APCF – Chapter 95 Selfie

The fans commenting were a mixed bunch—some were genuine supporters, some were undercover haters, and some were just internet trolls stirring up trouble. Qi Xingchen couldn’t be bothered with the nasty remarks and simply closed Weibo.

Right now, without any works to prove himself, he was well aware that he had no credibility. So, he remained unbothered—let the internet say whatever they wanted. If, in the end, he couldn’t make it in the entertainment industry…

Well, he could always go home and start a “small business.”

With this relaxed mindset, he opened WeChat and casually asked Bo Ye what he had for dinner.

But Bo Ye countered with a question: “What did you eat?”

Qi Xingchen: “…”

He hadn’t eaten anything.

Xingxing: Vegetables.

[Moon]: Really?

God, lying was so hard. Qi Xingchen braced himself and replied: “Yeah, really.”

But Bo Ye immediately saw through his lie—the little fan’s replies were slow and hesitant. His trust in Qi Xingchen crumbled instantly.

“Starting tomorrow, take a picture of your food before you eat.”

Xingxing: [Dizzy cat emoji]

Xingxing: “Do I have to?”

[Moon]: “No room for negotiation.”

Honestly, even his nutritionist didn’t recommend skipping meals—his meal plan was structured for three meals a day.

But those plain boiled vegetables were just too hard to swallow.

Especially since Qi Xingchen was from the north, where people preferred bold and rich flavors. Eating those tasteless meats and greens felt worse than not eating at all.

To be frank, just the sight of cabbage now made his head hurt—physically.

To fight back against these bland foods, he had to prove to Bo Ye that he was in good health.

So, in one swift motion, he stripped off his shirt and ran into the bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Yeah, he was on the skinny side, but not to the point of being skeletal. If he really pulled at his skin, he could still grab a bit of flesh on his thighs and arms—he was just a naturally lean guy.

But how could he really convince Bo Ye that he wasn’t too thin?

There was only one way—photo evidence.

Of course, he couldn’t just take a shirtless selfie—that would be way too embarrassing. And if he made it too obvious, Bo Ye would definitely catch on.

So, he took a shower first.

When he came out, he was only wearing a pair of pajama shorts, his upper body bare. He grabbed a pillow and sprawled out on the sofa, positioning the camera at a high angle—

And took a picture that looked like he had just woken up from a nap.

On the other end, Bo Ye had done a morning interview, had lunch with some friends, and spent the afternoon resting in his hotel room.

Allen came by to deliver his schedule. But the moment he stepped in, he froze—staring in shock at what his boss was wearing.

No, not shock—horror.

“…Boss?” Allen eyed Bo Ye up and down like he was looking at a stranger. “What are you wearing? Did you grab the wrong clothes?”

Bo Ye took the schedule from him and answered dismissively, “Nope.”

“…Then…” Allen still couldn’t believe it. “You… you’re actually wearing a cow-print onesie?! Who bought this for you?”

Bo Ye raised an eyebrow. “How do you know someone else bought it for me?”

“This isn’t your style! I’ve been with you for five years and never once have I seen you wear such cute clothes.”

“I’m wearing them now.”

Bo Ye suddenly put down the schedule, stood up from his desk, and tugged at the front of his onesie. “Xingxing gave it to me. Looks good, right?”

Allen: “…”

He could swear he detected a hint of showing off in that tone.

“…Y-Yeah, looks great. Boss, you look good in anything.” Allen complimented him against his will.

Satisfied, Bo Ye sat back down and began reviewing his schedule.

Taking out a marker, he crossed off a few items and then messaged his manager on WeChat, instructing them to cancel two days of work.

After receiving the manager’s helpless reply, he was just about to lock his phone when a new message popped up.

[Xingxing] [Image]

“Oh, Xingxing sent you a photo,” Allen teased. “Hurry up and open it.”

Bo Ye shot him a look. “You just want to see everything, don’t you?”

Allen: “…”

Wasn’t Xingxing everyone’s friend? Why the secrecy?

But Bo Ye didn’t really try to hide it from Allen. First, Allen was one of the few people closest to him, second only to his family and his little fan. Sooner or later, he’d have to be upfront about his relationship with Xingxing—keeping it a secret forever would just be inconvenient.

And second, he figured Xingxing was probably just sending him a scenery picture or a behind-the-scenes shot—nothing to hide.

Then he opened the image—

And was immediately greeted by a smooth, bare back, a narrow waist, and two fully exposed arms, where even the little vaccine marks were clearly visible.

Allen instantly froze in place!

Bo Ye locked his phone in a flash!

The entire room was drowned in awkward silence.

A few seconds later, Allen, realizing they couldn’t just sit there in silence forever, forced out, “Uh… Xingxing looks, uh… pretty good, huh?”

“Do I need you to tell me that?” Bo Ye warned, his tone sharp. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Act like you never saw the photo.”

Allen quickly nodded like a pecking chick, signaling his understanding. Only then did Bo Ye wave him away.

Once the room was finally quiet again, Bo Ye rubbed his temples and reopened the image.

With Allen hovering earlier, he hadn’t taken a close look. Now that he did, he noticed—

The vaccine scar on Xingxing’s upper arm was quite deep and irregular in shape—almost like a tiny heart.

There was a small pink birthmark on his side, standing out starkly against his almost translucent white skin.

His pajama shorts were too loose, and his waist was too slender. The fabric bunched up around his hips, accidentally revealing a small gap—

Through which Bo Ye could clearly see the start of his butt crack.

Bo Ye immediately averted his eyes, taking only the quickest glance before typing out a stern reply:

“Why are you sending people pictures like this so casually?”

Seeing Bo Ye’s response, Qi Xingchen excitedly clicked on the message—

Only for his excitement to quickly turn into nervousness.

Did Bo Ye think he was being indecent? But it was just his upper body—what was the big deal? In the bathhouses back home, everyone was used to seeing each other completely naked!

Besides, when he filmed Heart of the Ocean, he had been shirtless in the water, with the entire crew—and Bo Ye—watching.

Bo Ye didn’t seem to mind then, so why now?

Qi Xingchen hurriedly explained: “I sent this mainly to report what I was doing.”

[Moon]: “Next time, just say it directly. For now, delete the photo.”

[Moon]: “I’m deleting it too.”

After putting so much effort into taking the photo, deleting it felt like a shame. But to Qi Xingchen, Bo Ye’s words were like an imperial decree.

Even if he felt wronged, he had no choice but to steel himself and press delete.

Once done, Qi Xingchen reported: “Deleted.”

[Moon]: “Good, as long as it’s deleted.”

Xingxing: “So… you’re not mad anymore?”

Bo Ye was speechless for a moment. What was going on in this little fan’s head? When had he ever been angry?

He figured his tone earlier must have been too stern and scared the other party. Sighing, Bo Ye simply sent a video call request.

As the screen changed, Qi Xingchen quickly straightened his clothes and sat up properly before hesitantly accepting, bracing himself for a scolding.

Seeing how obediently he sat there, Bo Ye had originally planned to scare him a little, but now he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His voice softened. “Are you scared?”

“Mm.”

“Do you know why I told you not to send photos like that?”

“I do.” Qi Xingchen lowered his head, embarrassed. “Because I’m… indecent.”

…What? Bo Ye didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I don’t think you’re—”

He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word indecent. Pausing, he continued, “I told you to delete it because you’re a public figure. If a photo like that accidentally gets leaked, it could have a huge impact on you.”

Qi Xingchen’s brain buzzed—he hadn’t even considered that.

Half-naked shots in magazines were fine, but casual selfies like this would be harder to explain.

“Good thing I only sent it to you.” Qi Xingchen patted his chest. “It’s okay.”

Bo Ye raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure I’m a good person?”

Without a second thought, Qi Xingchen immediately replied, “Of course! Anyone in the world could be bad, but you— you must be a good person!”

Bo Ye felt like he had just been punched in the chest. For the first time in years, he truly understood what it meant to be at a loss for words.

All his scolding melted into helpless fondness. In the end, he could only comfort him. “Alright, don’t be scared. I’m not mad… Actually, I liked seeing it.”

Qi Xingchen finally realized what Bo Ye meant by “liked seeing it”, and his face gradually turned red.

“But the entertainment industry is messy. You need to protect yourself and not trust people so easily—not even me or the people closest to you.”

Pausing for a moment, Bo Ye decided to tease him as a lesson. “That said, if you really, really want to show me, I won’t refuse. Just strip during a video call next time.”

Qi Xingchen: “…”

Like a shrimp tossed into boiling water, Qi Xingchen turned red from head to toe.

Two seconds later, Bo Ye heard the harsh beep of the call being cut off.

On December 5th, the launch ceremony for Grey Trajectory officially began.

After completing all the formalities, just like Tao Tao and Feng Qingyuan did during Heart of the Ocean, Qi Xingchen and Yan Ruonan, as the male and female leads, accompanied Director Zhou to face the media.

Cameras were everywhere, offering an unfiltered view. Two streaming platforms were even broadcasting the event live. Under the pressure of both Director Zhou and her manager, Yan Ruonan temporarily set aside her usual cold demeanor, forcing an awkward smile the entire time.

Then, an unavoidable question came.

“Ruonan-jie, what do you think of Xingchen?”

Her manager had already prepared answers for all possible questions, so she stuck to the script.

“When I first saw Xingchen, my first thought was—wait, am I really about to have an on-screen romance with such a young and handsome guy? This isn’t just an older-woman-younger-man romance, this is almost a generation gap! Haha.”

The reporters laughed at her response, but they weren’t about to let her off the hook.

“The cast seems to have a great bond. Everyone followed each other on Weibo yesterday—except you didn’t follow Xingchen. Did you forget?”

“Well…” Yan Ruonan hesitated for a moment. At that exact second, her manager shot her a meaningful glance. Understanding the cue, she quickly followed up, “During filming, my Weibo is managed by my agent. He must’ve overlooked it. I’ll have him check later.”

Pushing the blame onto someone else, the reporters had nothing to argue. But those two seconds of hesitation were more than enough material for them to stir up drama.

The journalists exchanged glances before turning to Qi Xingchen.

“Xingchen, are you upset that Ruonan-jie didn’t follow you back?”

“Whether Ruonan-jie follows me on Weibo or not doesn’t really matter,” Qi Xingchen joked. “But if Feng Nuo doesn’t follow Liang Xiaolong, Liang Xiaolong might actually cry.”

Feng Nuo was Yan Ruonan’s character in the drama, while Liang Xiaolong was the role Qi Xingchen was set to play.

With just a few words, Qi Xingchen smoothly shifted the conversation away from himself and back to Grey Trajectory. The reporters couldn’t help but roll their eyes internally. But since things had already taken this turn, they had no choice but to continue with the topic.

The auspicious filming start time, chosen by a feng shui master, was set for 1:30 PM. By the time they had dealt with all the media, it was already 4:00 PM.

Winter days in the north turned dark early, and now traces of dusk were already visible on the horizon. Since Director Zhou hadn’t scheduled any night scenes for today, official shooting would begin the next morning.

Before the actors returned to the hotel, Director Zhou gathered them for a brief motivational meeting.

“I know filming in winter is tough, and the conditions in this urban village are far from ideal. So starting tomorrow, we’re in for a battle,” Director Zhou said honestly. “I hope everyone can push through and ensure we finish filming on schedule without compromising quality. Ruonan, Xiao Qi, your scene tomorrow is outdoors, so make sure to keep warm.”

“Got it,” Yan Ruonan responded.

Director Zhou continued, “Ruonan, I want you to guide Xiao Qi during this time. He doesn’t have as much experience as you do, so as a senior, pay extra attention during your scenes together and help him get into the right emotions.”

Helping a co-actor get into the right mood depended on their skill gap—if the difference was too great, one side might not be able to match the other’s performance, making things even harder.

But since they had all joined this project with the same goal—creating the best possible work—Yan Ruonan silently decided to ease into the scene tomorrow. She wouldn’t go all out at the start to avoid putting too much pressure on Qi Xingchen.

After all, having to reshoot the very first scene over and over wouldn’t be a good omen.