Ever since Cheng Ping had come out to his parents, they hadn’t allowed Li Baixi to step foot in their home for years.

Not only that, but his parents never gave up on arranging blind dates for him. Even worse, they encouraged his younger brother to chime in: “Bro, when are you going to find me a sister-in-law?”

Cheng Ping was furious on the spot.

His brother was only twelve years old, still in elementary school.

How could they drag a kid into this!

In a fit of rage, Cheng Ping led his brother into the house: “Take a good look, the one playing games over there is your sister-in-law.”

Li Baixi: “?”

His brother accepted the fact that his sister-in-law was a man within two minutes, but it took him two hours to believe that his sister-in-law was genuinely bad at gaming.

“How can you be so bad? Didn’t my brother teach you?” After losing another game under Li Baixi’s lead, his brother pouted disdainfully.

Li Baixi gritted his teeth secretly and decided to give this elementary schooler a life lesson. Smiling, he said, “Then you take command. I’m sure you can do it.”

His brother: “Alright, but you have to follow my instructions.”

Ten minutes later, they won.

Li Baixi: “…”

Li Baixi slowly clapped: “It’s in the genes. This is the power of genetics.”

His brother was very pleased with himself.

Apparently, he got so carried away that he completely forgot Cheng Ping’s warning to keep things a secret. When he got home, he bragged about his glorious victory to his parents.

That night, in the early hours, Cheng Ping and Li Baixi were both startled awake by their ringing phones.

On the other end, his parents were crying and cursing: “We invested so much to raise you, and you’ve turned out wrong; we finally managed to raise your younger brother, and now you dare lead him astray too? You ungrateful thing…”

Cheng Ping raised his hand, ready to smash the phone against the wall, but Li Baixi stopped him.

Listening to the intermittent scolding coming through the phone, Li Baixi didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He smiled and leaned over to kiss Cheng Ping.

Cheng Ping took a deep breath and adjusted his tone: “Yes, yes, that’s right. So what exactly do you plan to do about it?”

His parents were silent for a full ten seconds before exploding again.

Li Baixi stuffed the phone under the pillow and turned over to embrace Cheng Ping, whispering in his ear: “Since we’re already awake, how about doing something else?”

Cheng Ping’s father’s furious shouts pierced through the pillow barrier, stabbing into their eardrums: “You think I can’t deal with you? Tomorrow I’m going to expose you to the media and publicly disown you. Let’s see how you’ll manage then…”

In the end, Cheng Ping’s phone couldn’t escape its fate of being smashed.

“Expose me? Does he think I’m scared? I’ll come out of the closet right now!”

“Calm down!” Li Baixi patiently analyzed the situation for him, “Your father is just angry and not thinking straight; they won’t really do that. They’re the ones most afraid of losing face. Besides, all those fancy extracurricular classes, summer camps, and that private violin tutoring your brother has—who paid for all that?”

Cheng Ping gloomily replied, “They can’t live without me, but they still look down on me.”

“Sigh, maybe they’re just afraid of losing control over you, so they double down on the belittling—let’s not talk about it anymore. You’ve already seen through them. Your brother is also quite pitiful, living in that kind of household.”

“That’s why I haven’t cut ties with them yet. I’m afraid they’ll drive my brother to the brink.”

Cheng Ping spoke harshly, but a trace of sadness involuntarily appeared in his eyes. Li Baixi saw this and didn’t know how to comfort him. He randomly ruffled Cheng Ping’s hair: “Let’s take a vacation soon, meet my parents.”

Li Baixi wanted Cheng Ping to experience the love of normal parents.

Wishful thinking—he didn’t have any normal parents.

His father warmly received Cheng Ping, gave him an oil painting, opened up his collection of wines, and they had a great chat about everything under the sun. Then, his father asked when they planned to go public.

“Art is all about storytelling! You’re both artists; if you hide your relationship for a lifetime, what stories will you have left to tell?”

Li Baixi: “… You should keep drinking.”

However, Cheng Ping’s eyes showed a spark of understanding.

The director—his stepfather—strongly objected at the dinner table.

“Your old man actually said that? He’s lost his mind! Xiao Cheng still has to act. Do you know what the current environment is like? If his roles get limited in the future, who’s going to be responsible? Him?”

The director slapped Cheng Ping on the shoulder: “Don’t listen to him, you hear?”

However, after years of sneaking around like a thief, Cheng Ping had reached his limit, his face showing signs of pent-up frustration.

“Enough,” Mrs. Tu Jian weighed in, “Why don’t you take a leaf out of the book of those seasoned gay celebrities in the industry? Just walk around together openly. When asked what your relationship is, just say he’s your assistant, and who cares what they think?”

Cheng Ping: “?”

Cheng Ping looked at Li Baixi.

Li Baixi replied helplessly, “But they know me. If I say I’m your assistant, who’s going to believe that? Makeup artist, maybe, but I’ve already announced I’d never return to the industry…”

Cheng Ping: “We can be flexible about it.”

A few weeks later.

In Cheng Ping’s on-set photos, event photos, and airport photos, a familiar figure began to appear sporadically.

After completely transitioning into a serious actor, Cheng Ping had long abandoned his traffic idol status. Now, he lived a life far removed from the mundane, with no PR, no trending topics, and he barely managed his fan base. As he aged, his once-fervent fans had either calmed down or moved on, leaving behind only a few Buddhist-style retired fans.

But his national popularity was still high, so when something was meant to go viral, it did.

Someone compiled a bunch of recent photos, highlighting a certain innocent-looking man with the surname Li in the corner of the pictures, asking, “Why are these two always together???”

“Who’s this?”

“Li Baixi? Is that the painter who’s known as the ‘face of contemporary art’?”

“What’s going on? I haven’t heard of any collaborations, so why are they constantly appearing together?”

A fan chimed in: “So, we’ve been discussing this in our fan group for a while now. A few days ago, I gathered the courage to ask about it at the airport. Brother Cheng said that he’s his backup assistant.”

“Backup? Assistant?”

“Does this guy think we don’t know who Li Baixi is???”

The fan: “We were all confused, so we went to check out Li Baixi. And guess what, Li Baixi actually owned it! He even ran over and said, ‘Boss, I’m here,’ and then took Cheng Ping’s suitcase! Then Brother Cheng just grunted, ‘Next time, be on time.’”

Social media exploded.

Leading the charge were the new generation of fans: “Is no one going to ship this? I’ll start! I approve of this union!”

The second wave came from the veteran fans who sneered: “Kids, do you think you’ve discovered something new? It’s time to educate you.”

As more and more old gossip resurfaced, some marketing accounts began piecing together a timeline, summarizing a dramatic story: A charming makeup artist chases after a movie star, pouring all their love into it, but is met with unrequited feelings. They turn bitter and decide to drug him, but are accidentally discovered, leading to betrayal and public shaming, and finally being driven out of the set in despair. After leaving the scumbag, the charming makeup artist wipes away their tears and, while wandering, rediscovers painting, transforming into a renowned artist. Only then does the scumbag realize the hidden brilliance of the artist and begins a desperate chase to win them back…

Someone reading this grew angry and shouted: “Is this how he’s supposed to win him back? By publicly humiliating Li Baixi? And then Li Baixi still runs after him, smiling and carrying his luggage?!”

Someone replied: “That’s why they say a scumbag and a masochist are a perfect match.”

In no time, fanfics were being written.

Then, a bystander meekly asked: “Excuse me, in that old recording, when they said ‘reduce the number for Cheng Ping,’ did they mean making him the bottom?”

Silence.

Social media was silent that night.

“… No way, I don’t believe it.”

That night, the melon-eating crowd split into countless small battlefields.

Some were arguing about who was right or wrong back then.

Some were debating whether they were actually together.

And others were fiercely arguing about who was the top—this was the most heated debate.

Of course, the main parties involved were not going to respond.

Cheng Ping had long abandoned social media. Li Baixi’s account, on the other hand, was still being updated, but it had a robotic feel to it—averaging one post a year, usually just to announce exhibition dates.

Unwilling to let it go, the gossip enthusiasts flooded the comments under his latest art exhibition announcement.

“Who’s the painting of? Cheng Ping?”

“I’ve seen it all now, Cheng Ping’s assistant can even hold art exhibitions.”

“Can you guys chill out? They’re just good friends joking around! It’s normal for an artist to have a muse, okay? If you blow this out of proportion, what if they stop interacting?”

“Yeah, if they stop hanging out, how are we supposed to ship them?”

“Whoa, the art gallery is right next to my house next month! I’m going to crash the opening party—any questions you want me to ask?”

Li Baixi was reminded by his assistant and saw part of the replies to the last comment.

The assistant was worried: “Sir, how about canceling the Q&A session this time? Or we could add a rule that only those with an invitation can ask questions? What if some girl actually raises her hand and asks you whether Cheng Ping’s number has been reduced?”

Li Baixi sneered: “You’re underestimating me. If I don’t want to hear a question, I won’t hear it even with a megaphone.”

On the day of the exhibition, the crowd was enormous.

The organizers had to start crowd control, leaving a bunch of people outside the entrance, squatting in rows and chatting like they were unfortunate fans who couldn’t get concert tickets.

Somehow, Li Baixi’s father heard about this joke and sent a letter of condolence: “Didn’t I tell you? Stories, stories are always the most captivating. Hurry up and come up with something good, then spill your love story out there.”

Li Baixi: “?”

Li Baixi didn’t mention Cheng Ping at all, nor did he, as the public wished, exhibit a portrait of Cheng Ping.

Perhaps out of consideration for the elegant atmosphere, no one asked strange questions during the opening party. After he finished his speech and was holding a glass of wine, heading toward the guests, he noticed a few girls whispering together, occasionally glancing at him.

When they saw him walking in their direction, their speaking pace suddenly increased, as if they were fiercely debating something.

Li Baixi wanted to pretend he didn’t see it and smiled as he passed by this scene of conspiracy, but it was too late.

It seemed they had reached a consensus at the last moment, pushing forward a girl with a flushed face.

Li Baixi: “…?”

The girl stammered, “Li… Li Teacher.”

Li Baixi had no choice but to smile and ask, “Do you have any questions about the artwork?”

The girl took a deep breath and suddenly blurted out in rapid succession: “Your unique style, your distinctive work, it truly captivates at first sight. Wishing you smooth sailing, with each step taking you further.”

Li Baixi: “…”

After finishing their business, the group of girls turned in unison as if planned and made a swift escape.

Li Baixi held back the girl who had spoken: “Wait.”

The girl looked at him nervously, trembling as she turned back.

Li Baixi expressionlessly patted her on the shoulder: “I’ll hold you to that.”

Cheng Ping’s parents hadn’t contacted him in a long time.

But his brother called excitedly: “My classmates say my sister-in-law is amazing, they even want to ask for an autograph.”

And thus, the coming-out saga came to a close. Cheng Ping knew that the heavens had not treated him unfairly; all his years of hard work and perseverance had not been in vain, and had earned him the recognition and acceptance of the audience. He had received the best possible outcome and couldn’t ask for more.

Yet, there was still a hidden regret in his heart.

One day, he finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and asked: “When will the wall of portraits of me at home ever be exhibited?”

Li Baixi: “Never.”

Cheng Ping: “?”

Li Baixi smiled and said, “My dad is still shortsighted, always looking to make a quick splash without understanding how to tell a good story.”

He looked at Cheng Ping: “The real beginning should be after we’re both long gone, when a young person digs up a stack of dusty, never-before-exhibited paintings from the bottom of a box.”

He leaned close to Cheng Ping, his voice lowering to a whisper: “The story’s too short. I want you to become a legend.”