Flirted Then Forgot Everything - Chapter 22

After finishing his meal, Jian Li didn’t stay in his room for long. Clutching his guitar, he went to knock on Yu Cheng’s door once more.

He knocked several times, but Yu Cheng didn’t come to open the door.

Jian Li had been secretly observing at noon; except for Zhou Qingbai leaving after delivering food, Yu Cheng hadn’t stepped out of his room at all!

He was home, yet he wouldn’t open the door!

With a fierce expression, Jian Li pulled out his phone and tapped away at the screen with an aggressive clatter before hitting send.

From his face, one might think he was cursing Yu Cheng out. Inside the room, Yu Cheng picked up his phone and took a look.

Jian Li: “Big Boss Yu, do you want to listen to some music?”

Yu Cheng: “No.”

Jian Li: “I’m a great singer. What do you want to hear?”

Yu Cheng: “I don’t want to hear anything.”

This time, Jian Li sent a voice message. Yu Cheng tapped it, and a clear, bright voice rang out—he was actually singing “Two Tigers.”

Yu Cheng listened to it once, and then, unable to help himself, he listened to it again.

Receiving no reply, Jian Li started knocking again. The knocks came in a steady rhythm, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, like the persistent scratching of a cat’s paw—utterly maddening.

Since Yu Cheng wouldn’t open the door or reply on WeChat, Jian Li sent voice messages one by one. He went from “Two Tigers” to “Flower Basket,” singing every nursery rhyme he knew until his patience was completely exhausted.

Jian Li looked up at the light in the hallway ceiling, wondering if the thing would suddenly fall. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed, so he stood as close to the door as humanly possible.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He sent a voice message, his tone as soft as a marshmallow and filled with playful trills.

“Good brother, open the door for me, please? I’ll agree to whatever you want.”

Click. The door opened.

Jian Li turned and heard his own voice coming from Yu Cheng’s phone. That “good brother” was so high-pitched and flirtatious it made his own ears turn red.

“Weren’t you coming in?” Yu Cheng asked, looking at the dazed Jian Li standing at the threshold.

Jian Li ducked under Yu Cheng’s arm like a cat and instantly occupied the sofa in Yu Cheng’s room. Hugging his guitar, he asked, “Alright then, Your Excellency, what would you like to hear?”

Yu Cheng closed the door, sat across from Jian Li, and flipped a page in the book he had been reading.

“Sing ‘Two Tigers’.”

Jian Li’s mouth twitched. “That’s barely a song. Can’t you pick something else?”

Yu Cheng didn’t speak. He simply took out his phone, scrolled to Jian Li’s last voice message, and set it on an infinite loop: “Good brother, open the door for me, please? I’ll agree to whatever you want.”

Jian Li immediately began strumming his guitar, playing a simple nursery rhyme melody, and started singing “Two Tigers.”

The rhyme was short. Once he finished, he shifted slightly. Yu Cheng didn’t tell him to stop, so he gave Yu Cheng a secret glare and started a second rendition.

By the time he finished five rounds, he couldn’t sit still anymore. The spot on his rear that had been pinched was stinging. Fidgeting, he grabbed a random object nearby and stuffed it under him as a cushion; only then did he feel a bit better.

He stopped singing and peeked at Yu Cheng. Seeing no reaction, Jian Li’s fingers quickly danced across the strings, switching to a different song.

A cascade of notes filled the air, causing Yu Cheng to set his book down.

Jian Li had his head down, focused on the strings. He seemed undecided, thinking as he played. Even with just a few bars of melody, one could hear the lingering affection in the music.

This was a spark of inspiration Jian Li had gathered while filming these past few days. He had written a portion of it, but he hadn’t found the right way to express the rest.

He truly loved music. Once he was immersed in it, he forgot everything around him.

Yu Cheng didn’t disturb him, simply sitting quietly by his side.

Jian Li hummed softly as he played. The tune didn’t have lyrics yet, so he just followed the melody with a soft hum, stopping to adjust whenever he hit a block.

Time passed unnoticed. By the time Jian Li snapped out of it, nearly two hours had gone by. He blinked in realization and looked up at Yu Cheng.

Yu Cheng was leaning back on the sofa, his book set aside, resting his face in his hand. He seemed to have fallen asleep.

Jian Li set his guitar down gently and crouched in front of Yu Cheng to observe him up close. Usually, Yu Cheng would never give him such an opportunity, and Jian Li wouldn’t dare get this close.

Yu Cheng had great skin and pale lips. Even when he wasn’t smiling, the corners of his mouth tilted up slightly—he was naturally born with a “smiling mouth.” But perhaps due to being an actor, this trait didn’t make him look out of place in more serious scenes.

Jian Li slowly moved his gaze to Yu Cheng’s features. With his eyes closed, Yu Cheng’s eyelashes rested obediently, dark and thick with a slight curl.

Jian Li couldn’t resist reaching out to lightly touch them. “He really is handsome as hell,” he muttered under his breath.

He had to admit, in terms of looks, Yu Cheng was flawless.

Suddenly, the System announced a favorability update, giving Jian Li a fright.

“Detected: Target Yu Cheng’s favorability +1. Current score: 69. Keep up the good work!”

“Why the sudden increase?” Jian Li was puzzled.

He looked at the man with his eyes closed and had a sudden thought. Is Yu Cheng faking sleep? Did he hear me call him handsome and gain a point?

Jian Li tested the waters. “Big Boss Yu is so handsome!”

“Big Boss Yu’s looks are one of a kind!”

“Big Boss Yu.”

Jian Li unleashed a barrage of “rainbow farts,” using every compliment he could think of. He praised him until he felt cringey himself, but the favorability didn’t budge another inch.

Yu Cheng remained still, hand on his chin, seemingly in a deep slumber.

Is he actually asleep?

Jian Li hesitated, then whispered, “Good brother?”

He saw Yu Cheng’s eyelashes tremble imperceptibly. Aha! he thought. He immediately switched tactics and continued the praise.

“Good brother is the most handsome!”

“Good brother is the most amazing!”

Under the mountain of compliments, the stagnant favorability finally wobbled and went up another point.

The moment the System finished the announcement, before Jian Li could even celebrate, the point dropped back down.

Yu Cheng slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was clear; he didn’t look like someone who had just been asleep.

Startled, Jian Li scrambled back several steps and plopped onto the sofa. Because he used too much force, his sore bottom flared with pain, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft groan.

Yu Cheng sat up straight and asked softly, “Good brother? Calling me?”

Jian Li scrutinized Yu Cheng’s expression. Seeing that he didn’t look angry, he nodded cautiously.

Surprisingly, Yu Cheng didn’t press the issue. “Your song is very good.”

Jian Li blinked, feeling as flustered as a student being praised by a teacher. “I-is that so, as long as you like it.”

“Is it a new song for the movie?” Yu Cheng asked.

“You could tell?” Jian Li was genuinely surprised. He hadn’t expected Yu Cheng to recognize the rough, unformed melody.

“You played with a lot of heart,” Yu Cheng said.

Jian Li truly loved music, so hearing praise made him happy—especially coming from Yu Cheng. He pushed the guitar toward Yu Cheng, eager to share his joy. “Do you want to play?”

Yu Cheng shook his head. “I don’t know how.”

“I can teach you!” In his excitement, Jian Li forgot everything else. He sat beside Yu Cheng, showing him fingerings and melodies.

Yu Cheng didn’t stop him. He let Jian Li sit by his side, lowering his head to listen intently as if he really intended to learn the guitar.

Neither of them noticed when Zhou Qingbai entered. Jian Li was too focused, and Yu Cheng didn’t want to disturb the moment.

Seeing the scene, Zhou Qingbai instinctively took out his phone and started recording. He wanted to get both of them in the frame, but in the end, he only filmed Yu Cheng.

In the video, Yu Cheng looked down, clumsily strumming the strings while humming a tune. His voice was deep, creating a completely different feel from Jian Li’s bright humming—a unique, soulful vibe.

By the time Jian Li noticed him, Zhou Qingbai was already reviewing the footage with satisfaction.

He asked Jian Li, “Jian Li, look at this. Can I post it on Yu Cheng’s Weibo? I haven’t posted any updates for him in a while.”

Jian Li watched it and nodded. Even though it was his song, it was unfinished, and no one would be able to make out much from just a few notes. Zhou Qingbai immediately edited the post and sent it out.

Jian Li didn’t mind. He looked at Zhou Qingbai. “Do you have business with Yu Cheng? Should I leave?”

He stood up, picking up his guitar. Even though his life depended on staying near Yu Cheng, he had a sense of propriety. He could just wait outside the door for a bit.

To his surprise, Yu Cheng stopped him. “Go to the bedroom.”

Jian Li blinked, his eyes curving into a smile. He practically skipped into the bedroom and made sure to close the door, signaling that he definitely wouldn’t eavesdrop.

As soon as the bedroom door closed, Zhou Qingbai’s expression turned serious.

“How is the investigation?” Yu Cheng asked in a low voice.

Zhou Qingbai shook his head. “All the surveillance cameras on the road where Jian Li was driving that year were broken. We can’t find anything.”

“What about spending records?” Yu Cheng brought up another point.

“From the moment Jian Li sent you that message, he stopped all activities. A month later, he appeared at the Aisha Fashion Launch. There were no anomalies in his spending records,” Zhou Qingbai reported.

Yu Cheng nodded, indicating he understood, and asked nothing more.

Zhou Qingbai looked toward the closed bedroom door. “Yu Cheng, what do you plan to do?”

Yu Cheng was scrolling through his phone, almost an instinctive habit. He opened WeChat and scrolled past his recent chats with Jian Li, all the way back to their last conversation a year ago.

Jian Li: “I don’t want to go public. I can’t do it. I’m still young, my career is just starting. Yu Cheng, I’m sorry. Let’s not contact each other again.”

Yu Cheng: “Let’s meet up.”

After that, Jian Li never replied again. There was a red exclamation mark next to Yu Cheng’s reply. After sending that last message, Jian Li had deleted Yu Cheng from his contacts.

Over a year ago, the media might still remember, Yu Cheng held a mysterious press conference. The venue was grand, dozens of bodyguards were hired, and the invited media outlets represented nearly half of the entertainment industry.

Yet, just before it was set to begin, Zhou Qingbai stepped out to announce its cancellation.

Countless journalists felt they had been toyed with for no reason, leading to considerable grumbling against Yu Cheng. No one knew what he had intended to say that day. In subsequent interviews, Yu Cheng remained tight-lipped about the incident, acting as if he hadn’t even heard the questions—it remained a profound mystery.

Yu Cheng put down his phone and looked toward the closed bedroom door. Hidden behind it was the secret that had been lost to him for a year.

“What do I plan to do? I haven’t decided yet, but at the very least, he shouldn’t dream of running away again.”

Zhou Qingbai shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He, more than anyone, knew exactly how the two had become entangled and how they had eventually been torn apart.

After Zhou Qingbai left, Jian Li didn’t emerge for a long while.

Yu Cheng pushed open the bedroom door and found Jian Li fast asleep, facedown on the bed. Even in his slumber, he didn’t forget to mumble curses at Yu Cheng.

“Yu Cheng, you bastard my butt hurts so much.”

The “Big Boss Yu” and “Good Brother” titles were all a facade; “bastard” was the only sentiment that came from the heart.

A faint smile flickered on Yu Cheng’s lips. He walked over and hooked his finger into the waistband of Jian Li’s pants, slowly pulling them down until he saw the faint purple finger-marks. He let go, and the elastic snapped back with a sharp thwack.

While Jian Li slept, the video Zhou Qingbai posted on Weibo began to go viral.

Yu Cheng’s fanbase was enormous, spanning a vast age demographic. Since he almost never posted promotional photos or daily updates, a sudden video of him singing and playing an instrument naturally drew massive attention.

It was common knowledge that since his debut seven years ago, Yu Cheng had focused solely on acting, never participating in variety shows or cross-industry projects.

This was the first time fans had seen him perform. Although his fingering was clumsy, it didn’t matter when paired with his top-tier visuals and soulful voice. Even the tune he hummed was unique and pleasant to the ear.

After the fans finished swooning over his looks, their attention shifted to the melody.

“Sisters, has anyone recognized this song?”

“Never heard it. It doesn’t seem to be a released track.”

“Is Big Boss Yu writing his own songs now?”

“As much as I love him, looking at how awkward he is with that guitar, he doesn’t seem like the songwriting type.”

“Wait, didn’t you guys notice? Jian Li is right there next to him!”

“What? How do you know?”

“At the 54-second mark! The hand that helps Yu Cheng correct his fingering—there’s a red mole on the wrist! It’s identical to the one on Jian Li’s wrist!”

Once the red mole was mentioned, people immediately began taking screenshots and digging up old photos of Jian Li for comparison.

Yu Cheng’s solo fans might have been unfamiliar with it, but Jian Li’s fans knew it by heart—especially the “Carp Couple” (Li-Yu) shippers. They passionately speculated that Jian Li was teaching Yu Cheng to play, and that the melody Yu Cheng hummed was likely Jian Li’s new song.

“Is our Little Chestnut writing his own music? Is it finally happening?”

“I’m so emotional. Are the days of him singing trashy bubblegum pop finally over?”

“It’s only a snippet, but it sounds so good! Sisters, I’m starting to get excited!”

“Ugh, my ‘old mother’ heart is melting!”

Yu Cheng leaned against the bedside and scrolled through his phone. He understood Zhou Qingbai’s intent in posting the video—it was to give Jian Li a much-needed push.

Jian Li, who had been sleeping facedown, started fumbling around in his sleep until he caught Yu Cheng’s fingers. He shuffled closer, nuzzling his head into Yu Cheng’s chest until he was comfortably sprawled over him, letting out a soft, delicate sigh.

Yu Cheng was in a good mood. He scrolled back to an old “Carp Couple” post he had shared and began reading the comments, eventually clicking on a particularly pleasing one:

“I wish the Carp Couple grows old together and that every day is better than the last! Carp Couple, please bless me! I hope I rank in the top ten for my monthly exams so I can get the bonus my mom promised and buy the new tablet!”

Yu Cheng clicked on the fan’s profile and sent a private message.

“You want a tablet?”

The fan was online. Seeing the DM, she rubbed her eyes in disbelief, verifying several times that it was indeed Yu Cheng’s official account. With trembling hands, she typed back:

“Yes, I’ve wanted one for so long, but my allowance is never enough.”

Yu Cheng’s reply was brief: “Give me your address.”

The fan had a hunch but didn’t dare believe it. She mistyped several times before successfully sending her address. Moments later, she received a screenshot of a successful purchase page. Yu Cheng hadn’t just bought the latest tablet of that brand; he had bought the entire product line, all addressed to her.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Minutes later, a screenshot of this conversation appeared in the “Carp Couple” super-topic with the caption: “The Carp Couple is REAL!”

The “Carp Couple” tag, which had almost been forgotten, surged back to the top of the trending searches. The repost count exploded, with comments filled with people making “wishes” and offering blessings.

Yu Cheng picked several more comments he liked and sent out money via private messages one by one. It wasn’t until the Weibo app crashed due to the massive traffic surge that he finally tossed his phone aside. He tucked the duvet around Jian Li, closed his eyes, and drifted into a nap with him.

Jian Li had no idea that Yu Cheng actually had a natural talent for being a “prodigal spender.”

Across the internet, a single sentence reigned supreme:

THE CARP COUPLE IS REAL!!!