Spoiled - Chapter 27

Fu Feng seemed to have never spoken so much. His voice was deep yet gentle, like a glass of mellow hard liquor.

Fang Baijing was so dizzy that he was more like a mute than before; he couldn’t utter a single sentence then, and now he couldn’t even manage a Pinyin syllable. Fortunately, Fu Feng didn’t seem to expect an answer from him. His goal seemed only to finish saying the words he hadn’t said before, then cram them all into Fang Baijing’s head.

“Let’s sleep.” Fu Feng got up and turned off the light. He seemed to have no expectation for Fang Baijing’s answer.

The faint light in the room, like the glow of a firefly, flickered and died, plunging the room back into darkness.

Fang Baijing was held in Fu Feng’s arms.

When he gently sniffed, he could smell Fu Feng’s scent. He couldn’t describe the smell, but it was pleasant. He belatedly realized his ears were hot. He cautiously raised a hand to touch them, then put it down guiltily.

Fang Baijing closed his eyes, but he couldn’t fall asleep; he wasn’t even sleepy. His mind was full of thoughts and very chaotic. One moment, Fang Baijing was thinking about his high school days, and the next, he was thinking about the things Fu Feng had just said.

“Fu Feng,” Fang Baijing knew Fu Feng wasn’t asleep, and hesitantly opened his mouth, “I remember splashing water on you once, right?”

Fu Feng paused, then corrected him: “It was milk tea.”

Fang Baijing fell silent again. The air grew still once more.

In the end, Fang Baijing suffered from insomnia all night. He barely managed to stay awake until dawn before he finally couldn’t bear it any longer and fell asleep.

Fang Baijing slept soundly, but not for long. When he woke up, it was only a little past nine, but Fu Feng was already gone. He hadn’t even heard Fu Feng leave.

He instinctively looked beside him. The mattress still showed an indentation; Fu Feng must have left only recently.

Even though he hadn’t slept for long, Fang Baijing’s eyes were sore, but he wasn’t sleepy. He rubbed his eyes and stood up from the bed.

While brushing his teeth, Fang Baijing heard the phone ringing in the bedroom. He ran over in his slippers; it was Sister Cai calling.

“Hello, Sister Cai.” Fang Baijing spoke unclearly with a mouthful of foam, “What’s up?”

Sister Cai started immediately: “Have you rested enough?”

“…” Fang Baijing paused guiltily and said, “Wait for me, I’m going to spit out this toothpaste first.” He rushed into the bathroom, gargled water from a cup, and finally looked into the mirror and said, “Don’t make it sound like I do nothing all day. I still have a promotional event this afternoon.”

It was for the drama Fang Baijing had recently finished filming. The director’s notification had been sent to him a few days ago, and Fang Baijing had nearly forgotten today.

“Alright, then remember to come to the company this afternoon,” Sister Cai said. “I’ve received several scripts recently. A few of them look very good; they’re all adaptations of major IPs, and the roles offered to you are likable. Come take a look later.”

Fang Baijing actually wanted to lounge around for a few more days, so he grudgingly hummed, “Mm.”

“You don’t take commercials or variety shows, be content with that, and don’t get lazy about even filming dramas.”

Fang Baijing hummed again, his tone slightly less listless than before: “Got it, got it. I’ll come later.”

As long as Fang Baijing wasn’t going to a formal event, he dressed for comfort. Today was a bit cooler than the previous days, so he changed into a fleece-lined royal blue hoodie, still wearing sweatpants. Looking in the mirror, he decided he looked unusually haggard. Fang Baijing thought for a moment and put on a pair of sunglasses.

As soon as Fang Baijing stepped out, just as he expected, the bodyguards waiting outside surrounded him again. The feeling of being watched was truly unpleasant. Fang Baijing pursed his lips and walked out.

Sure enough, before he even left the villa gate, a bodyguard stopped him. “Sir?”

Fang Baijing said impatiently, “I’m going to work, Fu Feng knows.”

The bodyguard still blocked him, not moving an inch, and asked, “I mean, do you need me to drive you?”

“No need,” Fang Baijing said, hands in his pockets. “My assistant will pick me up.”

Ji Weile knew Fang Baijing disliked waiting and always arrived a bit early. Today, he was startled by the scene.

Fang Baijing pulled the car door open with a normal expression, got in, and closed the door with a noticeable thud.

Ji Weile, who was driving, saw the sunglasses on his face and couldn’t help asking, “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

Fang Baijing crossed his arms, leaning against the seat back. He pushed up his sunglasses, curling his lip: “Don’t ask.”

Since he put it that way, Ji Weile just assumed Fang Baijing was acting up again and drove quietly.

Halfway through the drive, Ji Weile glanced at the discreet black Volkswagen that had been following them the whole way and anxiously told Fang Baijing: “The car behind us has been following us for a while. It’s not paparazzi, is it? But the place you live is so high-end, they shouldn’t be able to photograph anything, right?”

Fang Baijing didn’t need to look back to guess what car it was. He frowned: “It’s fine, it’s not paparazzi. Just keep driving.”

The Volkswagen pulled up right behind their car. The moment Ji Weile saw the person who got out, he understood.

He followed closely behind Fang Baijing, whispering, “No way, no way! Fu Feng is watching you that strictly now? Those don’t look like bodyguards to me, they look like they’re monitoring you.”

Fang Baijing stopped walking. Ji Weile nearly stepped on his heel. He pursed his lips in annoyance: “I don’t know. Whatever.”

The bodyguards Fu Feng assigned to him were highly professional, usually standing far away and not interfering with his work, but Fang Baijing still felt completely uncomfortable.

He pulled up a chair in front of the vanity mirror and sat down.

The makeup artist quickly came over. Seeing the dark circles under Fang Baijing’s eyes, he dramatically raised a pinky finger: “Your dark circles are so severe, it’ll probably take several layers of concealer.”

“Go ahead.” Fang Baijing closed his eyes. His eyelashes were long and thick. “I shouldn’t get any creasing.”

The makeup artist’s skill was decent.

Fang Baijing, eyes closed, couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander again, still thinking about Fu Feng. He did like Fu Feng a little, but he didn’t know if Fu Feng knew that. As for Fu Feng… he probably really liked him.

Fang Baijing pondered for a long time, only recalling a lot of idiotic things he had done when he was sixteen. He didn’t know what made him worthy of Fu Feng’s intense affection. The more he thought, the more confused he became.

But there was one thing Fang Baijing was very clear about. Fang Baijing felt he still had to break up with Fu Feng. Being with Fu Feng meant being watched constantly, with no freedom whatsoever. He still had a lingering fear from the last time Fu Feng locked the villa door in front of him. Fang Baijing was a little scared. Although Fu Feng said he wouldn’t lock him up, he didn’t believe it. Fu Feng’s affection was too heavy; he couldn’t quite bear it.

“Baijing!” Someone patted his shoulder, and Fang Baijing smelled a sweet, cloying perfume. It was Chen Yun. “Long time no see!”

Chen Yun had just finished her full makeup in the next room and was already wearing her costume.

Fang Baijing tiredly lifted his eyelids and said, “Long time no see.”

“Are you very tired lately?”

“…Not bad,” Fang Baijing said. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Chen Yun pressed him: “Something on your mind?”

Fang Baijing sighed with worry. With his very youthful face, he looked especially pitiful when he sighed: “I suppose so.”

The promotional event had the usual routine. Fang Baijing changed into his costume and stood on stage. His role was second only to the male and female leads, so he stood next to Chen Yun.

Fang Baijing’s professional skills were always excellent. The moment he stepped on stage, the fatigue in his eyes vanished. Whether it was interviews or interacting with fans, he handled everything flawlessly.

But the moment he got off stage, Fang Baijing’s bones seemed to turn to jelly. He collapsed into a chair. The moment he took off the wig could only be described by the word “relief.”

He lightly closed his eyes and let the makeup artist remove his makeup. Changing back into his own clothes, Fang Baijing felt a lightness come over him.

Fang Baijing drowsily fell asleep and was eventually woken up softly by Ji Weile. His legs jerked, and he nearly fell off the chair.

Ji Weile helped him pack his things, picking up the sunglasses from the table and handing them to him. He asked, “Sister Cai asked you to go over this afternoon, are we going now?”

“Let’s go now.”

Since he was going to the company, Fang Baijing was still mindful of his image and put his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. He was signed to one of the top-tier large companies, and there were many people. Fang Baijing deliberately pulled his hat brim lower as he entered the elevator.

Fang Baijing exited the elevator and walked straight toward Sister Cai’s office. Sister Cai wasn’t in the office yet, so her little assistant brewed Fang Baijing a cup of coffee. He needed coffee to wake up right then.

Fang Baijing was halfway through his cup, eyes half-closed, when he heard the sound of Sister Cai opening the door.

She was wearing high heels, and the sound of them on the floor was rhythmic. Fang Baijing yawned, then put down the cup and turned his head.

Sister Cai was carrying a stack of scripts. Fang Baijing saw them and quickly stood up to help.

He muttered softly, “Why so many?”

Fang Baijing took the scripts and placed them on the coffee table. He casually picked up the one on top to read.

“The top three are for movies, and the rest are for TV dramas,” Sister Cai said, sitting next to Fang Baijing. “There’s one movie that’s very suitable for you. It’s a film by Director Zhang Yan, a tragic Republican-era piece—But it has a lot of kissing scenes, and one relatively explicit bed scene….”

Sister Cai didn’t finish her sentence, but both of them knew what she meant.

Fang Baijing responded with an indecipherable sound. He only briefly glanced at the script in his hand before putting it down, knowing he wasn’t interested.

There were only three movie scripts, so Fang Baijing decided to start looking at the TV drama scripts. When he saw the title of one of them, Fang Baijing’s expression froze—The Palm of the Hand You Can’t Escape From.

What kind of title is this? Is it a horror film?

Out of curiosity, Fang Baijing flipped open the script and quickly scanned a few pages. It was unclear what he read, but his expression became strange.

Sister Cai noticed his unusual expression and leaned over for a look: “Oh, how did you get that script? It must have gotten mixed up.” She closed the script in Fang Baijing’s hand and gave him a new one: “That one is a recent ‘Mary Sue’ drama, a kind of Renaissance of those domineering CEO novels we read as kids. It’s a web drama, and it was meant for another recently debuted young artist. How did it end up with you?”

Fang Baijing looked at the script in his hands but suddenly couldn’t read a single word.

He silently licked his lips, then reached out and snatched the script from Sister Cai’s hand, pleading playfully, “Sister Cai, lend me this script for a few days!”

Sister Cai looked at him in horror: “You’re not going to act in this, are you? I absolutely forbid it!”

“…No.” It’s just that Fang Baijing felt… he might be able to find some inspiration in this script.