Chapter 64

Chapter 64

The preliminary celebration party was organized by Qi Wei. After all, the termination of the contract had to be set in stone before it could be publicly announced. Qi Wei kept it very low-key, booking a large private room in a private club. The staff gathered to have a meal to mark the new start, and each person received a big red envelope.

As for the follow-up hangout, it was up to whoever wanted to join, and Qi Wei’s side would handle the reimbursement.

Chi Tuo thought this approach was pretty good. Ignoring Qi Wei’s eye-roll, he directly called Lin Hao to coordinate with Qi Wei.

The four of them, worried about being photographed by reporters, didn't attend the celebration. The nanny van drove straight to the parking lot beneath An Ye’s apartment.

The familiar four-person meeting mode resumed, but today, they had agreed not to talk about work. An Ye squatted in front of the wine cabinet and studied it for a long time, finally picking out the two most expensive bottles. Lan Yifang ordered a pile of crayfish and steamed crabs.

The dining table hadn’t arrived yet, so when the takeout came, Lan Yifang busied herself setting the table.

“Your Lao Bai is really something, sitting on the coffee table like a paperweight.” Once the steamed crab was served, Lao Bai committed to the crabs, sitting nearby without moving an inch. With no more space, Qi Wei started stacking cucumber slices on top of the crab.

Lao Bai wasn’t pleased, using his paw to bat away the cucumber slices Qi Wei had put on the crab.

An Ye laughed and skipped Chi Tuo when pouring drinks.

Chi Tuo sat there holding an empty glass, dazed.

“Don’t drink anymore,” An Ye went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of milk for Chi Tuo, warmed it in the microwave, and tossed it to him. “I think you’re about to drop dead.”

Chi Tuo chuckled and took a sip of the milk.

He really was close.

All this time, he hadn’t shown any signs of abnormality. His speech and conversations were just like before. But An Ye clearly still noticed—she hadn’t even asked many questions about Wang Shanshan, had already stuffed an eye mask into his hands in the car, and now handed him warm milk after arriving home.

Others could tell when something was wrong with him too—but only An Ye, after noticing, wouldn’t just let him go rest alone. She had to keep an eye on him, afraid something might happen to him by himself.

Chi Tuo looked down and took another sip of the milk, swallowing down the wave of sourness and tenderness rising in his chest.

An Ye sat right beside him, her body half-leaning against his.

She didn’t try to avoid suspicion.

Only people with guilty consciences tried to avoid suspicion—like him.

Qi Wei slapped the coffee table and told everyone to raise their glasses. When she saw the milk bottle in Chi Tuo’s hand, her face twitched, but she didn’t say anything. For now, she gave up trying to analyze the relationship between these childhood friends. Earlier in the car, she’d tried to probe, but An Ye herself seemed confused too, so she decided not to meddle.

An Ye was the kind of person with a very clear mind. Once she figured things out, she’d tell Qi Wei.

Since they weren’t talking about work today, the conversation drifted everywhere. Most of it was Qi Wei bringing up random topics, and Lan Yifang cooperated well. This usually timid girl turned out to have a strong tolerance for alcohol. Clearly, she knew how to drink—she was the only one at the table actually drinking and eating crayfish seriously.

An Ye had to maintain her weight. She ate two steamed crayfish, then could only chew on cucumbers. After a few bites, she’d peel some steamed crayfish or crab to feed Lao Bai.

Qi Wei fantasized about the future—about the future of the studio, and her own.

All over the place, really. Most of the time, An Ye wouldn’t respond. If it got too absurd, she’d smack Qi Wei with the end of a cucumber.

In front of others, she spoke as little as Chi Tuo.

Chi Tuo took another sip of milk. It was a bit hard to swallow.

In these past few years, she had become more and more like him in many ways. He’d studied psychology for a while—this kind of psychological projection came in many forms, but it ultimately boiled down to self-protection due to avoidance or dissatisfaction with current circumstances.Maybe there were still some things An Ye felt she couldn’t bear on her own, so she tried to learn how to bear them the way he did.

When she auditioned for Lin Luo’s role, she told him—during her most frightened moments, she had copied his stance.

And after imitating it for long enough, it became her own.

An Ye might have sensed his gaze. She turned to glance at him and mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

Chi Tuo shook the half-full milk bottle in his hand and answered, “It’s cold.”

An Ye: “...You can’t use a microwave yourself?”

She grumbled, but still stood up and took his half bottle of milk to the kitchen.

Qi Wei was gnawing on crab meat. She glanced sideways at Chi Tuo, smiled, and didn’t say anything.

Lan Yifang looked at Chi Tuo, then at An Ye, thought about what An Ye had said in the car, and got up to grab a spicy crayfish for herself.

Chi Tuo hadn’t eaten much during this whole meal. He was still dizzy and sweating coldly, but at least his heart rate had come down—the risk of sudden death was much lower now.

While reheating the milk, An Ye also opened a box of half-baked cheesecake. She even warmed the one she gave to Chi Tuo, the cheese inside soft and fragrant.

Chi Tuo ate very slowly, listening to them chat. He felt like An Ye had stuffed a throw pillow behind his lower back.

She clearly noticed he wasn’t well, but didn’t force him to rest.

He liked it that way. Home was too cold and quiet.

After a few rounds of drinks, the conversation turned personal. Lan Yifang started talking about her younger brother’s wedding back in her hometown—complained about the high bride price, said she had to save more money, and mentioned that An Ye paid her a bit too generously. She didn’t even dare tell her parents the truth.

An Ye was pleasantly surprised by that last bit of honesty and handed her a large hairy crab.

Qi Wei also started talking about the artist who had been forced to quit the industry right after debuting because of Yan Wan. The story was actually straightforward and brutal. Back when Qi Wei had just entered the industry, she was full of passion and brought an artist she believed would skyrocket onto a talent show. They were well-prepared, but the song they chose clashed with Qing Ze’s—who was still a newcomer at the time. Yan Wan had already set his sights on Qing Ze, and the talent show had investments from Phantom Daylight. He stepped in and told Qi Wei to change the song. Of course, she refused. As a result, that newcomer was completely edited out of the show.

Even after that, Qi Wei didn’t give up and brought the artist to another variety show.

There’s a reason people are turning on Yan Wan now. At that time, he was producing a show with An Ye. When he saw that artist’s name, he casually told the director, “This newcomer offended Phantom Daylight.”

It happened twice. The second time, he even brought Phantom Daylight in on it.

A newcomer with nothing but a dream and no connections at all—just like that, they were gone before they even had a chance to be seen.

That was Qi Wei’s biggest regret. It was also part of what drove her to become who she is today.

“What happened to that artist later?” Lan Yifang asked.

“She became a music teacher at a school,” Qi Wei finished her drink. “I went to find her afterward, asked if she was still interested. She said she wasn’t.”

She was disappointed in the industry—and felt her dream had always been unrealistic.

An Ye took a sip of her wine too.

Next to her, Chi Tuo had gone completely quiet. An Ye turned her head and saw him lying on the sofa with his face tilted up, clutching the milk bottle, eyes closed as if he were asleep.

There wasn’t a trace of color in his lips.

“Asleep?” Qi Wei mouthed to An Ye.

An Ye took the milk bottle from Chi Tuo’s hand. He didn’t react—his eyelashes didn’t even twitch. He was in a deep sleep.An Ye nodded.

“Then we’ll get going?” Qi Wei stood up.

She actually found it quite strange that, given Chi Tuo’s current state, An Ye still let them stay to drink and chat. It hadn’t been obvious in the car, but once they got back—maybe it was because he’d relaxed, or maybe because of the heating—it was clear even Lan Yifang had noticed Chi Tuo didn’t look well. His temples had been damp the whole time.

“It’s fine, let’s keep going.” An Ye didn’t let them leave. She draped a small blanket over Chi Tuo and didn’t even lower her voice deliberately. “You guys finish eating before you go. A bit of noise actually makes it easier to fall asleep.”

That was her own experience—trying to nap on set between scenes. Curling up in the RV with the doors and windows shut never helped, but throwing a down jacket over herself on a camp chair, surrounded by hustle and bustle, made it surprisingly easy to doze off.

She’d just wanted to try it out earlier.

But now that she saw Chi Tuo had really fallen asleep, she actually felt a strange sense of accomplishment.

An Ye took a bite of cucumber. She felt like all her feelings toward Chi Tuo were so fresh, sudden and unexpected—she didn’t even know what exactly they were.

She just wanted to be around him. The way he slept next to her, completely defenseless, made her feel at ease.

Since the host didn’t mind, the tipsy guests naturally followed her lead. Qi Wei quickly resumed gossiping about which girl Lan Yifang’s younger brother had taken a liking to.

With that kind of domestic small talk, An Ye didn’t feel like chiming in. One ear listened to them chat while she hugged her knees and fiddled with her phone.

She hadn’t logged into her game since filming began. When she did, she saw her ranking had gone sky-high. All the teammates in her tier now were out of her league. After just one match, she got reported for throwing the game and acting like a bot.

An Ye curled her lip. It wasn’t exactly unfair—she really was an actor, after all.

Gaming felt out of reach now, and she wasn’t interested in social apps. Meanwhile, Lan Yifang had already started talking about her brother’s second girlfriend, whose family once got into a physical fight with theirs over the ownership of a pumpkin growing on the ground.

An Ye yawned.

She didn’t even know when she’d fallen asleep.

Nor did she know when those two drunkards had finished off two more bottles from her wine cabinet and left.

She slept in a heavy fog. The only thing she vaguely remembered was Lao Bai trying to snuggle into her arms. She had already been hugging something—whatever it was, it felt nice and warm. So she didn’t make room, and that little spoiled thing with no trace of a stray cat’s sense of independence whimpered and walked off.

When she woke up again, her lower back ached a little.

She knew this feeling well. This particular spot on the couch was her prime nap spot, and every time she woke up here, her lower back felt sore.

So her first reaction was: she’d fallen asleep in the living room again.

Her second reaction: what time was it?

Her third reaction: the thing she was hugging—was it a waist?

A human waist.

She even had her hand tucked inside the shirt. So what she was feeling now was a very nice-to-the-touch, human waist.

An Ye opened her eyes.

The air still smelled of crayfish and ginger vinegar dipping sauce. She remembered that they had been celebrating a small milestone before she fell asleep.

Chi Tuo had fallen asleep afterward.

Then she’d fallen asleep too.

So the reason everything was pitch black in front of her right now… was because she was hugging Chi Tuo’s waist, with her entire face buried in his chest.

…She slept so wildly—how did Lao Bai not end up bald from her yanking?

An Ye shifted slightly.

Chi Tuo let out a very stiff gasp.

An Ye: “……”

Chi Tuo, voice hoarse: “...My entire lower body, and waist, are numb.”

An Ye: “...You’re awake?”

“I’ve been awake for a while now…” Chi Tuo didn’t even know how to describe the feeling of waking up to find An Ye curled up in his arms.

He was nearly scared to death.

Then thought it was a dream.

Then thought maybe her narcolepsy had kicked in again and she was about to start chewing on his waistband.

Then… very selfishly, he thought maybe he’d just keep holding her like this a little longer before waking her up.

After going through this whole series of mental gymnastics, he realized something he really couldn’t ignore—his leg was numb.

He couldn’t move.

Soon, his waist was numb too.

So numb he could barely feel An Ye’s hand on his waist anymore.

“You get up first.” He painfully patted An Ye’s shoulder.

“And then—” he started grimacing the moment An Ye sat up and leaned backward, “Don’t touch me! Let me recover on my own first!”

But he was still too late.

An Ye’s hand landed right on his calf, and the wave of pins and needles hit instantly. Chi Tuo felt like he was about to burst into tears.

He looked at An Ye, whose smile was growing wider.

There wasn’t even a trace of romantic mood left.