HOYSE CHAPTER 8

Chapter 8 – You Won’t Even Spare Doraemon? Are You Human?

Zhou Xiang thought Wu Fuyu was joking and double-checked. “You’re sure you want us to look for the person in this drawing?”

Wu Fuyu found the question baffling. “Of course. It’s him!”

The likeness wasn’t much, but the spirit was spot on.

Look at that vicious air. Exactly the same.

Zhou Xiang could tell Young Master Wu truly believed there was nothing wrong with his sketch. How would Wu Fuyu remember the face of some random passerby? If he saw him again he could recognize him sure, but what stuck in his mind was that the man was taller than him, looked decent enough, and had the kind of face that easily hooked Omegas. Now he had captured the man’s aura exactly as-is and felt like a soul-painter who had nailed the essence.

Wu Fuyu had full confidence in Xie Ling’s ability. “Then I’ll leave it to you, Brother Xie.”

Xie Ling handed the portrait to Zhou Xiang and gave a brief “Mm.”

He always spoke succinctly outside, yet that tone carried an unquestionable authority that made people believe him.

Knowing the matter was settled, Wu Fuyu promised to treat them to a meal next time. With his neck still sore, he left in a whirlwind.

The Wu and Xie families were based at opposite ends of the map, north and south, but their businesses crossed often. The Wu patriarch had told his son to connect with Xie Ling more once he reached the capital. The real reason was simple. With Xie Ling in the picture, you could not afford to underestimate the Xies. Otherwise why pick a Xie-family hotel out of so many options?

That was how business etiquette worked. You didn’t say outright “I support your family,” but when you came to the capital you ate and lodged at their properties. Do it often enough and you gave plenty of face. Maybe it didn’t pay off immediately, but it left the right impression.

Long-term investment like that wasn’t rare, and beyond these gestures there were other efforts laid quietly.

In other words, if he needs help from the Xies later, they ought to show him some courtesy too. Which was why, even without meeting Xie Ling many times, asking a favor felt natural to Wu Fuyu.

Watching the young man go, Xie Ling said, “For an heir, the Wus have put in real effort.”

He looked young and frivolous, easy to dismiss, yet handled matters with an internal order.

Zhou Xiang stared at the abstract drawing, torn. “President Xie, do we actually look for this person?” If they did, it would be a quest on epic difficulty.

The corner of Xie Ling’s mouth lifted. “What’s there to find? He will forget in a couple of days. Kids get over their fancies quickly.”

Zhou Xiang folded the portrait at once, ready to toss it later. “Understood.”

Other people’s affairs did not interest Xie Ling. His mind was on his own family. “Have you noticed Xiao Jing is a bit different?”

Zhou Xiang hesitated. “Well…”

Apart from finally adding you on WeChat, he still bolts when he sees you. What’s different?

Xie Ling answered himself. “More filial.”

Zhou Xiang: “Ah, yes.” As long as you’re happy.

Half a beat later, Xie Ling remembered asking Rong Jing earlier if he still wanted to act. The kid had quietly dodged the topic, yet it was obvious he hadn’t given up.

Xie Ling simply could not understand what was so good about acting. Was the entertainment industry something anyone could enter?

Just then, several project leads came to the hotel to meet him. The assistant guided everyone toward the cars waiting outside the lobby.

Xie Ling first asked about this year’s film and TV investment plan. After the report, his face cooled as he looked at the head of the film division. “None of you are allowed to help him.”

It was a hard order. All Xie-family-related projects would show Rong Jing the red light from here on.

He would do nothing, and let Rong Jing see reality himself.

He did not believe a student who had squandered four years could make anything of himself from now on. Kids in their rebellious phase never turn back until they hit a wall. The more elders forbid something, the more they want to do it.

So let him crash. Only with a bleeding head would he learn what fits him.

Everyone agreed without objection. The Capital Film Academy was one of the very top schools, sending waves of students into the industry every year. Only a few shone. Most disappeared into the crowd. The film division head actually remembered Rong Jing. 

Back then he had no idea of the boy’s connection to the Xies. It was a freshman-year military training photo that had caught his eye, a face with rare innate advantages, a single photo that had crowned him once. But after a series of performance “accidents,” no one in the circle would keep an eye on a “defective product” with only looks to offer.

In his view, Rong Jing’s road had broken three years ago.

No saving it. No one believed in it.

This circle was like that. Newcomers could not afford mistakes. If they made one, who would invest?

Elsewhere, Guan Hongyi, who had already given up trying to get Rong Jing’s info, kept sighing.

Gu Xi teased him. “They say each sigh shortens your life by forty seconds. Keep going and you’ll lose a whole day.”

Guan took it seriously. “For real? Is there science behind that?”

Gu Xi was meticulous by nature. “Depends who you ask. You’re meeting a producer later. Reapply your blocker spray. You didn’t spray last night, did you?”

Hungover and slow, Guan finally realized he hadn’t sprayed since yesterday, yet his scent hadn’t leaked. He opened his bag for his usual spray and, in a corner, found a new one.

“This one isn’t mine. Who put it in?” A blurred memory flickered, on the dark backseat of a cab, an Alpha had shoved it into his hand.

That Alpha, whose contact he hadn’t managed to get.

Sigh. Couldn’t get it. This world is trash.

Gu Xi eyed the brand from the chain drugstore. He was starting to believe that Alpha had just been unlucky enough to get extorted by Guan.

Poor guy. Out money and still stuck in someone’s thoughts. May you never cross paths with Hongyi again.

They were about to part when Guan noticed Gu Xi on the phone. It sounded like he was about to record a variety show.

“So now you have to contact the show yourself? Where is your agent Yang Qi, dead or what?” What top star contacted a program team on their own? Talk about losing status.

“My contract is about to end. He has other artists and can’t spare the time,” Gu Xi said simply. “Also, there’s a tin-anniversary banquet tonight for a major family head and his wife. He got tickets and plans to bring a few rookies to show their faces. He is busy styling them now.”

From morning to afternoon it would be hair, makeup, wardrobe, matching jewelry. Around three in the afternoon they could head to the venue.

Guan knew about the banquet. It was hosted by the real estate tycoon Xie family. Only well-known names were invited. Very few from the entertainment industry had tickets. “Your agent does have connections. But in that kind of setting, maybe… are you planning to go too?”

Gu Xi lowered his cap against the sharp sunlight. “I am. I don’t have other chances.”

Guan knew the reason and did not want to touch that sore place.

He switched the subject at once. “What show are you filming?”

“A Day in a Star’s Life. I had them meet me at the Xie Lier hotel entrance,” Gu Xi said.

It was a new variety show. Each episode featured three stars. Micro-cameras would follow each star’s entire day before the editors cut it down. Seven celebrity panelists warmed up the studio and commented during the broadcast. Since they always had at least one top draw, the view count kept climbing.

To wring every drop of value before his contract ended, the company had been booking Gu Xi like mad. Even without asking, Guan knew Gu Xi had likely not slept for days.

“This will run until five or six in the afternoon at least, and full-day follow is brutal,” Guan said, miserable. “You haven’t slept at all, have you? Even a god would drop. It’s my fault for drinking that much…”

“If something had happened to you, I would never forgive myself,” Gu Xi said seriously.

When he was little, the north of the city was still old districts, not yet redeveloped, a jumble of everything. Many people lived by scavenging and were called trash-pickers. He had been one of them. Guan had found him. To Gu Xi, Guan was family.

After putting the worried Guan into a car, Gu Xi called his assistant Mo Dian and told him not to come. The kid had been up two and a half days already and needed the rest.

Gu Xi met the filming crew at the appointed spot. There had been no rehearsal, so he chose the meeting place on the fly. The crew knew a top-tier like Gu Xi had no time to hash out schedules; thus, they adapted to him. Still, one thing had been infuriating. His agent had tried to jack up the price at the last minute and had handled communication badly. If Gu Xi hadn’t personally stepped in and reset the fee, the platform had been ready to blacklist their golden goose.

“Ready to start?” the host asked.

Gu Xi removed his mask and cap. A little dizzy, he pressed a palm over his racing heart. Sometimes he wondered if he would just drop dead one day.

Before that happened, there was still so much to do.

He took a quick heart pill and nodded.

Cameras rolled. The host, who had a good impression of him, leaned closer. “Up this close, I can barely see pores on your face. I think many people are curious what skincare you use.”

“Usually whatever I endorse,” Gu Xi said. In truth, he had used nothing today. After searching all night, he was on camera barefaced.

His stomach dipped. Barefaced, ah, he panicked.

He paused the shoot, took out a pocket mirror, and checked.

Good. Still the most beautiful.

The host had assumed he was the kind of beauty who should be admired from a distance, dreamy and frosted over. This sudden little move was unexpected.

“Please… cut that bit,” Gu Xi said, a bit embarrassed.

“Of course,” the host said, suppressing a laugh.

They continued. “Did you sleep at a hotel last night?” the host asked.

Gu Xi smiled. “I went back to the studio for some dubbing, then found a hotel nearby.”

The cameraman obligingly shot the hotel exterior. The name would be blurred later to avoid accusations of product placement.

“Was the dubbing for your newly wrapped drama King Lu? I heard it’s your first time playing a villain.” The host had done her homework and, while asking, also tossed some promo.

“Yes. There was construction near the location so the audio had issues,” Gu Xi said.

“What made you take a villain role? Your face really doesn’t say villain,” she asked, genuinely puzzled. As an idol he had been too popular. That angelic face had obsessed many. It was hard to imagine him as a bad guy.

Gu Xi blinked. Under the lens, his thick lashes beat like butterfly wings, hazy and enticing. “And why can’t I be a villain?”

“You can. Of course you can,” the host said before she could stop herself, heart skipping a beat under that gaze.

In that second, it felt like if Gu Xi told you to do something, you would.

She remembered a colleague’s warning when they learned she would tail Gu Xi today. Do not stand too close to Gu Xi, and definitely do not smile into his eyes. She had shrugged it off. She had followed too many stars to be fazed. Now she got it. Gu Xi could unearth the deepest, most hidden desires with ease.

Even as a Beta, she wanted to possess him.

After a few on-camera questions, the director texted their first task: take the subway to the Film Academy. Gu Xi had been invited to give a talk to juniors, which was already on his schedule for today.

The program team figured this itinerary could produce a moment. The episode’s views rode mostly on Gu Xi; the other two guests were not as hot.

The task was as follows. On the way by subway, if no one recognized him, Gu Xi would win and earn a one-time “refuse a task” token for the day. If someone recognized him, he had to cooperate and play games with the passerby under the director’s guidance.

Every guest faced various sudden, thrilling mini-games to keep viewers engaged. After three empty years, Gu Xi’s popularity had dipped hard. The film had heated up his name again, but new fans’ stickiness was low. He needed mass attention to carry him through this transition.

Holding the task card, Gu Xi did not immediately rush to the subway like other stars might. The car had already driven for a while. He glanced at a toy store near the station entrance.

He hesitated. “Can I buy something first?”

The host was curious. They liked guests who could improvise. “We need to see what you want to do so the director can decide.”

Gu Xi stepped into the toy store and came out with a simplified blue-cat mascot outfit. The suit was a thin fleece onesie, but the mascot head was big and plush.

With the head on, no one could see his face.

The onesie was thin, though, so pulled over his clothes you could still faintly see his shape.

The host had a feeling their view count was safe.

Gu Xi was too good. A person so bright and immaculate, yet willing to sacrifice image. Not like an idol obsessed with brand control at all. With Gu Xi constantly thinking sideways, the show would find viral moments in minutes.

The director had assumed they would win easily. Among ordinary people, these traffic stars shone like neon. Their looks, tastes, the way they dressed gave them away even in disguise. Who would have thought Gu Xi would go this route? Who could see through this?

It was the tail end of rush hour. There were still many people. The costume drew glances, but commuters had no time to stare. Most assumed he was on the clock.

Gu Xi moved into the station smoothly, three cameramen following at a safe distance. Twice, subway staff stopped them, but production cleared it and continued. One excited staffer even asked for an autograph. Gu Xi obligingly signed her shirt with a flourish.

Rong Jing, after surviving a breakfast so awkward he wanted to evaporate, found the nearest subway station via his phone’s map. While clearing background apps, he noticed last night’s movie had auto-played to the end. He scrubbed back to where he had stopped, left a bookmark, and planned to continue later.

He thought Gu Xi’s acting was the real deal: quick, and alive. Acting opposite him would be thrilling.

Then he shook his head. With his current reputation, what crew would hire him? Dreaming of partnering with a top star was delusional.

Could you act with Gu Xi?

No. You could not.

He rode one stop. Two stations before downtown, a wave of people flooded in. Pushed by the tide, he ended up near the center of a car.

The overhead screens ran the national weather. It was a way for commuters to catch quick info on the go.

A breaking bulletin suddenly cut in. A headless female body had been found at an abandoned suburban construction site. The victim was an Omega. Her limbs showed signs of struggle. The head was missing again. It was the third such case this month. The police asked anyone with knowledge to come forward and urged Omegas to stay in at night.

Several Omegas near Rong Jing went pale. It was hard for them to get the upper hand against most As. How could they not worry?

“So cruel. Not even leaving a whole body.”

“Isn’t the city covered with cameras? No footage out there?”

“That area is old-town renovation. Everything’s torn down, lots of construction. Who would install cameras there?”

“And who goes out there in the middle of the night anyway?”

Right. Who would be in a place like that at that hour? In the clip, streetlights were dead. There was only one possibility. The killer knew the area well enough to navigate in the dark. He might live nearby now or have lived there once.

The screen flipped back to the weather. Rong Jing’s thoughts spun out of habit. As an engineering student, he could only piece together basics. If he could think of it, the police had long since done so. No point playing detective.

He glanced up at the carriage lights and noticed, in a gap between people, a sneaky hand reaching toward a student in a short skirt. She shifted with the flow and the subway wolf missed.

He frowned and tracked those hands. He caught a piece of the man’s face. Medium height, thin, black-rimmed glasses. Looked like an ordinary office worker.

The glasses man seemed to spot tastier prey. Like a mouse drawn to cheese, his face flushed red and his breath quickened. He vanished toward a different corner. From that sudden change in behavior and expression alone, Rong Jing could guess the new target fit the man’s tastes exactly. He would not let go easily.

Rong Jing, mind your own business.

You can’t even keep your own little plot of land in order. Do not go courting trouble.

He told himself that, yet he could not stop watching those roaming hands. They brushed a white-collar along the way and got a fierce glare for it, then moved on with determined aim.

Seconds ticked by. Rong Jing shut his eyes for a beat, then shouldered his way toward where the man had disappeared, grateful that his height gave him an edge in tracking.

He searched one car and saw nothing. Then, out of a shadowed corner, the black-rimmed pest slithered into view, heading straight for someone in a blue mascot suit. Even with the costume thin, it showed a trim waist and a very shapely backside.

The man’s breathing went ragged. He had a predator’s eye. One look and he knew. Absolute top-tier, hidden by a silly suit.

He panted harder, intoxicated by the thought of that flex and give; eyes fixed on that lifted curve.

Just as his fingers were about to touch, a big hand clamped his wrist. The grip seemed light yet felt like it could crush bone.

Pain tore a scream out of him. “Ah—”

A cold voice sounded. “You won’t even spare Doraemon? Are you human?”

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