I Was Forced into the Limelight After Pairing with a Top Star - Chapter 5

Lin Wang had only eaten a piece of bread in the car last night, and he was quite hungry by now. Since they had to live together for a year, Lin Wang wanted to simplify their relationship. He looked at Chi Yuan, pointed toward the stairs, and smiled. “Eating?”

“Yes.” Chi Yuan’s gaze did not settle directly on Lin Wang. His eyes looked weary, and his voice was raspy.

As they walked, Lin Wang compared their heights. Chi Yuan was significantly taller. His long legs seemed to move slowly, but each step covered a lot of ground. Lin Wang had to keep a steady pace, staying half a step behind him.

Having been the “Big Brother” for years, Lin Wang had developed a few habits. He liked taking care of people, especially those right in front of his eyes, and often felt the urge to offer a few words of advice. After all, “Brother Lin is a man who knows how to live properly.”

Seeing Chi Yuan looking uncomfortable from head to toe, Lin Wang felt a question forming. He hesitated for a few seconds between asking “Are you hurting somewhere?” and remaining silent. During those few seconds, Chi Yuan reached the second floor, stopped, and silently ducked into a room.

The second floor was a creative space. Since Lin Wang was not invited, he certainly could not enter.

Back on the first floor at the dining table, Lin Wang let out a soft laugh while rubbing his forehead. He had wanted to ease the tension, but the words never made it out. Since when had he become so timid?

As a man with his reaction speed, letting words hang for more than two seconds was an insult to the years he had spent being tempered in the business world.

The housekeeper served the dishes one by one, finally placing a bowl of porridge in front of Lin Wang. She said with a smile, “Mr. Lin, please enjoy.”

It was a simple breakfast that looked delicious, but Lin Wang did not pick up his chopsticks. He glanced toward the second floor and asked with a smile, “Is he not eating?”

“Mr. Chi only eats when he is hungry. You do not need to wait for him.” The housekeeper was a woman of few words and high professional standards. After saying this, she left.

Lin Wang tasted the vegetable porridge. It was a bit bland for his palate, but it was thick and fragrant.

The villa looked quite old. Yu Qi had not mentioned that areas outside the second floor were off-limits, so Lin Wang took the opportunity after his meal to wander around the first floor.

His biggest takeaway from the walk was the lack of main overhead lights.

Sensor lights shaped like various artworks were hidden in inconspicuous places. Lin Wang had seen them when he arrived yesterday; it was like a small magic castle where lights followed wherever he walked.

Lin Wang stayed on the first floor all morning. He scrolled through his phone, walked around, and spent a long time outside looking at a patch of planted roses. He eventually ate lunch, but even as the sun began to dip, the “hungry Mr. Chi” mentioned by the housekeeper never appeared.

The man had been listless since the morning and had not eaten a thing. Who knew what he was brooding over in that room? From the housekeeper’s tone, this was not a rare occurrence. If they were close, Lin Wang would have already gone upstairs to drag him out and pin him to the table to eat.

A busy man could not stay idle; if life did not follow a plan, Lin Wang felt unsettled. To him, everything needed a set time. Tasks had to be completed within a window, and rest was something to be trimmed as much as possible.

Lin Wang had relied on this grit to climb his way up in his previous life. It was a habit etched into his soul; if he stayed still, he felt a burning restlessness.

Having been in the world of the book for three days without a proper task, Lin Wang was getting fidgety. Aside from accompanying Chi Yuan, he wanted to find something to do.

There was a desk in the bedroom. Lin Wang pulled paper and a pen from a drawer and sat there like a fresh graduate, drafting a personal plan.

He had no obsession with returning to his old industry. He had done it because he saw the market trends, not out of passion. With his current debts, money was still his primary concern.

This year, he would accompany Chi Yuan’s creative process as per the contract and perhaps pick up some variety show work for extra cash. Next year, Chi Yuan had promised him roles in two hit dramas, which could serve as his main income. Lin Wang used to have actor friends; whenever they discussed salaries, it felt like they were making money way too easily. He planned to give it a try.

Lin Wang had acted in many “roles” in the social arena, but his only real screen time had been interviews as a well-known entrepreneur. Even then, he memorized the script, the host followed the steps, and he followed the steps. He was a quick learner, so the process seemed simple enough.

Later, a video from one of those interviews had been edited by a blogger with millions of followers. Lin Wang’s face was zoomed in, set to music, and reached over ten million views within days. He had actually become popular just because of his looks.

In his previous life, Lin Wang had a habit of working out. To handle high-intensity work, he maintained a body with eight-pack abs, broad shoulders, and long legs. At thirty, he was not old; his face still looked youthful, but his experiences gave him a mature aura that was particularly attractive to younger people.

More than once, people told him they felt a sense of security being with him. When they asked, “Brother Lin, can we try being together?” he would joke, “I want to feel secure too. Can you give me that?”

He never looked stern when he spoke, and there were always faint smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but the other party always understood. It turned out Brother Lin liked “mature” types; at least, that was how the rumor spread. Lin Wang himself did not even know he liked mature people.

After the video went viral, kids online categorized him as a “DILF” or “Mature Uncle” type, though Lin Wang never looked into the details.

During that period, his business friends would tease him, asking “Superstar Lin” for an autograph. Lin Wang could take a joke; he would raise an eyebrow and actually sign their clothes.

Later, he heard some clueless kids were actually paying money for those clothes, so he stopped the practice.

Lin Wang used his phone to watch two dramas the original host had starred in. His acting was not non-existent, but it was certainly lacking. He lowered his head and wrote the words “Acting Classes” on the paper.

If he took a role, he had to study for a while beforehand. Otherwise, he would just be an embarrassment. Ruining a show with bad acting was a disservice to the audience and something his conscience could not handle. Even when he was most desperate for money, Lin Wang never made a cent through dishonest means. With his brains, he could have easily shaved five years off his struggle if he had.

That was the kind of person he was; he seemed easygoing about everything until someone touched his bottom line, then he became harder than anyone.

He had just written “2.” for his second plan when his phone rang. Lin Wang rubbed his shoulders and opened the message. It contained only two words.

“Come over.”

After another sleepless night, Chi Yuan had spent the day in a daze on the small sofa in his studio. It was always hard to sleep at this time of year. The air conditioning was on, blowing cold air directly onto him all day long.

His private phone buzzed several times. Chi Yuan pretended not to hear it, hiding the phone under a cushion and closing his eyes to continue faking sleep. The call came once a month like clockwork. He had not answered the last time, nor the time before that.

Half an hour later, the phone rang again. This time, Chi Yuan pressed the decline button. He moved his arm away from his eyes and sat in silence for a moment before pushing himself up.

At his feet was a pile of scattered manuscripts. Every page had something written on it, only to be crossed out with great force.

Unread WeChat messages flooded his screen. The last one said, “Chi Yuan, you need to talk to me.” For the first time in two months, Chi Yuan replied with a perfunctory, “Busy.” The other person persistently asked what he was busy with, using gentle wording to try and find any clue about his life.

Chi Yuan tossed the phone aside and picked up a piece of paper from the floor. A few lines on it made the corner of his mouth twitch into a faint smile. Without opening his lips, he hummed a melody from his throat.

In the empty room, his raspy voice sounded like wind soaked in a summer rain; moist, calm, and tender. It was enough to make one’s heart and ears tingle, wanting to lean against him just to feel the vibration of his throat as he sang.

Unfortunately, the sound stopped abruptly after a few seconds. That piece of paper fell back to the floor, stacking with the other discarded drafts.

There was a melody in his head he wanted to hum, but it was chaotic and empty. Like Chi Yuan himself, the surface was forever calm, while the interior was known only to him.

Lu Jinhe was also a singer and songwriter, but he always said Chi Yuan was different from the rest of them in the music industry. The things Chi Yuan wrote were different; it was art. At its root, it was something he was born with, both a gift and a curse. After a few drinks, Lu Jinhe would wrap an arm around Chi Yuan’s shoulder and repeat that sentence eight times.

Chi Yuan mocked him every time, leading Lu Jinhe to “break off their friendship” hundreds of times since they were kids. But Chi Yuan never once refuted him.

Perhaps an artist’s emotions must be so abundant that they overflow to support reckless creation and waste. This allowed them to capture inspiration through various channels to fulfill themselves.

Chi Yuan did not have that. Everything he had was within a circle that contained only himself; he could not touch anything outside of it. Sometimes this circle was huge, large enough to hold an entire world. Chi Yuan would look out through the glass and find it interesting. Sometimes it was suffocatingly small, like a blank sheet of paper soaked in water and pressed against his face until he could see nothing.

Blank things need something placed on them to become vivid. Chi Yuan was empty, so he had to use others.

Since childhood, Chi Yuan had always been observing. He watched things move from motion to stillness, from life to death. He was used to watching clouds roll and water flow, watching roses rot, and watching a dead mantis. He even watched the person kneeling beside the mantis, asking with trembling lips if they could leave.

The voice of fear was very, very small. Chi Yuan would stand far away and tap the tip of his pen; the sound was crisp and light, landing on the mantis’s antennae.

The phone rang again.

Chi Yuan leaned against the sofa. The dizziness, magnified by the night light in the corner of the room, made it impossible for him to even drink water. After a moment, he picked up the phone and turned it off.

New messages appeared in the WeChat chat box.

“Chi Yuan, you have already written many songs that others spend their entire lives chasing. You can stop.”

“Forget those empty drafts for now. They will not fill you up.”

“It has been two months. We must talk.”

Chi Yuan’s fingertip poked at those two lines. The frustration he had suppressed was not visible on his face. He tilted his head back, resting his neck against the sofa, and tapped the screen rapidly. Finally, he pressed the record button. “Ten minutes.”

The messages finally stopped scrolling. The other party was relieved that Chi Yuan was finally cooperating and waited patiently for the return call ten minutes later.

What can be done in ten minutes? He could call Lin Wang up. Chi Yuan’s eyes grew colder. He hung his head lazily, pulled up the unsaved phone number, and sent a text.

“Come over.”