To everyone else, Jiang Wei was just a flamboyant, rich, sharp-tongued freak from the fashion world—
a spoiled heir who lived to show off.
No one knew—
the softest, most serious part of his life had been reserved for one girl.
—Qiao Fei.
From the tiny stage in elementary school,
to school anniversaries, to city competitions…
and later—
the ballet troupe's touring performances.
No one knew that in the audience, there was always a boy—then a teenager, then a young man—
sitting in a corner.
Never absent.
Never letting her know.
Never holding her back from going farther.
He never sat too close, never where a camera might sweep over him.
He would rather stand at the very back than miss a single one of her turns.
The brighter she danced,
the deeper he sank.
Later, when they went to different middle schools,
he still snuck out to watch her competitions.
When she entered a pre-professional troupe in high school,
he used a forged invitation card to slip in and watch the first rehearsal.
When she did a magazine interview,
he downloaded and saved every video clip—
even the file names were stripped down to the barest form:
"Fei1" "Fei2" "Fei3"
as if he were collecting, one by one,
the little frames of light in his life.
When she toured overseas for two years,
he immediately checked flights, maps, and time zones—
just to calculate the exact moment she stepped onstage.
When she stood under the spotlight,
he watched the livestream in a faraway country,
guarding her like the most precious treasure in the world.
Until that car accident—
When the news broke, he was in the middle of a meeting.
His phone slipped straight out of his hand and clattered onto the table.
In the hospital, she lay there.
Pale. Fragile.
Quiet as a porcelain doll.
He filled out the visitor form under the name "classmate."
The nurse smiled and let him in, even saying:
"Your classmate is really beautiful. No wonder you care so much."
He stood by her bed, staring at a face that was familiar—
and yet suddenly unreachable.
He wanted to reach out and touch her forehead.
But his hand shook so badly he couldn't even straighten his sleeve.
—She was light.
—and he couldn't even touch the edge of it.
Everyone believed Jiang Wei liked men.
Because he had said so.
On purpose.
A bomb he threw at his parents—
to rebel against his family, to fight expectations, to punish indifference.
And that bomb, as he grew up, turned into a rumor.
A shield.
A disguise.
And also—
the perfect way to hide Qiao Fei.
Because as long as the world believed he liked men,
then no one—no one—would ever discover that:
in his heart, there was a light.
A light he couldn't bear for anyone to touch,
to stain,
to steal away.
That light was Qiao Fei.
And now she was standing in front of him—
She didn't remember him.
But she had called him,
with the one sentence he treasured most from elementary school:
"Stu—pid—Jiang—Wei!"
Jiang Wei felt something slam open in his chest.
All those years of hidden love, jealousy, regret, protection, restraint—
lit up in a single instant.
—She was still here.
—She could still scold him.
—And he could start again.
This time, he wouldn't just stay far away.
This time, he would—he had to—
step into her light.
[Ballet Troupe · Lounge]
Jiang Wei looked at Qiao Fei—
and suddenly, softly smiled.
As if something warm had broken open inside him.
"…I'm pretty happy," he said.
Ye Xiaoxiao: "???"
He spoke slowly, each word heavy, like it sank into the heart before it landed.
"You accepted this project…
which means we'll have a lot more chances to see each other."
He paused there, and for a brief second his eyes brightened—
the same kind of brightness from when he'd been a boy watching her from the audience.
"If you want to scold me… I'll be here."
Ye Xiaoxiao: "???!!!"
Qiao Fei's soul: "…Is this guy sick??"
Jiang Wei turned to leave—
then stopped, glanced back, and his tone snapped back into familiar venom.
"Oh right. Almost forgot."
He took off his sunglasses, brows lifting.
"Your styling for this drama—
I'm in full charge."
"See you on set, classmate."
Then he walked away.
His long coat flared with the movement, like a declaration:
—She couldn't escape.
—He was going to step into her life, openly this time.
Ye Xiaoxiao swallowed hard. "…I'm done. He's going to dismantle me like spare parts."
She remembered how brutally he used to squeeze her dry at work.
"What kind of cursed fate is this…"
Qiao Fei's soul: "AAAAAH I REFUSE to be dressed by that stupid Jiang Wei!!"
On Ye Xiaoxiao's wrist, the silver ring glimmered faintly—
as if responding to her sudden panic and racing heartbeat.
And this new intersection—
had only just begun.
[Film Set · Temporary Rest Area]
The character assignment sheet for the new drama If Love Becomes a Calamity was delivered into Qin Mu's hands.
At first he scanned it without much interest—
male lead He Zhan, villain Lu Gang, investors, director…
Until he saw:
[Female Lead: Wealthy heiress, ballerina — Shen Xu]
His fingers paused.
Then he read further—
Qin Mu as Qi Mo (Female Lead's bodyguard)
Role arc: suppressed, devoted unrequited love
Emotional performance: restraint, closeness, protection, tethering
Intimate scenes: high
The paper curled slightly in his grip—
as if it were being tightened silently.
For the first time, his brows knit into a deep line.
Someone from the company explained beside him:
"Qin Mu, your popularity is soaring. This drama is our main push for awards and ratings.
The role is very likable—fans love the 'deep, devoted secret love' type.
You'll gain even more viewers with this."
Qin Mu didn't respond.
He just stared at the words "unrequited" and "intimate."
He had rarely taken roles that required close-range romance—
face-to-face, embracing, guarding someone like that.
But what made his reaction abnormal
wasn't the role description.
It was the line:
"The female lead is a wealthy heiress."
In his mind, a girl on a hospital bed flashed past—
a round face, obedient eyes, a soft "thank you,"
a smile like cotton candy.
And he…
hadn't even managed to say the words I like you.
His manager patted his shoulder.
"This project has everything invested into it. You have to take it."
Qin Mu pulled his thoughts back, and said lightly:
"I know."
But the hand holding the script remained stiff.
He looked at the female lead's setting—
noble, dazzling, perfectly refined,
the kind of girl the whole world would protect.
Completely… unlike Ye Xiaoxiao.
Something in a corner of his heart tugged painfully.
When she wakes up…
will she see me acting in a drama like this?
Will she see me holding another woman?
Will she see me performing devotion in front of the camera?
His chest tightened for no reason he could admit aloud.
But another cold, hard voice pressed down over everything:
Qin Mu, this is just work.
Liking her in the drama isn't real liking.
Outside the script… wait until she wakes up.
He took a deep breath.
"I'll act."
Clean. Decisive.
—But only he knew:
he was forcing himself to stay calm.
Because this was the first time he had to act "deep affection"—
and the affection he truly wanted to give…
belonged to someone still lying in a hospital bed.