Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 7

After finishing his call, Ye Huai walked back into the room, waiting for Yuan Xingzhou to offer his formal apology. He had even debated with himself for a moment: if Yuan Xingzhou came over crying and snotting while hugging his leg, should he kick him away or jump back?

In the end, while he was caught in a mental dilemma, the person on the sofa hadn’t moved at all. In fact, Yuan Xingzhou was looking at his screen with a lovestruck, silly grin!

Ye Huai felt a bit slighted. He paced over to the back of the sofa, intending to give a loud cough to remind Yuan Xingzhou to get down to business. To his surprise, when he looked up, he saw his own face.

The top and bottom of the screen were densely packed with bullet comments: “Ye Huai is truly the Number One Jealous King of Asia!” “Ye Huai is definitely a universe-level doting husband!” “Huai-huai can’t bear to see our Zhou-zhou suffer even a tiny grievance!”

Ye Huai frowned, slowly forming a question mark in his mind.

Because the video was muted and the content was fan-cam footage from their old group appearances, he had no idea how these people had reached such a conclusion.

As for Yuan Xingzhou—it was one thing to be lovestruck over his face, but why was he looking for another video the moment he finished one?

Ye Huai only caught a glimpse of a dark cover and the title Stolen Love. He didn’t think much of the content, so he just curled his lip and let out a small “Heh.”

Yuan Xingzhou was just about to memorize the creator’s name so he could watch it secretly later when he heard the noise. He let out an “Ah!” and jumped up. In his frantic haste, his phone slid out of his hand and hit the floor. As he lunged to pick it up, he banged his head hard against the sofa. He saw stars, his vision swimming.

Ye Huai: “…”

“What are you doing?” Ye Huai asked, bewildered. “Why are you acting so guilty?”

“No, nothing,” Yuan Xingzhou stammered, his face beet-red as he crouched on the floor, shaking his head. “Just… just got a fright.”

Yuan Xingzhou was dying of embarrassment. He hurriedly fumbled for his phone, checked that the screen wasn’t cracked, and breathed a sigh of relief. He carefully put it away, stood up, and sat on the other side of the sofa, patting his chest with lingering fear.

Thank goodness Ye Huai hadn’t seen what he was doing, or he would have no dignity left. His heart slowly returned to its place, and as he wiped his brow, he realized his back was covered in a layer of sweat.

Ye Huai gave him a suspicious look, then stretched out his long legs and stepped directly over the back of the sofa, sitting exactly where Yuan Xingzhou had just been.

“As long as you’re okay.” Ye Huai crossed his legs, pulled his own phone from his pocket, and started a game. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

The heart he had just calmed down shot right back into his throat.

“No.” Yuan Xingzhou watched his expression carefully and asked back, “Do… do you have something to ask me?”

“Me?” Ye Huai looked up from his phone and swept a glance over him. “What does it have to do with me?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…” He studied Ye Huai’s face and was finally certain that the man hadn’t seen the video.

Then why ask that…

Yuan Xingzhou suddenly remembered the actual business at hand.

“However, I do need to formally apologize to you.” Yuan Xingzhou cleared his throat and looked at Ye Huai seriously. “Regarding this ‘Huai-Zhou CP’ matter, I was in the wrong. I was just talking nonsense at the time to vent, but then it spread.” He paused, adding a line based on Ye Huai’s perceived preferences: “It’s mainly because you’re too popular; everyone cares about you so much.”

Ye Huai didn’t look up, but he shifted his posture, leaning against the sofa with his legs crossed.

Yuan Xingzhou continued: “…I didn’t expect the impact to be so large. This CP brought me a lot of exposure and hype. Later, I got a bit complacent, thinking that since you weren’t coming back anyway, it would be fine once people stopped paying attention.”

“Who told you I wasn’t coming back?” Ye Huai asked.

Yuan Xingzhou froze.

“You did!” Yuan Xingzhou said. “You said it yourself.”

Ye Huai raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Yuan Xingzhou explained: “When we went to make the appointment, you said you wouldn’t return to the country.”

The process of getting married abroad was quite troublesome. The two of them had to go to the marriage registry to give notice, wait for the notification period, and then hold the ceremony. The “marriage news” Huayu had originally released was actually just the registration information. Yuan Xingzhou liked to finish what he started, so he had insisted on staying until the ceremony was over before returning home.

Ye Huai had said twice that he wasn’t coming back—once on the day of the appointment, and once after the ceremony. If he had known the man was just saying it casually, Yuan Xingzhou would never have mentioned him.

Ye Huai had clearly forgotten all about it. He looked completely puzzled, but he didn’t doubt the truth of the statement; he was just trying to remember why he would have said it.

Sensitive to his moods, Yuan Xingzhou felt grateful and offered a memory: “It was that day everyone went to the bar. You were actually a pretty good drinker.”

They had gone with the staff to a bar popular with young people. Ye Huai had ordered absinthe that night, while Yuan Xingzhou only dared to drink low-alcohol fruit wine.

As the staff took photos to send to the paparazzi, Ye Huai had glanced at Yuan Xingzhou almost indifferently and remarked that he wouldn’t be going back.

Yuan Xingzhou had remembered it ever since, even feeling a sense of regret at the time.

Ye Huai frowned, thinking for a long time. “Don’t remember. But your alcohol tolerance is truly terrible.”

Yuan Xingzhou lowered his head and smiled.

“Have you practiced it since then?” Ye Huai asked.

“No, I don’t drink,” Yuan Xingzhou said.

Ye Huai nodded. Yuan Xingzhou was a singer by trade and took better care of his voice than most.

The atmosphere suddenly lightened. Yuan Xingzhou hesitated for a moment before returning to the original topic. “About this, I am truly, very… very sorry.”

He bowed to Ye Huai, full of apology. “I will think of a way to resolve this as soon as possible. I definitely won’t damage your reputation.”

“Heh,” Ye Huai said expressionlessly. “What way?”

“I haven’t thought of one yet, so I wanted to ask for some more time. Regardless,” Yuan Xingzhou sat up straight, looking determined, “I will try my best to resolve it perfectly—a safe unbinding—so as not to cause you more trouble.”

Ye Huai put down his phone and looked down at him, pointing a finger at him like he was lecturing a junior.

“Doing things without considering the consequences!” Ye Huai said. “Did you think I would be soft-hearted?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

“If it weren’t for this variety show,” Ye Huai snorted, “I’d have forced you to explain everything clearly to the public.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “???”

Yuan Xingzhou didn’t understand. He sat there with his mouth agape.

With a look of disdain, Ye Huai tossed his phone over.

There was no game on the screen. Instead, it was an English explanation for a foreign version of a romance variety show. Wen Ting had somehow obtained it and sent it to Ye Huai. Ye Huai had flipped through it, lost patience, and thrown it to Yuan Xingzhou.

“Someone is coming to pack my things in a bit.” Ye Huai watched as Yuan Xingzhou held his phone carefully as if it were a treasure. He raised his chin toward the suitcases and strolled toward his room. “Don’t call me for lunch. It’s the middle of the night for me; I need to sleep.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…” It was clearly 10:00 AM.

This gentleman was apparently going to continue battling jet lag.

Yuan Xingzhou hadn’t expected things to take such a turn; Ye Huai had unexpectedly shown him mercy. However, this variety show was indeed something worth Ye Huai’s attention.

Idol Love Season was a wildly popular romance variety show in Asia, with several overseas remakes. Previously, a domestic platform had wanted to remake it, but netizens protested over copyright issues, and the tug-of-war lasted so long they didn’t dare start.

Later, rumors spread that a certain station had secretly bought the rights, intending to turn it into their flagship show. However, they were very cautious about the casting. Conflicting opinions had kept them from making a final decision.

Of course, there were skeptics. The content of Idol Love Season involved several celebrities forming their own CPs to act in short dramas with intimate scenes. The celebrities had to fight for opportunities while “dating.” With everyone having different motives, the show was highly watchable. But domestic idols lacked acting skills, and those with any ambition didn’t dare date, let alone participate in such a show.

Moreover, Chinese audiences didn’t always take well to direct remakes. If the celebrities’ quality varied too much or their values were jarringly different from the show’s intent, it would make viewers uncomfortable.

Yuan Xingzhou began catching up by watching the original version. Halfway through, remembering that Ye Huai was likely impatient with such things, he took out a notebook and began making notes for him as well.

On the other side, Wen Ting was delighted that Ye Huai had relented.

Idol Love Season was actually a show Li Yu had secured for Yuan Xingzhou. Although Wen Ting had taken the credit and insulted Li Yu in the process, Li Yu was also happy that the matter was resolved.

It was surprising that Ye Huai had agreed so quickly. It had to be said that Wen Ting was quite skilled at managing him.

The two managers took the elevator down together. Li Yu thought for a moment and said, “This can’t be dragged out too long. Even if they divorce six months from now, we need to start preparing now. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy,” Wen Ting remarked. “You’ve managed Yuan Xingzhou for two and a half years. He started mentioning Ye Huai in January—it’s been nearly a year with over a dozen trending topics—and you, as his manager, knew nothing?”

“If I had known, I wouldn’t have negotiated this variety show for him,” Li Yu said. “Besides, this has nothing to do with work. Now that Ye Huai is back, using a variety show to open up the market is best—it’s fast and has a wide audience. The hype for the Huai-Zhou CP is already so high; him benefiting from it now is just reaping what’s been sown. Speaking of which, you should thank me.”

Wen Ting gave him a cold look but didn’t speak.

“I admit I don’t like Yuan Xingzhou.” Li Yu turned around, looking at Wen Ting with interest. “But you seem to like him quite a bit. Is it a ‘poverty relief’ mindset?”

“No,” Wen Ting said coldly. ” I just covet his beauty. A fair, tender young man who looks so pitiable—who wouldn’t like him?”

“Then you should keep him,” Li Yu said. “You have the money anyway. It would save him from having to live by watching your Ye Huai’s moods.”

Wen Ting scoffed, then suddenly remembered something else. “I heard you’re going to trade him with Gao Mei? Do you know what Gao Mei’s ‘preferences’ are?”

Gao Mei was another manager at their company and the original manager of the ST boy group. There were rumors that Gao Mei was a high-level “procurer” in the industry, dealing with powerful figures whose names couldn’t be spoken.

Li Yu had indeed negotiated an artist swap with Gao Mei. The kid Gao Mei was giving him looked somewhat similar to Yuan Xingzhou but was younger, professionally trained, had strong momentum, and a bright, cheerful personality. His prospects were broader than Yuan Xingzhou’s. Li Yu had been surprised that Gao Mei was willing to trade—of course, he didn’t know then that Gao Mei had made things difficult for Yuan Xingzhou in the past.

Wen Ting said, “In any case, Xingzhou and Ye Huai are a unit now. I don’t want to cooperate with your hype only to have Ye Huai inexplicably ‘cuckolded’ in the end.”

Li Yu shook his head. “I won’t swap him before they unbind. You can rest assured.”

Wen Ting nodded, the elevator stopped, and he strode out. Li Yu continued down, but doubt began to grow in his mind.

Regarding the rumors about Gao Mei—though people mentioned them, Li Yu had always thought they were just gossip. This industry appeared too monetized and sexualized to outsiders. Many artists just filmed their scenes and rushed to appointments; where would they find time for power-for-sex trades? If it really happened, wouldn’t people in the same company know?

But then again, if the rumors were true, Gao Mei was certainly not dealing with ordinary people. How could others easily find out?

As for Yuan Xingzhou’s personality… Li Yu shook his head. He thought that if a powerful figure really took an interest, Yuan Xingzhou might not necessarily refuse. Furthermore, even if he and Gao Mei intended to swap, the artist could still disagree. At worst, he would give him a warning when the time came.

Ultimately, a person usually decides their own path.

Two days passed in a flash. After a long sleep, Ye Huai had overcome his jet lag and began a “salted fish” life of eating and playing whenever he wasn’t sleeping.

Yuan Xingzhou was astonished.

He had actually had many theories about Ye Huai. After all, this was an idol known as a “Deity,” with a noble appearance that seemed untainted by the world. Logically, Ye Huai should be very different from ordinary mortals.

But reality proved that some people truly cannot be judged by logic. This man really just ate and slept as he pleased, yet his body stayed fit and his face didn’t lose its charm.

Yuan Xingzhou, however, was still a mere mortal. Over these two days, besides eating, he spent most of his time memorizing lines. He was playing a young military officer in City of Mystery, a subordinate of the male lead.

Due to scheduling, several of his scenes with the male lead hadn’t been filmed yet. Since the male lead was about to wrap up, Yuan Xingzhou estimated he would be called up soon, so he was quite nervous.

Lacking professional training, his acting relied entirely on empathy—immersing himself in the situation with great emotion and many small gestures. He couldn’t move freely in the bedroom, hitting things after just a few steps, so he chose to pace around the living room.

He was used to practicing privately, but now that Ye Huai was there, the man would occasionally come out to watch whenever he heard lines being recited, which made Yuan Xingzhou very embarrassed.

On set, everyone was busy so it didn’t matter, but at home, this extra person felt like an audience member. Especially since this audience member was too handsome, with long legs and defined muscles—Yuan Xingzhou’s resistance to such visuals was low. The moment Ye Huai came out, Yuan Xingzhou would get distracted.

Ye Huai was truly curious about acting, but after watching a few times, he was disappointed and gave a merciless critique: “This won’t do. You’re too soft when arguing with someone. Are you angry or are you acting spoiled?”

Yuan Xingzhou’s face turned bright red. He thought: If you didn’t keep coming out, how could I be soft? Wait, when was I acting spoiled? I’m just embarrassed to yell loudly…

But if he said that, Ye Huai would surely ask: “Aren’t there people watching on set too? Why can’t you do it just because I’m looking? Don’t make excuses using other people.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Despite only interacting for two short days, he found he could completely imagine Ye Huai’s tone in his head.

Seeing that he had stopped moving, Ye Huai leaned against the back of the sofa and urged: “Hey! Keep going. Why did you stop?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Yuan Xingzhou really couldn’t continue. Seeing that Ye Huai’s expression was normal, he decided to just chat: “Are you very interested in acting?”

Ye Huai nodded.

“Are you going to act in the future?” Yuan Xingzhou couldn’t help but ask. “I haven’t asked what you plan to do now that you’re back. Still being a singer?”

They were both twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Idols nowadays were getting younger with every generation. Even if Ye Huai continued in this line of work, his idol career wouldn’t last much longer. At most ten years—could someone still be jumping around on stage at thirty-seven? He wasn’t a Heavenly King.

“Don’t know,” Ye Huai said. “Depends on the company’s arrangements. Singing is fine, dancing is fine, but I actually don’t like either. If acting isn’t tiring, it would be quite good to do that.”

Yuan Xingzhou nodded.

“Why aren’t you acting?” Ye Huai looked at him standing there thoughtfully and asked in surprise, “Hurry up and continue! Let me see.”

“My state isn’t good at home.” Yuan Xingzhou smiled. “If you’re curious, why don’t you come to the set with me to watch?”

“Now?” Ye Huai was indeed very interested. He rubbed his hands together, his eyes lighting up instantly. “Then I’ll go get my things.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Since there was nothing to do in the afternoon, it was better to return to the set early to check in. Yuan Xingzhou watched as Ye Huai rushed excitedly into his room, then went to his own room to organize his things. He would be staying with the crew for the next few days until he wrapped up. It was better to bring more things.

After packing his luggage, thinking about going out with Ye Huai, he changed into a camouflage outfit and blew his hair. The camo outfit was well-tailored and made his legs look exceptionally long. Yuan Xingzhou’s skin was too fair, but with this change of clothes, he suddenly had more of an “Alpha” aura. He felt quite satisfied with himself.

Once he finished, Ye Huai was already waiting in the living room. He was wearing a military-green jumpsuit, a belt loosely fastened at his waist, and the collar unzipped to reveal a low-cut inner shirt. His Adam’s apple was prominent, his collarbones were beautiful, and his face was handsome. He looked sharp and clean.

It was completely different from the casual style at the airport.

He was… incredibly handsome!

Yuan Xingzhou dazed off while looking at him, thinking that people really shouldn’t compare themselves to others; Ye Huai could throw him several blocks behind just by getting ready casually.

The two arrived at the set together. Unsurprisingly, the moment Ye Huai stepped out of the car, he attracted everyone’s gaze—extras, crew members, lighting techs… people nearby peered over, whispering with excited expressions.

Wearing sunglasses, Ye Huai looked like a leader coming for an inspection—completely aloof, as if he were just one step away from pointing fingers and instructing everyone on how to work.

Seeing him start acting arrogant the moment he left the house, Yuan Xingzhou nearly died of laughter internally. He brought out his small chair, set it in a shaded spot for Ye Huai, and got a bottle of water from the crew to hand to him. The area around the set was very desolate; one had to go a long way to buy water or snacks.

Just as he had settled this “Lord” down, Yuan Xingzhou saw the production coordinator happily approaching with a schedule.

He had a sudden idea and decided to give Ye Huai a good example—since this man planned to act, he should also learn how to get along with the crew members.

Yuan Xingzhou smiled and greeted the coordinator.

“I’m back from leave,” Yuan Xingzhou said. “I’ll be hanging around here this afternoon.”

“What a coincidence!” The coordinator slapped his thigh and said excitedly, “Didn’t you check the group chat? Someone isn’t feeling well today and has been NG-ing (No Good) all morning. The set has been ready for ages but hasn’t been used. The director was thrilled to see you back; he said to have you get ready, and if the other person can’t do it, we’ll film your scene first.”

Yuan Xingzhou hadn’t expected to arrive at just the right time. He rarely NG-ed since joining the crew and had prepared over the last two days, so he wasn’t nervous.

“Which scene?” Yuan Xingzhou couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Ye Huai, meaning for him to watch closely. He then turned back to the coordinator. “I’ll go get ready.”

“Take a guess!” The coordinator raised an eyebrow back at him. “It’s a surprise!”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…What surprise?”

“A kiss scene!” The coordinator laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “How about that? Didn’t expect it, did you, brother? The screenwriter added it specifically for you!”