Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 5

Ye Huai finished three phone calls while the sound of the shower continued, successfully working himself into another fit of suppressed rage.

The first call was naturally to Wen Ting, who was also extremely surprised. Most artists at Huayu Entertainment owned their own homes; only a few trainees needed dormitories. However, the trainee dorms were in a different district, and the company certainly wouldn’t arrange high-end apartments for them.

“…It was my mistake. I heard that apartment had been empty for a long time and no one had been assigned to it, so I just asked for the key card. I didn’t verify it with the company before you came back. Is Xingzhou okay?” Wen Ting felt very apologetic. “I even hired a cleaning crew to do a deep-clean earlier…”

The cleaners had taken the money for a deep-clean but actually only did a routine surface cleaning, and they hadn’t told him the truth. This had made Wen Ting even more certain that no one was living there. Who would have expected such a blunder?

Ye Huai was nearly choked with anger. He couldn’t exactly bring up the fact that he had been seen naked, so he could only urge Wen Ting to find another place quickly.

Right after hanging up, his phone rang again—it was his elder brother, Ye Jiang.

Ye Huai and this elder brother were paternal half-siblings. They had only met in their teens; their personalities were polar opposites, and their relationship was mediocre at best. Later, when Ye Huai wanted to enter the entertainment industry, the whole family opposed it except for Ye Jiang, who supported him and secretly paved the way. Only then did their relationship thaw slightly.

But it was only a slight thaw. Ye Huai had absolutely no interest in Ye Jiang’s dinner invitation.

Ye Jiang sounded somewhat disappointed and asked, “Then do you have a place to stay? Your room has never been touched; the housekeeper even cleaned it for you yesterday.”

Ye Huai refused decisively: “Not going. I have a place to stay.”

Ye Jiang: “Really?”

Ye Huai: “Do I need to lie to you?”

Ye Jiang: “…”

“Have it your way then,” Ye Jiang sighed. “…I know you’re headstrong, so I won’t nag. One last question: now that you’re back, which direction do you plan to develop in?”

“The entertainment circle,” Ye Huai said perfunctorily. “Singing, dancing, selling my face, that sort of thing.”

“Are you not considering joining Yapo?” Ye Jiang asked. “I thought you’d have had your fill after playing around for a few years.”

Yapo Jewelry was the company founded by Ye Huai’s grandfather, expanded and taken public by his father, and was now undergoing a transition under this elder brother. Whether it was going smoothly was unknown, but the scale was certainly grand.

Ye Huai replied, “Not going. I don’t know anything about it; why would I go in there just to lose face for you guys?”

Ye Jiang gave a small laugh.

“If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up,” Ye Huai said. “No dinner, no house. Have someone send my car over later; I need to use it.”

“Alright.” Ye Jiang’s tone lightened as well. “I’ll have it sent over once the maintenance is done.”

Ye Huai hung up with a frown. Looking at the time, half an hour had passed. Yuan Xingzhou was still in the shower; the constant sound of rushing water was irritating.

He had been flying for over a dozen hours straight and had barely rested. The drowsiness he felt after his shower was hitting him hard, and he felt drained. He called Wen Ting to urge him again.

To his shock, the moment the call connected, Wen Ting told him there were no places left to stay.

Ye Huai: “…”

“…The dorm conditions in the East District are poor; you definitely wouldn’t be used to it. This high-end apartment is the only decent one available,” Wen Ting said. “There really isn’t anywhere else.”

Ye Huai was about to explode.

But Wen Ting followed up with an apology: “I didn’t handle this well. But you urgently need rest right now, and we have to solve the problem. How about this: I’ll book a suite at the hotel across the street. You can put up with it for a few days, and I’ll find a listing as soon as possible to resolve your housing. Does that work?”

“How many days will it take to find one?” Ye Huai took a deep breath.

Wen Ting said, “Hard to say. It’s peak tourist season, and housing is tight. If you’re lucky, we can snag a cancellation; if not, we’ll have to wait. Regardless, a large number of listings usually open up in November.”

“But don’t worry,” Wen Ting added. “I’ll cover the room fees. Put all your food and drinks on the room tab.”

Yuan Xingzhou had originally intended to shower quickly and get out, but Ye Huai’s phone calls were one after another. Fearing the awkwardness of walking out during a call, he had kept washing. By now, he was so stifled by the steam that he couldn’t stay in any longer, so he finally changed into his clothes.

As soon as he stepped out, he heard the manager on the other end telling Ye Huai to stay in a hotel.

Ye Huai was frowning, looking like he had nowhere to vent his fury, his entire being radiating displeasure.

Yuan Xingzhou hesitated for a moment before speaking up: “If you don’t mind, just stay here for now.”

Both people on the phone and in the room froze.

Ye Huai looked up and stared at him for two seconds.

Yuan Xingzhou, nearly suffocated from the bathroom, took two deep breaths before explaining, “It’s not safe for you to stay in a hotel.”

Back when Ye Huai was active in the group, he had been followed on flights, blocked in cars, and cornered in hotels by sasaeng fans. Those people weren’t ordinary fans; they were either obsessive or had connections and means. At that time, Ye Huai had nowhere to hide and was nearly driven to a breakdown. Later, whenever the group stayed in hotels, Ye Huai’s room assignments were like guerrilla warfare—constantly changing, with security required to sweep the room beforehand to check for hidden people.

Ye Huai had just returned to the country. He had no assistant or security with him; there was no guarantee he wouldn’t run into trouble.

Wen Ting paused on the other end, suddenly remembering this. He thanked Yuan Xingzhou profusely.

“Thank you, thank you,” Wen Ting said into the phone. “Would it be too much trouble for you?”

“No, Brother Wen. I…” Yuan Xingzhou was about to say more when he saw Ye Huai press the end-call button.

Yuan Xingzhou: “…” He blinked. Seeing Ye Huai staring at him, he subconsciously touched his face. “What is it?”

Ye Huai eyed him with a strange expression. “How do you know about the sasaeng fans?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “???”

“Weren’t we in the same group?” Yuan Xingzhou was caught between laughter and tears. “You might have forgotten, but once a sasaeng blocked you, and you actually swapped rooms with me.”

Ye Huai gave an “oh,” and his expression finally softened.

Perhaps because he knew Yuan Xingzhou was helping him today, or perhaps because he was exhausted from the journey, Ye Huai was exceptionally quiet afterward. Yuan Xingzhou helped him line up his suitcases in front of the guest bedroom door and lent him a set of unused bedding.

Ye Huai made his own bed, closed the door, and went to sleep.

Yuan Xingzhou returned to his own room.

He wasn’t sleepy. The livestream incident was continuing to ferment. In the morning, people were still expressing understanding, but by the afternoon, the wind online had shifted. People were starting to question the actual relationship between him and Ye Huai. A post listed all the major “sugar” moments of the Huai-Zhou CP; without exception, they were all self-disclosures from Yuan Xingzhou. Ye Huai had never given any response.

The so-called stories of Ye Huai “doting on his husband” were also told by Yuan Xingzhou himself; their authenticity was now under suspicion.

Others began re-examining Yuan Xingzhou’s interviews and found a “bug” in his story: Yuan Xingzhou had said Ye Huai confessed to him under fireworks on the first anniversary of the team’s debut—Christmas.

But in reality, on that day, Yuan Xingzhou and the others were in Beijing, while only Ye Huai was in Shanghai. How could two people in different places have a confession under fireworks? We don’t know, and we’re too afraid to ask, but as for this fake CP, the original poster can’t stan it anymore.

The forums were noisy all afternoon, and many “un-fanning” posts were created. Fortunately, things were quiet on Weibo—likely because Li Yu had spent money to suppress it.

Yuan Xingzhou clicked in and out of apps, took out all his bank cards, and calculated his balance. However, the more he calculated, the more disheartened he felt. He put the cards away and sent text messages to several directors.

His role in City of Mystery wasn’t large, and his scenes were about to wrap up. The next drama Li Yu had negotiated for him was a male lead in a historical idol drama. If the truth about him and Ye Huai couldn’t be covered up, that drama would surely fall through. Yuan Xingzhou had to make plans in advance.

He sent messages to several directors and chatted with artists he had added before to build rapport. Some were regular contacts, while others were just nodding acquaintances. Yuan Xingzhou remembered everyone’s hobbies clearly; whether he was close to them or not, he chatted with them enthusiastically.

In the evening, Ye Huai was still sleeping in his room.

Yuan Xingzhou ordered takeout for himself and ate quickly. Upon returning to his room, he suddenly lost interest in chatting.

He remembered when he first joined ST, it was much the same. At the time, the other members of the team were familiar with each other and had good relationships. He had joined suddenly and couldn’t strike up a conversation with anyone. To make friends faster, he would pay attention to their chats, summarize their hobbies, and then deliberately try to cater to them.

However, no matter how much kindness he showed, it was hard to gain respect. The teammates always displayed an undeniable distance and disdain.

Later he found out that those people had discussed him in private—his family background, his experiences—and said that someone with such a bumpy past must have a dark heart, and that his enthusiasm toward them was just a “people-pleasing” personality at work.

At the time, Yuan Xingzhou felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar. He didn’t understand why these people looked down on him. He hadn’t held the team back, nor did he ever deliberately try to steal the spotlight.

After thinking it over, he could only withdraw his kindness and try his best to adapt to being alone. Fortunately, there was a reference point back then—Ye Huai was truly cold, ignoring everyone and unwilling to speak to anyone.

Those people looked down on Yuan Xingzhou, yet tried to curry favor with Ye Huai.

Yuan Xingzhou thought at the time: You think I’m inferior, but aren’t you the same?

He found balance in Ye Huai’s behavior and silently felt grateful in his heart.

Later, during their team anniversary, the following day happened to be Christmas. The others were all in Beijing celebrating together. Yuan Xingzhou felt lonely and silently went to Shanghai alone, choosing a nice hotel.

As it happened, Ye Huai had a commercial event in Shanghai that day and was staying in the very same hotel. Thus, when Yuan Xingzhou recognized Ye Huai’s sasaeng fans downstairs and heard them whispering about room numbers, he didn’t think twice. He ran up the hotel stairs and pounded on Ye Huai’s door.

Ye Huai was dragged by him into the emergency stairwell, missing the opening elevator doors by only two seconds.

Yuan Xingzhou had sprinted all the way up. Once he relaxed, he lost his strength. He leaned against Ye Huai, panting like a bull, and saw massive fireworks exploding outside the window.

Perhaps out of gratitude, or perhaps because he hadn’t reacted yet, Ye Huai remained motionless, letting him lean there until the fireworks outside finished.

The youth’s cheeks were burning, his heart was drumming like a ritual, and his breath was filled with a strange, cold scent.

The stars began to rise as night fell.

Yuan Xingzhou looked at the “exposure” posts, gave a soft sigh in his heart, and fell asleep clutching his phone.