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Yan Qi, a newcomer with “three-nothing” status (no background, no experience, no influence), has the chance to star in a drama. His partner is the male god who wears a “Tower of Babel” level halo and has won the hearts of thousands: Song Xueyan.
A celestial being falling into the mud, a wild chicken clinging to a branch to become a phoenix it’s absurd. Fans and netizens wished they could strip him of his skin and eat his flesh, desperately trying to carry the cold, noble, immortal-like beauty back to the heavens. Yan Qi scoffed: “Their fan filters are higher than the sky, and his idol persona is as solid as sheet metal.”
Until they met for the first time on the day of the screen test. Beside the window, the wind chimes were beautiful and still. Song Xueyan stood tall and graceful, his face like clear jade, his neck like white porcelain. The green jade bracelet on his wrist looked serene, and the red mole on his lower lip was strikingly beautiful. As he glanced at Yan Qi, the corners of his eyes looked like a smear of sunset clouds. Yan Qi: Stunned.
Later, while working together on set, Yan Qi felt that Song Xueyan was like the weather—alternating between hot and cold. He seamlessly switched between being a whimpering, pitiful soul and a “victorious fighting Buddha,” simultaneously stepping on Yan Qi’s chest and kissing him with reddened eyes.
He didn’t like physical contact with others, yet he would touch, hug, and kiss Yan Qi; He would log into Weibo at midnight, lurking in the “CP” (couple) forums using a burner account, acting as a fellow shipper of their own pairing; He would secretly coordinate couple outfits with him and cast daggers at any potential romantic rivals; The original dance he created after graduating college was meant to signify “Yan Qi [resting on] Snow Eaves (Xueyan).” …
Yan Qi, accustomed to being domineering and spoiled, found himself managed by someone for the first time, yet he couldn’t hit or outsmart him. It wasn’t until he discovered Song Xueyan’s diary ten years of time stacked into a thick volume, with a little swallow drawn on every page—that he realized the truth.
He took the diary and went to demand an explanation, only to accidentally eavesdrop on a conversation. Inside the wall, Song Xueyan’s words were clear and distinct: “I want him.” Yan Qi went crazy; hating him to the core, he jumped out and shouted: “If you want me, just say it! You’ve reeled me in until I’m dying for you; should we just have a ghost wedding?!”
