Sickly Bigshot CH 18 Trending
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
This was Shi Zhou’s first time walking the red carpet. He’d joined in for the novelty, but now that he was actually doing it, he found it pretty boring.
After striking a pose under the relentless barrage of camera flashes, the host—likely instructed to give him extra screen time—dragged him into an awkward interview before finally letting him enter the main venue.
Following the seating chart, Shi Zhou found his assigned spot in the farthest, most pitiful corner from the stage. He’d barely warmed his seat when someone clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey! Shi Zhou, what are you doing here? Qin Yancheng’s looking for you."
It was Xin Jing, who then cheerfully pulled him up with the ease of an old friend. "Come on, let’s go. The organizers set up an extra seat for you near the front."
Shi Zhou wasn’t keen on moving—he and Qin Yancheng weren’t some inseparable duo, after all. But then he spotted the food and desserts at the front tables and realized the hierarchy was blatantly obvious. Even the champagne was several tiers higher in quality, and the dishes were still steaming hot, unlike his own table, where the food had long gone cold.
For the sake of good food, Shi Zhou reluctantly took the seat next to Qin Yancheng. The organizers, likely banking on Qin Yancheng’s looks and fame, had placed him at a table with A-list celebrities, making the atmosphere a little stiff. Fortunately, an idol group’s opening performance on stage helped lighten the mood.
Shi Zhou greeted everyone politely before sitting down and quietly digging into his meal. The media snapped photos of the table, but while the others sat rigidly, afraid of staining their rented designer outfits or being caught in unflattering shots, as a result, he received a lot of strange looks. But Shi Zhou didn’t care.
His outfit wasn’t rented, and he wasn’t about to starve himself for the sake of photos. After freezing outside, he wasn’t going to let hunger ruin his night too.
Once he’d eaten his fill, Shi Zhou amused himself by peeling oranges from the fruit platter, meticulously keeping the skins intact. Soon, a neat row of naked oranges sat before him, and he began looking for a "human trash can" to help finish them.
Just as he was trying to force feed Qin Yancheng, the stage lights suddenly cut out. In the darkness, a pale figure drifted toward him—half a face floating in midair...
Shi Zhou jolted, accidentally shoving the orange against Qin Yancheng’s chin. When the lights came back on, he realized it was Jiang Song—half his face covered in black dye, clothes torn and disheveled, looking like he was one step away from begging on the streets with a bowl.
Not only Shi Zhou but everyone else at the table couldn’t help but sneak glances.
Jiang Song, who had once been so smug, now stood humiliated, his pride crushed underfoot. But his regret wasn’t for framing Shi Zhou—only for not being clever enough and for his bad luck.
How could Shi Zhou sit at this table, next to Qin Yancheng, acting so shamelessly intimate? Gritting his teeth, Jiang Song forced out an apology. "Shi Zhou... I-I’m sorry. It was my fault."
His manager had scripted a whole speech for him to save face in front of Qin Yancheng and the media, but seeing Shi Zhou’s infuriating expression, Jiang Song’s jealousy burned too hot. He couldn’t bring himself to say more.
He braced for Shi Zhou to gloat and humiliated him, further stepping on his dignity. Or play the victim, throwing himself into Qin Yancheng’s arms for comfort like some white lotus.
Instead, Shi Zhou just waved him off dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, got it. Now scram."
Jiang Song’s punch had landed on cotton. Confused, he hesitated. But Shi Zhou genuinely wasn’t overthinking it—he’d just been startled by Jiang Song’s horrifying appearance in the dark. Covered in black dye, with that resentful glare, he looked like a floating half-head ghost. He would have scared the life out of someone more timid.
Now, in the light, it was just ridiculous. Shi Zhou, who had a low threshold for laughter, was afraid he’d burst out giggling, so he just wanted Jiang Song out of his sight.
Elbowing Qin Yancheng, Shi Zhou finally cracked, laughing quietly. "Couldn’t you at least have spread the dye evenly? And your bodyguards—like master, like servants. They really went full avant-garde with his outfit, huh?"
If Shi Zhou had been the one handling it, he’d have gone straight for violence—punching Jiang Song until his face was swollen.
But this was arguably more satisfying. Jiang Song got a taste of his own medicine, humiliated in front of everyone. And given how image-conscious he was, it must have stung even more.
Shi Zhou’s temper flared up and faded just as quickly. Since he hadn’t actually suffered any real harm, he wasn’t one to hold grudges.
Jiang Song, meanwhile, braced for Shi Zhou to humiliate him further, but Shi Zhou just lazily glanced at his pile of oranges and handed a few over, hoping to avoid waste.
Jiang Song eyed them suspiciously, half-convinced they were poisoned. But despite his resentment, he was too scared to refuse. Trembling, he took them, barely tasting them in his anxiety. When he looked up and met Qin Yancheng’s icy glare, he nearly choked and only then did he flee.
Qin Yancheng didn’t know why, for a split second, he’d felt reluctant to let anyone else eat the oranges Shi Zhou had peeled. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came, leaving his usual calm.
When the A-lister next to Shi Zhou left to prepare for a performance, Xin Jing plopped down in the vacated seat. "Wow, Shi Zhou, can I have an orange—wait, did you peel these for Qin Yancheng?"
Shi Zhou nodded earnestly. "Please, take some! I got carried away and peeled too many. By the way, I meant to ask earlier—you two know each other?"
"Childhood friends. We were in the same class from elementary school until tenth grade. What a cursed fate!"
Shi Zhou tilted his head, glancing at the ever-expressionless Qin Yancheng. If Xin Jing had known him since childhood, then he’d seen the real Qin Yancheng—making Shi Zhou, the "imitation," feel a tiny bit awkward.
Misreading his expression, Xin Jing hastily clarified. "Don’t get the wrong idea! I may look youthful and innocent, but I’m a total top who’s charmed countless bottoms!"
Shi Zhou burst out laughing at the "youthful and innocent" comment. Who described their own baby face like that?
The awkwardness forgotten, he waved a hand. "No, no, since we’re all friends here, I’ll be honest—we’re not that kind of relationship."
Besides, Qin Yancheng didn’t seem particularly gay. Shi Zhou’s "gaydar" pinged him as neither straight nor bent—more like carved from ice.
Xin Jing howled with laughter, shooting Qin Yancheng a look that screamed You’re hopeless! A glare from Qin Yancheng shut him up, and after hurriedly adding Shi Zhou on WeChat, he scampered off.
Qin Yancheng coughed lightly into his hand. His immune system was weak, and he’d been fighting a cold for days. Tonight’s chaos and the biting wind had made it worse.
Listening to the coughing beside him, Shi Zhou worried about an asthma attack. He’d recently discovered Qin Yancheng’s birthday was coming up and hoped he’d at least make it to another year.
Back then, his brother had told him that a new age meant a fresh start—all bad luck reset, blessings and hopes ushering in a new chapter.
As a child, Shi Zhou had believed it wholeheartedly. Later, he dismissed it as childish humoring. But after Shi Li’s sudden death, he couldn’t help wondering—had it been because his brother had been too busy with work in Melbourne that year, missing his birthday and Shi Zhou’s well-wishes so that was why…
He was overthinking it. But regardless, he decided to pray for Qin Yancheng’s health and longevity when the day came.
Growing bolder with familiarity, Shi Zhou suddenly reached out and touched Qin Yancheng’s neck and forehead. "Qin Yancheng, you’re running a fever!"
Qin Yancheng’s lips were pale, but his expression was indifferent. "Low-grade."
No wonder he’d barely eaten. Low grade fevers were often more uncomfortable. Shi Zhou had initially been baffled by his rigid posture, but now it made sense—he’d been feeling unwell the whole time.
"Then why didn’t you just rest at home? Why come to this event?"
Qin Yancheng studied him silently, as if considering his answer or having nothing to say.
Finally, he replied flatly, "Jinshui Film City starts operations next month."
It seemed like a non sequitur, but Shi Zhou, still focused on Qin Yancheng’s health, didn’t overthink it. "Oh, so you’re practically in the industry now. With your looks, you really should show your face more—it’d be a waste otherwise."
Shi Zhou's schedule was quite loose. The next morning, Shi Zhou slept in until noon, only waking when his phone buzzed incessantly.
Yawning, he reluctantly reached out from under the warm covers, unplugged his charger, and grabbed his phone, burrowing back in to check his messages in the dark.
Well, well—his first time trending on Weibo!
#ShiZhouElegantEatingPrince
#FoodieSoulFoodieVibes
#DumbButGorgeous
But for someone with as many anti-fans as Shi Zhou, while many praised him (even gaining him new fans), just as many mocked:
[What a country bumpkin, stuffing his face like he’s never seen food before. Starving ghost reincarnated?]
[So what if his table manners are decent? Still looks fake as hell.]
[Who’s he hooked up with this time? Doesn’t seem to be Qixing’s CEO Zheng anymore?]
That last one hit the nail on the head. Another trending topic left Shi Zhou speechless—a gif of him and Qin Yancheng sitting together.
It wasn’t even an intimate moment, just a brief glance exchanged, followed by a three-second clip of Shi Zhou peeling an orange while Qin Yancheng quietly watched his profile.
Yet somehow, this spawned a trending search topic.
Fans were already tearing into each other. Though Qin Yancheng wasn’t a celebrity, his fanbase was massive:
[They just happened to sit together. What could these two possibly have in common? Do you expect everyone to stay ten feet apart while eating?]
[Our President Qin would never be involved with some no-name pretty boy. Who even is Shi Zhou? Never heard of him.]
[The audacity! Some nobody dares to rub off on Qin Yancheng’s fame? Asking for death?]
Shi Zhou’s fans fired back:
[Oh, so your fandom is extra special? Our baby doesn’t need this clout.]
[With psycho fans like you, no wonder Qin Yancheng’s single. Who’d dare date him?]
[Are you blind? Clearly, Qin Yancheng was the one staring at Shi Zhou. Why’s Shi Zhou getting blamed?]
The two sides went to war, fighting tooth and nail.
Most amusing were the small but determined group of shippers quietly carving out their space, already crafting fan theories and even coining a ship name—"ChengZhou" (Ride the Boat).
A clever play on their names, poetic even. But Shi Zhou, with his mind perpetually in the gutter, couldn’t help feeling there was something... off about it.
Maybe the verb choice was just a little too suggestive?