Hearing this, Fang Li couldn’t hold back a laugh through his tears. “What’s this now? Weren’t you Young Master Qin just a moment ago? Since when did you start acting like a bandit?”
Qin Weidong saw that just a second ago, Fang Li had been crying in anger, and now he was smiling again. He could only sigh. “You’re really here to torment me, aren’t you…”
Back in the day, if Fang Li had signed with a music company without consulting him, Qin Weidong would never have allowed it. He didn’t even take a company like Waves seriously—if he wanted to make a fuss about the contract, it was just a piece of scrap paper to him.
But now, he had to learn to accept it. At least to Fang Li, this decision was a matter of respect. So if Fang Li saw it that way, Qin Weidong had to learn to compromise, to restrain himself, to show respect…
That kind of change took time. The fact that he hadn’t outright opposed it—that was already the biggest compromise and gesture of sincerity he could offer right now.
“I’m not tormenting you—you were the one who treated me badly first.”
Fang Li pinched his chin. He remembered how, when they were thirteen or fourteen, the students who bullied him always ended up getting punished—badly. At the time, he couldn’t understand why his classmates kept avoiding him. Later, he realized it was because they’d all seen how Qin Weidong had dealt with those bullies behind the scenes.
Qin Weidong had always lacked fear when it came to blood or conflict. Even at thirteen, he’d been that way—and as an adult, he was even more ruthless when it came to those who hurt the people he cared about.
Fang Li huffed, then said a completely heartless thing: “To be honest, that’s exactly what I was thinking when I signed.”
He said it with a grin, forgetting that his eyes were still wet with tears.
And it was true, wasn’t it? It had always been this way between them. No matter what he did—no matter how reckless or wrong—Qin Weidong would always fix it for him. That was why he’d dared to sign the contract without hesitation. He did what he wanted, because he knew someone would catch him.
Whether it was flying back to China on impulse without even a change of clothes or flipping through a contract once before signing five years away—Fang Li never worried about the consequences. Years of Qin Weidong standing behind him, handling everything, had raised him to be someone who didn’t think too much or have to pay the price for his mistakes.
Qin Weidong sighed again, utterly helpless. “You really don’t have a conscience…”
If he could, he would’ve carved out his heart and left it with Fang Li already. And yet, this man still couldn’t behave, still refused to listen.
Fang Li, no longer upset, just laughed and tugged on his ear. “And whose fault is that, huh?”
Hearing that, Qin Weidong’s throat tightened. He had no words.
His teeth clenched, then relaxed. In the end, he just inhaled the cool air of the room and let it out in a long, deep breath. “Mine… It’s all my fault.”
It truly was. He was the one who spoiled Fang Li like this. Who else could he blame? This was just the bitter fruit he had to swallow.
In the end, with Qin Weidong, there had never been a problem in Fang Li’s life that couldn’t be solved by a few tears. And even if it couldn’t be, it had to be—he’d find a way, no matter what. Just like now.
But this time, the solution landed squarely on himself. He was the first sacrifice—and what else could he do? All he could do was reflect and take a step back.
“You could’ve just said this earlier…”
Fang Li knew it already wasn’t easy for Qin Weidong to show this kind of attitude. He wrapped his arms around him. “Did we really have to fight this long, and this hard?”
He didn’t like fighting with Qin Weidong. They had never been apart before, and even cold wars never lasted more than a day. This time had gone on way too long.
Suddenly, Qin Weidong narrowed his eyes and called, “Fang Li.”
The full-name address, spoken so deliberately, made Fang Li feel weird. He had no idea what Qin Weidong was about to say—usually, he was the one calling Qin Weidong by his full name.
“What is it?”
Qin Weidong looked at him seriously and said in a low voice, “From now on, no matter what happens, you’re not allowed to just up and leave.”
“What do you mean ‘me’? What about you? You don’t have to follow that rule?” Fang Li protested. “How’s that fair?”
Qin Weidong shot him a sidelong glare. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Then, word by word, he repeated with clarity and force, “I will never leave you.”
Yeah, yeah, look at how smug he is… Fang Li pouted. Honestly, if Qin Weidong had his way, he’d probably keep Fang Li tucked in his pocket 24/7, never letting him out of sight. That guy would never walk away.
Fine. Fang Li had to admit—he was the only one who’d do something like that. Maybe he’d acted impulsively. But didn’t he have a reason?
“…I might’ve been rash this time, but that’s only because you really hurt me. You broke my heart!” he said, all wounded pride. “What if you hurt me like that again? I’m not gonna let you tie me down completely!”
His eyes sparkled as he turned them on Qin Weidong, his tone half-whiny, half-teasing. The look on his face—charming and maddening all at once—made Qin Weidong want to devour him on the spot. He wanted to shut that mouth up, to stop him from saying anything else that drove him this crazy.
Gnashing his teeth, Qin Weidong bit Fang Li’s cheek and growled, “When I say there won’t be a next time—I mean it!”
Fang Li huffed, “Yeah right. Men in our town, once they lay a hand on someone once, there’s always a second time…”
He wasn’t some gullible kid anymore. He was a man too—he knew exactly how men talked, and half of it was pure nonsense. He meant to say this, to make Qin Weidong remember. Qin Weidong had never treated him like that before—he’d hurt him bad, and he wasn’t letting that slide. He wanted him to remember it. Really remember it. Feel it in his heart, just like he had.
Qin Weidong clenched his jaw and stared at him darkly. “So… six nights weren’t enough for you?”
“Uh…” Fang Li’s triumphant grin froze. “N-no… You’re not seriously planning to kneel again tonight, are you? I mean… come on, that’s enough already. You’re leaving on the fifth… that’s only a few days away. I just want you to hold me while I sleep…”
Fang Li snuggled up to Qin Weidong as he spoke. Six nights weren’t enough? Please! Making Qin Weidong suffer was one thing, but not being held by him at night made him miserable too!
Before he could cuddle up properly, Qin Weidong got up. Fang Li shouted from the bed, “Hey hey hey…! What are you doing?! Can’t take a few words of criticism? Don’t go, I’ve been so tired these days, come hold me…”
Qin Weidong said, “Lie down and sleep,” then turned off the lights and walked out.
Fang Li was speechless! That man’s pettiness wasn’t even the size of a needle’s eye! Cursing under his breath and buttoning up, he slipped on his slippers and chased after him.
“Qin Weidong, I was wrong, okay? I won’t push your buttons anymore—just come back!”
But no matter how much he talked until his lips went dry, Qin Weidong still knelt.
Fang Li had forgiven him, but Qin Weidong hadn’t forgiven himself. He knew clearly where the root of the problem lay. Fang Li loved music—he’d said it over and over, both back home and abroad. When had he started tuning him out?
Qin Weidong didn’t dare dig too deep into that thought. But this incident had woken him up completely—pulled him back from the edge of an irreversible mistake. He could still make things right.
So he would make sure he remembered this lesson—and those six nights, he would kneel, without missing a single second.
Fang Li tried everything, but he couldn’t stop him. If Qin Weidong set his mind to something, nothing could change it. He knelt for the full six nights, every second accounted for. By the end of the sixth night, when he finally stood up, his legs trembled uncontrollably, and his knees were bruised dark red, blotched with pitiful blood stasis. Just looking at it made Fang Li cry.
Qin Weidong tried to comfort him: “It’s not that painful…”
Fang Li didn’t buy it. Sitting on the carpet, tears falling as he gently dabbed the medicine on him, he snapped, “Bullshit! I bet it hurts like hell! I told you not to kneel and you insisted! First you hurt my body, then you hurt my heart!”
The floor was carpeted, so Qin Weidong wasn’t worried Fang Li would catch a chill. He glanced at his phone while Fang Li kept applying medicine, gently blowing on those poor, tortured knees.
“You never listen to me… not once!”
“Why can’t you be obedient like when we were kids? Back then, you used to listen to everything I said!”
“Screw it, Qin Weidong… I must really owe you something!”
Fang Li couldn’t stop rambling, full of heartache. After the medicine was applied, he realized Qin Weidong hadn’t said a word. When he looked up, he saw Qin Weidong had put his phone down.
Qin Weidong scooped him up off the ground and cradled him in his lap.
“I’m heading over there for lunch today. Want me to have the hotel send food to you?”
“Brother Cheng’s meeting me at noon—I’ll head over,” Fang Li replied. “Do they know you’re back?”
“Yeah.”
Now that Zhongsheng Group was making such major moves in Jinyang and was in the midst of negotiating a mining venture in Rongshan, it was impossible for Qin Zhengrong not to know that he had returned to the country.
“Are your legs okay?”
“They’re fine.”
Fang Li thought for a moment, then said, “Then don’t drive yourself. You’re in no condition to drive like this.”
“I’ll have my assistant take me.”
Fang Li nodded. Since Qin Weidong had returned, it was impossible for him not to visit the Qin family. But Qin Weidong had never neglected him for anything related to his family. Even going to the U.S.—Qin Weidong had been willing to give up a promising political future just to bring him along. So apart from his feelings toward Ye Yunshan, Fang Li didn’t really have much resistance toward the Qin family anymore.
Deep down, he knew—it was a good thing for Qin Weidong to have a family too.
“Then go. But don’t keep that cold look on your face all the time…”
Fang Li reached up to lift the corners of Qin Weidong’s lips. “Smile more. You and your dad look exactly the same—like you were carved from the same mold. When both father and son wear that stern expression, it’s terrifying…”
Qin Weidong kissed him, changed out of the clothes that smelled faintly of ointment into a clean outfit, and left.
At noon, Fang Li overslept. He was awakened by several urgent calls from Yang Yuecheng, and still dressing as he picked up, he said, “Alright, I’m on my way…”
At the practice room, Yang Yuecheng told him a piece of explosive good news: his song had been heard by Hong Kong’s Baoyi Records, and their supervising producer was especially taken with Fang Li’s voice.
After seeing his photo—his youthful, strikingly handsome face—the producer even suspected the photo had been edited. It wasn’t until they saw a video of Fang Li singing that they were convinced it was real.
They immediately decided to release a single of “See You There” and time it to hit the market right after the movie’s premiere next month.
These days, plenty of singers released albums like they were printing flyers—four or five a year—but releasing a single before a movie’s debut, and with a release backed by a well-connected Hong Kong label? That was unprecedented for a newcomer like Fang Li.
Han Jin, upon getting the call from the supervising producer, knew he had backed the right horse!
Although Baoyi Records was a newly established company, Han Jin knew they had strong connections. It was a joint venture between Bolin Film Productions and Jinyi Records—widely considered a giant in Hong Kong’s music industry. Not long ago, a Mainland tycoon had tried to promote his young lover in the Hong Kong/Taiwan market through Jinyi, but they hadn’t even given him the time of day.
It was precisely this newly established company with a background in film production—by coincidence, Fang Li had sung the theme song for one of their parent group’s film projects, and that alone was enough to leave a strong impression on the supervising producer.
Some people, no matter how hard you try to promote them, never rise to fame. And others—just a light push is all it takes, and opportunities seem to gravitate toward them naturally…
Last time, they had only sent a sample segment. Now, Yang Yuecheng had received the full song from the Hong Kong company. For this single release, Fang Li needed to record the entire piece.
Yang Yuecheng laid out the schedule for the coming days: first, recording the song, then trying out styles for his look, shooting the single’s cover, and getting the company’s design team to work on the sleeve art.
He rattled off a long list, and while Fang Li listened, it didn’t seem like he was absorbing any of it. Having worked with him for a while now, Yang Yuecheng sometimes felt like this kid was just… a little slow on the uptake.
So, he assigned a young assistant to stay with Fang Li.
The assistant’s name was Yang Xiaoliu, only nineteen. When he heard that he’d be working with the company’s newly signed artist, Fang Li, he felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
The reason was simple—his last artist had also looked like a celestial being, but the moment they opened their mouth, the verbal abuse nearly made him cry. He was still traumatized. In his experience, the better someone looked, the worse their temper.
To make things worse, ever since Fang Li had signed with the company, stories about his overly delicate beauty—tinged with a sly, fox-like charm—had spread like wildfire through the entire office.
Yang Xiaoliu felt like he’d just escaped the tiger’s den only to walk into a wolf’s lair. But to his surprise, as soon as he nervously introduced himself, head lowered, Fang Li politely said: “Nice to meet you. I’m Fang Li.”
Yang Xiaoliu was immediately struck by how pleasant his voice was. When he looked up, he was momentarily stunned—yet another ethereal beauty.
Fang Li found him a bit goofy and said, “I forget things really easily. Brother Cheng said things will get pretty busy soon. Will you help me keep track of everything?”
Remembering schedules was the bare minimum for an assistant! Yang Xiaoliu quickly replied, “Absolutely, Bro—Brother Li! I have a great memory!”
Fang Li nodded. He’d never had an assistant before, and as Yang Xiaoliu watched him take just a few sips of water and then head right back into the studio to continue recording, he was stunned.
No coffee demands, no insistence on adjusting the studio temperature to his liking, no requests to walk his dog at home—wait, that’s it?
In that moment, Yang Xiaoliu thought: maybe, just maybe, good-looking people aren’t all difficult divas after all?
Axolotl Translations 
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