When Director Zhong Yi called, Hu Xiaoyu was sprawled across Yu Tan's bed, playing games on his phone.
His spiritual energy had recovered enough that the constant drowsiness was gone, and he was back to being the internet-addicted fox he used to be.
Yu Tan wasn't working late that evening. He sat at the head of the bed, reading.
They were close—close enough that the caller ID flashing "Zhong Yi" caught his eye.
The calm in his gaze vanished.
He set the book aside, grasped Hu Xiaoyu's shoulder with one hand, and his jaw with the other, pulling him in for a kiss.
Hu Xiaoyu was used to this. Without even pausing his game, he stretched his neck forward, gave Yu Tan a few quick pecks on the lips like a diligent little woodpecker, and murmured, "There, there."
It was a kiss meant to appease.
But just as Yu Tan deepened the kiss, Hu Xiaoyu rolled away, snatching up the phone.
Yu Tan's fingers brushed his lips, eyes darkening as his gaze slid to the boy's bare legs—the robe had ridden up as he moved. He traced a finger up from the smooth line of his calf.
When Hu Xiaoyu glanced back, silently warning him to behave, Yu Tan leaned down and kissed the inside of his knee.
"Go on," he murmured. "Don't mind me."
"... Director Zhong," Hu Xiaoyu managed, "you were saying?"
Zhong Yi paused. The boy's voice sounded off—breathy, distracted. "Is this… a bad time?"
"...No, I—"
Hu Xiaoyu's words dissolved into a breath.
Yu Tan had already flipped him over, slow and deliberate, guiding his legs apart and folding them again, fingers sliding along his ankle with deliberate promise.
Hu Xiaoyu clutched the phone, panicked. "I'm—um, I'm in the middle of something urgent. I'll call you back!"
He hung up.
From start to finish, the call lasted less than three minutes.
Three minutes, apparently, was long enough for Yu Tan to… make a point.
"I was on the phone," Hu Xiaoyu said breathlessly.
"I know," Yu Tan replied, voice low. "Keep going."
He tugged at the sash of the robe, and the silk fell open.
The pale skin beneath was already marked from earlier—faint bruises, fading bite marks. Against the lamplight, it was almost cruel how beautiful it looked.
Hu Xiaoyu grabbed the robe, flustered. "What are you doing?"
"Doing you," Yu Tan said simply.
Hu Xiaoyu's head snapped side to side like a shaken rattle drum. "You already—at the office—today—"
He trailed off helplessly.
Yu Tan studied him. "Tired?"
Hu Xiaoyu nodded quickly. "Mm. So maybe… another night?"
To sell it, he even yawned, blinking slowly and lazy before tucking his head into the pillow, pretending to drift off.
Yu Tan checked the time—half past nine.
It fit the little fox's usual bedtime schedule.
He didn't expose him. He just pinched the boy's chin gently, tilted his face up, and retied the robe's sash.
"Fine," he said. "Then we'll stop here."
Hu Xiaoyu exhaled in relief, slipping under the blanket as soon as Yu Tan lifted it.
Then he watched, dismayed, as Yu Tan reached across the bed and plucked the phone from his hand.
"My phone—"
Yu Tan tapped his cheek with a finger. "I'll keep it. If anyone calls again, I'll answer. You rest."
"...Okay."
It felt strange, but not enough to protest. Whatever Director Zhong wanted could wait until morning.
The next day, after breakfast, Hu Xiaoyu locked himself in his own room and called back.
Zhong Yi explained that he wanted to follow each other on Weibo, and more importantly—to help him clarify a situation online.
Only then did Hu Xiaoyu learn how massive the reaction to his ad had been.
Not all of it is good.
The internet was a storm of envy and speculation. Fans who adored him were battling others who despised him, and the worst of it came from Yang Kai's supporters.
Anyone reading the comments might think Hu Xiaoyu had personally dismembered their idol.
Zhong Yi sighed. "If we leave it unchecked, it'll ruin your reputation. People love a victim—and they've decided Yang Kai is one."
He explained that he felt partly responsible. After all, he'd been the one to remove Yang Kai from the project.
He liked Hu Xiaoyu—sincerely—and wanted to help.
"It's strange," he added. "You don't have a Weibo account?"
Hu Xiaoyu admitted he didn't.
Before returning to the Hu family, the original host had used a basic flip phone. Even after moving into wealth, he'd withdrawn from the world.
And Hu Xiaoyu himself had little interest in social media; he only ever played games.
So, with Zhong Yi's patient guidance, he created his first account.
They followed each other, and Zhong promised to handle the public clarification himself.
"You don't need to worry about the post," Zhong said. "Just share it when it's up. Also, —if you ever need a good agent, I can recommend one."
Hu Xiaoyu agreed gratefully.
To him, kindness deserved repayment, so he decided to meet Zhong in person soon and give him a protective charm in thanks.
He'd given Liu Luanzhou a Peace Talisman once, when he foresaw danger.
This time, he'd sensed sleepless unrest clinging to Zhong Yi—too much worry, too much burden. An Anshen Charm might help him rest.
He decided not to tell Yu Tan about any of this.
Anything related to the entertainment industry put a visible frown on the man's face.
Better to handle it quietly.
When he opened the door, he nearly bumped into Yu Tan coming out of the next room.
"You're upstairs?" he asked, smiling, reaching for his hand. "When did you—"
Yu Tan swatted his hand away, voice flat. "Came for some documents."
The sharp smack echoed louder than it should have.
Hu Xiaoyu gasped softly; the sting spread across his palm.
Yu Tan froze. He hadn't used much force—hadn't meant to hurt him at all.
Hu Xiaoyu pulled his hand behind his back, eyes glistening. "Apologize first."
Yu Tan's jaw tightened. He thought of the sound of that earlier phone call—the easy laughter, the warmth—and turned on his heel, walking away.
Hu Xiaoyu rubbed his hand, staring after him.
Why's he the one who's mad when I'm the one who got hit?
Downstairs, A'Jiu and Uncle Hong were chatting when Yu Tan appeared, face expressionless.
They exchanged glances.
A'Jiu wasn't worried—his boss's bad moods were predictable now. If it involved Little Fish, it would pass soon enough.
And sure enough, five minutes later, Yu Tan reappeared—this time pressing an ice-cold bottle of soda into Hu Xiaoyu's hand.
Hu Xiaoyu blinked at him. "You're mad again. Why?"
Yu Tan said nothing.
He didn't know how to explain that jealousy wasn't logical.
When Hu Xiaoyu saw his eyes soften, he grinned, lifting his hand—the red mark already fading—and waved it in front of him. "See? It's fine. I forgive you."
Yu Tan sighed. "Come on. We're going to the office."
Zhong Yi acted fast.
Within an hour of their call, he uploaded proof—contracts, production notes, voice recordings—showing that both Yang Kai and Hu Xiaoyu had been signed for the same ad, and that the project had always involved four actors.
He tagged Hu Xiaoyu, who reposted it as planned.
The tide turned instantly.
The same netizens who'd thrown stones were now scrambling to pick them up.
Some apologized. Others swooned over his looks. Most just followed, liked, and flooded his empty profile with emojis and heart-eyed comments.
It didn't help that his profile picture—a snow-white pillow—made him seem even more mysterious.
Meanwhile, Yang Kai's fans were losing ground.
Their anger had nowhere left to go, and their idol's silence made things worse.
If he's innocent, they begin to wonder, why isn't he saying anything?
The line between victim and liar blurred fast.
In his apartment, Yang Kai scrolled through Hu Xiaoyu's page, watching the flood of praise with clenched teeth.
Then he glanced at his own feed—comments demanding answers, begging him to speak.
He snapped.
"You bunch of idiots!" he shouted, hurling his phone to the floor.
It shattered on impact.
At the Yu Group headquarters, the atmosphere was taut.
Xin Shibai stood silently before his boss, barely daring to breathe.
From what he knew of Director Zhong, the man was private and meticulous—not someone who involved himself in other people's affairs.
So why had he suddenly stepped in for Little Fish?
And without consulting them first, going public in such a high-profile way?
The move had worked, yes—but it also disrupted the plan Yu Tan had been quietly shaping.
For a long time, Yu Tan said nothing.
The air in the office grew heavy enough to choke on it.
Then his voice came, low and calm, without a ripple:
"Release everything we have."
Xin Shibai froze. "... All of it?"
Yu Tan's eyes lifted, unreadable. "Every. Single. Piece."
Xin nodded quickly. "Understood, sir."
As he left the office, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath—
"Poor Yang Kai. He really has no idea what's coming."
And in his mind, he quietly lit a candle for the man's fate.