After Dumping the Scumbag, I Ended Up with His "White Moonlight” - Chapter 1

B City, Night.

“Xiao Yi, I’m sorry. The director added a last-minute scene that’s going to run until dawn. I won’t be able to make it back for your birthday. Xiao Yang will drop off your gift later.”

On the other end of the line was Shen Nian’s voice—cool and indifferent, as always. The excitement Qiu Yuyi felt when the phone first rang slowly wilted into disappointment. He gripped the device, forcing his voice to remain steady so he wouldn’t sound too dejected. “It’s okay, Brother Nian. Work comes first. Yichen brought a cake over; I’ll save a slice for when you get back.”

“No need to save me any,” Shen Nian rejected him outright. “I have a magazine cover shoot in S City tomorrow. I have an early flight, so I’m heading straight to a hotel near the airport after we wrap tonight.”

Qiu Yuyi wanted to say more, but he heard someone calling Shen Nian’s name in the background.

“I have to get back to set. Talk later.” Without waiting for a response, Shen Nian hung up.

“Sigh.” Qiu Yuyi let out a long breath. Today was his 22nd birthday, and also their second anniversary. He had been looking forward to this for a month. With the help of the housekeeper, he had spent all day preparing a full table of dishes.

Suppressing the gloom in his heart, he patted his cheeks to fix his expression before stepping out of the bedroom.

In the living room, Su Yichen was sprawled on the sofa watching a talent survival show from a few years ago. He had rewatched this specific show at least ten times in the last two years; he was obsessed with the contestant who had taken the center position in the finale.

Because Su Yichen mentioned him daily, Qiu Yuyi knew the man was named Xia Di’an. After the temporary group disbanded two years ago, Xia Di’an had flown abroad to study music and hadn’t returned since.

Looking at the face on the screen, Qiu Yuyi couldn’t help but acknowledge that Xia Di’an truly had the “it” factor. He wasn’t a traditional, ruggedly handsome man. On screen, Xia Di’an had slightly long, dark brown hair and a pair of captivating “peach blossom” eyes set above a straight, elegant nose. His skin was strikingly pale, several shades lighter than the contestants standing next to him.

Qiu Yuyi also noticed that Xia Di’an’s eyes were the same color as his own—a light, honeyed brown.

“Xiao Yi, done with the call?” Su Yichen turned around, seeing Qiu Yuyi staring blankly at the TV. “What did the Great Film Emperor say? When is he coming back?”

“He has to film until morning, so he can’t make it. It’s fine, let’s just eat.” Qiu Yuyi pulled Su Yichen toward the dining table and pressed him into a chair.

As Su Yichen watched Qiu Yuyi force a smile while ladling soup, he could tell his friend’s mood had plummeted.

“He’s not even coming back for your birthday?” Su Yichen said irritably. “If I recall correctly, he completely forgot your birthday last year, didn’t he?”

Qiu Yuyi’s hand stiffened for a moment before he resumed ladling as if nothing were wrong. “Yeah.”

He couldn’t help but make excuses for Shen Nian. “He was just too busy last year, so—”

Su Yichen rolled his eyes and cut him off. “Busy, busy, busy. So busy he forgot your birthday? Do you actually believe that? He just doesn’t care enough.” Seeing Qiu Yuyi’s smile becoming more strained, Su Yichen softened his tone. “Fine, fine. You gave up acting for him, and I went along with it. I’m just frustrated for you. Your career was finally gaining momentum two years ago.”

Every time he thought about it, Su Yichen felt a surge of anger.

Two years ago, Qiu Yuyi had been lucky enough to land the third male lead in a major historical production. His styling was exquisite, and the character was a “beautiful, strong, yet tragic” archetype—the kind that fans adore. When it aired last year, it became a massive “tear-jerker” and earned him a loyal following. Directors had flooded him with scripts, including some brilliant roles that could have catapulted him to stardom.

But because of a single sentence from Shen Nian—“Stop staying in the entertainment industry”—Qiu Yuyi had made Su Yichen reject every single offer.

Even as an outsider, Su Yichen could see the hunger for acting in Qiu Yuyi’s eyes. Yet, Shen Nian couldn’t see it.

Or perhaps he saw it and simply didn’t care.

Qiu Yuyi remained silent, placing the soup in front of Su Yichen before serving himself. After taking a sip, he frowned slightly. “The housekeeper’s cooking seems to have gone downhill.”

Su Yichen took a sip. “No, it tastes the same as always.”

“Really?” Qiu Yuyi paused and tried again. His brow furrowed; the flavor still felt off.

When your heart is heavy, nothing tastes right. To keep Qiu Yuyi from feeling worse, Su Yichen didn’t press the issue.

“Come on, Xiao Yi, stop drinking soup and eat some meat.” Su Yichen dropped a spare rib into his bowl. “Have you lost weight again? Your chin is so sharp it could cut paper.”

Qiu Yuyi offered a weak smile. “Just a couple of pounds. It’s hard to have an appetite when you’re always eating alone.”

“True. The Great Film Emperor goes from one set to the next; he never has time for you.” Su Yichen added, “If he won’t come back, why don’t you go visit him on set?”

Qiu Yuyi looked down, poking at his rice with his chopsticks. After a moment, he whispered, “He won’t let me. He says the paparazzi will catch us.”

After seeing Su Yichen out, Qiu Yuyi put the dishes in the sink.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said to himself.

Two years of living in isolation had turned talking to himself into a habit.

After his shower, he lay in bed and opened his music app. A clear, gentle voice filled the room—it was Su Yichen’s idol, Xia Di’an, singing his first original track, Solitude.

Qiu Yuyi loved this song. In the dead of night, he would always play it. The music made him feel that even on these lonely nights, he wasn’t truly alone.

As Xia Di’an’s voice drifted in his ears, his thoughts wandered back to two years ago.

That had been a terrible day.

That morning, Su Yichen had called to tell him that a role he was about to sign for had been given to someone else—someone recommended by an investor. That evening, on set, a popular “Liulang” (idol) actor had picked a fight with him.

Earlier that afternoon, the director had scolded the lead actor for his poor acting and bad line delivery in front of the entire crew, using Qiu Yuyi as a benchmark for “soulful acting.”

That same day, Shen Nian had arrived on set for a special guest appearance. He happened to witness the lead actor berating Qiu Yuyi, accusing him of being “disrespectful to seniors.”

Perhaps Shen Nian found his face pleasing, or perhaps those mist-filled eyes reminded him of someone buried deep in his heart, sparking a rare moment of pity.

Shen Nian had beckoned his assistant over and told him to go bail Qiu Yuyi out.

Over the next few days, when Shen Nian wasn’t filming, he would give Qiu Yuyi pointers on his acting. Since it was only a guest role, Shen Nian’s scenes were finished quickly. Before leaving, Shen Nian’s assistant, Xiao Yang, slipped a piece of paper into Qiu Yuyi’s hand.

Qiu Yuyi’s heart hammered against his ribs. He hurried to a secluded corner and opened the paper. On it was a phone number.

That night, Qiu Yuyi found Shen Nian’s WeChat via the number. After two hours of mental preparation, he finally summoned the courage to send a friend request.

He waited until he fell asleep, but no notification came. It wasn’t until three days later that Shen Nian finally accepted him.

Qiu Yuyi never dared to message him too often, fearing he would be a nuisance. He only sent a “Goodnight” every evening before bed. Shen Nian never replied. Qiu Yuyi wasn’t disappointed; to him, the fact that a “nobody” like him had the Film Emperor’s WeChat was already a miracle. He didn’t dare ask for more.

The turning point came on the day his drama wrapped. His character had died by the protagonist’s sword while trying to save his family.

After the shoot, Su Yichen saw him still in a daze—his small face pale, his light brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears, the beauty mark under his eye making him look devastatingly pitiable. Su Yichen couldn’t resist taking a photo and uploading it to Qiu Yuyi’s neglected Weibo account.

That night, Qiu Yuyi received his first WeChat message from Shen Nian.

A month later—on Qiu Yuyi’s 20th birthday—Shen Nian asked him over WeChat if he wanted to be together.

In the blink of an eye, two years had passed. Shen Nian was always filming. He rarely came home, and when he did, he stayed for only a few days. Even then, he preferred to hide in his study, often spending entire afternoons there alone.

Qiu Yuyi had never entered that study. Even the cleaning lady was forbidden from entering. It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious, but he felt it was Shen Nian’s private space, and he chose to respect that.

Shen Nian was currently working on a movie. Qiu Yuyi wasn’t allowed to visit the set, and Shen Nian was “too busy” to return. Even though they were filming in the same city, they hadn’t seen each other in two months.

Qiu Yuyi tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Insomnia had become a nightly companion over the last year. Whenever he couldn’t sleep, his mind would fill with cluttered thoughts.

Earlier that evening, Xiao Yang had delivered the gift: a watch from a brand Shen Nian endorsed. Both the style and the price tag were beautiful.

Qiu Yuyi had thanked the assistant and handed him the slice of cake he’d saved—the one with the most chocolate—asking him to bring it to Shen Nian.

He opened Weibo and scrolled through the trending topics. Habitually, he typed “Shen Nian” into the search bar.

The top posts on Shen Nian’s “Super Topic” were several photos of Shen Nian and Xia Di’an. They were from the survival show where Shen Nian had served as the mentor/producer. In the photos, Shen Nian was looking at Xia Di’an with a slight upturn of his lips and a remarkably gentle gaze.

Qiu Yuyi had seen these photos many times. He had once privately asked Shen Nian—on behalf of Su Yichen—if he knew Xia Di’an well and if he could get an autograph. Shen Nian hadn’t said a word; he had simply walked into his study and didn’t come out until dinner. After that, Qiu Yuyi never asked again, and he never mentioned Xia Di’an’s name in front of him.

Qiu Yuyi uploaded a photo of his birthday cake to Weibo. Because of that historical drama last year, he had gained a few hundred thousand followers. Though the engagement wasn’t what it used to be, he soon received over a hundred comments wishing him a happy birthday. A few fans even begged him to return to acting.

Acting.

Qiu Yuyi closed the app. To say he didn’t miss it would be a lie. He used to cherish every opportunity, pouring his heart into every role, even if it only lasted a few minutes on screen.

When Brother Nian comes back this time, I’ll bring it up, he thought.

Just then, a private message notification popped up from a familiar-looking username. He opened the chat and sent a quick reply.

Sudden exhaustion finally hit him, and he drifted into a deep sleep.

[XY: Happy Birthday.]

[Qiu Yuyi: Thank you! ^O^]

Dawn, Film Set.

The crew had just wrapped for the day.

“Brother Nian,” Xiao Yang said, handing over a box. “Brother Yi specifically saved the piece of cake with the chocolate for you.”

Shen Nian was staring blankly at his phone, looking at those old photos of him and Xia Di’an on the trending page.

He didn’t even glance at the cake. He waved his hand dismissively, his voice dripping with annoyance. “Throw it away. I don’t eat sweets.”

________________________________________

Author’s Note:

Before the Breakup:

Qiu Yuyi: I saved the best piece for Brother Nian.

Shen Nian: I don’t eat sweets. Throw it away.

After the Breakup:

Qiu Yuyi: I saved the best piece for Brother Xia.

Xia Di’an: Baby, feed me.

Shen Nian: I want some too.