Inside the interrogation room, the two officers exchanged looks. Both felt what he’d just said was ridiculously absurd.

“I can get in touch with him,” Yu Chibei threw out his final bargaining chip. “On one condition—you take me to find him.”

“You can contact him?” The female officer hesitated, but the male officer immediately grabbed her. “Have you lost your mind?! You’re going to let him out?!”

“It’s not letting him out. Didn’t you hear him? We take him there—not let him go on his own.”

The three of them locked eyes in silence.

Yu Chibei’s gaze was sharp and steady. He stared at the clock on the wall, veins at his temples taut from restraint.

“Alright!” The female officer turned and walked out. “I’ll report to the chief.”

The male officer glanced at Yu Chibei, then followed her out.

Yu Chibei kept his eyes on the clock. Images of Tang Gu—crying, smiling—flashed through his mind. His hands at his sides clenched suddenly, veins bulging on the backs. A surge of anger rose, and he slammed his fist hard onto the table.

Not long after, the officers returned with word—the chief had agreed.

Soon, Yu Chibei was escorted into a police car. Holding the female officer’s phone, he called Monkey.

The first call didn’t go through. On the second, Monkey picked up—but stayed silent, cautious.

“It’s me,” Yu Chibei said, voice cold.

He didn’t ask where Monkey was.

He simply said, “Wait for me.”

His voice dragged out from his throat, hoarse—like sandpaper scraping past the ear.

“Cut.”

The scene was done in one take. Director Xu said nothing, just waved for everyone to move equipment and change locations.

Cen Luan sat there while the makeup artist touched him up.

Afterward, he followed along and watched her do Ye Fu’s makeup.

Ye Fu had her eyes closed. Feeling his gaze resting on her face, the corners of her lips couldn’t help but lift slightly.

“Brother Cen, want to learn makeup?” the artist teased when she saw him watching so intently. “Want to try?”

Cen Luan picked up a brush and lightly swept it across Ye Fu’s face.

It was clearly the same brush—but when the Best Actor used it, Ye Fu’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest, and the roots of her ears burned red.

“Nice brush,” Cen Luan said.

Seeing her ears flushed red, he suddenly had the urge to find somewhere private, bite that fragile ear, and toy with it.

The makeup artist laughed happily. “I’ll get you a set later?”

“Sure,” Cen Luan replied.

But in his mind, he was thinking—the brush could be dipped in water… and brushed across her body.

Her sensitive nipples…

The desire in his eyes was so blatant that Ye Fu was startled. Forgetting her makeup wasn’t finished, she stood up to leave.

“Hey…” the makeup artist called, pulling her back. Ye Fu’s face was burning. The artist asked in confusion, “Sister Fu, why is your face so red?”

Here, people weren’t addressed by age, but by status.

Right now, Ye Fu was the female lead, so everyone on set called her “Sister Fu.”

Though in truth, it was partly because of the Best Actor—his assistants Hu Songyu and Xiao Xiaohong had taken the lead in calling her that.

Ye Fu touched her face, biting her lip. “It’s hot.”

Cen Luan chuckled softly from a distance. He stopped teasing her, turned, and walked away. His voice drifted back lazily—

“It’s hot—get me something cold… cool things down…”

The last few words were drawn out, slow and suggestive.

Hu Songyu, simple and straightforward, immediately went to buy it.

Only Ye Fu remained standing there, face flushed, staring at the actor’s back, unable to stop herself from thinking—

The Best Actor is way too bad.

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