do next.

Just then, the villa’s front door creaked open, and faint voices drifted in. Moments later, An Leyan came running inside.

“I’m back!” He set down his bags. “The pasta’s done? Here, let me!”

He quickly washed his hands at the sink before taking the strainer from Bai Jingchen and handling everything with practiced ease.

It wasn’t particularly hot in early summer in Haicheng, and the air conditioning was on in the house, but after running all the way back, a thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead.

Suddenly, a hand reached over, dabbing at his forehead lightly with a tissue.

“Thanks!” An Leyan turned his head with a grin—just in time to see Nie Changxing retracting his hand, looking slightly awkward.

That instinctive act of kindness, followed by immediate regret.

It was kind of funny.

“Nie Ge, since you’re studying medicine, have you ever been in an operating room?” An Leyan asked curiously. “During surgery, is there really a nurse assigned just to wipe the doctor’s sweat?”

Nie Changxing had just crumpled the tissue in his hand. Hearing that, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Not exactly. The circulating nurse sometimes does it. You must’ve seen that in dramas, right? Since they can’t show the actual surgery, they often use that to indicate tense moments or show the doctor’s dedication.”

He watched as An Leyan skillfully mixed the pasta with olive oil and tilted his head. “Wait, why do you sound jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous!” An Leyan set the pasta aside and started preparing the sauce. “I’m studying nursing, and the professional courses are ridiculously hard. So I figured, if a nurse’s job in the operating room is just to wipe sweat, that must be the easiest task ever. If I could do that my whole career, I’d be set.”

“Hahaha!” Laughter erupted in the kitchen. Nie Changxing laughed so hard he doubled over. “Alright, alright, I’ll give you a chance. If I ever perform surgery in the future, I’ll call you just for that. You better stick to me like glue.”

“Mhm, mhm!” An Leyan laughed along with everyone. “I’ll make sure not a single drop is left!”

Back at the production control room, the staff watching the monitors laughed as well.

“This An Leyan really knows how to lighten the mood,” the assistant director clutched his stomach from laughing too hard. “I was worried Nie Changxing was too aloof and wouldn’t fit in with the group, but with just one sentence, Leyan broke the ice.”

“Not just that—there’s an unexpected bonus too.” Zhang Mao zoomed in on Nie Changxing’s expression. “Look at him. Isn’t he blushing?”

In the kitchen, as An Leyan casually continued cooking the sauce, Nie Changxing stood frozen, still clutching the crumpled tissue. A slow flush crept up his neck and face.

That night, everyone was beyond satisfied with the midnight snack, showering An Leyan with praise. Even Yinxin, who rarely did chores, took it upon himself to wash the dishes afterward, stopping An Leyan before he could.

By the time An Leyan returned to his room, the lighting was warm and soft. Fu Shicang was standing by the desk.

He had just come out of the shower, dressed in a light gray short-sleeve pajama set. A towel hung around his neck, and water droplets occasionally dripped from his hair, soaking into the half-damp fabric.

His silver-rimmed glasses reflected the light from the desk lamp as he pressed a hand to the corner of a book, flipping through the pages quickly.

Then he squinted, turned a page, then flipped back again.

Wait… isn’t that my textbook?

An Leyan hurried over, pulling out a small bottle from his pocket and blocking Fu Shicang’s view of the book while sneaking a glance at the page.

It was just his notes. What was so interesting about that?

“What’s this?” Fu Shicang pulled his hand back and resumed drying his hair.

“Digestion medicine.” An Leyan stuffed the bottle into his hand. “Eating fried eggs so late at night can be hard to digest. Take this, or you might feel uncomfortable later.”

Fu Shicang raised a brow.

Had this guy hesitated for so long just because he was worried about his digestion?

It was true—he rarely ate midnight snacks, and when he did, his stomach always felt a bit bloated. But how did An Leyan know that? Did Wang Xiaoyu tell him?

He glanced at the medicine bottle. The familiar red-and-blue packaging made him clench his molars.

What kind of adult drinks the children’s version of digestive syrup?

What the hell had Wang Xiaoyu told him?

For a moment, Fu Shicang had a ridiculous thought—had Wang Xiaoyu planted An Leyan in this show just to mess with him?

He looked up at An Leyan.

But the boy seemed completely unaware of the thoughts swirling in his mind. Instead, he was staring at his own notes on the page, mumbling, “I didn’t write anything wrong, though…”

The night grew late. The soft chime of Fu Shicang’s phone reminding him to charge it brought An Leyan back to his senses. He grabbed his sleepwear and rushed into the bathroom.

By the time he came back out, Fu Shicang had already gone to bed.

The desk lamp was still on, dimmed to its lowest setting, casting a soft glow over the desk.

A corner of a sticky note peeked out from the book’s pages.

An Leyan tiptoed over and flipped the book open under the light.

On the sticky note, the handwriting was elegant yet sharp, carrying a hint of hidden intensity.

Fu Shicang had copied the first two lines of his notes word for word.

An Leyan: ……

“Is he saying my handwriting is ugly?”

He stuck out his tongue, glancing back at the figure on the bed with a look of grievance before turning off the light and getting into bed.

The next morning, before the alarm even rang, An Leyan woke up.

When he worked as Cang Ge’s personal assistant, his boss had an extremely strict and bizarre routine—sleep at 1 AM, wake at 6 AM, never changing. After years of this, it had become second nature to him. He no longer needed an alarm, waking up at exactly 5:20 AM, washing up before preparing breakfast for his boss.

He bared his teeth at the mirror, peeling off a small face-slimming sticker hidden at his temple.

Last night, after meeting Fu Shicang, he had freshened up, but he was still wary of the production crew pulling a surprise visit at dawn. So even after washing his face, he had kept his eyes drooping slightly.

But today, he could relax just a little.

Carefully adjusting his eye shape in the mirror, he moved quietly downstairs.

It was only when he opened the fridge to look for ingredients that he remembered—Fu Shicang upstairs didn’t need to wake up early to prepare for work. He didn’t have to rush out to beat the morning traffic or attend daily morning meetings. He didn’t even need to be up before 8 AM.

Because right now, this variety show was his job, and today’s earliest scheduled activity wasn’t until after 9 AM.

A wave of relief washed over him, but unexpectedly, he also felt a little… empty.

What should he do with all this extra time?

An Leyan took a trip to the nearby supermarket. After putting away the breakfast ingredients he bought, he strolled into the villa’s gym.

The gym seemed to be a specially constructed space, located at the far end of the back porch.

Its glass walls let in the morning sunlight, and the equipment inside was top-notch.

He had just stepped onto the elliptical machine when Mu Wei walked in.

“You’re here?” Mu Wei sounded a little surprised. “I heard some noise and wondered who it was. Couldn’t sleep?”

An Leyan maintained his steady rhythm on the machine as he replied, “I slept fine. I’m just used to waking up at this time. Lying there doing nothing feels worse than getting up and moving around.”

“Yeah, same here,” Mu Wei shamelessly agreed, completely glossing over the fact that he hadn’t actually gone to sleep yet. He walked over to the Smith machine next to the elliptical.

He bent down to pick through the barbell plates as if choosing the right weight, but his gaze subtly drifted toward An Leyan.

From this angle, the boy’s slender waist and long legs were on full display. Especially while exercising, his waist tightened noticeably, and beneath his loose workout pants, the curve of his hips was faintly visible.

A few minutes later, Mu Wei cleared his throat, walked to the water station, and took a sip. After a moment of silence, he finally returned to the equipment area.

This time, he actually started doing squats properly.

Zhang Mao woke up fairly early that day. Figuring that the guests wouldn’t be up yet, he wandered into the control room while brushing his teeth, planning to review last night’s late-night dinner footage.

But as soon as he stepped in, he saw someone on the gym’s surveillance feed.

So much energy! They had gone to bed past 1 AM, and now it was barely past 6—how was someone already up?

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, Director Zhang quickly adjusted the gym’s camera to focus on the two people inside. Then he shook awake the cameraman, Xiao Li, who was napping on a small cot nearby.

“Keep an eye on them,” he mumbled around his toothbrush before hurrying off to the shared restroom to spit out the foam and splash some water on his face.

By the time he rushed back, Xiao Li had already zoomed in on the two men.

At this point, An Leyan had stepped off the elliptical and was now doing arm exercises under Mu Wei’s guidance.

“Yeah, just like that. Don’t let your waist collapse, keep your core tight.”

Mu Wei stood to An Leyan’s side, his hand lightly pressing against the small of his back.

His palm was warm. Even though he only touched him for a second before pulling away, he was still close enough that An Leyan could feel the lingering heat from his hand.

Feeling slightly uneasy, An Leyan shifted away, only to be gently nudged back into place by Mu Wei’s other hand.

“You can’t relax this part,” Mu Wei’s fingers hovered over his lower abdomen. “Okay, lift your arms.”

“Holy crap, their chemistry is off the charts,” Xiao Li murmured, carefully adjusting the camera angle to capture their interaction from all perspectives.

Director Zhang personally maneuvered a ceiling camera to get a downward shot.

An Leyan’s physique was at that in-between stage—broad-shouldered but not yet filled out. From this angle, his waist looked slim enough to be held in two hands.

Right now, he was kneeling on a dumbbell bench, his back moving in sync with his arm motions, his shoulder blades subtly shifting beneath his fitted athletic shirt.

Standing beside him, Mu Wei was tall and imposing, slightly bent forward, hands positioned protectively around An Leyan.

“Ayy, they look great together!” Associate Director Wang entered with two other cameramen, carrying breakfast. “I’d say it’s safe to conclude that Mu Wei has a thing for An Leyan.”

“Mu Wei’s always been a flirt. Yesterday, he was cozying up to practically every guest. What makes you think this time it’s not just habit?” Xiao Li asked, biting into a steamed bun.

“Heh, I’ve run into Mu Wei at the gym before,” Wang chuckled. “Watched him flirt with over a dozen people in a month. Every single time, it was dripping with tension, like something out of a romance flick.” He popped a soup dumpling into his mouth. “But never—not once—have I seen him restrain himself like this. He’s actually being careful.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he noticed the entire control room had gone silent, everyone staring at him.

“What?” Wang wiped his mouth.

“It’s just…” Xiao Li gave him a once-over. “You’re really dedicated. Going to the gym and still making time to gather gossip. Doesn’t that affect your workouts?”

Wang looked down at his own beer belly, then smacked Xiao Li on the head. “Brat! Who asked for the cold hard truth?”

Laughter filled the room.

Xiao Li, red-faced, tried to save face. “But An Leyan doesn’t seem to feel anything at all.”

“It’s only been a short time,” Director Zhang scoffed. “And who says chemistry only happens when both people have feelings?”

His eyes stayed glued to the monitor. “This pacing is perfect. If it moves too fast, it’ll cut off other possibilities. The audience wouldn’t like that.”

“Ohh~” The other cameramen nodded in agreement.

“Hey, someone else just came in—looks like Fu Shicang!”

Outside the glass-walled gym, Fu Shicang lingered for a moment before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“An Leyan,” he pointed toward the second floor. “Nie Changxing is looking for you.”

“Huh? Is it urgent?” An Leyan quickly set down his dumbbells.

“Not sure,” Fu Shicang replied impassively. “He’s been knocking on the door all morning.”

“Sorry, I’ll go find him now.” An Leyan stood up.

Mu Wei watched him leave with some reluctance before turning to Fu Shicang. “You here to work out too?”

Fu Shicang gave him a blank look. “No. I’m taking a walk.”

With that, he turned and strode through the villa’s first floor, heading straight outside.