Flirted Then Forgot Everything - Chapter 11.1

“Run? Run where?”

Jian Li was so hopelessly drunk that he couldn’t possibly provide a serious answer to Yu Cheng’s question. It was a miracle he could even understand what the man was saying.

Yu Cheng reached out and brushed Jian Li’s bangs back, peering intently into his eyes. At this proximity, their breaths mingled with the faint, fruity scent of the alcoholic beverage. Just then, Jian Li let out another soft little hiccup.

Yu Cheng released him instantly. Stripped of support, Jian Li tumbled right back into Yu Cheng’s arms. His forehead thudded against Yu Cheng’s chest, and he didn’t forget to take a few annoyed swipes at the firm, resilient muscles beneath his palms.

“What is this, so hard.”

With ice in his eyes, Yu Cheng pushed Jian Li away. He hadn’t expected the boy to offer no resistance, simply toppling backward like a falling tree.

“Tsk.”

Yu Cheng caught Jian Li’s arm just before he hit the floor, jerking him back. Jian Li was already dizzy; being pushed and pulled made his head feel like it was on a rollercoaster. He furrowed his brows in distress, mumbling weakly,

“Head’s spinning.”

Despite the complaint, he crawled back into Yu Cheng’s embrace, clutching the man’s lapels and pleading over and over, “Hold me, hold.”

Yu Cheng’s eyes lowered, his expression unreadable. Stripped of the mask he wore for the cameras, he looked dangerous. He picked up the drunken Jian Li, laid him on the sofa, and called Zhou Qingbai.

“Bring some hangover medicine. And a bowl of homemade rock sugar and pear.”

Zhou Qingbai already had an inkling of what was happening. Without asking questions, he agreed immediately.

When the call ended, Yu Cheng found Jian Li tugging at his shirt. Though blurred by alcohol, the boy forced his eyes open to stare at him. His lips were moving—no sound came out, but the shape of his mouth clearly said: Hold me.

Yu Cheng began prying Jian Li’s fingers away—one, two, three. Just as he was about to free himself, Jian Li’s lip trembled, and tears began to pool in his eyes.

“Wuu.”

At the sight of the tears, Yu Cheng froze. He didn’t dare pry any further, and Jian Li immediately took advantage, grabbing Yu Cheng’s shirt with both hands. Jian Li looked up, his moist eyes reflecting only one person: Yu Cheng.

Captivated by the sight, Yu Cheng leaned down and gave him a brief embrace, patting his back gently. Jian Li reached up to hook his arms around Yu Cheng’s neck, hanging onto him like a limpet. Yu Cheng eventually sat on the sofa, letting Jian Li sprawl across him. Only then did the boy settle down, forcing back the tears.

Zhou Qingbai arrived quickly. He knocked and waited a moment before the door opened. Inside, Yu Cheng was supporting Jian Li with one arm, letting him rest on his shoulder like a toddler, while holding out his other hand.

Zhou Qingbai’s lip twitched. He handed over the items without a word. The door slammed shut in his face. He turned, walked a few paces, and then covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, his professional image completely gone. If Yu Cheng saw him now, he’d surely face a salary deduction.

Inside, Yu Cheng returned to the sofa. He opened the hangover medicine, inserted a straw, and pressed it to Jian Li’s lips. Jian Li, nearly asleep, instinctively took a sip before turning his head away.

“So bitter.”

Yu Cheng was quick to shove a spoonful of rock sugar and pear into Jian Li’s mouth. The boy’s eyelashes fluttered, and he went quiet.

He continued the routine: one spoonful of pear, one sip of medicine. The small bowl of pear juice was just enough to help Jian Li finish the medicine. Yu Cheng checked the time; he figured he’d let Jian Li sleep a bit longer for the alcohol to wear off.

Looking at the empty bowl, Yu Cheng suddenly asked, “Is it good?”

Jian Li licked his lips and nodded against Yu Cheng’s shoulder, messing up his bangs.

Yu Cheng asked again, “Better than mine?”

Jian Li nodded without a second’s hesitation. In his memory, he had never tasted Yu Cheng’s cooking, so obviously, this was better.

Yu Cheng’s breath hitched. He stood up abruptly and dumped Jian Li onto the sofa. This time, no matter how much Jian Li whined or called out, he refused to hold him.

But as Yu Cheng reached the door and gripped the handle, a heavy thump sounded behind him. In his haste to follow, Jian Li had tumbled straight off the sofa.

Yu Cheng turned to see Jian Li sprawled on the floor, his clothes in disarray and his eyes red. Tears were splashing onto the ground as he cried out, “Don’t go, please don’t go! Don’t leave me!”

Yu Cheng gripped the door handle tight. After a long moment of standing there, he let go and walked back. He picked Jian Li up, placed him back on the sofa, and once again allowed the boy to burrow into his chest.

Jian Li was possessive, wrapping his arms tightly around Yu Cheng’s waist and nuzzling his chest with tearful devotion. His voice was shaky and choked with sobs, his wet eyelashes clumping together.

“Don’t go, please don’t leave me, I can’t take it.”

Yu Cheng’s heart gave a violent thud. He reached out to wipe a tear from the boy’s cheek.

Suddenly, Jian Li let out a tragic, gut-wrenching wail:

“Grandpa!”

Yu Cheng froze. He slowly lowered his head, his voice squeezed through grit teeth. “What did you just call me?”

Oblivious to the rage, Jian Li was lost in a drunken hallucination, sobbing hysterically. “Grandpa, don’t leave me! I haven’t had enough of your soybean paste noodles. Grandpa! Grandpa!”

Each cry of “Grandpa” sounded more heartbreaking than the last.

Every trace of emotion vanished from Yu Cheng’s face. He looked up, no longer watching Jian Li. Ignoring the pleas, he pried the boy’s arms off him and turned to leave without looking back.

Finding his arms empty, Jian Li lunged forward to grab him, falling to the floor just as the door slammed shut. He lay there crying until he eventually fell asleep.

The medicine was potent. Jian Li woke up about two hours later with a splitting headache. He sat up from the floor, looking dazed.

The moment he regained consciousness, the system blared in his head:

“Target Yu Cheng favorability -1.”

Before he could wonder why, Zhou Qingbai pushed the door open. He helped Jian Li onto the sofa and explained, “The drink Director Yang gave you was a high-concentration alcoholic beverage. You passed out. We gave you medicine, and you’ve been sleeping it off.”

“I was drunk?” Jian Li checked the time. “I slept that long!” He jumped up, but the dizziness sent him right back down.

Zhou Qingbai handed him a bottle of water. “Don’t rush. Drink some water and steady yourself. The shoot was delayed, so you’re just in time. Honestly, if you’re still feeling unwell, should we just call it a day?”

Jian Li waved him off frantically. “No, no! I’m going now!”

This was his first movie and he was a lead; he couldn’t flake on the poster shoot. He already felt guilty enough for the delay. He thanked Zhou Qingbai and ran to the set.

As he pulled back the curtain, he heard Yang Xu shout, “Haha! I win!”

Jian Li looked closer. Yang Xu was playing cards with the other actors, and everyone’s face was covered in paper strips. Seeing Jian Li, Yang Xu waved. “Oh, Xiao Jian, sobered up?”

Jian Li ran over and bowed in apology. “I’m so sorry, Director! Sorry everyone! I delayed things!”

Yang Xu waved it off. “Not your fault, it’s mine. I didn’t tell you it was alcoholic. Besides, someone is paying for the delay; it’s practically a paid break. No one’s complaining, hahaha!”

Someone is paying? Jian Li was confused, but Yang Xu didn’t explain. He called the stylists to fix everyone up and get ready for the shoot.

Yang Xu was a master of commercial films and marketing, but that didn’t mean he lacked professional skill. He had a unique touch for both filming and photography. And since this film wasn’t about money but winning awards, he had more creative freedom.

Because it was a dual-lead film, Yang Xu insisted that Yu Cheng and Jian Li shoot their posters together. Yu Cheng hadn’t said a word since Jian Li arrived, only stepping forward when Yang Xu called. Yang Xu explained the concept for the poster to both of them. Jian Li listened intently, terrified of making a mistake.

In the prop-filled set, Jian Li knelt on the ground in disarray, posing as if he were trying to crawl away in terror. One of his wrists was clamped in a black handcuff, being yanked back with force.

Yu Cheng stood behind him in a sharp suit, holding the other end of the handcuffs. He looked down at Jian Li with a gaze that held a trace of suppressed madness.

Yang Xu clicked the shutter frantically. After a few shots, he looked dissatisfied and walked onto the set himself. He bent over Jian Li, undoing a few buttons on his shirt and intentionally rumpling the fabric. Then, he looked at the pair thoughtfully.

“Jian Li, take off your pants.”

Jian Li froze. “Huh?”

Yang Xu’s expression was serious—purely professional. “What kind of underwear are you wearing? What color?”

Unused to the bluntness, Jian Li stole a glance at the expressionless Yu Cheng. “Wh-white boxers.”

Yang Xu nodded. “Fine. Go to the dressing room and take off the pants. Xiao Wu, help Jian Li into a larger shirt. Get him one in Yu Cheng’s size.”

Jian Li took a deep breath. He knew there would be even more awkward scenes once filming started; hesitation would only make him look unprofessional.

When he emerged from the dressing room, a few gasps rippled through the set. Jian Li was a top star with undeniable looks, but he usually wore loose-fitting clothes that hid his physique. Now, in an oversized shirt with no pants, his legs were completely exposed.

Jian Li’s legs were as pale and luminous as his face—straight, well-proportioned, and perfectly contoured. Yang Xu was clearly satisfied and urged him to hurry.

Jian Li walked over to Yu Cheng. The man seemed to glance at his legs—or perhaps he didn’t—but the air around him seemed to turn even colder. Maybe it’s just my imagination, Jian Li thought.

He knelt back down on the ground, settled into his pose, and closed his eyes to sink into the character’s headspace.

Yang Xu clicked the shutter incessantly, his voice crackling with excitement:

“Yes! Perfect! Fantastic!”

Once the first set was finished, Jian Li shifted his expression according to Yang Xu’s directions.

He remained on his knees, but his aura had transformed completely. Fear and panic were gone, replaced by a faint, knowing smirk. He cast a slight glance backward, chin tilted up, his eyes brimming with seduction and provocation.

Yu Cheng, too, dropped his icy detachment. He took a step forward, still gripping the other end of the handcuffs. The madness in his eyes was now laced with a flicker of bewilderment. His head was tilted slightly, resembling a young wolf led astray, unsure if the path forward was right or wrong.

“OK!”

Yang Xu’s loud shout signaled the end of the shoot.

Jian Li scrambled to his feet, the handcuffs rattling at his wrist. The other end of the cuffs came swinging toward him as Yu Cheng let go and walked away without a word.

The system materialized again, delivering its usual monotone report:

“Target Yu Cheng favorability -1.”

Jian Li hurried toward the dressing room, asking frantically in his mind:

“System! What is going on? Is your sensor broken? Why did his favorability drop twice today? Is all my progress going down the drain?”

The system’s mechanical voice was devoid of emotion:

“No error detected in assessment.”

Jian Li was anxious:

“Then what happened? Did I do something to him while I was drunk? You must know! Tell me!”

The system remained frustratingly flat, offering a reply that made Jian Li want to scream:

“I am sorry, but I cannot inform the host.”

Preoccupied and walking too fast, Jian Li didn’t notice Yu Cheng in front of him and walked straight into the man’s back.

Before Jian Li could even apologize, Yu Cheng side-stepped him. Without so much as a glance at Jian Li, he headed straight into his own dressing room.

Jian Li stood there, stunned. This version of Yu Cheng—the one who treated him with total indifference—felt exactly like the past year. It was as if they had regressed all the way back to square one.

Shortly after Yu Cheng entered his dressing room, Zhou Qingbai stepped out. Seeing Jian Li frozen in place, he offered a reminder:

“Jian Li? Why aren’t you changing? You’ll catch a cold if you stay like that.”

Jian Li suddenly remembered he was still pantless and sprinted into his dressing room.

By the time Jian Li finished changing, Yu Cheng had already left.

His hard-earned 62-point favorability had dropped back to 60. Jian Li spent the next few days on edge before packing his bags and joining the production crew.

On the day he moved into the set, he brought along a newly hired assistant. Coincidentally, this was also the day the promotional posters were to be released.

Yang Xu was known for his efficiency; he usually wrapped a film within three to six months. He never played coy with promotional materials either, usually releasing the official posters on the very first day of filming.

Fans familiar with Yang Xu’s work were well aware of this, and many netizens spent the day hovering over their devices, waiting to be the first to see the dual-lead reveal.

At noon, the official Imprison Your Love Xunsheng account released a set of nine photos without delay. The grid featured the supporting cast around the edges, with the center slot reserved for the dual leads: Yu Cheng and Jian Li.

Jian Li, like everyone else, was seeing the final result for the first time. He had expected two separate photos; he hadn’t expected a single, composite masterpiece.

Upon clicking the high-res image, Jian Li was speechless. He hadn’t realized that Yang Xu’s “hobby” was professional-grade.

He wasn’t the only one stunned—the internet was in an uproar.

The main image was divided into two halves. The upper half featured a clear, bright sky. Jian Li knelt on the ground in an oversized, ill-fitting shirt, his long legs marred with bruises from a fall. His face was a mask of helpless panic, one wrist handcuffed and being yanked backward—the picture of vulnerability. Standing behind him was Yu Cheng, looking down in silence at the youth attempting to flee. His eyes were pitch-black and brimming with madness, radiating a terrifying, “keep away” aura. It looked like a story of a desperate escape and an obsessive pursuit.

However, the bottom half of the photo revealed a puddle beneath their feet. The bright sky above appeared to be the calm after a storm. In the reflection of the puddle, a different version of them appeared.

In the same pose and the same clothes, Jian Li’s expression was no longer one of fear. He was looking back with a smile, his eyes fixed on the man behind him in a gaze that was both an invitation and a challenge. Even with his wrist shackled, he looked utterly fearless. In the reflection, he wasn’t a victim to be pitied, but a breathtakingly beautiful demon tempting a young believer toward the abyss.

The man stood behind the youth, head tilted slightly, a hint of confusion in his dark eyes—as if questioning the youth’s motives, yet simultaneously falling under his spell, pulling the chain of the shackles tighter and tighter.

The title Imprison Your Love was emblazoned next to them in a striking, deep-red font.

The comment section beneath the post was a blur of activity. Within minutes, it surpassed ten thousand comments; one refresh later, it was in the hundreds of thousands.

“That’s Jian Li? Don’t lie to me! I don’t believe it! There’s no way that’s Jian Li!”

“Am I blind? Is this the ‘pretty-vase’ idol? Why does he actually look like he can act?”

“I’ll say it quietly, why do Jian Li and Yu Cheng have so much chemistry.”

“You ARE blind! You can tell he can act from a single photo? It’s clearly photoshopped!”

“Off-topic, but Jian Li’s legs are everything!”

“Forget it, I bet the legs are photoshopped too!”

“Did you guys forget Yang Xu loves marketing? Don’t take a poster so seriously! You lose if you take the bait!”

“I don’t care, I am officially shipping Yu Cheng and Jian Li!”

“Count me in! Ugh, this CP looks so good!”

“Stop trying to force our Yu-da into ‘fan service’! Our Yu-da is not interested, thanks!”

Jian Li browsed the feed for a while before putting his phone down, his head spinning and his cheeks slightly flushed.

His new assistant, Yu Manman, was a girl in her early twenties who had just graduated from university. She handed Jian Li an insulated lunch box, looking a bit excited herself.

“Jian-ge, the reaction to the posters is amazing!”

Jian Li nodded and then shook his head, still in a state of disbelief. He opened the lid of the lunch box and found a serving of soybean paste noodles that had already congealed into a solid clump. He asked, confused:

“Is this the crew’s lunch? I didn’t know film sets used such high-end lunch boxes.”

Yu Manman shook her head, gesturing to her own noodles in a standard plastic takeaway container. “No, a staff member specifically asked me to give this to you. Apparently, since it’s the first day of filming, Film King Yu is treating everyone to soybean paste noodles.”