Guan Ciyan thrust into him like a madman, and they watched each other fall deeper and deeper.

Jian Yang didn’t get up until the next day. By the afternoon, he was still limping a little. He forced himself to get ready for Su Jin’s wrap-up party. His own scenes would be finishing in a couple of days, too.

Jiang Ke had already lined up several jobs for him. Jian Yang looked at a few variety show proposals and fell into deep thought.

It was ending.

His upcoming work was all in variety shows, which meant that Guan Ciyan wouldn’t be staying with the crew like he had before. Jian Yang didn’t even know where he’d be living yet.

If it wasn’t too far, he could move back to Guan Ciyan’s villa.

But whether Guan Ciyan would actually return to the villa was another question.

A sense of unease crept into Jian Yang’s heart.

He wasn’t as carefree as he thought he was. The physical closeness between them had unknowingly brought him psychologically closer to Guan Ciyan, too. He was overthinking things—before they had even separated, he was already wondering when they’d see each other again.

Jian Yang set the proposal aside and went to the bathroom to wash his face. Water dripped from his chin, his pale skin appearing almost translucent. He touched the corner of his eye and suddenly realized something—he wasn’t afraid of water anymore.

His eyes could now handle water and sunlight like a normal person’s.

Leaning closer to the mirror, he saw that his pupils had deepened into a rich amber. They were still slightly different from an ordinary person’s, but they were clear and beautiful.

His complexion looked healthier, his expression more spirited.

He hadn’t been sick in a long time. The frequent colds, fevers, stomach pains, dizziness, and blackouts that had plagued him for years—none of them had happened recently.

The days spent with Guan Ciyan had allowed him to live like a healthy person for a few months.

“Ah…”

Jian Yang allowed himself to acknowledge the unspoken dependence he had developed on Guan Ciyan.

Who could possibly resist this?

He dialed Jiang Ke’s number.

“Help me find a place. Just something clean, not too big, with good security.”

“Young master, you—”

“Jiang Ke, you’re two years older than me. Just call me Jian Yang,” he corrected. That title, ‘young master,’ was never really his to begin with.

“Did you have a falling-out with Director Guan?” Jiang Ke asked.

“No, I just have a lot of work lined up. If I go home late, Uncle Zhang always waits up for me. I don’t want to make him worry. If it’s too late sometimes, I’d rather just have my own place to stay.” Jian Yang’s voice was calm and even. “Oh, and Director Guan might not agree with this, so don’t tell him. I won’t be staying there too often anyway.”

Jiang Ke could only agree. “Alright. Have you decided on any of the variety shows I sent you? You haven’t had much exposure since Director Xu’s drama. Now that filming is done, it’d be good to make an appearance.”

“It’s fine. As long as the audience remembers my roles, that’s enough. If an actor appears on too many variety shows, it can pull people out of the immersion when they watch their dramas. I’ll just do the wilderness survival one—two days, one night.” Jian Yang said.

After talking with Bai Shun, he had made up his mind—he was giving up on the traffic-driven path to stardom.

Jiang Ke had no say in his career decisions, so things were quickly arranged.

After a few more hectic days of filming, the drama was officially wrapped up!

Since this was one of Guan Ciyan’s top-tier S+ projects, the boss himself had organized a grand wrap party. Even Wen Ye, who had tried to escape to the airport with his bag, was dragged back to attend.

Jian Yang casually threw on a button-up shirt and was about to leave when Guan Ciyan handed him a new one.

“This one looks better.”

“Come on, they’re just colleagues. We’ve all seen each other in worse states,” Jian Yang waved him off. He preferred his old, worn-out cotton T-shirt—it was his work uniform. If he woke up late, he could just throw it on and head out.

Rolling in the rain, crawling through the mud—wearing old clothes was nothing.

Guan Ciyan nodded. Fine, let him be.

He was still young. A little wear and tear made him look charmingly unpolished.

Most of the crew dressed casually like Jian Yang—after all, everyone just wanted to clock out and relax.

But the moment they entered the private dining room, everyone seemed a bit… restrained.

——Who decided to decorate an internal wrap party this extravagantly?!

——Who put up the purple balloons on the wall?!

——Why are there blue irises everywhere?!

——And how did they transport these tropical plants in here?!

——Director, what’s up with this giant life-size poster?! Was that really necessary?!

“I can still make it in time for dinner if I run home and change.”

“I’m going with you. These pants are way too tight—I can’t eat like this. I’m planning to devour three whole bowls tonight.”

Judging by the setup, the food wasn’t going to be bad.

More people started arriving, some even in full makeup and high heels.

Jian Yang turned to Guan Ciyan with a resentful look.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was like this?”

“I did tell you to change,” Guan Ciyan protested innocently.

Jian Yang wasn’t convinced. “What exactly is the meaning of all this?”

The dreamy purple-themed wrap party was unheard of.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Jian Yang sat down in confusion beside an equally bewildered Wen Ye. “Director, is purple your lucky color?”

“Huh?” Wen Ye wasn’t really paying attention.

Jian Yang casually asked as he reached for some pre-dinner fruit when suddenly—the lights went out…

A purple cake was pushed in by Bo Shun, its soft candlelight reflecting off his simple white shirt, giving him the aura of a university senior. The warm lighting deepened the purple tones, and the evening breeze carried the scent of gardenias. For a moment, Jian Yang was entranced.

Bo Shun pushed the cake toward Jian Yang, then walked past him, crouching slightly in front of Wen Ye. “I’m here.”

Jian Yang glanced left and right. Oh wow, he really had no awareness—choosing to sit right next to Wen Ye at this moment.

Within the circle of gazes, it was just the three of them!

“Wen Ye, though everyone already knows, I still want to make it clear—I really, really like you. I want to be with you every day, to hold your hand in public, to introduce you to the world as my lover—the one person I want to spend my life with…”

Bo Shun confessed passionately. Jian Yang slowly edged his foot along the floor, trying to slide away. Guan Ciyan was snickering beside him. Jian Yang smacked his shoulder. “You knew and didn’t tell me?!”

Guan Ciyan looked down at Jian Yang’s puffed-up, indignant expression and chuckled. “Well, that’s what you get for not sitting next to me.”

“How could I sit next to you?! You’re everyone’s boss! How could I just sit next to you?” Jian Yang was dying of embarrassment.

Guan Ciyan’s gaze darkened slightly.

He was the boss—so Jian Yang felt the need to maintain distance. Deep down, Jian Yang still had reservations. Their relationship had been built upon an undeniable power gap. Even if Jian Yang now understood Guan Ciyan’s feelings, he still wouldn’t stand openly beside him.

Guan Ciyan looked over at Bo Shun, who was kneeling on one knee, waiting for Wen Ye’s answer, and then reached out to ruffle Jian Yang’s hair.

His feelings, spoken aloud, might not yet carry enough weight in Jian Yang’s eyes.

The paperwork for the island had been finalized, and the fleet was almost ready. But Guan Ciyan still felt it wasn’t enough. Jian Yang deserved more.

On the other side, Wen Ye accepted the flowers, and amidst the cheering of the crowd, the two of them held hands to cut the cake. Wen Ye remained as calm as ever, but the tips of his ears secretly turned red. “I’ll give you this one chance. If you mess it up, that’s it.”

“I won’t. I’ve had too much experience failing already.”

Bo Shun had arranged for the media in advance. Almost immediately, photos of the proposal were released alongside a pre-written news article. Every word Bo Shun had spoken, he made sure to act upon.

He announced to the world: Bo Shun and Wen Ye were not only kindred spirits and confidants, but also lovers.

A wedding wouldn’t be far off.

Jian Yang almost teared up. He turned to look at Guan Ciyan, who was frowning at his phone, typing frantically, as if a one-minute delay could cost the company billions. Jian Yang sighed. Love was much more entertaining when watching others experience it.

Bo Shun and Wen Ye had money, fame—everything they could ever want—and now, they had love too.

That was just life.

Feeling sentimental, Jian Yang took out his packed schedule. At least, from now on, he wouldn’t be short on money.

As for love—if it came, it came. If not, so be it.

Guan Ciyan couldn’t stand the overwhelming sweetness in the air. Half the people in the room were crying over Bo Shun and Wen Ye’s beautiful love story. He was happy for Bo Shun—Bo Shun was probably the closest thing he had to a real friend in his life.

But beyond that, he felt nothing.

The atmosphere in the private room was like an overly enthusiastic, well-meaning person—hard to fault, yet suffocating.

Guan Ciyan reached for Jian Yang’s hand. Jian Yang pulled away, wiping his tears. Guan Ciyan found himself feeling out of place. He opened the private room door and stepped out.

At the end of the hallway, there was a small balcony. In the scent of gardenias, Guan Ciyan smelled the lingering sweetness of cake on himself, mixed with the floral notes of the ambient candlelight. He lifted his sleeve and took a sniff, then let out a self-mocking laugh.

Leaving a party and not smelling like smoke or alcohol, but rather a pastry shop.

The happiness inside was making him dizzy, so he stepped out onto the balcony for some air. The summer heat blended with the floral fragrance, adding a faint sweetness to the night. Or maybe it was just his mood making everything seem saccharine.

Bo Shun really knew how to pick the perfect moment—even the temperature was ideal for love to blossom.

What kind of moment should he choose to make up for Jian Yang?

But there was no time left for choosing. The island and fleet needed to be delivered soon.

“Director Guan?”

Following the voice, Guan Ciyan turned to see a face that strongly resembled Jian Yang’s—same almond-shaped eyes, but with a worldly sharpness in them.

“You,” Jian Buqing tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, his long, delicate fingers curving elegantly. “What a coincidence.”

He didn’t say much, keeping a poised demeanor as he gracefully walked toward Guan Ciyan. The hem of his long coat fluttered slightly in the breeze, and every step was measured, as if a posture instructor was watching from behind.

Guan Ciyan raised an eyebrow, a faintly disdainful smile appearing at the corner of his lips.

Ever since he took control of the Guan family, he had encountered countless people trying to curry favor, seduce, or impress him. Jian Buqing’s tactics were far from sophisticated.

Guan Ciyan deliberately remained silent, watching as Jian Buqing leaned against the railing, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the fresh air. “It’s just more comfortable being alone.”

“Oh,” Jian Buqing let out a short syllable. “Director Guan, I wasn’t talking about you. I just meant that the private room was too noisy, and I don’t drink, so I came out for some peace and quiet.”

After speaking, he playfully stuck out his tongue, then looked up with a feigned innocent expression. “Director Guan, are you here for the same reason?”

Guan Ciyan leaned against the railing, looking Jian Buqing up and down—not politely. Unlike Jian Yang, Jian Buqing’s calculating ambition was painfully obvious, to the point of being crass. Even his parents were better at hiding their intentions.

Disgusting.

But those black pupils… they would make a great gift for Jian Yang.

He couldn’t get Jian Yang a spaceship, but he could give him a pair of normal eyes—the ones he had always longed for. That would make him happy.

“Yes.” Guan Ciyan didn’t leave right away.

Jian Buqing smiled with a hint of shyness. “Then let’s stay here secretly for a while, and not tell anyone.”

Yeah, right. If Jian Yang found out, he’d flip the world upside down.

Guan Ciyan nodded. “That outfit—doesn’t it make filming inconvenient?”

“It takes a little longer to change, but wearing clothes like this constantly reminds me to maintain proper posture. Loose T-shirts don’t suit me. I’ve studied opera since I was young, and my teachers were very strict.”

Jian Buqing subtly hinted at his refined upbringing, exuding an arrogant superiority. He was really overestimating himself if he thought he could pull that attitude in front of Guan Ciyan.

“Alright, I’ll have someone send you some outfits later. They’ll suit you well.”

Guan Ciyan enjoyed disorienting people with sweet words first. Those who didn’t know him had even praised his kindness.

“That would be too embarrassing,” Jian Buqing said shyly, but he did not refuse.

“It’s not a big deal,” Guan Ciyan thought to himself—he was eighty percent certain now. People who could be swayed by money were the easiest to control.

“I do have something important to ask you, Chairman Guan. I wonder if it’s appropriate.”

Guan Ciyan smiled. “If you don’t say it, how would I know whether it’s appropriate or not?”

“I want to audition for a role in Fuyu Shengtang’s new project, but I’m not sure if the role has already been internally assigned. Could you give me some insight?”

Guan Ciyan was now fully confident. “I can’t oversee every project personally. Tell me which role you want—I’ll give it to you.”

Jian Buqing tightened his grip on the railing, his heart pounding. His one-of-a-kind classical elegance was truly powerful. That fool Guan Jingyu hesitated too much, but Guan Ciyan was generous and decisive.

“Then… may I have your contact information?”

Jian Yang walked out of the private room to look for someone and happened to see Jian Buqing holding Guan Ciyan’s phone. The purple cake in his hand slipped onto his shoe. He took half a step back before turning and running in the opposite direction.

No, why?

Guan Ciyan’s trajectory had completely changed, so why was he still with Jian Buqing?

He hated people touching his things—why was Jian Buqing holding his phone?

Jian Yang splashed water on his face twice, staring into the mirror as he muttered to himself, “Don’t panic. Wen Ye’s movie is already finished. As soon as it premieres, he can leave.”

“Being a stand-in isn’t so bad. As long as I leave before Guan Ciyan gets tired of me, he won’t make things too difficult.”

A sense of unease gripped his chest. He clutched his shirt, struggling to breathe. “Don’t be afraid. You’re not the same person you were at the beginning.”

Jian Yang called Jiang Ke. “Jiang Ke.”

“Young Master, what’s wrong? Where are you? Why is your voice so hoarse? I’ll send a doctor right away.”

“No need,” Jian Yang swallowed hard and shook the water off his face. “Don’t call me ‘Young Master’ anymore.”

“…Jian Yang. Are you okay?”

“Mm. Jiang Ke, find another office location. We might move our company out of Fuyu Shengtang soon. Also, check how much money we have in the company accounts. Organize a financial report and send it to me later. And don’t tell him about this yet.”

“Why? Jian Yang, we’re not ready to be independent yet—”

“What can’t you tell me?”

Guan Ciyan’s voice suddenly came from behind, as if he had appeared out of nowhere.