Flirted Then Forgot Everything - Chapter 20

Jian Li blinked, staring at Yu Cheng’s face which was mere inches away.

So that’s another 3 points? Up to 66 now?

If one kiss adds 3 points, then if I kiss him eleven or twelve times, won’t I hit the max?

Jian Li had been pinned against the air cushion by Yu Cheng, but hearing the notification for the point increase made him a bit frantic. He shoved Yu Cheng aside, flipped over, and pinned him down instead.

He cupped Yu Cheng’s face, looking him over from left to right, then lowered his head and gave him a loud smack of a kiss.

Yu Cheng raised a single eyebrow slightly. Jian Li didn’t give him a chance to speak; he just kept showering him with kisses, each one louder than the last.

Yu Cheng, who had been immersed in the shadows of his childhood memories just moments ago, could no longer care about any of that. His hands instinctively steadied Jian Li’s waist as his mouth was left damp from the onslaught.

Yet, Jian Li—the one doing the kissing—looked completely innocent. His eyes were clear and bright, shining more with every kiss.

Jian Li counted silently in his head: one, two, three.

The System was as quiet as a grave, offering no further favorability broadcasts.

Yang Xu crawled to the edge of the air cushion and peeked over. Seeing this scene, he almost couldn’t resist letting out a whistle.

He immediately turned back and waved off the staff members who weren’t as fast as him: “Alright, don’t bother coming up. He’s fine—just busy right now.”

The staff members were baffled. Busy? Busy with what?

Yu Manman’s eyes were red, and she was struggling not to cry. When Jian Li fell earlier, she had been scared to death. Beside her, Zhou Qingbai handed her a tissue and patted her shoulder.

Having finished his eleven kisses, Jian Li sat astride Yu Cheng, waiting expectantly for the System’s announcement.

When the System remained silent, Jian Li hesitated, then leaned down for a twelfth kiss.

Just as he was going in for a thirteenth, Yu Cheng lightly pinched his waist.

Jian Li, being ticklish, immediately rolled away.

He didn’t forget to ask the System in his mind: “Well? Is it maxed out?”

System: “Target Yu Cheng’s favorability remains unchanged.”

Jian Li’s eyes widened. He wiped his mouth and sat up, nearly shouting out loud.

Unchanged? Then didn’t I kiss him for nothing?

As his excitement faded and logic returned, Jian Li turned his head stiffly to find Yu Cheng and a theater-watching Yang Xu both staring at him.

One looked silent; the other looked thoroughly amused.

“Heh, heh.” Jian Li let out a dry laugh.

Yu Cheng raised a hand and slowly used his thumb to wipe the damp traces from the corner of his lips. He asked, “Had enough?”

Jian Li swallowed hard, beyond embarrassed. “E-enough.”

Yang Xu finally couldn’t hold back a whistle before scurrying down the cushion before Yu Cheng could glare at him.

The surrounding area had long since gone quiet. A circle of staff members waited at the bottom of the cushion. Jian Li was thankful the mat was high enough that others couldn’t see exactly what they had been doing.

Taking the initiative, he crawled to the edge of the mat, poised to slide down. He turned back with a stern, serious face and said, “You kissed me first! You’re the type who never takes a loss, right? What a coincidence—neither do I!”

With that, Jian Li bolted. He ran incredibly fast; by the time Yu Cheng got down, Jian Li was nowhere to be found.

Yang Xu leaned in, covering his mouth as he whispered, “Not bad. Moving fast, aren’t we? Want me to add some fuel to the fire?”

Yu Cheng gave Yang Xu a cold look and said nothing.

Having known Yu Cheng for years, Yang Xu felt a bit chilled by the stare, but his gossipy heart was stronger than his fear.

Once Yu Cheng left, Yang Xu’s face turned cold. “Who was responsible for clearing the platform? Find them. They’re fired.”

Jian Li comforted Yu Manman and returned to the dressing room.

The rooftop fall scene would have to be reshot in a bit, so Jian Li took the chance to rest.

However, he wasn’t in the mood to relax. He paced circles in the room, constantly replaying Yu Cheng’s dark, heavy gaze in his mind. It was a total “social death” moment.

“System, not even one point was added?”

“None.”

Jian Li frustratedly ruffled his hair. Just as he was about to sit down, there was a knock at the door.

Outside, Zhou Qingbai handed over a thermos. With its intricate engravings and exaggerated color palette, it looked familiar.

“Yu Cheng told me to give this to you. Said it’s to calm your nerves,” Zhou Qingbai explained.

Jian Li took the thermos, confused. “Isn’t this Director Yang’s cup? Do they have the same one?”

Zhou Qingbai smiled. “He probably lent it to Director Yang earlier. This model is custom-made—the only one in existence.”

After Zhou Qingbai left, Jian Li opened the thermos. The fresh scent of pears hit him; it was warm rock sugar stewed snow pear.

He quickly took a sip. It tasted exactly like the one Yang Xu gave him during the audition—a flavor he had never been able to forget. It was better than the pear soup from the most expensive private kitchens. He decided he had to ask Yu Cheng where he bought it when he had the chance.

After finishing the juice in one go, Jian Li examined the thermos.

Yu Cheng’s usual style was monochromatic—cold and abstinent—so Jian Li hadn’t expected him to have such unique taste in small items. Jian Li thought of Yu Cheng’s rabbit-themed medical kit and realized their tastes were surprisingly similar; even this cup was a style he would personally love.

During his break, Jian Li browsed his phone to see how things were trending online. Instead, he saw an official statement from What Your Voice Tells Me. Due to preparation and rebranding issues, this year’s recording was postponed to the end of the year.

“End of the year.” Jian Li stared at his phone, lost in thought.

Compared to releasing an album with his own songs directly, carving a path through What Your Voice Tells Me seemed like a better choice—provided he actually had the talent.

In previous years, the show began recording in summer and aired by late autumn. This year, it was pushed to early winter.

By the time this movie finished filming, it would be early winter—perfect timing for him to participate.

It felt like a gift from the heavens. He needed a catalyst to make his first big splash, and the universe had delivered it right to him.

After some hesitation, Jian Li found Zheng Hongling’s number and called. Zheng Hongling was naturally more than willing to have him on the show.

He didn’t care if Jian Li was talented or if he’d make a fool of himself; all he saw was Jian Li’s massive traffic potential.

After hanging up, Zheng Hongling grew thoughtful.

The reason he had visited Yu Cheng’s studio previously was that Yu Cheng intended to spend a fortune to sponsor What Your Voice Tells Me.

The show was already a hit and didn’t lack sponsors, but the amount Yu Cheng offered was enough to elevate the production to a whole new level.

In exchange, Yu Cheng had made his requirements clear. They were so simple that Zheng Hongling couldn’t help but be swayed.

“First, if Jian Li contacts you about joining the show, you cannot refuse. Second, I require you to hire the most authoritative musicians and ensure the recording is absolutely fair and just.”

Zheng Hongling thought it over, then called Yu Cheng to inform him about Jian Li’s decision.

On the other side, Yu Cheng hung up the phone, the corners of his mouth curling up unconsciously.

He reached out and lightly touched his own lips. Thinking of Jian Li’s puppy-like way of kissing, his gaze softened considerably.

Watching from the side, Zhou Qingbai couldn’t help but shudder. Here we go again. Whenever it involves Jian Li, Yu Cheng gets like this.

“I didn’t expect your ‘elementary schooler’ tactics to actually work.”

Yu Cheng was in a good mood and didn’t bother arguing with Zhou Qingbai, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word.

For the past year or so, whenever Jian Li attended an event, Yu Cheng would make sure to be there if he had time.

But once there, he wouldn’t speak to Jian Li properly. He’d keep a cold face, intentionally ignore Jian Li’s greetings, and occasionally let out a cold sneer. It was incredibly childish.

Because of this, Zhou Qingbai had teased him plenty—in private, of course.

Who would have thought this childish method would actually catch Jian Li’s attention?

Zhou Qingbai thought to himself: Every pot has its lid. A tough nut like Yu Cheng really does need a sweet soup like Jian Li to slowly simmer and soften him up.

Meanwhile, after confirming his spot on the show, Jian Li happily pulled out the guitar he carried everywhere and improvised a few lines.

His voice was clear and his timbre unique. With just a few casual strums, a string of beautiful notes emerged.

Jian Li was naturally gifted in songwriting and singing; he was a born vocalist.

Even if a bright pearl is covered in dust, there will come a day when it shines brilliantly, because a pearl is always a pearl.

However, after singing just a few lines, a powerful wave of sleepiness washed over him. He ended up falling asleep right there, hugging his guitar.

As soon as Jian Li fell asleep, the System emitted several “beep” sounds, flickering as if it were malfunctioning.

“System repair progress: 55% — Repair paused, insufficient energy.”

“Warning! Warning! Energy low! Daily operations difficult! Shutdown countdown: 24 hours.”

Following the string of warnings, the System’s mechanical voice suddenly let out a curse.

“Fck!”*

Jian Li was woken up by Yu Manman. Yang Xu was ready, and he headed back to finish the rooftop scene with Yu Cheng.

The second shoot went perfectly, passing in a single take.

Jian Li rubbed his neck, which had gone stiff from his nap, and walked toward the seating area. After just a few steps, Yu Cheng suddenly lunged forward and violently yanked Jian Li to the side.

CRASH.

A massive studio light fell from the ceiling, slamming into the exact spot where Jian Li had been standing a second ago.

Held in Yu Cheng’s arms, Jian Li looked back at the shattered glass of the fallen light, unable to process it for a long moment.

“Are you hurt?”

Yu Cheng frowned as he felt around Jian Li’s head, then checked his back and shoulders, making sure he wasn’t injured.

Jian Li shook his head slowly. As the staff began to swarm the area, Yu Manman led him to the side to rest.

Several crew members were terrified; that light had missed Jian Li’s head by a hair. If it hadn’t been for Yu Cheng, Jian Li’s skull would likely have ended up just like that lamp—shattered into pieces.

Still shaken, Jian Li felt a sense of unease. That light had looked perfectly secure before; why did it fall the moment he walked under it?

“System, do you know what happened?”

The System’s mechanical voice sounded exceptionally cold this time:

“I told you before, Host. Your life was meant to end in that car accident. Because you failed the mission, I forcibly brought you back. Until this mission is successful, you could die in an ‘accident’ at any moment.”

“An accident?” Jian Li bristled. “You call this an accident? That lamp was aiming for me!”

“Please remain calm, Host. There will be many more such accidents in the future,” the System stated.

Jian Li found it hard to believe. The System continued:

“As long as the Host stays by the target’s side, these accidents can be avoided. Targets are individuals of high ‘Luck’ selected from the system database. Staying near them naturally shields the Host from all accidents, just as it did today.”

Jian Li countered, “But I can’t stick to Yu Cheng 24 hours a day. I—”

“Host, focus on the big picture,” the System interrupted.

Jian Li let out a long sigh, feeling the world go dark. His future felt increasingly precarious.

Meanwhile, Yang Xu walked over while barking orders:

“Everyone except the people I call out can head home! We’re clearing the set now!”

Yang Xu approached to comfort Jian Li first. He was a carefree soul; since no one was actually hurt, he didn’t think there was much to worry about. He patted Jian Li’s shoulder and asked:

“Feeling better? I’ve already sent people to inspect everything; I guarantee it won’t happen again. To cheer you up, why don’t we put in some overtime tonight? Pull an all-nighter?”

Jian Li looked dazed. “An all-nighter?”

Yang Xu looked a bit excited. “An all-nighter to film a kang scene?”

“A kang scene?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jian Li saw Yu Cheng looking over from a short distance away.

“A kang scene is a bed scene! A passion scene! Crossing swords!” Yang Xu clarified.

“B-bed scene? Crossing swords?!” The tension from the near-accident evaporated instantly as Jian Li bolted upright.

No way? This soon?

And what on earth does ‘crossing swords’ mean!

Director, we really are filming a legitimate movie here, right?

Right? Right? Right?!