The Love Reality Show's Big Boss and Little Sweetie - Chapter 34

During dinner, everyone discussed the upcoming move. Qi Liao barely spoke throughout, only making a few sounds of agreement.

Hao Wenrou asked, “Brother Qi, is it that you don’t speak during meals or sleep?”

Qi Liao: “I just think talking while eating can easily lead to saliva getting into the food. It’s unhygienic.”

“…”

So, everyone saved the discussion for after the meal.

Mu Chi also noticed that while serving chopsticks were always provided, everyone habitually used their own, except for Qi Liao, who used the public ones…

It wasn’t a big deal, just different habits. Qi Liao never said anything, just quietly ate his meals. Mu Chi couldn’t help but recall the chicken leg he had given Qi Liao; it seemed it hadn’t been disdained after all.

“I’m so reluctant to leave the pool here. We worked so hard to get it in order,” Lucas lamented. “I hope the new house has a pool too. I can’t live without the nourishment of water; I’ll wither away.”

Xu Wuxing said disdainfully, “As if you were the one who cleaned it up. It was clearly Brother Qi who sorted it out.”

The two started bickering again. Hao Wenrou tried to mediate, while the others kept their distance. When mediation failed, Hao Wenrou didn’t waste any more breath.

Mu Chi yawned. “I’m going to sleep. Do as you please.”

Upstairs, he headed straight for Qi Liao’s room and was caught red-handed by Zhu Yinhang.

Zhu Yinhang smiled slyly and cunningly: “Mu Chi, you’re doing quite well, aren’t you?”

Even though Mu Chi was a bit naive about some things, he knew this was sarcasm. He took a wary step back. “What do you want?”

The camera crew hadn’t come up; the live broadcast ended downstairs. Otherwise, Zhu Yinhang wouldn’t have been waiting here to ambush him. Having held in his anger all day, he finally had a place to vent: “I warned you over and over, don’t break your persona! You took my words as wind past your ears! Now look, you’ve lost a million followers!”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Zhu Yinhang was deeply distressed.

Mu Chi had no real awareness of being a celebrity and little concept of fans. After some thought, he asked a fundamental question: “Why did I lose followers? I didn’t break my persona.”

Apart from calling out “Gege” a few times during the mud battle, who knew who he was calling? No one knew, Mu Chi was sure of it.

Zhu Yinhang: “…You really have zero self-awareness.”

There was no use saying more. Followers were lost. As long as Mu Chi’s face remained, his “kingdom” remained. And if he latched onto the Qi family, his future would be worry-free and brilliantly bright.

“Do as you see fit. Anyway, we share wealth, but when trouble comes, we each fly solo.”

Mu Chi nodded. “Okay.”

“…” Zhu Yinhang left, frustrated.

Mu Chi lay on Qi Liao’s bed scrolling through his phone. He checked Weibo; he had indeed lost a million followers, but a refresh showed a few new ones. The various messages were dizzying, so he simply exited—out of sight, out of mind.

About ten minutes later, Qi Liao returned to the room, holding a small brown glass bottle.

Mu Chi sat up properly, staring straight at Qi Liao, looking like a young bride awaiting her husband on their wedding night.

Qi Liao’s face was expressionless. “Take it off.”

Mu Chi pulled his pajama top up and off, revealing his stomach.

“Lie down.”

Mu Chi lay down comfortably.

Qi Liao sat on the edge of the bed, opened the bottle of medicated wine, poured a little into his palm, expertly clapped his hands to spread it, warmed it with his palms, and then, once the wine was warm, covered the bruised areas. He pressed and kneaded along the skin’s texture.

With his chest covered by that large hand, Mu Chi felt as if his whole being was being grasped, like dough on a cutting board, allowing Qi Liao to knead and shape him as he pleased.

Mu Chi couldn’t help but let out soft moans and grunts.

Qi Liao still showed no expression, only tightening his lips slightly. Fine beads of sweat seeped from his temples.

One area done, another awaited.

Qi Liao was like a nursing robot, rubbing Mu Chi down from head to toe.

What should have been a very proper nursing process was tinged with a different flavor by Mu Chi’s sounds—sweet, salty, and damp.

The final task was holding one of Mu Chi’s feet in his hand. This foot was slender and long, with neat toes and round, pink nails. Having rarely seen the sun, it was even paler than his face, the thin blue veins on the instep very distinct.

Qi Liao massaged Mu Chi’s ankle, loosening the tendons and bones for him. “A massage like this every day, and your feet won’t hurt when you run.”

Shy yet enjoying it, Mu Chi said, “I don’t know how. Gege, you do it for me.”

Qi Liao slapped his sole. “I’m not your slave.”

Mu Chi wiggled his toes. “You know perfectly well what I want you to be.”

Qi Liao didn’t respond. He put away the medicated wine, went to the bathroom for a cold shower, and lay down to sleep as usual.

Mu Chi sorted himself out, put his pajamas back on properly, turned on his side, and said, “Gege, am I good-looking?”

Qi Liao could no longer ignore him. “As a man, you are good-looking.”

“What kind of answer is that? I’m not a woman.”

“I’m not treating you like a woman either.” Qi Liao said, as if convincing himself, “I, towards men…”

“What?” Mu Chi pressed.

“…Nothing. Sleep.” Qi Liao domineeringly pulled the thin blanket over himself, wrapping it around his body.

Mu Chi’s attention was diverted. He tried to grab the blanket. “I need it too, give me some.”

The tug-of-war ended after about ten seconds. Mu Chi burrowed into the blanket, pressed against Qi Liao’s broad back, and fell into a comfortable sleep.

“Mu Chi?”

Only the hum of the air conditioner filled the quiet air.

Qi Liao turned over and looked down at Mu Chi, who was curled up beside him like a silkworm cocoon, sleeping so sweetly, as if his dreams were full of beloved things.

Qi Liao asked, “Will I be in your dreams?”

This question, too, was accepted by the silence, dissolving into the gradually even and steady breathing.

…

The sky was bright. Mu Chi slept like a log, unaware of the world. When he opened his eyes, it was already 8 a.m. There were many sounds of movement in the hallway, like heavy objects being moved.

After a while, Mu Chi finally remembered: they were “moving” today.

He sat up, stretched, and went to wash up. While rinsing his mouth, he heard the door open. Qi Liao came in, looked first at the bed, then at the bathroom. Seeing Mu Chi was still there, he said, “Your assistant is packing in your room. If you have anything… unspeakable, you’d better go pack it yourself.”

Mu Chi was taken aback: “I don’t have anything unspeakable.”

Qi Liao didn’t believe Mu Chi hadn’t usually written down some fantasies about him. The ironclad proof was right here with him, and he still wanted to deny it.

Taking advantage of everyone being busy, Mu Chi slipped out as swiftly as a fleeing rabbit and dashed straight to his own room.

Qi Liao was now certain Mu Chi did have something unspeakable. How should he confiscate it?

Xiao Tian was in the middle of packing the quilts when a white figure appeared as if from nowhere. “Ah!”

Mu Chi: “?”

Xiao Tian, her heart still racing, apologized, her face red. “Sorry, Brother Mu. Your footsteps are so silent.”

Looking at the gradually emptying room, Mu Chi felt a hollow emptiness in his heart. He had lived here for less than half a month, the living conditions weren’t even convenient, having to grow vegetables and raise chickens himself… yet, leaving still brought a sense of melancholy.

“This must be what they mean by ‘All good gatherings must come to an end’,” Mu Chi sighed. The only thing he could truly hold onto here was Qi Liao.

When the broadcast started, netizens saw the gradually emptying villa and left comments.

[I’d gotten used to watching this godforsaken place from morning till night. Now that you’re moving, I’m actually reluctant.]

[Even though life here was hard, the romance was sweet.]

[I quite liked the romance of the wilderness.]

[The house itself was fine, just the location was too remote.]

The director had grown accustomed to finding praise within criticism. He thought to himself that just as Mencius’s mother moved three times for her son’s education, today’s dating show was moving twice—he was doing his utmost.

After the “moving meal” and a symbolic drink, they left the garden full of roses behind and set off grandly.

Before getting in the car, Mu Chi stood under the rose-covered gate, gazing at the villa, secluded from the world’s noise, for the last time, bidding it farewell with a smile.

The cars drove all the way to the airport.

This was Mu Chi’s first time on a plane, and in first class no less. Only he and Qi Liao received this service; the others were in business class.

In first class, phones needed to be turned off too. The flight attendant handed out tablets that could connect to the plane’s Wi-Fi.

Mu Chi browsed for a while but soon lost interest. Then the flight attendant came again, asking softly and gently, “Would you like some water? Something to eat? Some fruit, milk tea, a burger, ice cream? Or perhaps a coffee?”

Mu Chi: “… Ice cream, thank you.”

The flight attendant wheeled over a small cart filled with various types of ice cream. “Multiple flavors for you to choose from.”

Mu Chi had only taken a few bites of his ice cream when the flight attendant returned. “Are you cold? Would you like a wool blanket?”

“No, thank you.”

Five minutes later, the flight attendant brought a cart of desserts. “Donuts, croissants, tiramisu, durian pancake rolls? Would you like a Snow Beauty Glutinous Rice Ball (Xuemeiniang)?”

Mu Chi nodded.

Another five minutes later, the flight attendant: “Freshly squeezed orange juice, dragon fruit juice, mixed vegetable juice? Would you like tea or juice?”

Mu Chi asked for orange juice.

Qi Liao, from start to finish, only asked for one coffee and one croissant.

Mu Chi was truly full. He turned his head and asked, “Gege, do you want some?”

“No.”

“I can’t finish it.”

“I’m not your trash can.”

“…” Mu Chi hated waste. He looked hesitantly at the seven or eight desserts before him. “Can I get a doggy bag?”

Qi Liao: “Yes.”

Though feeling very embarrassed, Mu Chi put aside his shyness and called the flight attendant, asking her to pack the leftovers, adding, “I didn’t mean to leave so much; I just really can’t eat any more.”

The flight attendant’s service was impeccable. “It’s no problem. Let me pack a few more desserts for you to take back.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” The flight attendant directly brought him a large bag, containing what looked like over twenty boxes of desserts.

Mu Chi: “…” This is what you call “a few”?

Qi Liao said teasingly, “You’re easy to bully. You just take whatever people give you.”

Mu Chi retorted, “This is food. It’s different. I wouldn’t accept other things.”

“Food also represents a kind of goodwill.”

Mu Chi looked at Qi Liao suspiciously, testing the waters: “You’re not… jealous, are you?”

Qi Liao turned his face towards the window. “You’re overthinking it.”

That phrase again. Mu Chi felt like laughing.

The plane landed two hours later. The two got off and waited a moment before the others came out one after another. Xiao Tian put a face mask on Mu Chi and said, “Today’s schedule is public. There might be fans waiting at the airport.”

Mu Chi couldn’t picture it. “Will there be many people?”

“About a thousand.”

“Only a thousand? Don’t I have eighty million fans?”

Xiao Tian: “Eighty million is just a rough number. If they all came, it would be terrifying.”

Mu Chi imagined it. “It would probably be like the monster Godzilla, flattening the city.”

“…”

Qi Liao snorted lightly. His long legs moved much faster than Mu Chi’s, passing him and walking ahead.

Exiting the terminal, they were indeed met by a sea of people. The screams made it impossible to hear anything clearly. A dozen or so security guards barely maintained order, trying to ensure Mu Chi could pass through safely.

Flowers, snacks, and envelopes were still thrown towards him. Girls held up posters of Mu Chi, waving and shouting, “Mu Chi! We will always support you!!”

Mu Chi put two fingers to his forehead and flicked them outwards, striking what he thought was a very cool pose.

“AHHHHHHH!!!”

A box flew over, straight towards Mu Chi’s face. Before he could react, a large hand blocked it.

The paper box fell and broke open, revealing—rotten eggs.

Qi Liao shot a cold, warning look at the person mixed in with the fans. That person turned and left immediately.

“Smells awful. You didn’t get any on you, did you?” Mu Chi asked Qi Liao.

Qi Liao grabbed his arm and strode forward. “Stop dawdling. The next thing flying at you might be a brick.”

Once seated in the production team’s minibus, Mu Chi finally found some peace.

“Brother Mu, are you okay?” Hao Wenrou had witnessed the whole thing from behind.

“I’m fine.” Mu Chi was philosophical. “Where there are people who like you, there will be people who don’t. It’s normal.”

Xu Wuxing: “But Brother Mu really has so many fans. Only about a dozen came for me…”

Lucas spread his hands: “I didn’t get any.”

The bus drove for forty or fifty minutes, moving from desolate areas to bustling ones, then from bustling areas back to declining ones, finally arriving at an old, small town.

It was called an old small town precisely because it was both old and small. There were many roads, winding around until they reached an old street. Turning another corner led uphill into the mountains.

“Why the mountains again?” Xu Wuxing pressed against the window, disappointed. “And so shabby.”

The houses on the hillside indeed had the air of being old, broken, and small. Few had tiles on their exterior walls; most were plain concrete houses.

Ying Xuan observed, “The exterior might be unimpressive, but the inside might hold surprises.”

The minibus turned a corner and stopped in front of a residential building. The not-very-wide road felt even more cramped.

“This is it?” Xu Wuxing couldn’t believe it. This entrance was much shabbier than the villa’s.

Qi Liao took out the keys provided by the production team, picked out the main gate key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it. It seemed it hadn’t been oiled in a long time; the mechanism was starting to rust. He managed to turn it open with some effort.

The heavy, rust-stained blue door slowly swung open, like a beast opening its maw to the group.

The inside was unexpectedly clean and tidy. In the flowerbed against the courtyard wall stood an osmanthus tree, already emitting a faint fragrance even though it hadn’t bloomed yet.

A voice, sharp and crisp as a blade, interrupted Mu Chi’s appraisal of the “new house”: “Is this your vehicle? It’s in the way. Move it.”

The tone was forceful, brooking no discussion.

Mu Chi found the tone familiar. He turned to look and saw a tall, lean man with spiky red hair like a hedgehog, wearing a black leather jacket and pants, covered in jingling accessories, looking at them impatiently.

Mu Chi: “?” He instinctively looked at Qi Liao.

Qi Liao: “What?”

Mu Chi didn’t dare say it, but their auras were so similar—both were the ultimate cool guys.

Cool guy meets cool guy—it was a clash of titans.

Qi Liao said flatly, “We just arrived. The vehicle will be moved shortly. No need for the reminder.”

His approach was being sparing with words, each one hitting the mark.

Qi Liao pointed to the sports car parked in front of the house. “That spot is ours. Please move your vehicle as well.”

The red-haired guy didn’t waste a single word. He went straight to move his car, driving with such wild abandon that he almost hit the production team’s vehicle.

After parking, the red-haired guy got out. His gaze towards them was unfriendly, especially when it landed on Qi Liao—it was like a blade being unsheathed.

Qi Liao ignored him directly. He instructed the production team to drive their vehicle away and have his own car brought over. Then he led everyone into the courtyard to look around.

Just as Mu Chi was lamenting encountering another “Zhao Jie,” his gaze inadvertently met the red-haired guy’s. The red-haired guy looked at him with an inscrutable expression, like a tiger spotting a rabbit.

A chill ran down Mu Chi’s neck. He quickly slipped over to Qi Liao’s side, feeling fully secure.