After Jin Ruhan finished speaking, his two friends, Shu Yujin and Han Chengdu, stepped forward, forming a protective circle around him that underscored their unwavering support and camaraderie. Shu Yujin sported striking golden-blond hair, which glimred like spun gold under the bright stage lights, adding an eye-catching flair to his already captivating presence.
Beside him stood Han Chengdu, whose jet-black hair contrasted sharply with the vibrant hues around them, creating a striking visual impact. Although both possessed ordinary black eyes, their overall appearances transcended the mundane; they were tall and impeccably handso, perfectly embodying the quintessential image of idols that fans often fantasized about. Together, they projected an aura of confidence and unity, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Sian didn’t bother speaking much and simply let the three chirping birds and their companion act out their little dog drama. He knew that the more attention he gave people like them, the more they would puff up with self-importance. The best way to deal with them was to ignore them.
And he wasn’t wrong. As they pushed the limits of his patience, throwing taunts and jabs his way, it beca clear to them that he remained unyielding, untouched by their antics. Gradually, their voices faded into a hushed murmur, and the tension in the air lted away. Realizing their efforts were in vain, they exchanged glances filled with confusion and a hint of defeat before they finally turned away, leaving him in his tranquil solitude.
After that brief drama, the five participants sat down and prepared themselves for the interview segnt, where the host, alongside the caraman, would ask them various questions submitted by the audience.
Once introductions began, everyone—including Song Zijian—engaged in all sorts of playful gestures, forming hearts with their hands and interacting enthusiastically with their fans. Everyone except for Sian. After stating his na and profession, he remained motionless.
Unable to ignore it, the host hesitated before asking, "Sian, don’t you want to say sothing to the audience? Maybe throw them a heart?"
"A heart?" Sian raised an eyebrow. Then, with a sly smile, he looked directly at the cara. His soft pink lips parted slightly, and he spoke, his voice carrying a lazy allure, "Sorry, but my hearts are far too valuable to be handed out so casually."
The host was montarily stunned by Sian’s devilish charm. Without thinking, he blurted out another question, "Then... what’s the price to receive one of your hearts?"
"The price?" Sian acted as if he were deep in thought, his sharp golden eyes narrowing slightly. Then, after a brief pause, he looked back at the cara and said, "For anyone willing to give their life... I’ll give them my heart."
The statent was completely off-topic. The host had been referring to simple hand hearts and cute gestures, yet Sian’s words carried a far more intense aning. The impact was several tis greater than anything the host had expected.
Once again, the live broadcast erupted into chaos. But unlike last ti, not everyone was cursing Sian. Instead, the majority were screaming in excitent over his beauty.
"Oh my god, I just got hit hard! Mom, I can’t breathe! No matter what kind of personality Sian has, I’m in love with his face!"
"Seriously, having a face like his should be illegal."
"It’s not just his face. For so reason, this version of Sian is driving crazy. Did he just say he’d give his heart to the one who offers their life? That’s dark but romantic. I love it."
"Sian! Sian! I—I’ll give you my life!"
"I’d give anything just to see Sian’s smile. Honestly, I watched the live stream when he was in the forest, and I always thought every little movent he made was alluring. But his smile? It’s on a whole other level."
"Sian, look at !"
"Sian..."
"Sian!"
The chat continued to flood with excited comnts, but the reason for all the frenzy sat there indifferently, his expression calm and unreadable.
The host, realizing he wouldn’t get anything more out of him, shifted his attention back to the other four participants sitting on a couch far from Sian. It was clear he was being sidelined. But that was for the best—Sian had no interest in interacting with this group of idiots. Each one was dumber than the last.
The host continued asking questions, and the mbers of Angel’s Wings responded in a well-rehearsed manner, clearly having practiced their answers in advance. Their responses were polished, structured, and... painfully boring.
Then, it was Sian’s turn.
His first question: "How does it feel to be a third party in a loving couple’s relationship?"
Sian: "..."
Sian let out a deep sigh. To be honest, he had suffered enough because of Original Sian’s ridiculous love-struck brain. But this was the perfect opportunity to draw a line between himself and Jiang Hangyu, as well as change his public image.
"I’d like to ask our dear audience a question as well," Sian said, curling his lips into a faint smirk. Then, with a serious tone, he continued, "Which one of your eyes saw that I was in love with Boss Jiang? Hmm? And which eye saw interfering in soone else’s relationship? Oh—" He paused as if suddenly rembering sothing before adding with a tone that was both persuasive and sincere, "Is it because I used to have a good relationship with Boss Jiang? Well, that’s not my fault. He was the one who approached first. We beca friends later on, and he was always kind to ... until, one day, he suddenly started hating , causing problems for , and calling despicable—even though I never did anything to him or anyone else."
Lowering his gaze, Sian’s thick raven-black lashes trembled slightly. At that mont, as the caraman zood in on his face, his golden glass-like eyes reflected nothing but cold mockery.
After a short pause, he continued, "When I realized that my childhood friend was the one behind my troubles, I was devastated. So, I started confronting him and arguing with him every ti. I suppose that was just my bad luck."
No one was foolish enough to miss the implications in his words. Sian was making it very clear—Song Zijian had been the one manipulating things behind the scenes. He had orchestrated events that painted Sian in a bad light in Jiang Hangyu’s eyes, leading the latter to despise him.
And the worst part? It had worked.
But wasn’t that just proof of how cheap Jiang Hangyu’s so-called feelings were? If he truly loved Sian, he wouldn’t have been swayed by such petty tricks.
The audience fell silent for a mont. Then, so forr Sian fans and long-ti followers of Angel’s Wings started recalling past incidents—his mic always malfunctioning, his outfits getting tampered with, his constant slip-ups during performances, mistakes no trained idol should make repeatedly. And every single ti sothing went wrong, Sian would confront Song Zijian, demanding answers. Their argunts often played out on stage, but in the end, Sian would be blad while Song Zijian played the innocent victim.
As the audience discussed these past incidents, they weren’t sure who was in the right and who was in the wrong. But at the very least, they no longer blindly pointed fingers at Sian like before.
In Sian’s opinion, Original Sian had been hopelessly naive. He didn’t know how to sche, manipulate, or cry crocodile tears. He was straightforward—if you were good to him, he’d be good to you tenfold. If you were bad to him, he’d yell in your face and demand his due.
But that kind of mindset didn’t work in the chaotic, backstabbing world of the entertainnt industry.
The more cunning and fox-like a person was, the more "genuine" their words appeared. Song Zijian, who had carefully crafted his angelic image, had even managed to deceive those closest to him. Soone like that—if confronted directly—would only twist the truth further, burying his opponent even deeper.
As the saying goes, fight fire with fire and poison with poison.
Sian refused to believe he couldn’t beat this little white lotus at his own ga.
He cast his gaze downward, his long lashes shadowing his golden eyes. His entire posture exuded sadness, vulnerability, and exhaustion. Anyone who saw him in that mont had only one thought—to hold this fragile young man in their arms and protect him forever.
Of course, none of them saw the sinister smirk subtly tugging at the corner of his lips.
The caraman and the host were both stunned and saddened by the young man who had seemingly endured so much. anwhile, Song Zijian was digging his nails into his palm, resisting the urge to stand up and slap that deceitful face of Sian.
As for the other three, they were busy calming their teammate, assuring him that they believed in his character and morals, and urging him not to pay attention to Sian’s fabricated words. Of course, they didn’t forget to shoot Sian occasional glares filled with anger and resentnt.
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