MACRM Chapter 104

Lin Zhu choked slightly and couldn’t help coughing twice. “Obviously—”

A strange sour feeling bubbled up in his chest. He stopped mid-sentence and nudged closer into Zhong Yao’s neck.

Zhong Yao ruffled his hair and couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. Lowering his head, he kissed his forehead lightly. “Not happy?”

Lin Zhu’s face heated up, and he shook his head quickly. “No!”

Right now, he and Zhong Yao were each other’s number one!

He rubbed his cheeks hard, embarrassed to be competing with a kid, and waved it off generously. “Probably just a little brat talking nonsense in his chuuni phase…”

It was the first time he’d seen his agent show such a small mood. Zhong Yao couldn’t hide his smile anymore. He pulled him into his arms and lowered his head to kiss him properly.

Lin Zhu’s heart pounded as he instinctively tilted his head up.

The atmosphere around them was warm and affectionate. Other people nearby were hugging and kissing too, so they didn’t stand out at all.

Snow was falling that night, drifting down softly, melting bit by bit into their gentle, lingering kiss.

The faint sourness in Lin Zhu’s heart quickly disappeared. Protected in Zhong Yao’s arms, his body felt warm. Thinking of the child Zhong Yao mentioned, his heart softened little by little.

At that age, struggling through that kind of life… he knew exactly what it felt like.

It wasn’t easy at all.

And before even knowing who that child was, he had already taken away that child’s “number one bestfriend”. A trace of guilt quietly rose in him. Tilting his head up, he asked, “Ge, then… since you told me… doesn’t that matter?”

Zhong Yao flicked his forehead lightly. “You’re not ‘someone else,’ so it doesn’t count as breaking the rule.”

Lin Zhu froze for a moment. Meeting Zhong Yao’s smiling gaze, warmth spread through his chest.

He relaxed completely, leaning against him. “Ge, are you still sending him money every year? Do you still keep in touch? I want to meet him too…”

“I’ve kept sending money, and I write him a letter every year, but we lost contact long ago.”

Zhong Yao smiled and shook his head. “He only replied in the first year. After that, he never wrote back again.”

Lin Zhu looked up in surprise.

Zhong Yao gently patted his back. “I figure he probably went out to make a living. Maybe traveling around with film crews, or maybe his parents took him away and he doesn’t live there anymore…”

Lin Zhu hesitated. “But Ge, you still… keep sending money…”

Zhong Yao lowered his head and smiled softly.

He nodded. “In case one day he needs it, he’ll know to go back there and get it.”

Lin Zhu stared at him, his heartbeat speeding up uncontrollably.

When Zhong Yao mentioned writing letters, a thought — almost crazy, even — suddenly formed in his mind.

He opened his mouth, struggling to find his voice. “But… Ge, maybe he’s already grown up… maybe he doesn’t need the money anymore…”

Zhong Yao waved it off. “It’s fine. That amount isn’t much to me. He told me he had nowhere else to go, no one who would take care of him. I was afraid that if he ever needed help, he wouldn’t know where to find it.”

“You don’t know,” Zhong Yao added softly, “that child was very lonely.”

He smiled and ruffled Lin Zhu’s hair. “I just thought… if someday he’s unhappy out there, or runs into something painful, and he goes back and sees that his number one best friend still remembers him… maybe life won’t feel quite so hard.”

Lin Zhu stood there in a daze, his chest aching so much he couldn’t speak.

Did he…?

Had he accidentally lost a piece of his memory?

“I think, even having just one friend is good. A little bit of light makes even the darkest days easier.”

Zhong Yao looked at him, recalling the bundle of wild golden coins flowers from before. His gaze softened further as he kissed Lin Zhu’s hair gently.

Holding him, Zhong Yao lifted his head, eyes falling into the night sky. “But if this ever got exposed by the media and everyone found out, he’d know too. When we met, he had no one by his side. As his only friend, I can’t be the one to break our promise.”

Lin Zhu closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly clenched his fists.

Was Zhong Yao talking about him?

What exactly had happened during those years before and after he was taken away?

What had he… missed?

His voice turned hoarse. “Ge… can you tell me the address you send the money to?”

“Want to help me send it?” Zhong Yao asked, a little surprised.

After thinking for a moment, he shook his head helplessly. “That orphanage moved several times. I remember the address, but I can’t recite it off the top of my head… I’ll look it up when we get back?”

Lin Zhu’s breathing eased slightly. He let out a soft breath and nodded.

Zhong Yao’s warmth surrounded him through layers of clothing.

Whether it was him or not…

Lin Zhu closed his eyes and quietly tightened his arms around him.

Either way, this time, they wouldn’t miss each other again.

The first firework exploded, lighting up the dark sky in an instant. Lin Zhu instinctively looked up as more fireworks burst one after another, blooming across the long-awaited night.

The tears in his eyes hadn’t fully faded when the world before him was suddenly filled with dazzling colors.

“Made a wish yet? They say you should make one you can actually achieve, like quitting smoking this year, eating properly, gaining ten pounds…”

Zhong Yao wrapped an arm around his slender shoulders, patting him lightly as he dutifully explained the local New Year customs. “I just promised I won’t stay up late unless necessary. Lin-laoshi, will you supervise me?”

Lin Zhu’s face warmed. He saw right through him. “Then wouldn’t I… have to keep two promises…”

Zhong Yao’s eyes already held a smile, but he still asked knowingly, rubbing his ear, “Why two?”

It seemed the upright and proper Actor Zhong had been thoroughly led astray.

Lin Zhu clutched the hem of Zhong Yao’s coat, looking into the deep, focused light in his eyes. Completely surrendering, he knowingly stepped into the gentle trap of his embrace.

“Normally… normally I’ll sleep with you.”

Having just made his wish, Lin Zhu leaned against Zhong Yao’s shoulder, voice soft. “And every night before sleeping… I’ll have to kiss you too. So I definitely can’t stay up late…”

Zhong Yao raised his brows slightly, surprised, then couldn’t help laughing.

His laughter was quickly drowned out by the deep, resonant chime of bells.

Church bells rang across the country. The crystal ball dropped. Fireworks filled the sky.

In the camera capturing the magnificent scene, Zhong Yao held Lin Zhu close, cupping his slightly chilled face, and kissed him deeply and tenderly.

After editing, the first two episodes aired, and it instantly exploded across the internet.

Ratings soared. The New Year special racked up over a hundred million views within days. Fans were ecstatic, even petitioning for the show to keep filming until the two officially registered their marriage. Some enthusiastic netizens even compiled a detailed guide for getting married overseas.

“Yes, we know. Okay, okay…”

The on-site director spoke on the phone with a troubled expression. After finally hanging up, he cautiously approached Lin Zhu. “Lin-laoshi… we might… have to trouble you a bit longer…”

They also felt it wasn’t right to keep hovering around them, so they’d already rented another place and moved out of Zhong Yao’s home. But the audience response was overwhelming. Ending things now might cause backlash.

Unable to refuse, the production team decided to turn it into a special series: a 30-day long-term shoot, filmed with the dedication of a documentary, following them all the way until Zhong Yao and Lin Zhu officially registered their marriage.

Over the past two days, Lin Zhu had hinted multiple times that filming could end. Even the usually steady Zhong Yao had begun subtly asking staff to book return tickets to China.

Looking at the trembling director, Lin Zhu couldn’t help laughing.

Having this kind of momentum wasn’t a bad thing.

Right now, Zhong Yao had two dramas airing domestically, both with rising ratings. The exposure would likely last until the end of January. Since the program would take time to film and edit, it could perfectly bridge the gap afterward.

[On the Road] was a straightforward show without gimmicks or malicious editing. Plus, treated its guests well. It was actually a good choice.

Besides… many of the filming suggestions the crew proposed were genuinely fun.

Lin Zhu gave himself a bit of a mental pep talk, repeatedly hypnotizing himself into treating this as a honeymoon vacation after going public. He amicably asked the on-site director for a cup of coffee. “We don’t have to film every day, right?”

“No need!” the director shook his head quickly. “Just one episode every few days. Mainly because you and Zhong-laoshi are overseas and there are fewer paparazzi here, so netizens can only rely on us for content, which raises their expectations of us…”

The director assured him, “[On the Road] has always been guided by the guests. We’ll completely follow your and Zhong-laoshi’s plans as long as you allow us to film.”

Not filming every day.

Thinking about his stamina, Lin Zhu felt somewhat relieved. He handed the coffee to the director and secretly glanced at Zhong Yao, who was carefully customizing a burger for him.

If they didn’t have to film every day… then he wouldn’t have to get up in the morning, and it wouldn’t interfere with anything at night either.

That wasn’t bad.

Lin Zhu coughed lightly, pulling back his thoughts that had momentarily wandered far away, and handed over the coffee. “Alright. Does the production team have any expectations for us?”

Lin Zhu had been in a good mood these past few days and was easier to talk to than usual. The director relaxed, thanked him, and took the coffee. After thinking for a moment, he hesitated. “If possible… maybe pick some more exciting activities? Bungee jumping, skiing, skydiving, things like that…”

Recently, to take care of Lin Zhu’s health, Zhong Yao had only chosen activities that involved walking or sitting. [No Bridge] and [Serving the Sovereign] were both airing, and audiences were still immersed in the shock of #All-Powerful Agent with Amazing Skills#, eagerly looking forward to seeing Lin Zhu show off again.

They still had to wait for his older brother to help with the marriage registration, so after a brief consideration, Lin Zhu nodded. “Alright… in about a week. I’ll discuss it with Zhong-laoshi.”

The director was overjoyed and quickly agreed.

Lin Zhu was about to add a few more instructions when his phone suddenly rang. His eyes lit up. He gestured to the director and walked to a corner of the fast-food restaurant.

“Ge, any progress?”

After picking up Lin Song’s call, Lin Zhu’s heartbeat inexplicably sped up. He lowered his voice slightly. “Did you find the address? Is it—”

“It’s hard to trace. That orphanage shut down a few months ago. It kept changing names during relocations. It wasn’t a registered entity, not even a legal representative.”

Since the process wasn’t finished yet, the officiant hadn’t rushed over. Over the past few days, aside from venting on Zhong Yao’s pillow, Lin Song had been helping his younger brother investigate the shady orphanage Zhong Yao had been supporting.

Lin Song had deliberately avoided the period when Lin Zhu went missing twelve years ago, never expecting to revisit it now to help his brother investigate from scratch. “How about asking Zhong Yao for the original address? You might not remember, but he will. If you compare, you’ll know.”

Lin Zhu tightened his grip on the phone, coughed, and his face flushed inexplicably. “N-no need…”

He had absolutely no memory of ever threatening to no longer be “number one bestfriend in the world” with Zhong Yao.

Too childish. Too… too unbearable to look at.

Lin Zhu even felt that maybe he had selectively forgotten it because of that.

Even now, he hadn’t figured out how to face it if that sponsored student really was him. How he could admit that he had said those words back then, let alone ask more questions and risk making Zhong Yao suspicious.

Too embarrassing…

Lin Zhu covered his face and sighed heavily.

On the other end, Lin Song, unaware of his brother’s complicated thoughts, sighed as well. “If it really is… I want to smash that orphanage.”

Lin Zhu was speechless. “Everyone’s greedy and it’s not hard to understand. If it matches, just help me get the money and letters back. Especially the letters. I must get those back—”

“Those were written by Zhong Yao to you every single year.”

Lin Song interrupted, his voice muffled. “He was afraid you’d suffer, afraid you’d be alone… so even knowing he might have been taken advantage of, he still kept sending them year after year.”

Lin Song didn’t dare think about it too much; his chest hurt just imagining it. “Back then… if you had received them…”

During those hardest times at home, if he had received those letters…

Lin Song couldn’t continue. He took a deep breath.

Lin Zhu felt a soft ache in his chest. Lowering his gaze, he smiled faintly. “We don’t even know if it’s true yet. Ge, don’t think too much… besides, I’m doing really well now, aren’t I?”

He cleared his throat and comforted his brother instead. “Think of it as sweetness saved up for now. If I had used it back then, it might not feel as sweet now.”

Zhong Yao had already finished customizing the burger. Lin Zhu prepared to go eat, quickly ending the topic that absolutely couldn’t be revealed to Zhong Yao yet. “Ge, thanks for your hard work. I’m doing well here, so you should rest too, don’t overwork yourself.”

His younger brother had completely moved on. Lin Song felt relieved, agreed, reminded him to stay safe, and hung up.

Lin Zhu put away his phone and looked up at Zhong Yao.

Zhong Yao was also quite well-known overseas. A few American youths with brightly colored hair had recognized him and excitedly gathered around for autographs. Some even took photos, and together with the crew trying to stay low-key, the small open fast-food restaurant became lively.

These youths seemed like street troublemakers. Loud and reckless, even shoving paper and pens right at Zhong Yao.

Zhong Yao wasn’t good at handling this kind of fan and could only remain polite. Lin Zhu stepped aside from a youth holding a camera, quickly went over, took the papers and pens, let Zhong Yao sign, and then politely escorted each person away.

“Xiao Zhu, come here.”

Zhong Yao let out a soft breath, smiled, and beckoned him. “I added fries and fried chicken, no lettuce. We’ve had light food for days. The nutritionist said today can be a free day…”

Lin Zhu’s eyes lit up. Just as he was about to grab the burger, something stirred faintly in his mind.

When they brushed past earlier, he had unconsciously glanced into the eyes of the youth holding the camera.

He had gradually gained control over his ability; what he saw in such brief eye contact usually didn’t linger in his subconscious. But that person just now…

Lin Zhu quickly reviewed what he had read. Alarm bells rang in his head. He grabbed Zhong Yao and instinctively pulled him behind him—

A metal pipe slammed hard into the spot where Zhong Yao had just been standing.

“Ge, they’re hired by Canxing! They’re here to cause trouble!”

Lin Zhu kicked away a charging youth. Seeing the ones he had just sent off returning, he gritted his teeth and shouted to the stunned director, “Call the police! 911, hurry!”

The director hurriedly pulled out his phone to dial. The thugs, clearly experienced in fights, were confident they could finish before the police arrived and ignored it, continuing to attack viciously.

Lin Zhu knocked away a metal rod with his elbow and instinctively glanced back at Zhong Yao. At that moment, someone seized the chance to close in.

A dagger flashed as its blade caught the light. It lunged toward Lin Zhu.

By the time Lin Zhu reacted, it was too late to dodge. Gritting his teeth, he prepared to take the hit.

But Zhong Yao had already turned back in time, yanking him aside. The blade grazed his left arm, leaving a cut.

Lin Zhu’s eyes reddened. “Ge!”

“My clothes are thick. I’m fine.” Zhong Yao smiled, patted his arm, and with his reach advantage, snatched a pipe and shoved it into Lin Zhu’s hands. “Watch yourself. Don’t worry about me.”

Lin Zhu gripped the pipe tightly, gritting his teeth as a trace of fierceness surfaced in his eyes.

He hadn’t truly fought anyone in years. Now, in this chaotic brawl, he vaguely found himself slipping back into old instincts, gradually gaining the upper hand.

Zhong Yao, trained in standard combat, began to struggle. Lin Zhu quickly shielded him, jabbing the pipe into the most painful spots, forcibly driving the thugs back.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

These two were far tougher than expected. The thugs’ expressions changed. They exchanged glances and turned to flee, only to find police cars already blocking the entrance.

The police quickly secured the scene. The leading officer recognized Zhong Yao at a glance and stepped forward to apologize. “We’re very sorry. Poor public safety in this area has caused you trouble…”

Lin Zhu let out a breath, dropped the pipe, and quietly flexed his aching right wrist, lowering his head to search for a wrist brace in his bag.

Zhong Yao was speaking with the police when his gaze flicked to one of the thugs — who had been repeatedly “taken care of” by Lin Zhu — his eyes bloodshot as he still clutched a dagger. A sense of alarm surged in him. He grabbed Lin Zhu’s arm.

The thug, clearly experienced with American police, seized the moment while being restrained, snatched a canister of tear gas from an officer, and sprayed it straight at Lin Zhu.

Caught off guard, Lin Zhu instinctively looked up. His vision went dark for a moment. But then, Zhong Yao had already pulled him away, holding him tightly against his chest.