Chapter 71#
“Devoted” Film Emperor (25)#
Kong Si stared at the broccoli for a long time, attempting one final struggle: “Can I skip it?”
He hated eating this stuff more than anything. If it weren’t for Lu Yi liking it and it being relatively healthy and nutritious, he would never have bought such ingredients to cook.
Lu Yi neither said yes nor no. He glanced at Kong Si without speaking, and in the end, Kong Si still ate that piece of broccoli, which to him was as good as poison, with a bitter expression as if facing a great enemy. While eating, he cursed himself—the last sentence wasn’t important at all, why did he have to say it? Really asking for trouble.
He thought it unimportant, but Lu Yi considered it very significant. Kong Si had no original memories, so he didn’t know that in the predetermined trajectory, He Xiao had indeed told the truth.
What did this indicate? It might mean He Xiao had been reborn, or that two people from parallel worlds had swapped places.
In the past, he hadn’t believed in things like souls or ghosts, but since such things could happen to him, nothing in the world was impossible.
But concluding that He Xiao was reborn based on just one sentence would be too hasty.
His gaze shifted back to Kong Si’s face: “How have you been feeling these days at home?”
Kong Si was focused on dealing with the mantis shrimp in his bowl. Hearing Lu Yi’s question, he didn’t look up: “Pretty good, actually. Why do you ask?”
Before this, although he hadn’t taken any endorsements, he had been filming movies and TV dramas almost nonstop, never catching a break. After terminating his contract with Star Entertainment, he took some time off.
In the first few days, he was like a salted fish—really doing nothing, just resting. But he wasn’t the type to stay idle for long, so he used this time to start working on things he had always wanted to do but never had time to explore.
“Do you remember the desserts I asked you to try a few days ago?”
Lu Yi nodded, his expression slightly subtle: “Of course I remember. Which shop did you buy them from? The chef’s performance seems very inconsistent.”
These days, when he came home, there were always steaming hot meals and various delicate snacks. But since he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, most of them ended up in Kong Si’s stomach.
Kong Si guiltily poked the springy, tender meat of the peeled mantis shrimp with his chopsticks.
Back when he was filming under pressure, his main account was managed by the company, and he vented a lot on his alt account. Perhaps his complaints were too interesting, and he inexplicably gained a large number of followers.
During his days at home, he bought a lot of ingredients to cook, but most attempts failed. Then he photographed and Photoshopped the entire process—including the failed dishes—and made long Weibo posts that were, as expected, quite popular.
Although not as famous as his celebrity self, after a few years of managing it, he had become a small influencer with several hundred thousand followers.
“I think I need to confess something else to you… Those desserts you ate weren’t made by some newly opened pastry chef—they were made by me.”
Lu Yi glanced at the kitchen: “But it’s very clean, and I didn’t see any baking materials.”
“The ingredients are all in the cabinets, so of course you didn’t see them. I clean up every time after I’m done.”
He basically made them when Lu Yi wasn’t around. If he failed, he’d take photos, edit them, bag the trash, and diligently throw it out before Lu Yi came home.
Kong Si continued: “So don’t worry. During training, I learned a lot. If I can’t make it as a food blogger, I could still become a soul painter or a music teacher at a piano school.”
Lu Yi paused in picking up food with his chopsticks: “You seem to really like art.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Kong Si didn’t overthink it: “Yeah, I guess it’s natural. When I was little, I even won first prize in the city’s youth painting competition. Acting is also a form of art, isn’t it?”
“You’re right. There’s a kind of performance I want you to try.”
Kong Si looked confused: “What is it?”
Lu Yi finished his meal, neatly arranged the bowls and chopsticks, and wiped a trace of oil from the corner of his mouth with a tissue. He looked at Kong Si, meeting his partner’s gaze: “It’s about He Xiao. I hope you can keep in contact with him so that I can get the information I want from him.”
At first, Kong Si didn’t react to what Lu Yi had said. A moment later, comprehension dawned, and he slammed the table in anger, forgetting even the unfinished shrimp meat in his bowl: “Lu Yi, what do you mean by that! You’ve been telling me to stay away from He Xiao, and now you want me to get close to someone who has designs on me? You’d better explain yourself today, or I swear I won’t let this go!”
Counting the years, the two had been married for quite some time. During this period, it wasn’t that no one had shown interest in him or Lu Yi.
After all, Lu Yi was young, handsome, and the largest shareholder of a huge media conglomerate. Even though he was married, being young and in the entertainment industry—a place full of handsome men and beautiful women—various temptations were inevitable.
But three years had passed, and their feelings hadn’t faded. He never expected Lu Yi to come up with such a terrible idea. It truly chilled his heart.
“It’s not what you think.” If it were possible, he too wished He Xiao would never reappear in his and Kong Si’s lives. But the words Kong Si had spoken made it impossible for him to ignore.
After careful consideration, he said, “Before this, I had a dream. In that dream, He Xiao married you, and you lived happily together.”
An ordinary person would hardly believe in rebirth or time travel happening to them. Lu Yi also didn’t plan to explain his full origins.
Sometimes, the truth is more hurtful. After thinking it over, using the dream as an excuse was more appropriate, since many people believe dreams have prophetic power.
Kong Si showed an even more incredulous expression: “Just because of a dream, you want me to be deceitful with He Xiao?”
Lu Yi explained, “Even though it was a dream, it could also be what was originally supposed to happen, right?”
Before Kong Si could speak, he continued, “Actually, I could contact him on your behalf, or someone else could use your account. As long as we don’t meet face to face, he wouldn’t know who’s behind it.”
He paused, then added, “But if what he said is true, he should know you very well. In terms of details, a substitute would easily slip up. I’m not asking you to flirt with him. I just hope you won’t cut off contact. You can talk to him in your own attitude.”
More precisely, it was about fishing for information. He didn’t need the other party to reveal too much, nor did he want Kong Si to waste too much time. As long as he confirmed that the other party was indeed the reborn He Xiao who had caused Lu Xingchen’s death, he would show no mercy when retaliating.
Hearing this, Kong Si felt a bit better. But at this point, he no longer had the appetite to eat. He wiped his mouth casually: “What exactly happened in that dream? Do you have a grudge against him? And what about me and you—what’s the real story?”
Lu Yi closed his eyes, trying to recall the nightmares he had long ago about Lu Xingchen’s fate: “Do you remember how I used to have frequent nightmares?”
Kong Si nodded: “I remember, of course I do.”
At that time, Lu Yi’s nightmares lasted nearly half a month. Kong Si had even taken him to see a doctor and tried to brew various calming herbal teas for him. Although almost a year had passed, he remembered everything about Lu Yi clearly, let alone such an unusual situation.
“Back then, my nightmares were about this. I dreamed…” He paused briefly, then continued, “I dreamed that my agent sent me to Room 409. At the time, I had no idea what was happening. The next morning, I woke up to find myself sleeping with a man. I was naked, exposed under countless camera flashes. It was my first time making headlines—but because of a sex scandal. He Xiao’s fans were furious. To protect He Xiao’s reputation, his management company used me as a scapegoat…”
Lu Yi’s voice was low and gentle, like a melodious cello. His tone was calm, but it was precisely this calm, objective narration that made Kong Si feel increasingly horrified.
He even wanted to tell Lu Yi to stop, because just imagining that scene made him unbearably sad. But a strange emotion compelled him to hear the rest of Lu Xingchen’s fate.
At the end, he couldn’t help but defend himself: “If the world in that dream is really as you described, then the Kong Si who was with He Xiao is definitely not me.”
He looked at Lu Yi: “You hate He Xiao, but because he hasn’t actually caused real harm—or rather, he has no memory of harming Lu Xingchen—even though you dislike him, you haven’t retaliated against him to the same degree, have you?”
Lu Yi remained silent, which was taken as agreement.
Kong Si said, “What you told me today is really unbelievable.”
Even if it was just a dream, he knew Lu Yi’s character well—he wouldn’t casually fabricate a story.
“I’ll help you contact He Xiao to verify whether what he said is true or false. But before that, let me finish this meal first.” The shock he received today was a bit too much; he needed time to process.
After the two had settled it, Kong Si pulled He Xiao’s new number out of the blacklist and called back.
His tone remained cold: “What was all that nonsense you were spouting before?”
Hearing the familiar voice, He Xiao’s emotions surged. He stood barefoot on the cold floor tiles, trying to calm himself. After careful consideration, he asked, “Kong Si, do you believe in past lives?”
Kong Si replied icily, “No, I don’t. Stop spouting that garbage. You said before that Lu Yi was supposed to be dead. What’s that about?”
He Xiao looked at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. This was himself ten years ago—young and handsome on the outside, but with a haggard appearance, simple clothes, and a long, thin scar from the corner of his eye to the corner of his mouth that ruined the perfection.
He deeply hated that little actor named Lu Xingchen: “Lu Xingchen drugged himself and came to my room, trying to seduce me. Then he tried to frame me, but failed, and it backfired. His psychological tolerance was too weak; he couldn’t handle people’s insults, so he committed suicide.”
He Xiao continued, “You’ve been an actor too. Which celebrity doesn’t get scolded every day? If you can’t handle the pressure in this industry, you should quit early. He had the guts to try a hype stunt like that, so he should have been prepared for the backlash.”
Kong Si was initially furious, but when he heard a certain sentence from He Xiao, he actually laughed: “What did you just say? He tried to seduce you?!”
Come on, someone like Lu Yi—why would he need to seduce anyone?
He Xiao recounted many things that Kong Si had later told him—secrets never shared with anyone else. As Kong Si remained silent, he continued, “You and I were originally legal partners. The Lu Yi beside you now is just a fake. It’s very likely he also has some memories of the past life. He’s with you only for revenge.”
He paused briefly, then added, “Regardless, I hope you can be happy. You’ve retired from the entertainment industry now, haven’t you? Did he force you? If you’re willing, I think I can help fulfill your dreams.”
Kong Si was silent for a moment. Just as He Xiao thought he had swayed him, Kong Si suddenly cursed in their hometown dialect with a classic national profanity.
The two grew up in the same city, so He Xiao naturally understood what he was cursing.
After cursing, Kong Si continued, “I say, He Xiao, how can you have such a big face? You don’t please me, nor do you please my man. Why should I help you? What do you mean by ‘fulfill my dreams’? Retiring was entirely my decision, and he respected that. That’s all. If anyone owes an apology, it’s me to Lu Yi, not him to me.”
He added, “I don’t care if you’re delusional or something. I sympathize with your car accident, but wrong is wrong. Putting all the blame on others—what kind of man are you?”
Based on He Xiao’s logic, Kong Si was certain that if the situation Lu Yi described really occurred, He Xiao would never take responsibility but instead push others out without hesitation.
Such a refined egoist—unless his brain was full of water, would he ever be with someone like that? He refused to acknowledge that the Kong Si who ended up happy with He Xiao in that supposed past life was him.
“Even if I was really with you in a past life, it must have been a bitter relationship.”
He hung up the phone and pressed the stop button on the recording. It wasn’t that he was overly cautious, but after being burned twice, especially when dealing with someone like He Xiao, he had to keep his guard up.
On the other end, He Xiao hung up the phone and kicked the table in anger.
He hadn’t recorded anything useful—nothing to edit, and he’d only gotten a scolding.
From a beloved film emperor to such a state, he absolutely refused to accept it.
He Xiao felt that Lu Yi’s success was probably because this little actor had also been reborn.
Now, in his current state, there was no way he could continue in the entertainment industry. Clenching his teeth, he decided to do something else. There was no reason why a small-time actor like Lu Xingchen could succeed and turn his life around while he, He Xiao, could not.
After hanging up, he began to think of other ways out. Meanwhile, Kong Si hesitated for a long time before finally deciding to tell Lu Yi: “That He Xiao really might be the one from your dream.”
Lu Yi nodded: “I know.”
Kong Si said, “Even though he’s scum, we can’t do anything illegal, right?”
He just hoped Lu Yi could let go of his obsession.
Kong Si was afraid that Lu Yi would be blinded by hatred and do something stupid.
Lu Yi smiled: “You don’t have to worry about that. I won’t.”
Given He Xiao’s personality—stripped of his glamorous idol halo but still retaining an idol’s temper—things would likely not go well for him. What Lu Yi needed to do was simply give He Xiao a push on his path to self-destruction, helping him crash and burn sooner.
As expected, He Xiao did not take the right path. He was inherently impatient for quick success, and he craved a glamorous life.
Since his face could no longer navigate the entertainment industry, he sold his house and went abroad for plastic surgery.
In truth, He Xiao didn’t want to sell the house, but he had no money. As a celebrity, he hadn’t bothered to memorize lottery numbers, and the few major investments he remembered had already passed—he wasn’t lucky enough to profit from them.
After the surgery, he planned to rely on his own talent to shine in the industry and stride toward a triumphant path of success. What he didn’t expect was that he failed—and failed completely.