Ms. Tu Jian is slim and fair-skinned, dressed in minimalistic fashion, with features resembling a softer version of Li Baixi. However, she always carries an air of subtle sarcasm, no matter her expression.

From the moment she entered the restaurant, out of everyone’s sight, Li Baixi had already exchanged countless glances with her.

Li Baixi’s gaze seemed to say: Don’t come over to greet me.

Tu Jian’s gaze seemed to reply: Tsk.

When Emperor Zhang and his junior began to mock people in a sing-song manner, Tu Jian raised an eyebrow behind them: Are you just going to endure this?

Li Baixi: Enduring for a while keeps things calm; taking a step back creates a wider horizon.

Tu Jian: I can’t endure it anymore.

When Tu Jian spoke, Li Baixi sighed silently.

As expected, just after the words were spoken, the entire place fell into a deathly silence, where even a pin drop could be heard.

Everyone’s eyes were trembling, except for Ms. Tu Jian, who calmly responded to her friend: “Because my son is a bit paranoid and doesn’t want others to know about his family.”

Even the designer felt awkward: “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to reveal your privacy…”

Li Baixi: “…It’s okay.”

Silence.

Emperor Zhang, having seen many things, was the first to react and quickly found a way out: “Little Li, aren’t you going to introduce anyone?”

He asked knowingly, and Li Baixi also answered knowingly: “This is my mother, an artist.”

Emperor Zhang took the opportunity to extend his hand to Tu Jian: “Nice to meet you, your work earlier was impressive.”

Tu Jian looked at him with a half-smile: “Thank you. Please continue your conversation; I must excuse myself now.”

She turned with her designer friend and walked back to her own table, leaving Emperor Zhang’s outstretched hand hanging in mid-air.

The junior unconsciously tried to follow, but as soon as he took a step, Tu Jian gave him a glance, and the derision in her eyes pinned him in place.

At that moment, even if the junior’s skin were as thick as a city wall, it would have crumbled. He rubbed his hands and decided to help Emperor Zhang find an alternative: “Mr. Zhang, it seems all the seats at this restaurant are taken. How about I take you to eat nearby?”

Emperor Zhang turned and walked away.

Before leaving, the junior glanced thoughtfully at Li Baixi. Li Baixi’s hand was still resting on Cheng Ping’s shoulder. The junior’s gaze lingered on that hand for half a second, and then he also left silently.

Silence.

At the table were only Cheng Ping’s team and Li Baixi.

When the dishes arrived, no one had an appetite, their eyes covertly observing Li Baixi.

Everyone had a stomach full of gossip but couldn’t bring themselves to ask due to unfamiliarity. They turned their eyes towards Cheng Ping, trying to push him to act as a special reporter.

However, Cheng Ping was not a fool; he clearly saw that today’s scene was an accident and that Li Baixi didn’t want them to see. Even if there were questions, he intended to save them for later, so he focused on his pasta, completely ignoring everyone’s gazes.

Eventually, Li Baixi could no longer tolerate the strange atmosphere and put down his cutlery: “Well, I have something urgent to attend to, so I’m leaving.”

A few tables away, Tu Jian saw his back and slowly got up to leave as well.

As soon as Li Baixi stepped out of the restaurant, it was as if a seal had been lifted. Everyone who remained quickly pulled out their phones, opened search engines, and typed “Tu Jian.”

They searched through the lists of works, awards, and auction numbers, and eventually found the section on family relations.

Tu Jian’s page mentioned her ex-husband (with links to more works and award records) and their son, but deliberately omitted the child’s name.

Besides that, it also listed the current husband’s name.

Cheng Ping: “…”

He looked up at the agent: “Did you know that the big director is Li Baixi’s stepfather?”

Agent: “…How would I know?”

Cheng Ping: “Remember when everyone was puzzled about why I received a casting opportunity?”

Everyone at the table looked at each other in confusion.

Li Baixi went out of the restaurant and found a corner with no one around to smoke.

Footsteps approached from behind; Ms. Tu Jian had followed him: “Can I borrow a light?”

Li Baixi lit her cigarette, and the mother and son stood side by side in silence.

Li Baixi said quietly: “You shouldn’t have exposed that earlier. I’ve kept it hidden very well all these years.”

“Why keep it hidden?”

“As I said, I’m just a makeup artist. It would embarrass you all if it got out.”

Tu Jian glanced at him: “I’ve also said, you’re not afraid of embarrassing us. You’re afraid of us embarrassing you.”

Li Baixi: “How could that be!”

Tu Jian sneered.

Li Baixi: “.”

Li Baixi, with no way to hide from her, slowly confessed: “I’ve always seen my father living in my grandfather’s shadow, using grandfather’s name to learn from masters, mingling in circles, and being treated as a master with eyes closed… Grandfather lived in great-grandfather’s shadow…”

Tu Jian: “You think we live too falsely.”

Li Baixi found this harsh and tried to smooth things over: “Not exactly, it’s just that I don’t need such a big aura as a makeup artist.”

“You plan to do makeup for your whole life? Not going back to painting?”

Li Baixi: “…We’ll see.”

Life is a lifetime, and he doesn’t want to repeat his father’s mistake of drifting aimlessly for decades. When old, if asked: What did the master paint in his lifetime? His father would have answered: Painted emptiness.

Li Baixi: “At least let me first find what I want to paint.”

Tu Jian asks him this question every year, and this year, noticing his softened tone, she couldn’t help but scrutinize him.

Tu Jian: “Not wearing women’s clothing recently?”

“Mm. I don’t plan to wear it anymore.”

Tu Jian: “Without personal labels, how do you plan to get by?”

Li Baixi remained silent and exhaled smoke.

Tu Jian: “Oh, aiming for something higher. That was Cheng Ping, right? The kid you asked your uncle to take care of?”

Li Baixi: “Yes.”

Tu Jian: “Boyfriend?”

Li Baixi neither confirmed nor denied, simply looking at her.

Tu Jian: “Pursuing him?”

Li Baixi: “.”

Tu Jian smiled: “Your uncle praised him to me, saying he has great insight and progresses quickly.”

Li Baixi: “Yes, he’s a good actor. I want to find him a movie script. If you have any connections, please keep an eye out.”

Tu Jian laughed: “You don’t want to take advantage of your parents’ influence, but you don’t mind using a hurricane to help that kid.”

Li Baixi: “I will get lost, but he won’t. He’s much better than me.”

Tu Jian: “Indeed. So when you like him, do you also feel better about yourself?”

Li Baixi: “…”

This woman is really terrifying.

Tu Jian hadn’t yet reached the deepest point: “So do you like him, or do you like yourself when you’re with him?”

Li Baixi truly felt uncomfortable: “Is there a need to distinguish?”

Hearing his resistance, Tu Jian shook off the ash from her cigarette and ended the conversation: “It depends on you. I’m leaving.”

She turned back towards the restaurant, and Li Baixi hurriedly called after her back: “Remember to keep an eye on the script!”

Tu Jian waved her hand without looking back, indicating that she heard him. Li Baixi sighed. He had chosen an international show from Cheng Ping’s schedule to create a chance encounter, knowing that fewer people would recognize him abroad, offering more privacy. However, as soon as the encounter began, his plans were disrupted by his mother, leaving him to find food alone, feeling lonely.

Meanwhile, Emperor Zhang had finished gathering information about Tu Jian. He turned to his junior with a dark expression: “Did you know about the relationship between Tu Jian and Li Baixi from the beginning and intentionally brought them over to embarrass me?”

The junior was startled and repeatedly assured that he had no idea. Emperor Zhang seemed uncertain, muttering, “He inserted Cheng Ping into his stepfather’s production, competing for roles with my people. Does he not take me seriously?”

His new partner interjected, “Mr. Zhang, let’s stay calm. Li Baixi’s background…”

His words only hit a nerve. Emperor Zhang sneered, “With that background, he dares to be arrogant with me!”

The junior’s eyelid twitched, and he averted his gaze to the ground.

Li Baixi finished his meal alone, wandered around the area, and was about to find a place for afternoon tea when he suddenly received a voice message from Cheng Ping. He smiled and answered, “Go ahead.”

There was a moment of hesitation: “Do you mind answering some questions?”

Li Baixi replied openly: “You were bound to find out sooner or later.”

Cheng Ping: “…Is your English name Christopher?”

Li Baixi was surprised by the first question and laughed, “Yes, actually my Chinese name and English name are connected. My mom is religious. ‘Baixi’ means a puppet that suffers for others. She thought this unlucky name had a flavor of Jesus Christ…”

Cheng Ping coughed, “I saw an ID with that English name and your birth year on the leaderboard of my live stream rewards.”

Li Baixi was taken aback by how far Cheng Ping had dug and admitted, “I told you I was your fan.”

He wanted Cheng Ping to know more about his past: “Back then, after class, I would huddle in my dorm, eating instant noodles and watching live streams.”

Cheng Ping found it hard to believe: “Instant noodles?”

“?”

Cheng Ping couldn’t associate the image of a fan eating instant noodles with Li Baixi: “Were you eating some kind of gourmet instant noodles made with snow water from the Tianshan Mountains, in bowls encrusted with diamonds?”

Li Baixi was amused by this description: “No. But when my mom heard I was eating instant noodles every day, she got worried, so she…”

Cheng Ping: “Got you a private chef?”

Li Baixi said, “Sent me a pair of pure gold chopsticks, saying disposable ones weren’t environmentally friendly.”

Cheng Ping: “…That’s quite a mountain of maternal love.”

Cheng Ping: “Wait, has no one ever discovered your family background all these years?”

Li Baixi: “I don’t mention it. To be honest, what my family does has nothing to do with me. Being associated with them only ties me down. I avoid events where they appear.”

Cheng Ping: “But you joined the big director’s production and came to this show.”

Li Baixi: “That’s true.”

Cheng Ping was silent for a longer time: “Why?”

Li Baixi chuckled: “Don’t you know why?”

At that moment, Cheng Ping’s phone vibrated continuously with messages from his manager, including a series of photos. Cheng Ping, still on the call with Li Baixi, opened one image. It showed Li Baixi holding hands with a curvaceous model, clearly in a romantic pose, despite both being in women’s clothing. Li Baixi’s past relationships, though low-key, were not intentionally concealed. With some effort, the manager had found the photos.

“Hello? Are you still there?” Li Baixi asked.

Staring at the picture, Cheng Ping’s thoughts were interrupted, and he asked the question he had prepared: “Was my breakthrough role also something you helped me get?”

Li Baixi didn’t want to pressure him and quickly said, “No, I just recommended you for the audition. You got the role on your own.”

But Cheng Ping wasn’t listening, still scrolling through the photos, now seeing another with Li Baixi and a beautiful woman in a close-up selfie.

The manager messaged: “Cheng, I tried calling but couldn’t get through. We need to discuss this when you’re free.”

Li Baixi: “Hello? Bad signal?”

Cheng Ping: “No, I just spaced out. You tipped over a million in my live stream…”

Li Baixi: “Ah, don’t worry about it. I tipped many people. I just liked watching you play games.”

Cheng Ping’s face paled. He stared at the photos, asking, “Just that?”

Li Baixi sensed something off, but he had decided to be honest with Cheng Ping, so he answered truthfully: “Back then, yes.”

“I see.” At that moment, Cheng Ping’s mind couldn’t function properly. He quickly found an excuse to hang up.

Li Baixi was left staring at the dimmed screen, confused.

Unable to understand, he decided not to dwell on it. The next day, he went directly to Cheng Ping’s magazine shoot location.

The shoot was near the show, surrounded by celebrities posing for pictures, each busy with their own scenes.

Li Baixi arrived uninvited, seeing that the equipment was set up, but Cheng Ping hadn’t started. He was negotiating with the magazine’s manager. Li Baixi walked over nonchalantly, causing Cheng Ping’s team to react subtly. He greeted the manager calmly: “Anything I can help with?”

The manager was about to refuse when the new makeup artist spotted her idol and exclaimed, “Mr. Li, we meet again!”

Li Baixi naturally approached. When Cheng Ping saw him, his face changed, and he moved aside.

Li Baixi’s expression darkened slightly. The new makeup artist, unaware, lamented, “This manager is so troublesome, not specifying a makeup artist, so Cheng brought me. But they said the makeup isn’t the style they wanted… Mr. Li, could you take a look?”

Li Baixi turned to Cheng Ping, who had retreated but not too far, and observed: “It looks fine. What style do they want?”

“They want it to be more distinctive.”

“Do you mind if I make some adjustments?”

“Not at all. Please, I’m at my wit’s end.”

Li Baixi had been waiting for this. He walked towards Cheng Ping, grabbed his wrist gently, and said quietly, “Can we talk?”

Cheng Ping: “…”

They sat in the team’s rental car nearby. The makeup artist’s toolkit was on the seat. Once inside, the tinted windows provided privacy.

Li Baixi turned to him: “We don’t have much time. You’re returning home tomorrow.”

Cheng Ping: “…” Again with that ambiguous, irritating way of talking.

Li Baixi: “Yesterday’s call, you seemed upset and didn’t message me back. Is there a misunderstanding?”

Cheng Ping wasn’t used to Li Baixi’s directness but found the straightforward communication refreshing. He answered instinctively: “No misunderstanding. I just didn’t know how to face you.”

Li Baixi: “?”

Cheng Ping: “You’ve helped me so much. Not just the role that made me famous, meeting the big director and Mr. Lu. All those standout makeup looks… It might have been effortless for you, but I can’t repay it.”

Li Baixi frowned: “Why repay?”

Cheng Ping looked down: “Why not? I can’t just accept all this because I used to be a streamer you liked—even if I was just one of many.”

Li Baixi understood.

He fully understood.

Seeing the undisguised resentment and disappointment on Cheng Ping’s face, something long dormant in his heart sprouted and surged forth.

“So,” Cheng Ping tried to say something harsh but couldn’t, fumbling, “If you just liked watching me play games, that time is long past. Please don’t treat me… this well anymore.”

Li Baixi caught the keyword: “Just?”

Cheng Ping: “…Yes.”

Li Baixi: “I understand.”

He seemed to consider the conversation over and turned his attention to Cheng Ping’s makeup: “Hmm, this contouring could indeed be improved.”

Cheng Ping was stunned.

It seemed Li Baixi had genuinely set aside the other matters, focusing solely on adjusting the makeup. Cheng Ping felt a gaping emptiness inside, like a void whistling with the wind.

Unable to receive a denial or an expected response, he couldn’t even muster an appropriate expression, remaining motionless as Li Baixi cupped his face, applying makeup.

How laughable.

How laughable, Cheng Ping. This was the second time you misread someone’s feelings. Don’t let there be a third time in this lifetime.

Li Baixi completely ignored the turbulent emotions in Cheng Ping’s eyes, seemingly unaware of the suffocating atmosphere in the car. He calmly finished adjusting the makeup, then stepped back and observed, “Indeed, it lacks a bit of character.”

He bent down to rummage through the makeup bag and casually asked, “Did the magazine’s manager mention their main style?”

Cheng Ping replied numbly, “I don’t remember.”

Li Baixi didn’t mind: “Judging by your overall look, it seems they’re going for a carefree nobleman vibe. Maybe we can incorporate that into the makeup.”

Cheng Ping finally noticed what Li Baixi was doing. He was applying lipstick in the mirror.

Despite his tangled thoughts, Cheng Ping couldn’t help but be curious.

Li Baixi carefully applied a layer of bright red lipstick, then turned and stared at Cheng Ping for a few seconds: “Let’s give it a try.”

The sound of his words faded amidst Cheng Ping’s pounding heartbeat.

Li Baixi leaned in from the side, his long, loose hair falling over Cheng Ping’s face, obscuring his vision.

In the ensuing confusion, only their breaths and the faint scent of their hair filled the space.

After what felt like an eternity, Li Baixi released him, admiring the bold red mark slightly outside the lip line on Cheng Ping’s lips. He smiled in satisfaction, “That’s much better.”

Cheng Ping: “…”

Cheng Ping: “…”

Li Baixi waited patiently as if expecting a transformation.

Finally, Cheng Ping broke the silence: “You…”

But at that moment, someone knocked on the car window.

The new makeup artist stood outside, looking distressed, “Brother Cheng, the magazine is urging you.”

She couldn’t see inside through the tinted glass. After a brief silence, Cheng Ping opened the door and stepped out expressionlessly, “Thank you.”

The makeup artist’s first reaction was to check Cheng Ping’s face, eager to study Li Baixi’s adjustments.

Immediately, she noticed the bright red lip mark.

The lip mark didn’t perfectly overlap Cheng Ping’s lips; it was subtly off-center, with one corner missing color while extending a vibrant red on the other side, as if freshly kissed.

The lip mark became the highlight of the entire look, perfectly complementing Cheng Ping’s outfit, solidifying the image of a carefree nobleman.

The makeup artist marveled at the craftsmanship and examined the mark’s shape and texture, finding it remarkably lifelike.

Cheng Ping walked toward the shooting area, leaving the makeup artist behind, who suddenly had a bold thought and quickly looked at Li Baixi.

Li Baixi had also stepped out of the car, his lips as clean as when he arrived, with no traces of makeup.

The makeup artist hesitated, “Mr. Li…”

Li Baixi: “?”

Makeup artist: “That kiss mark makeup, how did you…”

Li Baixi smiled, “Technique.”

That day’s shoot saw Cheng Ping completely out of sorts.

His appearance exuded charm, yet he moved stiffly like a puppet, letting the photographer position him.

Ironically, his slightly flushed cheeks and conflicted expression perfectly balanced the look, making him seem not oily but deeply affectionate, like a young Romeo.

The magazine team was very pleased, not noticing Cheng Ping’s sidelong glances.

Li Baixi stood confidently among Cheng Ping’s team, hands in his pockets, watching openly.

The manager, not blind, was alarmed by the lip mark alone.

Amid the surging undercurrents, the manager felt like he was standing at the mouth of a torrential flood, barely holding on.

If the team’s scrutinizing gazes were tangible, Li Baixi would be a pincushion.

He drew his hands from his pockets, standing tall and unyielding under their stares.

Manager: “…”

The moment Li Baixi kissed Cheng Ping, he knew he was on a path of no return.

Surprisingly, he felt an inexplicable joy, almost as if he had been revived. It was as if that vibrant color wasn’t transferred by him but rather imparted to him by Cheng Ping.

Everyone—even possibly Cheng Ping—thought today’s makeup change was premeditated. Only Li Baixi knew his surprise was no less than Cheng Ping’s.

It was a spontaneous act.

He found he could improvise.

Despite still working within parameters, starting from someone else’s base, he felt a genuine spark.

Watching Cheng Ping with his vibrant red lips, Li Baixi felt like a craftsman admiring his sculpture.

The simple craftsman, not versed in enlightenment, merely chiseling day by day, and when the divine statue smiled, he ascended to bliss.

When the shoot ended, the manager promptly said, “They’ve been shooting too long. We need to catch our flight now. Mr. Li, goodbye.”

Li Baixi had work in New York in a few days, so he bid farewell.

Manager: “Cheng, hurry to the car.”

Cheng Ping glanced back at Li Baixi, hesitating.

Under the team’s urging, he took a few steps toward the car, then turned abruptly: “Wait a minute.”

Before anyone could stop him, he broke away and rushed to Li Baixi: “We need to talk.” Without waiting for a response, he dragged him to a secluded spot.

Li Baixi, naturally, didn’t resist and followed him.

Once out of sight, Cheng Ping grabbed Li Baixi’s collar, gritting his teeth: “What was that?”

Li Baixi: “…”

Cheng Ping glared at him, as if daring him to say it was just work.

Li Baixi thought: …So fierce.

It was hard to believe his lips could be so soft.

Li Baixi raised his hands in surrender, calmly asking, “What do you think it was?”

Cheng Ping paused, eyes almost aflame: “Are you looking for someone to play with?”

Li Baixi was taken aback. He had expected some doubt from Cheng Ping but hadn’t anticipated this conclusion.

Li Baixi’s smile faded, and he said seriously, “No.”

Cheng Ping scrutinized his face, finding no deception.

A car horn sounded in the distance.

Li Baixi heard it and said, “You should catch your flight. We’ll talk on the phone.”

Cheng Ping reluctantly boarded the car, looking back with each step.

Li Baixi followed for a while, watching the car drive away. His phone buzzed with a message from Cheng Ping: “?”

Li Baixi replied while walking: “?”

In the car, Cheng Ping saw the reply, his face darkening.

The manager, seeing his expression, couldn’t understand their dynamics: “Cheng, about that issue I mentioned…”

Cheng Ping snapped, “Not now.”

He furiously typed: “?????”

He stared at his phone for half a minute before Li Baixi finally replied: “Was it too sudden?”

Cheng Ping: “Yes.”

Li Baixi chuckled.

Walking back to his hotel, he glanced at a Broadway musical poster and typed theatrically: “Though it began with an offense, may I pursue you?”

Cheng Ping’s face underwent a range of emotions worthy of a Sichuan opera.

Cheng Ping took a long time to reply.

Li Baixi waited patiently.

He felt a cold, calculated calmness, only betrayed by the trembling of his fingers gripping the phone.

Returning to his hotel room, he sat at the desk, eventually finding the hotel’s provided stationery.

He picked up a pen, clearing his mind, letting it move freely on the paper.

Just as he was finishing, his phone lit up with a message from Cheng Ping: “Okay.”

Li Baixi dropped the pen and grabbed his phone, unable to guess Cheng Ping’s expression, so he asked: “Arrived at the airport? Boarding soon?”

Cheng Ping didn’t reply, seemingly having turned off his phone.

During the long flight, Cheng Ping barely slept.

Upon landing, he turned on his phone to find a message from Li Baixi: “Let me know when you’re home.”

Sent half an hour ago.

Cheng Ping glanced at the time; it was evening in China, morning in New York.

Cheng Ping: “Up so early?”

Li Baixi: “Set an alarm.”

Cheng Ping declined the team’s dinner invite, headed home, showered, and sent a video call request from his computer.

Li Baixi answered quickly, appearing in his hotel room, freshly showered, his face bare, hair still damp. Without makeup, he looked younger and more masculine.

Separated by the Pacific, they both felt this moment was surreal, unsure how to start.

Finally, Li Baixi broke the silence: “Have you decided on your next role?”

Cheng Ping: “…”

Too businesslike.

Cheng Ping had a lot of questions, sorted out during the flight: When did you start liking me? How did you go from an esports fan to this? Why were you so kind to me without ulterior motives? Do you understand the boundary between different types of affection?

But facing Li Baixi, he couldn’t ask any of them.

He realized—also during the flight—that Li Baixi didn’t want to hear questions, and he didn’t want to hear answers.

Cheng Ping:

 “Not yet, haven’t received any good scripts.”

Li Baixi: “I had some ideas.”

There was rustling as Li Baixi showed a stack of sketches: “You’ve done a historical role before, but it was a supporting role. Maybe try again as a lead. This scholarly look suits you. Republican era costumes would be good too… While you’re young, you could try campus roles, though I wouldn’t have much use there.”

Cheng Ping stared at the sketches, feeling choked.

Li Baixi: “What’s wrong?”

Cheng Ping: “Nothing. What’s on the last few pages?”

Li Baixi: “Random doodles, not very feasible.”

Cheng Ping: “I want to see.”

Li Baixi smiled mischievously, showing him: “Palace evening gown, interested? We have some at home.”

Cheng Ping: “…”

Cheng Ping’s mouth twitched: “You seem like a little girl dressing up her doll.”

But looking at the sketches, all angles and expressions of himself, he felt those questions didn’t need answers.

Even he wasn’t that familiar with his own face.

“You’ve drawn me too well, it doesn’t look like me.” He murmured.

Li Baixi replied again: “That’s how you look.”

They chatted for a long time, long enough for Cheng Ping to have dinner and a snack, and for Li Baixi to have lunch.

At Cheng Ping’s prompting, Li Baixi shared some odd stories about his eccentric parents, making Cheng Ping laugh. Li Baixi then subtly inquired about Cheng Ping’s family.

Cheng Ping: “Very ordinary.”

Li Baixi: “An ordinary family produced a film academy student who dropped out for esports?”

He wanted to know in advance, to better approach Cheng Ping’s family later.

Unexpectedly, Cheng Ping’s face turned cold: “Really ordinary, just with high expectations.”

In school, Cheng Ping was rebellious and playful, often skipping class for games, with mediocre grades. His parents, realizing he couldn’t get into a prestigious university, sought alternatives.

He was good-looking, having been scouted for an ad in elementary school. His parents took this as a sign, enrolling him in various performance and talent classes, hoping he’d get into a film academy.

Cheng Ping hated all the classes, rebelling by gaming whenever possible. Coincidentally, he had a natural talent for gaming, getting invited to a summer training camp by a club in middle school.

His family’s finances were strained by his expensive classes, so he lied about a free school summer camp to attend the training.

He thrived in training, finally feeling successful.

But as summer ended, his parents discovered the truth, dragging him back and nearly breaking his legs.

Li Baixi: “Didn’t you explain esports as a legitimate career?”

Cheng Ping: “I did, but they only believed in their plans. They went to great lengths to get me roles, even minor ones. Seeing their struggle…”

Li Baixi: “You complied?”

Cheng Ping glanced at him, then looked down: “Not exactly, I felt guilty. I realized my orientation.”

Li Baixi: “…”

Unable to face his parents, the boy tried to compensate by following their wishes. He quit gaming, passed all tests, and upon receiving his acceptance letter, came out to his parents.

Li Baixi: “And?”

Cheng Ping hesitated, shrugged: “We don’t really talk anymore.”

Li Baixi: “???”

Cheng Ping’s parents took some time but eventually had to face the fact: his “problem” was incurable. Gradually, they cut ties with him.

Cheng Ping couldn’t understand it and spent some time in a slump, finding solace in playing games again. The club that remembered him happened to be undergoing changes and asked if he was still interested.

This time, he dutifully sought his parents’ opinion. Surprisingly, they were indifferent, simply saying, “You’re old enough to make your own decisions, just don’t starve.”

That’s when he learned his mother was already several months pregnant with a younger brother. They hadn’t even informed him.

All these years, Cheng Ping had suppressed his true self, quietly complying with his parents’ wishes, believing their intentions were out of love. But that intense, blood-and-tears love shifted completely with his coming out.

Now they loved his brother with the same fervor, sparing no effort or expense.

Cheng Ping: “I think he’s in elementary school now, taking all sorts of enrichment classes, which cost money. I send them money regularly.”

Li Baixi: “…Have you met your brother?”

Cheng Ping: “Once or twice.”

Even someone as composed as Li Baixi needed a moment to find the right words: “Hmm, we’re quite similar… I also have younger siblings over ten years younger, and I can’t even remember their names. When I decided to change careers, my parents were also very indifferent.”

Cheng Ping: “Because they love you. Yesterday in the restaurant, when Ms. Tu stood up for you, I realized that.”

Li Baixi couldn’t argue.

His parents’ laissez-faire attitude was fundamentally different from Cheng Ping’s parents.

Even if his life choices embarrassed them, they never got angry. Instead, they tried to support him as much as possible. This support partly came from guilt but was also genuine care.

Li Baixi didn’t know how to comfort Cheng Ping, so he changed the subject: “By the way, Ms. Tu cares about you too.”

Cheng Ping: “…”

Cheng Ping looked like he’d been struck by lightning: “She knows…?”

Li Baixi quickly said, “I didn’t say anything, she figured it out herself.”

Cheng Ping was petrified.

Li Baixi waited a moment: “No need to overreact… you’ll meet her sooner or later…”

Cheng Ping slowly held his head: “Does she know about the rumors of me and her husband?”

Li Baixi: “.”

That’s a good question.