Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 33

“What were you two doing in the car?” Wen Ting asked curiously over the phone.

Yuan Xingzhou had just escaped the security guard’s angry roars. He dragged Ye Huai into the elevator and swiped his card to enter the apartment, only to be met with Wen Ting’s relentless back-to-back calls.

Upon entering, Ye Huai headed straight for his large bed to play dead. Yuan Xingzhou answered the phone for him and could only explain with a flushed face, “It was nothing, just a misunderstanding.”

Wen Ting asked, puzzled, “What kind of misunderstanding?”

“Ye Huai got drunk and insisted on… grabbing something.” Yuan Xingzhou had to fabricate a lie, then roughly described the situation at the time. “Then he lunged over and I didn’t dodge in time, so we had a bit of a struggle…”

Wen Ting gave an “oh.”

Yuan Xingzhou suddenly froze. He looked at the time; only five minutes had passed since they fled the parking lot in a panic. Was Wen Ting’s intelligence network really that fast?

“How did you know?” Yuan Xingzhou asked in shock. “Were we photographed?”

“I don’t know if you were photographed or not,” Wen Ting said. “But I was in that parking lot just now.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “Ah?”

“I just found a property listing. The landlord was only free at night, so I came to take a look this evening,” Wen Ting said. “Five minutes ago, your car happened to be parked right next to ours. I was the one who called the security guard.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“If something really was going on between you two, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But isn’t a parking lot a bit high-risk? It’s peak off-work hours for corporate slaves; aren’t you afraid of being watched? Is the garage not good enough for him?” Wen Ting paused suddenly. “Oh, sorry, I forgot your building doesn’t have private garages. This new house, however, does have a garage.”

Since Ye Huai returned, Wen Ting had been scouting for a new place for him. This apartment was convenient in terms of location and security, but listings here were rare. After waiting for so long, a vacancy finally opened up not far from their current residence. The only downside was that it was too large.

Yuan Xingzhou was somewhat surprised. Although he knew Ye Huai would move out sooner or later, and living together indeed presented many inconveniences, the news still felt sudden—so much so that he didn’t feel a shred of joy.

“Is he going to sleep?” Wen Ting asked. “The landlord went to print the contract. Once it’s signed tonight, we can have someone clean it tomorrow and he can move in. Ye Huai has been staying at your place all this time; sorry for the trouble.”

“No, no,” Yuan Xingzhou hurriedly said politely. “Brother Wen, you’re being too formal.”

“Alright.” Wen Ting laughed. “Let’s grab a meal together when you’re free?”

Yuan Xingzhou nodded. “Sure.”

“You’re very talented,” Wen Ting added. “Just treat your past experiences as a period of growth. You’ll shine eventually, Xingzhou.”

Yuan Xingzhou was slightly stunned. He quickly guessed that Wen Ting likely knew about his new script. Just as he was about to offer some polite words, Wen Ting said “Goodnight” and hung up.

Yuan Xingzhou sat in the living room for a while before taking the phone into Ye Huai’s bedroom and placing it on the nightstand. Ye Huai was still lying face-down in his pillow with his eyes closed, appearing to have already fallen asleep.

On a whim, Yuan Xingzhou quietly squatted down to look at Ye Huai’s sleeping face.

This was only the second time he had observed Ye Huai from such a close distance. Last time he spent ages looking at the nose; this time his gaze settled on the lips. He discovered the man’s lips were beautiful and sexy—though thin, he had a prominent philtrum and a Cupid’s bow, making his mouth look slightly pouted while sleeping.

Perhaps this was the source of Ye Huai’s youthful air. There was always an indelible sense of boyishness about him; aside from his personality, his appearance also played a part.

The more Yuan Xingzhou looked, the more interesting he found it. He knelt on the floor, leaning his head against the edge of the bed, facing Ye Huai face-to-face.

In the past, they were teammates in the same dormitory, yet they always seemed to be at two extremes of the group: one worshipped by everyone, the other marginalized by everyone.

Yuan Xingzhou had performed several self-reflections, wondering if he was truly that unpleasant or if something was genuinely wrong with him.

But aside from his habit of people-pleasing, he felt that for most things, his starting point and stance were correct. Later, when he couldn’t figure it out, he simply attributed it to his poor background—having no fancy clothes or sophisticated experiences.

This faint sense of inferiority had accompanied him for a long time. It wasn’t until Ye Huai returned and he discovered that this person—whom he considered beyond reach—was actually very good to him, that the knot in his heart began to unravel. It felt very much like the glory of a struggling student being recognized and praised by a top scholar.

Then there was the class reunion tonight. Yuan Xingzhou listened to everyone talk about the past and realized that almost everyone had him in their vivid memories. A male classmate even joked that back then, Yuan Xingzhou always wore an “old man’s shirt” and jeans, but looked so good in them that the boys started imitating him, sparking an “Old Man Style” trend in their class.

Yuan Xingzhou felt a surge of secret joy hearing this. He turned his head to see Ye Huai listening to the boasting with a look that was both dazed and earnest, making his heart soften further.

To some extent, Ye Huai was to him what a swan is to a frog. While the frog thought it was stuck in the mud, wallowing in self-pity, the swan kicked it onto the shore. Consequently, his vitality returned, his luck improved, and his future seemed bright.

In a way, Ye Huai’s presence—whether they were arguing or joking around—gave Yuan Xingzhou a constant sense of fulfillment.

Now that this person was suddenly leaving, he felt… a bit reluctant to let go.

The person on the bed seemed uncomfortable in his position and moved slightly.

Yuan Xingzhou snapped back to reality, startled, and stood up in a panic. Fortunately, Ye Huai wasn’t woken up. Seeing that he seemed deeply asleep, Yuan Xingzhou hesitated for a moment, helped him take off his shoes, pulled the quilt over him, then exited the room and quietly closed the door.

The next day, Yuan Xingzhou took his script to the company. In Li Yu’s office, he met the director, the screenwriter, and a semi-familiar face.

“Just happened to be passing by, so I came to see you.” Tan Yanke sat in Li Yu’s office and reached out to Yuan Xingzhou. “You’re looking more and more like a star lately.”

Yuan Xingzhou had limited high-quality clothes, so before sleeping last night, he hung his newly bought outfit in a breezy spot to air out the scent so he could wear it to meet the director today.

“Not at all,” Yuan Xingzhou realized Tan Yanke was one of the investors, so he could only shake hands with a smile. “Your popularity is what’s truly high right now—red-hot right from your debut.”

The two exchanged pleasantries and took their seats.

Yuan Xingzhou had read the script thoroughly the night before and shared his thoughts. Tan Yanke acted as an outsider and didn’t speak. Director Lin had a “Buddhist” aura, nodding with a constant smile, while the screenwriter chatted for a bit.

“Not bad, this is exactly the persona,” the screenwriter finally praised. “You’re more serious and much smarter than I imagined.”

“So, sign the contract now?” Li Yu asked.

“I’ve looked over this contract, but one condition needs to be changed,” Director Lin said cheerfully. “The ‘Morality Clause’ needs to follow strict regulations.”

Li Yu was slightly stunned and exchanged a look with Yuan Xingzhou.

The Morality Clause mainly refers to an artist promising their personal conduct remains clean in the contract; if trouble arises later, the film company can refuse to pay the final balance and demand compensation. While this clause is essential for film companies, top-tier stars often have their own formatted requirements and won’t agree to it.

Although Yuan Xingzhou wasn’t top-tier, he had high topic heat and upcoming dramas, making him a “hot little fresh meat.” When Li Yu signed contracts previously, he restricted the Morality Clause only to “Yellow, Gambling, and Drugs” (pornography, gambling, and narcotics).

“Your rules are becoming more and more unseemly,” Director Lin continued to smile.

Li Yu pondered for a moment and also smiled. “What does Director Lin mean?”

“The ‘Big Three’ (Yellow, Gambling, Drugs) are obviously forbidden.” Director Lin tapped the table. “Similarly, anything else that could damage personal image and social standing must be prohibited. You need to give me a promise on this, including a guarantee of past good character.”

Yuan Xingzhou’s heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively glanced at Li Yu.

“This is my format.” Director Lin took a contract sheet from his bag and handed it to Li Yu.

Li Yu looked it over and couldn’t help but smile. “Our artist is certainly fine, but these conditions are a bit too strict, Director Lin…”

“Why do you think people buy my dramas?” Director Lin asked.

Li Yu had no choice but to stay quiet.

“Because I take responsibility for everyone. Not a single artist in my dramas has ever had a scandal, and not a single investment company has suffered a loss. Forget the leads—I even check the facial features of the extras.” Director Lin’s smile faded slightly as he glanced at Yuan Xingzhou. “This clause is mandatory.”

“Let me see.” Tan Yanke suddenly reached out to Li Yu, took the paper, and laughed after reading it. “No way, Director Lin—’anything that causes public ridicule, mockery, or resentment’… who would dare sign that? What if a couple has a fight and gets mocked by netizens? Does that count as a breach?”

“You can fight all you want behind closed doors; we don’t care about that. But if it turns into a public scandal, that’s a definite no. As an artist, aren’t you eating from the public’s bowl?” Director Lin stood up with a smile. “So, about this contract…”

Li Yu frowned slightly, and the screenwriter also fell silent upon seeing this.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Yuan Xingzhou stood silently to the side for a while. He sighed inwardly, steeled his heart, and said, “I’ll sign.”

As soon as he said this, the atmosphere in the room instantly relaxed. Li Yu gave Yuan Xingzhou a meaningful look but said nothing. Finally, the contract was reprinted, and everyone signed.

Tan Yanke invited Yuan Xingzhou to dinner again, but Yuan Xingzhou refused.

“Refusing was the right call,” Li Yu said, pinching the bridge of his nose after everyone left. “Are you close with him?”

Yuan Xingzhou had initially worried that this opportunity was related to Tan Yanke. Hearing Li Yu’s question, he felt relieved and shook his head. “Just said a few words during the show.”

“Mm. His family is one of the advertisers. Focus your mind on honing your acting skills and stay out of their business,” Li Yu said. “As for the conditions this time, you’d better watch yourself.”

After signing the contract, Yuan Xingzhou knew the lead role was secured, and the weight on his heart finally lifted. However, the extremely strict restrictive clauses became a sword hanging over his head.

“I’ll be careful,” Yuan Xingzhou said. “I didn’t expect the requirements to be so strict now.”

“Do you really think they’re like this with everyone? They just pick their targets based on who they are. Too many artists are failing lately, and top stars won’t sign these clauses, so investors have a high-risk list in the industry—those suspected of ‘Yellow, Gambling, Drugs,’ messy love lives… I suspect you’re on that list too. I’ll ask around later.” Li Yu paused and looked at him. “To be honest, are you hiding anything else from me?”

Yuan Xingzhou was stunned and slightly embarrassed. “No more.”

“I hope so. Whatever you do, don’t hide things from me again.” Li Yu looked at him with a look of wanting to say more, but finally waved him off. “Forget it. When you’re free, invite Wen Ting and Ye Huai for a meal together.”

Yuan Xingzhou knew that he would absolutely have to solemnly ask for Ye Huai’s help—at the very least, they couldn’t “divorce” before the drama aired.

Yuan Xingzhou couldn’t quite describe his feelings. Filming hadn’t even started; once preparations were done, the shoot would take at least four months, plus another four for post-production. Even with the fastest release, it would take over a year until the broadcast finished. This meant that for more than a year, the “Huai-Zhou” CP needed to maintain a stable status.

Although he felt instinctively that Ye Huai would help him, Yuan Xingzhou still felt nervous. After all, if something happened, he wouldn’t just lose the final payment—he would face massive compensation.

Thinking of this, he suddenly understood the various marriage models in the circle. After all, a couple is easier to market for money. Many couples live their own lives but never consider divorce; aside from the trouble of asset division, most people are considering their commercial value.

It just wasn’t clear if Ye Huai moving out… would cause trouble for this?

Feeling apprehensive, Yuan Xingzhou rushed home after signing, but Ye Huai wasn’t there.

For several days, Ye Huai didn’t return. He couldn’t reach Wen Ting either, who was said to be abroad.

Initially, Yuan Xingzhou could remain calm, but as a week passed, his heart began to waver.

On Saturday morning, Yuan Xingzhou woke up early as usual, changed, and went for a morning run. Pushing the door open, he saw an extra piece of clothing in the living room. He looked at the jacket and hesitated for a long time. Reaching the front door, he couldn’t help but turn back and sit on the sofa.

An hour later, Ye Huai got out of bed and emerged with messy hair. He was momentarily stunned upon seeing him.

“You’re back?” Yuan Xingzhou said with a look of surprise. “I was just getting ready to go for a run.”

“Mm, going out to breathe the fresh smog?” Ye Huai’s eyelids drooped. Looking like he hadn’t fully woken up, he went to use the bathroom. After washing his hands and coming out, he sat down next to Yuan Xingzhou like a zombie, splashing water droplets onto the latter’s face.

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“Is there something wrong with you…” Yuan Xingzhou muttered, water droplets clinging to his face.

Ye Huai simply lay down, using his hand to wipe himself dry on Yuan Xingzhou’s clothes. “I’m quite ill. Hurry and take care of me.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…So you’ve been missing for days because you were seeing a doctor?”

He knew Ye Huai was joking, but he couldn’t help but probe for his whereabouts.

“Yes,” Ye Huai confirmed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black object. “Here, it’s done.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

It was a large-sized, diamond-studded Hermès bracelet.

“I just used its buckle,” Ye Huai said. “Put it on and try it.”

Yuan Xingzhou took it and hesitated.

Ye Huai added, “I used black diamonds. The least valuable kind. Hurry up, put it on so I can see.”

Yuan Xingzhou could only comfort himself that if he didn’t listen to Ye Huai, the man might throw another fit, and he currently needed a favor.

He rolled up his sweatpants, bent down, and buckled it on. The size was perfect.

“Let me see,” Ye Huai urged again.

Yuan Xingzhou had no choice but to lift his leg.

“Put your foot here,” Ye Huai patted the sofa with a look of wonder. “You’re stretching it so far away, do you take me for a dog?”

“What does this have to do with a dog?” Yuan Xingzhou didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I haven’t washed my feet; it’ll stink you to death in a moment.”

He kicked off his slipper and stepped onto the edge of the sofa.

Ye Huai hooked his pinky into the leather bracelet. Seeing the fit was right, his lips curled slightly. “Why are you so white?”

“Genetics.” Yuan Xingzhou pulled his foot back and looked at the time; he really had to head out now.

“Wen Ting called you the other day,” Yuan Xingzhou said while changing into sneakers. “He said he rented a house for you.”

“Mm, I know.” Ye Huai sighed and talked to himself, “The one in the next building. Over 400 square meters. Monthly rent is 120,000. The landlord’s mistress likes me, so she dropped the ‘twenty’ and we closed at 100,000.”

Yuan Xingzhou was startled by this even as he reached the door.

“The company’s reimbursement limit is 30,000—and that’s only because I just signed an endorsement,” Ye Huai said. “This means I’d be paying 70,000 out of my own pocket every month to rent a huge house I can’t even use. Am I insane?”

“It’s that big?” Yuan Xingzhou was stunned, but thinking of Ye Huai’s countless “god-tier” bags that cost as much as cabbage, he was still surprised. “This money should be fine for you, right? Since it’s big.”

“What’s the use of it being big?” Ye Huai crawled forward on the sofa, propping his chin on the armrest and squinting at him. “How does the saying go? ‘Ten thousand acres of fertile land, but one only eats three pints a day; a thousand-room mansion, but one only sleeps on eight feet of bed.’ Is there a difference between 400 square meters and 40?”

Yuan Xingzhou thought there was definitely a difference, but their current apartment was a large two-bedroom, around 120 square meters. Aside from only having one bathroom and a slightly irrational layout, it was enough for the two of them.

“So you’re not going to live there? Didn’t you already sign the contract?” Yuan Xingzhou turned to confirm.

“Not going.” Ye Huai kept his chin on the sofa, looking at him. “Don’t go out, okay? I’m starving to death.”

Before Yuan Xingzhou could feel happy, he was stunned by the man’s request.

Me, the kitchen disaster, cooking??

“Three meals a day, every meal has to be made,” Yuan Xingzhou repeated Zhu Yueming’s words from the other day, squinting at him. “You really work quite hard.”

“Exactly. So today we’re swapping shifts,” Ye Huai said shamelessly. “Just cook some instant noodles. I’m so hungry there’s only a layer of skin left.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“It was so hard for me to win you over, after all.” Ye Huai also looked at him with a teasing gaze, then tsk-ed twice. “Have you stopped loving me so soon?”