APCF – Chapter 109 Daddy

For the ten thousand and first time, Bo Ye wanted to pry open his little fan’s head and see what exactly was inside.

…How did a perfectly wholesome morning turn into something so suggestive because of him?

Bo Ye tried to bring the conversation back on track: [I dreamed about the day we first met. Back then, you knew nothing about dancing—not a single move was standard.]

“……” Qi Xingchen suffered a critical hit.

Why did he have to attack people while talking? Besides, he wasn’t completely clueless—his original self had left some foundation, okay?

But compared to Bo Ye’s level, his moves were indeed no different from square dancing. Qi Xingchen swallowed his bitterness and carefully recalled the knowledge he had learned from Baidu last night, typing with difficulty: [Okay, now I’m wearing a T-shirt, sweatpants, and white sneakers.]

Bo Ye: “……”

What the hell is he doing now?

He kept trying to steer the conversation back: [But I never expected you to improve so fast, and so much.]

[Xingxing]: [It’s all thanks to Gege’s training.]

[Moon]: [……]

Bo Ye sighed helplessly. [Talk properly.]

[Xingxing]: [Okay, whatever Gege says, I’ll listen.]

[Moon]: [Don’t call me Gege.]

[Xingxing]: [Then what do you like to be called?]

[Xingxing]: [Daddy?]

Bo Ye completely froze.

He hadn’t been thinking about anything improper before, but now, thanks to him, he suddenly felt…strange. Taking a deep breath, Bo Ye decided this couldn’t go on. He switched to voice messages.

Qi Xingchen curled up in his blanket, blushing like a cooked shrimp. His phone kept switching between two screens—one was WeChat, the other was Baidu—ready to learn flirty lines at any moment.

Then, a notification popped up: [Moon] sent a voice message.

Qi Xingchen’s legs kicked the air—Bo Ye wasn’t satisfied with just texts; did he want that over voice now?!

…Text was already super hard. There’s no way he could handle voice chat! What should he do? What should he do?!

He clutched his bedsheets, struggling like crazy. But he really wanted to hear Bo Ye’s voice. In the end, he accepted his fate like a prisoner walking to the guillotine and pressed play.

Bo Ye’s voice came through: “I was seriously complimenting you. What kind of person are you making me out to be?”

…Huh?

Qi Xingchen was confused. [Weren’t you setting up a scene for us to, you know… that that?]

“No,” Bo Ye sent another voice message. “I had a normal dream, not a wet dream.”

[But you said you dreamed of my bare legs…]

…There it is. Bo Ye finally pinpointed the misunderstanding. He patiently explained, “Just having you in my dream already makes me happy. I just wanted to hug you, nothing more.”

Hearing this, Qi Xingchen suddenly realized how big of a fool he had been. He was moved by Bo Ye’s words but also dying of embarrassment. He collapsed on the bed, waiting for God to take him away.

But the connection was finally stable again, and he wasn’t willing to end their conversation just like that. He changed the subject unnaturally: [I got home too late last night and didn’t check my email. I’ll check now to see if I got an invitation from the Golden Falcon Awards.]

[Moon]: [Mm, I think you will.]

Qi Xingchen wasn’t hopeful. After all, that was the first major supporting role he played as a rookie. His acting was still raw, relying entirely on instinct with no real technique. Even if he wasn’t invited, he wouldn’t feel too disappointed.

But the next moment, he saw an unread email from the Golden Falcon Awards team, quietly sitting in his inbox.

The email was sent just now, which meant… he was actually invited?!

Stunned for a few seconds, he hurriedly shared the good news with Bo Ye: [I got the invitation!!!!!!!]

[Moon]: [Which award?]

Oh right, he hadn’t even checked the category yet. He opened the email: [Best Newcomer Award!!!!!!!]

Seeing the string of exclamation marks, Bo Ye’s mood suddenly improved.

He messaged his manager, confirming that he would attend the Golden Falcon Awards. His manager replied with an “OK” emoji. Bo Ye then switched back to his chat with his little fan and told him that he would be attending too.

One of the main reasons Qi Xingchen was so excited was that this was a justified chance to meet Bo Ye in person. With something to look forward to, even cloudy days didn’t seem so bad.

He eagerly made plans: [I’ll go a day early. What about you?]

[Moon]: [I’ll go a day early too.]

[Xingxing]: [Then should we book the same hotel?]

[Moon]: [Sure, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll have Allen handle it.]

Qi Xingchen crawled out of bed, took a deep breath of fresh air, and sneakily asked: [Then… can we get rooms next to each other?]

Wasn’t that obvious? Bo Ye replied: [Of course.]

[Xingxing]: [Then… can I come to your room at night?]

Bo Ye yawned lazily and joked: [Why, to call me Daddy?]

_{I was reminded of that hilarious moment in Friends with Phoebe. They were talking about Emma, and Ross called Rachel ‘Mommy.’ Then Phoebe chimed in and called Ross ‘Daddy.’ It was so funny and awkward in the best way!}

As soon as he sent the message, Bo Ye realized it was probably too much. It might bring back certain embarrassing memories for the little fan.

He quickly pressed down on the message, about to retract it before it could be seen.

But before he could—

A new line of text appeared on the screen.

[Xingxing]: “Alright, I’ll practice and call you when I’m ready.”

Bo Ye: “……”

Are you trying to kill me?

During the hectic, nonstop filming, a week flew by in the blink of an eye. On Friday at 9 AM, Heart of the Ocean premiered as scheduled.

The filming schedule for the day was intense, leaving Qi Xingchen no time to watch the show live. He only managed to check Weibo during lunch, searching for discussions about Heart of the Ocean.

Although daytime slots didn’t have as many viewers as primetime, students on winter break were at home, making engagement higher than he had expected. The feedback was also better than anticipated.

Comments on Weibo:

“Protecting the best Tao Tao in the world! Peach, keep going! We’ll always love you!”

“Qingyuan-ge’s acting is as incredible as ever! Amazing! [Victory sign]”

“Love meaningful themes like this. Protecting marine animals starts with us!”

“Who plays Lin Xiao? This little wolf-dog is making my heart race!!!”

The last comment had climbed to the top, proving that audiences loved Lin Xiao’s character design. Feeling a little disappointed, Qi Xingchen clicked into the thread and read through the replies one by one.

“The actor playing Lin Xiao is right here! @QiXingchen. A multitalented cutie who can sing, dance, do acrobatics, and act—waiting for you all to notice him!”

“Isn’t Qi Xingchen a singer-dancer? He’s acting? The dimensional barrier just shattered. [Shocked]”

“Haha, sis, don’t joke around. Xiao Qi was a proper actor from the start! His debut in The Times as a mentor was just a meme!”

“I’ve been following Qi Xingchen for a while. I always thought he was just a variety show star. Didn’t expect his acting to be this natural. I’m tempted to switch fandoms now…”

Finally seeing discussions about his acting, even if they weren’t outright praise, Qi Xingchen felt less disappointed. He closed Weibo and went back to his routine of filming, reviewing scripts, waking up early, getting into makeup, filming again… the endless cycle of a working actor.

After coming out to his parents, Liang Xiaolong’s words failed to change the deeply ingrained beliefs of his village. Just as the villagers were about to capture him and Feng Nuo, officers from the county police department arrived in time, dispersing the crowd under the charge of unlawful assembly and rescuing the two.

With their identities exposed, they couldn’t return to the village for now. Instead, they stayed outside, gathering clues while waiting for reinforcements from the city police.

To make matters worse, Liang Xiaolong’s mother, heartbroken and mistakenly thinking her son had abandoned her, collapsed from emotional distress. Overwhelmed, Liang Xiaolong pushed himself to keep cooperating with the investigation, rapidly deteriorating under the mental and physical strain.

The internal torment of trying to hold himself together while breaking down inside was a difficult balance to strike. Director Zhou had high standards—if even a single expression or subtle movement was off, he’d demand a retake. It was common for scenes to be reshot multiple times. Caught in the cycle of revisiting painful emotions, Qi Xingchen slowly sank into a depressed state.

However, as the plot of Heart of the Ocean progressed, audience reactions grew increasingly passionate. Especially after the introduction of “Xiang Xiang,” the adorable creature whose interactions with Lin Xiao went viral on Weibo. Girls across the internet screamed in excitement, flooding Qi Xingchen’s profile with messages: “If I marry, I want to marry Lin Xiao!”

When Xiang Xiang’s death aired, Lin Xiao’s emotional monologue triggered a massive wave of tears, pushing #QiXingchenCryingScene onto the real-time trending list, earning widespread praise from casual viewers.

As the story continued, Lin Xiao’s confession scene was met with rejection, sparking another trending hashtag: #LinXiaoSheDoesntWantYouButILoveYou. Countless fans photoshopped wedding pictures and posted them to fan communities. Curious onlookers who clicked in were utterly confused, thinking they had stumbled into some celebrity matchmaking event, frantically asking which star was holding a public “wife selection” event.

Out of nowhere, #QiXingchenPubliclyChoosingAWife and #QiXingchen’sReputationUnderAttack exploded on the trending charts. Qi Xingchen was completely at a loss, praying his boyfriend hadn’t checked Weibo that day.

Meanwhile, to deepen the show’s message about marine conservation, the production team released a series of documentary clips highlighting the harsh realities faced by ocean creatures:

• Whales and dolphins being hunted,
• Sea turtles deformed by plastic waste,
• Sharks’ lifeless bodies floating in chemically polluted waters…

Each shocking scene tugged at the audience’s heartstrings.

As word-of-mouth spread, Heart of the Ocean gained momentum. It had high engagement, low drop-off rates, and strong data metrics—everything necessary for a breakout hit.

Naturally, the cast and crew’s popularity soared. Tao Tao was catapulted into the ranks of top-tier actresses, Feng Qingyuan solidified his status as the “King of TV Dramas,” and Qi Xingchen finally shook off his label as a mere “variety show star” or “singer-dancer.” His Weibo verification changed from “Noah Entertainment Signed Artist” to “Young Actor.”

Only he knew how difficult it was for those few words to change. When he saw it with his own eyes, his nose stung for a long time.

As the mountain scenes neared their conclusion, the long-awaited Golden Falcon Television Arts Festival finally arrived.

Attending the festival was a major event, and it was also a great opportunity to promote his upcoming drama Grey Tracks. Director Zhou, surprisingly generous, gave him leave without hesitation.

Qi Xingchen didn’t follow the original plan of arriving one day early—he went two days ahead, returning to the city first.

After being cooped up in the mountains for so long, he needed a proper refresh.

Standing in front of the mirror after his shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, he frowned. “Jiang Jiang-jie, have I gotten uglier?”

“It’s not ugly,” Jiang Jiang laughed. “You just haven’t taken care of your skin and hair for too long. You look less energetic than before.”

“What do I do then?” Qi Xingchen asked urgently. “Help me fix it!”

“What’s the rush?” Jiang Jiang chuckled. “We have time to get you ready before you meet the media the day after tomorrow.”

Qi Xingchen didn’t care about the media—he cared about seeing Bo Ye.

With relentless pestering, he finally convinced Jiang Jiang to give him a full makeover from head to toe.

After an entire afternoon of effort, seeing his restored appearance in the mirror, he finally felt at ease and went to bed.

The Golden Falcon venue was far away, requiring a seven-hour flight. During the trip, Qi Xingchen couldn’t eat, couldn’t focus on reading—he spent most of his time checking the clock.

During filming, time passed too quickly. Now, he wished he could fast-forward it, make it move faster and faster.

When he finally landed, he rushed to the hotel, sighing—Bo Ye’s flight was two hours behind his, which meant even after checking in, he’d have to wait another two hours.

But compared to over a month of separation, two hours was bearable.

After settling in with An Ran and Jiang Jiang, he couldn’t wait to find out where he and Bo Ye would be staying for the night. Dragging his suitcase, he dashed upstairs, fumbling to pull out his keycard.

The moment he pushed open the door, before he could react, he was pulled into a firm embrace.

The scent of Bo Ye’s signature “Siren” cologne filled his senses. Qi Xingchen sniffled, eyes instantly reddening.

Leaning against Bo Ye’s shoulder, he greedily inhaled the familiar scent. “Didn’t your flight land at seven? Why are you here so early?”

“Two hours equals 120 minutes, equals 7,200 seconds… I’ve been waiting for this kiss for too long. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Bo Ye lifted his face. “I’m kissing you now.”