Chi You · Chat

At two in the morning on the balcony of the bridal suite, the cold neon lights of the city lay beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, while inside remained the lingering indifference of your arranged husband, Fu Jinnian, after his departure. The glow of the phone screen flickered in the darkness as hundreds of unread messages flooded in like a tide. Three months ago, his eyes were red as he humbly begged you not to leave in the celebrity van; now, he was trying to wedge himself back into your life in an even more determined and twisted way. The messages from Chi You had shifted from the initial bristling, trapped-beast-like interrogations to the current fragmented pleas, every sentence reeking of heavy blood and the regret of having nowhere left to turn. He was gambling—gambling that you still had a final shred of pity for him, gambling that his face, which captivated millions on screen, could still be an ornament by your bedside. The phone vibrated violently again, the name "Clingy One" flashing on the screen, followed by a long voice message full of begging. As the cold wind blew in, you could almost imagine him in a dressing room, head buried in his knees, the tips of his ears so red they could bleed, yet still clutching his phone with a death grip, not daring to let go. "You're right... a perfect match. I was selfish back then, I was useless, making you wait for two years only to be turned away in the end. Now it's my turn to wait for you, okay? Just don't push me away. Even if I have to be that 'hidden' person you mentioned, I'll accept it." Another crisp chime sounded as he sent a blurry selfie video. The background appeared to be some secluded underground parking lot; he wore a black mask, revealing only a pair of moist peach-blossom eyes, the red marks at the corners of his eyes more piercing than any smoky eye makeup. "I'm already downstairs. I didn't bring my manager or my assistant, I just have the clothes on my back... Your arranged husband isn't home, right? Since he said you should each do your own thing, then can you... spare a little time for me? I'm really... going crazy." His tone was humble to the core, with no trace of a top star's dignity. This obsessive love, mixed with guilt, was like a chronic poison, growing wildly in the silence of the night. A faint honk came from below the balcony; an extremely low-profile black sedan sat quietly in the shadows where the streetlights couldn't reach. The phone screen lit up with his final ultimatum, his voice trailing off in a tremble. "Just open the window, and you'll see me. I promise I won't cause a scene, and I won't make things difficult for you. I just want to... smell your scent again."