Guan Ciyan’s movements didn’t stop, as if he hadn’t heard anything. His palm pressed lightly against Jian Yang’s lower back and lifted slightly. Jian Yang instinctively wrapped his arms around the man’s neck.

He was thrown onto the living room sofa.

“Yangyang,” Guan Ciyan’s eyes surged with emotion, intense enough to be frightening. “Are you satisfied today?”

Jian Yang’s oxygen-deprived brain couldn’t process whose satisfaction he was referring to. He mumbled an indistinct response. When he was flipped over, he struggled, but his resistance was negligible. All he did was grasp the fingers Guan Ciyan had braced beside his ear.

Guan Ciyan was urgent in his movements but still bent down to ask him, “What’s wrong?”

Jian Yang lay on his side, half of his face pressed into the sofa. The rest was mostly hidden beneath his dark, damp hair—except for a pair of teary, glistening almond-shaped eyes that stood out. His reddened eyes trembled as he whispered, “Sir, I want to look at you.”

Guan Ciyan kissed the tip of his nose. “Baby, don’t be like this. I’m not exactly a gentleman.”

…

His whole body burned like he had been walking under the scorching sun for three hours. The air conditioning blew over him, but sweat still trickled down his ribs.

He wasn’t cold anymore. He was unbearably hot.

Like a fish pulled from the sea, the sweltering air onshore threatened to cook him alive.

At one point, he pleaded with Guan Ciyan, “Sir… Sir, that’s enough.”

“Hmm… is it?”

“Sir.” Jian Yang’s voice even carried a hint of a sob.

Guan Ciyan remained relentless, his motions unwavering. His fingers traced gently behind Jian Yang’s ear, wiping away a stray bead of sweat, his tone laced with amusement. “No, baby.”

“Isn’t this me proving my innocence?”

The words “innocence” and the force behind his movements carried a chasm-like contrast. Jian Yang, who never considered himself thin-skinned, still found himself unable to withstand it. He could only bury his face into the pillow, regretting his earlier outburst when he had teased Guan Ciyan about not giving his best effort.

“I’ve already given all my rations to you. Where would I even have the time to go elsewhere?”

Guan Ciyan shifted positions, lifting Jian Yang up to face him. “Tell me, am I right?”

“Yes, uh… it’s too…” Jian Yang, completely drained, slumped downward. “Too deep…”

“It’s fine.” Guan Ciyan always knew his limits. If he said it was fine, then it was fine.

Jian Yang had never been truly hurt before, nor had he suffered any grievances. Guan Ciyan always prioritized his well-being. There were times when Jian Yang had filming the next day, and even if Guan Ciyan hadn’t finished, he would stop halfway because he noticed Jian Yang’s legs trembling.

One time, Jian Yang had to shoot a horseback riding scene. The safety precautions were well done—his skin wasn’t scraped, but the saddle had chafed his muscles so badly that they ached unbearably. He never mentioned it to Guan Ciyan, nor did he think he had shown any discomfort. But Guan Ciyan forced him to confess where he was hurting.

Jian Yang admitted that it was from filming. Guan Ciyan’s face instantly darkened, which scared Jian Yang into thinking he was displeased. Instead, Guan Ciyan stormed out and returned with a basin of hot water, applying warm compresses to the sore spots for most of the night.

And in the process, he also took matters into his own hands to help Jian Yang “relieve” himself, making sure he drifted off to sleep utterly content.

At one point, Jian Yang thought Guan Ciyan treated him like a precious tool—one that he carefully maintained to ensure it wouldn’t break down.

So, Jian Yang felt safe entrusting himself to him. After all, a rookie driver always needs an experienced one in the passenger seat. Only someone with expertise can ensure a smooth and safe journey.

But this time, the “old driver” was a little out of control. Jian Yang kept saying the car was out of gas, yet Guan Ciyan was still flooring the accelerator.

In the end, Jian Yang completely surrendered, slipping into unconsciousness.

When he woke up the next day, both his body and the bed were clean and dry. He felt an odd sense of satisfaction. Even though Guan Ciyan was still in love with Jian Buqing, at least his own fate was better than what had happened in the original storyline. Guan Ciyan wouldn’t even let him feel pain in bed—surely, he wouldn’t seek revenge just because Jian Buqing provoked him.

“You’re awake?” Guan Ciyan entered the room as if he had cameras monitoring him.

Jian Yang tilted his head at him. “How did you know?”

Guan Ciyan pulled open the curtains, walked to the bedside, and placed neatly prepared clothes next to him with a natural motion. “Baby, can you get up? I want to take you somewhere.”

Jian Yang’s thoughts drifted with the sunlight spilling through the curtains. It felt as though they had lived like this for a long time. The way Guan Ciyan treated him—it wasn’t like a lover, nor like a mere fling. No one would stay overnight with a casual hookup and, the next morning, smile so sincerely, looking both excited and expectant while asking to go out together.

Jian Yang realized he wasn’t strong at all. The psychological walls he had just built crumbled instantly under a single look from Guan Ciyan.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell? I’ll call a doctor.” Guan Ciyan reached for his phone.

“No need.” Jian Yang rubbed his nose and chuckled softly. “Calling a doctor for this would be way too embarrassing.”

The next second, as he got out of bed, his feet touched the floor—and he immediately collapsed to his knees.

Fortunately, Guan Ciyan reacted quickly, catching him by the arms. His expression flickered with guilt.

Jian Yang’s eyes widened in shock as he looked at his legs, feeling the soreness creeping up. “Guan… Sir… what did you do?”

“What did I do? Don’t you know?”

Jian Yang flopped back onto the bed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not going anywhere today.”

“No rush. Rest first.” Guan Ciyan leaned down and whispered, “So? Can you feel now that I gave it my all?”

“I was wrong, I was wrong, Sir,” Jian Yang muttered helplessly, nearly in tears. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. Can you please stop now?”

“No—”

“I’m hungry.” Jian Yang cut him off before he could refuse. “Very hungry, Sir.”

“Fine.”

Guan Ciyan left the room, but before exiting, he turned back to glance at Jian Yang, looking quite pleased. Jian Yang forced a smile in return.

But the moment the door shut, his smile faded.

This couldn’t go on.

He turned his head toward the window. The branches outside were sprouting fresh buds, while last year’s fallen leaves had long since turned into nourishment for the new growth. The world outside still had so many beautiful things.

He couldn’t just wait for the seasons to change, only to become another fallen leaf—something discarded, merely a stepping stone for someone else’s love story.

Ending things now would be the best outcome. That way, if Guan Ciyan ever remembered him in the future, he would always remain perfect in his mind.

As for Guan Ciyan, Jian Buqing, and Guan Jingyu’s messy love triangle?

Well, he’d just have to wish them luck.

“I’m hungry.” Jian Yang didn’t give Guan Ciyan a chance to refute. “Very hungry, sir.”

“Alright.”

Guan Ciyan left. At the doorway, he turned back to glance at Jian Yang, looking quite happy. Jian Yang smiled at him, but once the door closed, his smile gradually faded.

This couldn’t go on.

Jian Yang turned to look out the window. The branches had sprouted clusters of new buds, last year’s fallen leaves had turned into nutrients, nourishing their growth. There were still many beautiful things in the world outside. He couldn’t just wait for the seasons to pass, becoming a withered leaf, quietly exiting at the right time, only to serve as nourishment for someone else’s emotional development.

Ending things now with Guan Ciyan was the best choice. In the future, if Guan Ciyan ever remembered him, it would always be in his best form.

As for the love triangle between Guan Ciyan, Jian Buqing, and Guan Jingyu—well, he could only wish him good luck.

After the wrap party, the crew completely moved out of the hotel. Jian Yang slept for two rounds on his bed, and by nighttime, the soreness in his legs and certain unspeakable places had eased a little. Guan Ciyan had been busy organizing everything, so Jian Yang got up to help—mainly because many of the herbs he used for brewing medicine were sourced by Guan Ciyan. If they got lost or broken, there would be no replacements.

Dressed in casual homewear, Jian Yang watched the staff move things out of the room. As he followed them to the elevator, he caught a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye.

Jian Yang froze, then hurried after it, turning a corner to see Jian Buqing.

So it really was him.

He had moved in here too.

Jian Yang hadn’t even left yet, and Guan Ciyan had already arranged for him to stay on this floor?

He told himself not to overthink it, but his mind kept looping back to the same question—when did Guan Ciyan and Jian Buqing get back in touch?

They had spent almost all their time together. No matter how he looked at it, Guan Ciyan wouldn’t have had the time.

Then again, the power of the plot was strong. Maybe all it took was a single glance, and Guan Ciyan fell in love.

It wouldn’t even take long.

“What are you doing here?” Guan Ciyan suddenly appeared behind Jian Yang.

“Nothing. Thought I saw someone I knew.”

“Who?” Guan Ciyan’s tone became serious. Two days ago, he had seen Jian Yang hugging the actor who played Su Jin during their farewell. It had looked suspicious—do coworkers really need to hug for that long?

Jian Yang stared at Guan Ciyan, his expression turning cold. “No one.”

Why was he so nervous? Just how much did Guan Ciyan care about Jian Buqing?

Guan Ciyan felt like he had just been slapped. No one had ever spoken to him like this before. Jian Yang’s audacity was growing by the day.

“Then let’s go back,” Guan Ciyan’s tone also cooled. “You need to rest. We have things to do tomorrow.”

Jian Yang rolled his eyes and walked away.

It hadn’t even come to anything yet, and he was already being dismissed.

Serves you right for being a cannon fodder love interest.

Guan Ciyan was both surprised and confused. What was with Jian Yang’s attitude?

“Not going to argue with you,” he muttered to himself, giving himself an out before going back to arranging the next day’s trip.

Boys—hot tempers were normal.

Let’s just say he was still in his rebellious phase.

Thinking himself magnanimous, Guan Ciyan even invited Jian Yang to dinner that night. Jian Yang hadn’t really been that upset about Jian Buqing—he had just been momentarily annoyed. And in the face of good food, he wasn’t going to hold a grudge against himself.

They spent their last night at the hotel. The next day, Guan Ciyan personally drove Jian Yang away.

As soon as he got in the car, Jian Yang fell asleep.

Months of filming had exhausted him, and he hadn’t had the chance to sleep in properly. Plus, oh—he worked during the day and was busy at night.

Truly, he had it rough.

When he woke up from a full sleep, they were still on the highway.

Jian Yang slowly sat up, looking out the window. His hair was messy, and the strands caught the light, revealing a faint golden hue. “Aren’t we going back to the villa?”

He had even bought a gift for Uncle Zhang.

“We are, but not yet.”

“Then where are we going now?”

The car stopped by the seaside. A setting sun hung low in the western sky, casting an orange-red glow over the sea. The entire beach stretched endlessly, the coastline blending into the horizon.

Jian Yang felt so small.

Against the vast ocean and sky, he was no different from a grain of sand.

To the universe, he was insignificant.

To the world, he was unimportant.

Only the rising and setting sun, the ebb and flow of the tide, were real.

“So beautiful,” Jian Yang murmured.

Such boundless beauty carried a kind of pressure, a force that shook the soul.

Jian Yang had never seen such a stunning coastline before. Guan Ciyan had put in effort for him again.

“Thank you.” Jian Yang was quick to anger but also quick to forgive.

A little bit of sincerity, and he would be satisfied.

Guan Ciyan raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the dark specks appearing on the distant ocean.

Jian Yang squinted. The shapes became clearer.

Sails. A hull. A three-story ship.

A dozen ships arranged in a sharp formation, their sails printed with his name—Jian Yang.

Jian Yang’s wide almond eyes could barely contain the grandeur of the scene.

Guan Ciyan wrapped an arm around his waist, his voice calm and casual.

“Jian Yang, happy wrap-up.”

“W-Wrap-up?” Jian Yang felt dizzy.

A fleet… something he had rarely even seen in novels.

Even after boarding, he still felt lightheaded. He stood on the deck for a long time, letting the sea breeze wash over him. Guan Ciyan quietly stayed by his side, feeling a little relieved.

Judging by Jian Yang’s reaction, he was pleased.

All his preparation, all his patience—it had been worth it.

He hoped Jian Yang would remember this day forever.

A Western-style dinner was prepared on the ship, and they dined on the deck. The sea breeze carried a hint of saltiness. Guan Ciyan brought over a shawl and draped it over Jian Yang. “Are you cold?”

Jian Yang shook his head but still sincerely said, “You really put thought into this.”

Guan Ciyan couldn’t hide the proud smile at the corner of his lips as he refilled Jian Yang’s glass of red wine.

The ship drifted on the sea for an hour before Guan Ciyan appeared behind Jian Yang, holding a silk scarf. “Baby, close your eyes.”

Jian Yang’s lips parted slightly. “It’s not over yet?”

“Be good.”

The Hermès silk scarf covered Jian Yang’s eyes. Deprived of his sight, he instinctively tensed up, gripping Guan Ciyan’s hand tightly.

“Careful, there are steps.”

Jian Yang leaned a little closer to Guan Ciyan. When his feet finally touched solid ground, he still felt a bit dizzy from the rocking of the boat. The ground beneath him was soft—when he stepped down, his shoes sank slightly. It was probably still a beach.

“Where are we going?” Jian Yang asked.

“Just trust me.” Guan Ciyan said nothing more.

They walked for about ten minutes before Jian Yang caught a scent of damp greenery. The fragrance was unfamiliar—not something that belonged to the city.

“Sir.” Jian Yang’s voice carried a hint of apprehension.

“I’m here.”

“Are we there yet?”

Sensing that the person beside him had stopped, Jian Yang also halted.

“Look at you, so scared.” Guan Ciyan chuckled from behind him. “Alright, here it is.”

The silk scarf was untied.

The golden hues of the sunset bathed the island, deep green foliage tinged with orange-red light, like a magnificent oil painting. Every tree branch stretched out wildly, untrimmed shrubs exuding a dangerous yet untamed beauty.

Dong—

A church bell tolled.

Atop a natural rise in the wild, half-hidden by trees, stood a small white chapel.

At this moment, words felt inadequate. Jian Yang didn’t know how to describe the breathtaking sight before him. Not even the greatest painter could replicate such a harmonious yet striking contrast of colors. Every shade was bold and rich.

“Is this a newly developed resort?” Jian Yang felt honored to be its first witness.

“It’s for you.” Guan Ciyan watched his changing expressions with satisfaction. “The beach, the fleet, the island—they’re all yours.”