Chapter 64 E’er, Come Sit Over Here

“Letting me hold you while we slept—doesn’t that mean you like me?”

“That was because I was sick. People get more vulnerable when they’re sick.” Lu Er sounded a bit guilty, yet still spoke with confidence.

“At the film set, you wanted to kiss me.”

“I didn’t kiss you. I was just demonstrating a camera trick—like those misaligned kisses on TV. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You asked me to report my whereabouts.”

“Maybe I’m just too controlling. I don’t like seeing you closer to others than you are to me.”

“You got mad when I met Gao Yang and even came to settle the score with me.”

“I actually think she’s pretty good now. She suits you. You can consider dating her.”

“In bed, you responded to me so actively. Isn’t that because you like me?”

“I’ve actively responded to plenty of people. Haven’t you heard of ‘playing along for the occasion’? If you really want a reason—fine, I was just in the mood to have some fun.”

Song Jingmo was on the verge of despair. “You said you’ve only ever slept with me.”

“That’s because you’re naive. You believe whatever people tell you.”

Song Jingmo laughed out of anger, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. “You’ve been stringing me along like a dog again and again. Does that give you a sense of accomplishment?”

“Tell me—what exactly am I to you?”

“A good brother, before.”

Lu Er didn’t want to say things like cutting ties—it would make it seem like he was still angry. So he added, “Still the same now.”

“A good brother?”

Song Jingmo’s voice suddenly rose, sharp with disbelief and hurt. “Would a ‘good brother’ touch me all over like you did? Want to sleep with me?”

Each question was like a burning blade stabbing into Lu Er’s heart, scorching him until he felt torn apart.

He was on the verge of breaking, wanting to vent all his grievances and pain.

In the end, he used the last of his strength to say the line he had prepared long ago—the one that would hurt the most:

“Think whatever you want.”

Silence fell around them—long, deathly silence.

When Song Jingmo spoke again, the anger and questioning were gone, leaving only boundless exhaustion and disappointment.

“Fine. I’m tired too. I don’t want to keep playing this meaningless game with you.”

“Brother Lu!” Bai Zhi stopped the car and opened the door. “Hurry up, or you’ll miss the flight!”

After getting in, Lu Er’s tears flowed silently and uncontrollably.

Song Jingmo watched the car disappear into the distance. He opened his photo album and stared blankly at the picture he had saved last night.

So Lu Er could hold him… and hold others like that too.

That closeness, that dependence, that jealousy… could all be given to any “good brother.”

Song Jingmo curled his lips into a bitter smile.

Maybe Lu Er really did only see him as a brother.

This had been a game—one he took seriously, while the other merely found it amusing.

Turning off his phone screen, Song Jingmo closed his eyes, locking all the surging emotions deep inside.

That night.

The plane landed smoothly at Warsaw Airport, but Lu Er’s heart still felt suspended ten thousand meters in the air, with nowhere to settle.

Song Jingmo’s last words—“I don’t want to play this meaningless game with you anymore”—felt like the freezing air outside the cabin, seeping into his entire body.

He thought he could let go freely. But when Song Jingmo truly turned and left, the pain came flooding in—like his bones being torn apart—nearly drowning him.

Hotel.

His manager, Jiang Qingyan, rushed in with an ice pack. Seeing Lu Er’s still-swollen eyes, he wanted to scold him but held it back.

He handed over the ice pack. “Put this on quickly. There’s something more important tomorrow morning. The embassy is sending someone over—apparently, higher-ups want to meet the artists attending this event.”

“This concerns the company’s image and future resources. You must be in your best condition. Gu Jinzhou from Xinghui is here too—he’s just waiting to catch you slipping. You cannot let him outshine you.”

Lu Er listlessly took the ice pack and pressed it to his eyes. The cold sensation cleared his muddled mind a little.

“Got it.”

His voice was hoarse, heavy with exhaustion. “Why the sudden meeting? There’s never been this kind of arrangement before.”

Jiang Qingyan shrugged. “Probably to brief you in advance. You haven’t evaded taxes, and you’re not messing around with people—you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

At the mention of “messing around,” Lu Er’s heart skipped a beat for no reason, and he thought of Song Jingmo.

That night, his mind was a mess.

He only fell into a heavy sleep at dawn from sheer exhaustion—and as a result, overslept the next morning.

By the time he rushed to the banquet hall, it was already full.

The most senior figure present was Best Actor Yan Huaijin, who had won both an Oscar and a Golden Lion. He was already there, speaking quietly with someone.

The rest were rising young actors in recent years. Gu Jinzhou, Xinghui Entertainment’s top star, was also among them.

Lu Er’s late arrival made the already quiet atmosphere even more delicate.

“Top star Lu sure is busy,” Gu Jinzhou sneered. “Even Senior Yan has been waiting here for quite a while. Your grand finale entrance really has quite the flair.”

Lu Er was already in a gloomy mood. Hearing this, his brows instantly furrowed, anger surging up.

But remembering this was an official setting, he took a deep breath and suppressed it.

Ignoring Gu Jinzhou, he simply cast an apologetic look toward Yan Huaijin.

Yan Huaijin lifted his eyes, pausing briefly on Lu Er’s pale face before calmly saying, “It’s fine. The timing is just right. There’s a seat here.”

He gestured to the empty seat beside him.

The obvious gesture of support surprised Lu Er. He softly said, “Thank you, Teacher Yan,” and walked over to sit down.

Gu Jinzhou’s expression stiffened, his tone growing even sharper. “Senior Yan really cherishes talent. Though I suppose with a face like Top Star Lu’s, it’s a pass anywhere—people are bound to show some favor.”

His words were laced with hidden barbs, deliberately twisting Yan Huaijin’s gesture into favoritism based on looks, implying something unsavory.

Lu Er’s anger flared again. He was about to snap back when the banquet hall doors opened once more.

A woman in a sharply tailored outfit walked in.

Her features were composed, her steps steady, her presence commanding without anger—instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

The moment Lu Er saw her face, his blood nearly ran cold.

It was Song Jingmo’s mother—Qu Suiwan.

Judging from the situation… had Song Jingmo gone to complain?

Was this official gathering just a pretext—her real purpose being to summon all these artists and put him in his place?

Overwhelmed with panic, Lu Er instinctively lowered his head, wishing he could disappear into his chair, even forgetting Gu Jinzhou’s taunts.

Qu Suiwan’s calm gaze swept across the room. When it briefly landed on Gu Jinzhou’s still-provocative expression, she gave him a faint glance.

There was no emotion in her eyes, yet it made him feel an inexplicable pressure. He shut his mouth awkwardly.

Then her gaze precisely settled on the figure trying to shrink into the background.

Under everyone’s curious and probing eyes, Qu Suiwan spoke clearly and steadily—

“E’er, come sit over here.”