This era is extremely ostentatious; a good appearance has become the most direct yet superficial shortcut in life.

The phone vibrated again.

[Why didn’t you come to the company to see me after returning to the country? Come home this weekend, I have something to tell you. —Dad]

The darkness in the room was like a damp, cold quilt, wrapping William Carter inside, making it hard to breathe.

[I don’t have the time to go to your place. Whatever it is, just say it over the phone.]

After sending the message, William Carter walked to the window and lit a cigarette. The grayish-white smoke mingled with the soft, indifferent moonlight, seeping into the crevices of his mind and filling the emptiness, making his consciousness blur.

Like many netizens, James Turner, who was getting his hair and makeup done for a magazine cover, was also scrolling through Weibo.

On the day William Carter became an overnight sensation, James Turner was almost certain that he was only pretending to be a fan to ride the wave into the entertainment industry, buying trending topics to hype himself up and gain followers. After all, with such good looks, it’s easy to become popular in this appearance-driven era. But when Grace Bennett said he didn’t want to sign a contract and debut, James Turner was a bit puzzled. Could he really just be a fan?

So, stealing a moment from his busy schedule, James Turner logged into his Weibo alt account, followed the trending topics, and found William Carter’s fan account.

Turns out he really was a fan—and an artist at that.

But William Carter hardly ever posted on Weibo, nor did he, like other fans, repost various live photos. He simply posted his own drawings quietly. His art style was very unique; with just a few strokes, he could perfectly outline the human body’s structure. Even through the screen, you could feel the strong surge of hormones conveyed in his work.

While browsing his Weibo, James Turner also glanced at the reposts and comments, discovering that aside from praising William Carter as a godly artist, the fans’ comments were all things like—“My Heng is so alpha! So alpha I can’t even close my legs!! Lying flat, begging for the sun,” and so on.

Ahem, what’s up with girls these days…

His finger unconsciously sped up as he scrolled, when suddenly a drawing flashed before his eyes, making him pause and scroll back up.

That drawing had once gone viral. It depicted his side profile as he made a three-step layup, sunlight slicing shadows across his body, long fingers gripping the basketball, the red jersey soaked with sweat, and every muscle on his body taut and defined.

He exited Weibo and opened his photo album, finding that same drawing in a folder named fan-art. He had never noticed before that there was a handwritten signature in the lower right corner—Tsing.

So he had seen this drawing before, even saved it to show off to his friends.

After logging out of his alt account, James Turner hesitated all night, but in the end, he still didn’t delete the drawing from his phone.

But something still felt off in his heart.

Perhaps wanting to ride the wave of popularity, the reality show Grace Bennett mentioned rushed to finish its long-delayed planning, finalized the list of celebrities and regular participants, and began filming on Saturday. On Friday, William Carter checked into the designated hotel as requested by the production team. That evening, Grace Bennett made time to visit him at the hotel.

“So afraid I’ll run away?” William Carter was only wearing cotton pants, sitting cross-legged on the bed, drying his wet hair.

Grace Bennett glanced at him. His abs were well-defined, clearly the result of long-term training. He wasn’t particularly muscular, just lean, but it didn’t quite match that beautiful face, which surprised her a little. Still, she calmly placed the documents on the table. “Of course. Here’s some information about the show. Take a look when you have time.”

“Is there a script?” William Carter rolled his neck and pulled on a loose T-shirt, looking like a high schooler. “Let’s be clear, I’m not going to follow your script, so don’t expect anything from me.”

Grace Bennett looked a bit helpless, but seemed to have expected this. “I knew you’d say that. Actually, there is a script, but it has nothing to do with you guys. It’s a mystery room plot written by someone the production team hired.” Then she changed the subject, “Even though the script isn’t about you, we still arranged character settings. You’ll need to fit the role a bit. After all, aren’t you good at pretending?”

This woman always spoke so bluntly that William Carter was almost used to it. “I see…” He stretched out his long legs, tossed the towel onto a chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and leaned back against the wall, sounding lazy. “So, tell me, what kind of character did you give me?”

Grace Bennett sat at the table, unhurried. “Think about it. Ever since Ziheng switched tracks, his popularity has soared, so the company definitely wants to keep up his super-dominant persona. If we want to hype up a BL-style CP, what kind of person do you think would make it easier to go viral?”

Lying on the bed, William Carter gazed at Grace Bennett, his slow-blinking eyes like a zooming slow-motion shot. A harmless, clean smile appeared on his face, and the mole on his nose added a touch of innocence.

“Angel persona. Loved by all ages, pure and honest.”

Grace Bennett shrugged. “Smart.”

He let out a snort, completely different from his gentle look just now, suddenly full of disdain.