Flirted Then Forgot Everything - Chapter 17

After his scream, Jian Li swept out of the room like a gale and came to a halt in front of Yu Cheng’s door.

“He just gave me the cold shoulder, and now I’m coming to find him, won’t I lose face?” Jian Li hesitated, his hand hovering over the door.

“How could you? Host, don’t forget that Yu Cheng is your target! You two have to meet eventually,” the system chimed in, fanning the flames at just the right moment.

Jian Li nodded and gave a firm knock-knock-knock.

Yu Cheng opened the door only a crack, revealing half of his face. He didn’t say a word. Jian Li thrust his phone forward, displaying Yu Cheng’s Xunsheng activity.

“Yu Cheng, what is the meaning of this? You said your business had nothing to do with me, so why did you repost this?”

Only then did Yu Cheng step back, releasing the doorknob. Jian Li squeezed inside, raising his phone screen to Yu Cheng’s face and arching an eyebrow. “Well? Speak.”

Yu Cheng looked away. “Just PR. And promoting the movie at the same time.”

Jian Li wasn’t buying it. “I thought you said no PR?”

Yu Cheng turned his back to Jian Li. “I changed my mind.”

Jian Li circled around to face him, his lips curling into a smug, triumphant little smile. “Your PR direction seems a bit off, don’t you think?”

Yu Cheng finally lowered his head to look Jian Li in the eye. He pushed the phone away from his face and asked instead, “Why do you think I did it?”

“I, I’m not a mind reader! How should I know!” Jian Li dodged the question.

“Then what answer do you want to hear from me? Aside from PR, would I really go out of my way to repost something like that just to help you? Jian Li, what kind of relationship do you think we have?” Yu Cheng’s tone was frigid.

Having already been angered once today, Jian Li’s temper flared again. He nodded, snapping back, “You’re right. We have no relationship whatsoever. We’re just strangers.”

Yu Cheng’s lips thinned, his expression turning even colder.

Jian Li continued, “Then I’ll just assume you really were just doing PR?”

Yu Cheng looked away. “Mm.”

Jian Li huffed and walked toward the door. Still feeling unsatisfied, he suddenly turned back. Yu Cheng was still standing there. His normally ramrod-straight back looked slightly slumped, as if he were in a foul mood. Seeing Jian Li turn around, Yu Cheng instantly straightened up and met him with a cold stare.

“Something else?”

“I. Thanks anyway. But don’t meddle in my business anymore, or I might get the wrong idea. After all, you and I have nothing to do with each other!” Jian Li slammed the door as he left.

Standing in the hallway, Jian Li asked the system, “System! Did Yu Cheng’s favorability fluctuate just now?”

System: “No.”

Jian Li was puzzled. “It didn’t even drop?”

System: “You want it to drop?”

Jian Li shook his head and whispered to himself, “Do you think Yu Cheng likes me? I pursued him before, surely there’s some lingering affection? But if there is, why is the score so low? And if there isn’t, why go through all this trouble? Is it really just PR? I don’t believe it. I was being so annoying just now, and yet his score didn’t even budge.”

As he pondered, his voice grew smaller and smaller until it was a mumble. The system only caught fragments like “score is so low, don’t believe it.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with the favorability assessment!”

Jian Li was startled by the system’s sudden outburst. It was the first time he’d heard it speak so loudly, and the volume made his head throb.

“Lower your volume! System, what are you doing? Why so loud all of a sudden!”

System: “I adjusted the volume settings incorrectly.”

Jian Li rubbed his temples and returned to his room. Yu Manman was still scrolling through her phone, looking quite excited.

“Jian-ge! The narrative on the trending list has completely changed!”

While there were still plenty of trolls and bickering fans, the number of “Carp Couple” shippers was skyrocketing. Jian Li stared at the trending list. After some thought, he decided to repost the “luck charm” as well, using the exact same caption as Yu Cheng: Praying for the success of the new movie.

After reposting, Jian Li tapped on Yu Cheng’s profile and sent a private message:

“Don’t get any ideas. I’m only doing this for PR too.”

Yu Cheng seemed to be monitoring the situation closely; his reply came almost instantly.

Yu Cheng: .

Jian Li stared at it. What is this supposed to mean? A single period? That is way too dismissive! Without thinking, Jian Li fired back a row of periods. Yu Cheng replied with a question mark.

Yu Cheng: ?

Jian Li immediately sent back a row of question marks. This time, Yu Cheng’s status showed “Read,” but he didn’t reply.

Looking at their sparse chat history, Jian Li opened the stickers. Xunsheng’s selection was pitifully small, leaving him with no good options for a “sticker bomb.” He thought for a moment and typed:

“What’s your Feixin? Let me add you. Since we’re filming together, it’ll be easier to stay in touch.”

The status showed “Read,” but there was no reply for a long time. Jian Li waited until his patience was nearly gone before a string of digits finally appeared. He copied it immediately and opened Feixin to add the contact.

To his shock, as soon as he hit “Add,” Yu Cheng’s account appeared in his active chat list without a prompt to send a friend request. There was only one explanation for this: Jian Li had already been friends with Yu Cheng on Feixin, but he had deleted him. That’s why there was no “Add Friend” prompt when he tried again.

Yu Cheng definitely knew this, which explains why he had been silent for so long.

Jian Li stared at the empty chat log, feeling a bit lost. Who deleted Yu Cheng? Was it me, or someone else? Aside from himself, the only person who could touch his phone was Wan Tao.

Jian Li checked the time. It was nearly noon. Since the scandal broke, Wan Tao hadn’t called once. His own manager was acting as if he didn’t exist.

Jian Li sent a sticker to Yu Cheng anyway—a cartoon figure throwing a pig. Yu Cheng didn’t reply, acting as if he hadn’t seen it. Jian Li tossed his phone aside. He had expected Yu Cheng to use this chance to ask why he had been deleted, but Yu Cheng asked nothing. As always, he remained passive, letting Jian Li leave or approach as he pleased.

What is he actually thinking?

Jian Li tapped on Yu Cheng’s avatar, looked at his empty moments, and sighed. “System, why is it that when other people have amnesia, they remember things when they see relevant people or objects? Even if they don’t remember, they at least dream about the past. Why don’t I remember anything? I don’t even have a single dream about it.”

“Is that so?” the system seemed to hesitate.

Dejected, Jian Li lay back on the sofa. Yu Manman had been giggling over her phone nearby, but seeing him close his eyes, she quietly got up and left.

“Yeah. Aren’t people with amnesia supposed to be easily triggered by familiar things?” Jian Li answered. He wasn’t sure if that was true for real people, but that’s how it always worked in TV dramas.

The system didn’t respond again. Jian Li didn’t mind and eventually fell asleep on the sofa. He’d slept very little the night before and had been highly stressed all morning; he was exhausted. With another night shoot ahead, a nap was exactly what he needed to recharge.

However, it seemed Jian Li’s words were prophetic. No sooner had he mentioned dreams than he found himself in one—and it was about Yu Cheng.

In the dream, mist swirled around him. Jian Li seemed to have no physical form. His vision pierced through the fog to reveal a door. It looked exactly like the door to his own home. He pushed it open to find a messy bed and two overlapping figures.

Yu Cheng was leaning against the headboard, and a person with disheveled clothes was straddling him. That person’s pale shoulders were trembling; they seemed to be crying.

Realizing they couldn’t see him, Jian Li instinctively held his breath and crept around to the side. He saw that the person with their back to him looked exactly like him!

Yu Cheng was gripping the person’s waist. His face was devoid of its usual coldness, replaced by an expression that was tender and intensely sexual. His thin lips moved as he looked at the person above him, asking softly:

“Do you want more?”

The person who looked exactly like Jian Li let out a sob and shook their head. Yu Cheng let out a low laugh and suddenly turned his head, looking directly at the spot where Jian Li was standing. He asked again:

“Do you want more?”

Jian Li gasped and his eyes snapped open.

He sat up, realizing he was drenched in sweat.

“Do you want more?”

Yu Cheng’s low, gravelly voice seemed to linger in his ears, repeating those four words over and over. Jian Li wiped his forehead and pushed his hair back, feeling utterly flustered.

The system inquired: “Did you have a dream?”

Jian Li stiffened and gave a slow nod.

“What did you dream about?” the system pressed.

Jian Li involuntarily recalled the scenes from the dream, and his waist felt weak just thinking about it.

“No way. That’s a lie. Could he and I, I, how is that even possible.”

The system, hearing Jian Li’s incoherent mumbling, had no intention of letting him off the hook and continued to probe: “Was it a dream about the past? Did you remember something?”

Jian Li gave a hollow laugh, finally snapping back to reality. “Haha, no, how could I? I didn’t dream about anything. No dreams at all!”

He grabbed his phone to check the time and scrambled into the bathroom. He had to head to the set soon; he had slept for quite a while.

The scenes tonight were meant to be transitional, and the difficulty level was much lower, yet Jian Li kept racking up NGs. He found himself instinctively flinching away from Yu Cheng’s touch and avoiding his gaze, wishing he could stay a hundred miles away. His delivery was dry and mechanical, as if he were just reading lines off a page.

After several “Cuts,” Yang Xu grew visibly annoyed. He halted Yu Cheng and Jian Li’s scene, deciding to film the other actors first.

“Alright, Jian Li, go find your rhythm with Yu Cheng. We’ll resume when you’re ready.”

Jian Li bowed and apologized guiltily. When Yu Cheng approached, Jian Li immediately skipped to the side. Yu Cheng narrowed his eyes and reached out to grab Jian Li’s wrist.

“Come with me to run lines.”

Slap! Jian Li instinctively swatted Yu Cheng’s hand away.

Yu Cheng stared at his hand in shock for a brief moment before stepping forward with an air of absolute authority. He grabbed Jian Li’s wrist and marched off. He dragged Jian Li all the way into his dressing room, closing and locking the door in one smooth motion.

He pinned Jian Li against the door. Jian Li’s gaze darted around, not daring to meet the man’s eyes.

Yu Cheng lowered his voice and asked, “Are you avoiding me?”

Jian Li’s head was so full of “waste material” from his dream that he barely registered what Yu Cheng was saying. He only felt the heat of Yu Cheng’s breath against his ear and heard that same low, rumbling tone from the dream.

Those words from the dream surfaced in his mind again. He squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks flushing a pale red, and he stammered out, “No. No more.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Jian Li snapped awake. He opened his eyes to find that Yu Cheng had stepped back and was standing with his arms crossed, looking at him with total bewilderment—and a look that suggested he was watching a lunatic.

“No more what?”

Jian Li choked for a second before frantically improvising. “I, I don’t want to run lines with you! I have nothing to do with you, so stay out of my business!”

Jian Li turned to open the door, but Yu Cheng hooked his finger into the back of his collar. The tug forced Jian Li to lean backward.

Looking at Jian Li’s increasingly crimson face, Yu Cheng’s pupils darkened. He said in a deep, heavy voice:

“Whether you want to or not—you’re going to.”