Stop Flirting, I Can't Take It - Chapter 4

The MS Hotel and the apartment where Song Xueyan lived were only separated by one street.

After arriving home, Song Xueyan changed into pajamas and picked up his phone, only to see the other party was “still typing.” He tapped the keyboard for a few moments, hesitated for two seconds, and then deleted everything in the input field.

Perhaps he is composing a short essay, let’s wait a little longer.

The cramping in his abdomen became more pronounced. Song Xueyan exhaled wearily, reached out to the small bottle on the bedside table, poured out the last pill, and swallowed it with some warm water. He dropped the empty bottle into the trash can and turned back to stare at the screen.

One second, two seconds… one minute… five minutes—

The doorbell rang.

Glancing at the phone screen, which still showed no movement, Song Xueyan kicked the folded quilt in frustration and got out of bed.

By the time he sluggishly shuffled out of the bedroom, the person outside had already entered the code and stepped inside.

“Oh, you’re here!” Fu Yanle kicked off his shoes, changed into house slippers, and bypassed the entryway while carrying bags of groceries. “I’m here to deliver some love!”

Song Xueyan leaned against the wall. “It’s such a hot day, don’t tire yourself out.”

Fu Yanle piled the ingredients onto the island counter and glanced at the listless Song Xueyan. “You haven’t been eating properly these past two days, have you? You look like you’ve got one foot in the grave.”

Song Xueyan walked over. “It’s hot; I have no appetite.”

“Nonsense, you don’t have an appetite in the winter either. An immortal doesn’t need to practice bigong (fasting); I think you’re just trying to ascend to heaven.” Fu Yanle opened the refrigerator and discovered that the ingredients he had sent over last week were more than half gone.

“Wow! Look at this usage—you must have been ‘blessing’ the grains and cereals every day recently, right?” He clapped his hands sarcastically. “How rare. But remember to balance your meats and vegetables.”

Song Xueyan pulled out a high stool and sat down. “I’m about to enter the crew.”

“You only watch your diet when you have work; if you didn’t have work, I’d be here to collect your corpse today. For other people, eating is life; for you, it’s just to keep a single breath.”

Fu Yanle rolled up his sleeves and hoisted a large kitchen knife.

“I’ve abandoned Minister Chen to come serve you; you must eat a proper meal tonight, or I’ll hang myself from your bedpost tonight.”

Song Xueyan propped his chin on the dining table, laughing lightly. “Choose somewhere else to hang; otherwise, I’ll have to take a detour when I get up in the morning.”

Fu Yanle tied on his apron and ignored him coldly.

His phone vibrated. Yan Qi had finally sent over the small essay he had been meticulously crafting for nearly twenty minutes.

Powerful Boy: [That’s not very convenient, is it? (Sad emoji)]

Song Xueyan blinked and replied: “In order to build chemistry and improve work efficiency, your partner will be willing to cooperate with you.”

Yan Qi replied quickly: [But I don’t like sleeping in the same bed as others! (Shiba Inu frantically shaking head gif)]

Who said anything about the same bed?

Song Xueyan chuckled, comforting him: “Actually, you don’t need to be so nervous. If the director feels adjustments are needed, he will take measures.”

Powerful Boy: “You’re right. Let’s not talk about this. Is your body feeling better?”

The discomfort in his abdomen became almost imperceptible due to this concern. Song Xueyan said: [Much better. (Fighting emoji)]

Fu Yanle closed the refrigerator and turned around just in time to catch the smile on Song Xueyan’s face. He rushed over immediately to ask: “Which little goblin are you chatting with!”

“A netizen.” Song Xueyan tilted his phone slightly so Fu Yanle could see the screen clearly.

Song Xueyan didn’t hide or guard anything, but Fu Yanle consciously avoided looking at the chat content. “’Powerful Boy’?”

His expression turned serious. “Which app did you meet on? How did you add each other on WeChat? How long have you been chatting? Have you exposed your real identity information?”

Song Xueyan answered truthfully: “We met via text message; I was nine years old that year. Sharing videos via text wasn’t convenient, so we added each other on WeChat at 6:03 AM on the first day of college. He has never pried into my identity or privacy, but I know some information about him.”

“You remember so clearly.” Fu Yanle said. “A netizen who is so thoughtful and long-lasting is truly perfect. Hey, is it a man or a woman?”

Song Xueyan lowered his head to reply to Yan Qi’s message. “A man.”

“If it were a girl, this would count as an online version of childhood sweethearts.” Fu Yanle felt a bit regretful and turned to start cooking.

Powerful Boy: “I know you don’t follow entertainment news. Do you want to know what type of actor I am now?”

I know, a little rookie.

Song Xueyan smiled and replied: “I only know that you will definitely be able to do what you want to do, and that is enough.”

Powerful Boy: “Thank you, I will work hard! I’ll be staying in Nandu quite often over the next six months. If you need anything, you can find me anytime.”

Song Xueyan stared at the screen for a while and said: “We breathe the wind of the same city. If I close my eyes, I can feel you.”

After the message was sent, Song Xueyan rubbed his phone case uneasily, feeling as if he had done something against the rules.

Will Yan Qi think it’s strange for me to speak like this?

Song Xueyan tried to guess Yan Qi’s reaction to seeing the message; anticipation and panic fought in his mind, finally pulling out a hidden desire.

Not long after, Yan Qi replied with a cool sticker: “Pick a good day and go to the park to eat a piece of cake. The wind will be sweet then; I recommend strawberry! Remember to pick a good cake, otherwise, you’ll be sick of it.”

Song Xueyan felt relieved, but also dazed for a long time. Finally, he just replied with an “Okay.”

They ended their conversation for the day.

Fu Yanle was cutting potatoes into chunks. Seeing Song Xueyan put down his phone, he asked: “When do you enter the crew?”

“Soon, early August.” Song Xueyan glanced at the date. “One more month.”

“I was scrolling Weibo this morning and just found out you took a dual-male-lead drama that even has a romantic plot.”

Fu Yanle chopped a potato in half with one stroke. “I was like a silly marmot, scurrying through the melon field for half the day, only to realize that this drama is actually the same one Yan Qi auditioned for! How many more surprises are you two stinking men hiding from your daddy?”

Hearing Yan Qi’s name suddenly from Fu Yanle’s mouth, Song Xueyan was stunned. His tone was a bit more urgent than usual when he spoke. “You know Yan Qi?”

“More than just know—he’s Minister Chen’s cousin, didn’t you know?” Fu Yanle recalled briefly. “Alright, I suppose I really haven’t mentioned him in front of you.”

Half a year ago, when he and Yu Jingchen held their wedding, both Yan Qi and Song Xueyan were present, but one was at his friend’s table, and the other was at Yu Jingchen’s family table; they were in different areas and far apart.

With so many guests at the wedding, the group of idiots making a scene in the front had blocked Song Xueyan completely, so it made sense that the two hadn’t seen each other.

Song Xueyan lowered his eyelids, unable to help but rub the fabric on his thigh with his fingertips.

Yan Qi frequently updated his life on his Moments: sports cars, motorcycles, planes, yachts… he played with expensive things in rotation, looking every bit the wealthy heir, but Song Xueyan never expected Yan Qi to be Yu Jingchen’s cousin.

Fu Yanle was busy carving a potato into a rabbit and didn’t notice Song Xueyan’s mood, continuing on his own: “A-Qi doesn’t like his college major that much. After the New Year last year, he said he wanted to go into acting after graduation, and his family agreed. One’s own radish shouldn’t go to other people’s homes to be bullied, so Minister Chen took charge and had him sign with Yaoguang Entertainment, putting him under his own nose so he could be disciplined.”

His fingertips felt faintly hot and numb. Song Xueyan regained his focus. “Knowing his manager was Feng Zhui, I guessed that Yaoguang valued him very much.”

Feng Zhui was one of the ace managers cultivated by Yaoguang. Yu Jingchen had bypassed the upper management of Yaoguang to personally appoint him to be responsible for Yan Qi. This not only showed trust and appreciation but was also a form of supervision—whether for the sake of the worker’s livelihood or the professional sign-board, he would surely do his best.

“The original plan was to let him train starting from bit parts or supporting roles, and acting courses at home and abroad couldn’t be left behind, but we didn’t expect Fang Zhouji to send an audition invitation. The kid was competitive too, and he really passed.”

Fu Yanle felt a sense of reflected glory. “The lead role for Fang Zhouji and He Songyun, Song Xueyan’s onscreen first love no wonder the internet is in such an uproar.”

Song Xueyan said: “With his conditions, he would have had a chance to shine even as a bit player or supporting actor.”

The entertainment industry was never short of good-looking faces; a large batch of newcomers poured in every year, but very few were truly noticed, and even fewer became huge hits. Attractiveness had levels; extreme good looks, unique features, temperament, or style were easier for audiences to notice.

“He is clean, with sword-like brows and star-like eyes; he is incomparably handsome. His face and temperament are top-tier. Even when naturally arrogant, he doesn’t look overbearing. He is sharp from the inside out.” Song Xueyan’s tone was gentle. “I’ve seen the plays he performed in school; his talent and ability are good.”

“Holy shit, this is the first time I’ve heard you praise someone like this.” Fu Yanle stuck the tip of the kitchen knife into the cutting board. “Back when I made a guest appearance in your drama, you only praised me with two words. I’m not doing this anymore; I’m going to hang myself!”

Song Xueyan reached out and poked his puffed-up cheek. “But when President Yu came to pick you up from the set, he praised you for three minutes without stopping, and the whole crew erupted in applause.”

Fu Yanle was appeased.

After finishing dinner with his cousin, who was guarding his empty room, and taking a walk, Yan Qi returned to the guest bedroom, leaving Yu Jingchen alone in the garden to feed the mosquitoes.

Yan Qi dialed Qi’s phone number, placed the phone on the vanity, and turned on speakerphone.

While applying essential oil and caring for his hair, he shared the good news, while implicitly indicating that he was no longer “clean,” which made Qi exclaim: “Son, have you been ‘submerged’ (sleeping your way to the top)?”

Yan Qi rolled his eyes and said: “My boss and gold-daddy is my own cousin. If I were ‘submerged’…”

“That would be too terrible.” Qi Subai said softly. “Some old cows are especially not good people, they just like young, tender boys—that’s Wang Ruizhe’s original words. I thought at the time, isn’t Uncle Wang scolding himself? He called your father at the time to lobby for you to develop at Huaying, and your father almost flew to Nandu to beat him up.”

Yan Qi was laughing, but the moment he heard “Huaying,” he subconsciously thought of Song Xueyan. He lowered the corners of his mouth, wiped Song Xueyan from his mind, and said cockily: “Uncle Wang doesn’t like my type, and we’ve met several times at the boxing gym; he’s even been beaten into a shadow by me. Every time he sees me, he still has to call me Big Brother.”

“So impressive, so impressive.” Qi Subai praised her son a few times. “So how exactly are you not clean?”

He had planned to tell Qi about today’s experience, but when the words reached his lips, he suddenly couldn’t say them. Yan Qi said mysteriously: “You’ll know in a little while.”

Qi Subai wasn’t in a hurry to ask, and after caring for her son a bit more, she hung up the phone.

Yan Qi came out of the bathroom, threw himself onto the sofa, and pulled out the full script sent by Fang Zhouji.

The character he played in the drama was named Ming Yanzhao—a descendant of a prominent family who appeared cunning and willful on the surface but was actually filled with ambition.

Song Xueyan played the noble, ruthless, and ambitious dynasty prince—Xiao Zhenyue.

The two were classmates in their youth, but later one went to the battlefield and became famous at a young age, while the other took root in the court, painstakingly maneuvering. When they met again, they belonged to two opposing factions competing for power.

One side was fighting to the death, while the other side was involved in kiss and bed scenes was this true love killing each other, or was it a secret affair?

A new message popped up on the screen; it was a voice message from Fang Zhouji.

“Little Yan, I saw that you were quite nervous and unfamiliar with Xueyan when you were together today, so I was thinking, when the filming starts, I’ll let the two of you spend a week together first to get to know each other and get familiar what do you think?”

After listening, Yan Qi secretly gave a “thumbs up” to the miraculous Sui Qiong, and replied by voice: “I can do that, but I don’t know if Song Xue”

He corrected himself, “Is it convenient for Teacher Song?”

Fang Zhouji replied quickly: “I’ve already told Xueyan. Don’t look at his cold, lifeless demeanor, he refuses to take this or that script when choosing, picks on this and that when acting, and never gives a smiling face when guiding juniors he’s stricter than a middle-aged dean of the Academic Affairs Office. But as long as he accepts the drama, he will unconditionally cooperate with the production team’s reasonable conditions.”

That’s a lot of descriptions before this “but,” isn’t it? Besides, being cold and not liking to smile were just his personality; actors being careful when choosing scripts and having ideas and principles were good things; and being strict when guiding juniors was a sign of responsibility.

Yan Qi rubbed his phone but didn’t think about refuting for Song Xueyan; his mind was full of serious business.

“Then Director Fang, can I not share a bed with Song Xueyan?”