Sickly Bigshot CH 20 Misunderstanding
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
The next second, Shi Zhou leaped up and swiftly blocked the screen, flipping it shut with a dramatic flair—the coolest move of his life.
"I was just writing randomly! I just... didn’t want to bother naming the characters, so I borrowed some names. I mean, Word has a find-and-replace function, so..." Shi Zhou stammered, his toes curling in embarrassment so hard they could’ve torn up the plush carpet beneath him—if not for its high quality, he might’ve ripped out a few tufts.
After a few seconds of frantic toe-scrunching, he suddenly realized he was barefoot, and every mortified twitch was on full display.
Shi Zhou: ...Fuck.
Qin Yancheng frowned slightly. He had only glanced at the screen reflexively.
His blood sugar was crashing, his vision swimming with dizziness and black spots, making it impossible to actually read anything.
But Shi Zhou’s flustered, defensive posture—like a little fox hiding behind its tail—radiated a warmth and liveliness that was both ridiculous and strangely comforting. Somehow, it soothed the inexplicable, simmering rage in Qin Yancheng’s chest.
He took a deep breath, shifting his focus from Zeng Yan and unauthorized IV drips—two things that would have normally sent him into a fury—to a new question—just what the hell did Shi Zhou write to make him this embarrassed?
Shi Zhou’s ears burned red. He stared down at his toes, which wiggled awkwardly as if waving hello.
The silence stretched on. Just as Shi Zhou began to fear he’d be thrown out—along with his laptop—or suffer the same fate as that unfortunate phone smashed against the wall, Qin Yancheng suddenly coughed violently before rushing to the bathroom, retching uncontrollably.
Shi Zhou abandoned his humiliation and hurried after him, patting his back. "What’s wrong? Stomach pain?"
Qin Yancheng shook his head, gesturing for him to leave.
"Should I call the doctor again?"
—This was exactly the wrong thing to say.
At the word doctor, Qin Yancheng also caught sight of the blood and needle marks on the back of his hand and immediately gagged harder, his whole body trembling as he dry-heaved.
He hadn't eaten all day, and even though he had vomited out gastric juice and bile, he still couldn't stop dry heaving, and his whole body was trembling slightly.
Shi Zhou thought this might be anger-induced and decided silence was best. After a while, Qin Yancheng rinsed his mouth and leaned heavily against the sink, his voice hoarse.
"Don’t overreact... No more doctors... If you can’t move me, just... leave me."
Shi Zhou wondered if he was delirious again—until Qin Yancheng swayed and collapsed forward.
Shi Zhou barely caught him this time, thankfully avoiding a repeat of their first meeting. Now he understood Qin Yancheng’s earlier muttering.
But how could he not overreact? A grown man just fainted, and he wasn’t even allowed to call a doctor?
Qin Yancheng must have been too exhausted and distracted earlier to throw a tantrum. But the IV stand in the bedroom had already been knocked over, the needle yanked out violently. If Shi Zhou pushed his luck, he’d end up like that shattered bag of medicine on the floor.
Assuming this was another blood sugar crash, Shi Zhou found some candy and fed it to him. Despite Qin Yancheng’s insistence on being left alone, Shi Zhou couldn’t just abandon him. He half-dragged, half-carried him back to bed, cleaning the blood from his hand.
Staring at Qin Yancheng’s pale, beautiful face even while unconscious, Shi Zhou couldn’t understand what could twist a person like this—why he refused treatment when it could help him.
Was his body, his health, his life really worth so little?
If Shi Zhou hadn’t been here, would Qin Yancheng have just endured the fever alone? Collapsed on the cold floor, waiting for sheer survival instinct to wake him up?
—Idiot.
Shi Zhou cursed under his breath.
White Moonlight, get your shit together! Fight your damn fate!
The next morning, Shi Zhou got ready for Qixing Entertainment’s annual gala. Over breakfast, he asked Aunt Zhang, "Is Qin Yancheng feeling better today?"
Aunt Zhang set down a plate of pasta. "Mr. Qin already left for the office."
"What? He’s still sick! Did he at least eat breakfast?"
Aunt Zhang nodded. "His fever’s gone, and his complexion is... passable?"
Qin Yancheng had always been like this—Aunt Zhang was used to it.
Youth and a strong constitution let him push himself like this, but if he didn’t change soon, his body would give out.
Shi Zhou spotted a note on the table: "Call the driver if you need a ride."
Qin Yancheng’s handwriting was elegant yet sharp—much like the man himself.
Why not just text the number? Oh, right. He’d smashed his phone yesterday in a rage.
The driver dropped Shi Zhou off at the hotel, where paparazzi were already camped outside. The moment he stepped out, cameras flashed wildly.
As a rising star who’d just trended overnight, Shi Zhou was prime tabloid fodder. Big-name celebrities had been photographed and interviewed to death, but someone like him? Fresh meat.
Dazzled by the flashes, Shi Zhou couldn’t make out any questions. Not wanting to seem arrogant, he randomly picked a young female reporter with a sweet face, smiled, and nodded.
The reporter froze, seemingly stunned by his smile—before suddenly beaming back, her eyes crinkling with delight.
Shi Zhou blinked. What’s with that reaction? When was he this irresistible?
Before he could ponder it, he was herded inside.
The top-floor banquet hall was packed with champagne towers, chocolate fountains, and endless delicacies. Shi Zhou happily nibbled on a cake, thinking, this beats rotting at home.
After the Jiang Song incident, whispers about Shi Zhou’s "mysterious backer" had spread. Unsure whether he was a paper tiger or the real deal, no one dared provoke him today.
As for the speeches and corporate grandstanding on stage? Shi Zhou couldn’t care less.
He was happily crafting the most absurdly shaped ice cream when someone called his name. Turning, he saw Zheng Qi—dressed in a sharp suit, fresh off his speech—standing behind him.
Shi Zhou took a bite of ice cream and warily stepped back. Is he about to beat me up while Qin Yancheng’s not here?
To his surprise, Zheng Qi looked devastated, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He sighed and said slowly, "Shi Zhou, since you left, I’ve thought a lot about our past... about all the time we spent together."
His sincerity seemed genuine. As the male lead, Zheng Qi had the looks to match—his handsome features shadowed with regret, appearing deeply affectionate and remorseful. It indeed could inspire feelings of forgiveness in a lesser man.
Shi Zhou let out a bewildered "Ah?"—this kind of script wasn't unfamiliar to him. The trope of the scumbag gong having an epiphany after the stand-in leaves, realizing the stand-in was his true love all along, pining day and night until finally winning them back for a happy ending...
But this wasn’t realistic!
The last time they met, Zheng Qi had practically wanted to kill him. Had he been body-snatched or possessed? Since when did the script change? But that wasn’t the important part—the real issue was—
He’d read these lines before! This was what Zheng Qi was supposed to say to Song Duannian during the "crematorium arc" later in the novel!
Shi Zhou blinked and tentatively asked, "Wait... are you saying you’ve fallen for me?"
Zheng Qi lowered his head slightly and nodded, his voice solemn. "It took me too long to realize how good you are, to finally understand that it’s always been you in my heart. Shi Zhou, I can’t live without you."
Shi Zhou’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock. He covered his mouth as if he’d just heard the words he’d been longing for all his life, on the verge of happy tears.
Zheng Qi watched him, barely suppressing his delight. It seemed Qixing Entertainment’s future could still be salvaged after all. If he could move Shi Zhou, he might just manage a roundabout way to get Qin Yancheng to show mercy—
Shi Zhou gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, what a coincidence! You’ve got great taste—I love me too!"
Zheng Qi: "......?"
Shi Zhou’s face remained the picture of blissful sincerity—the turnaround was so fast that Zheng Qi actually wondered if he’d misheard.
But clearly not, because Shi Zhou’s expression dropped in an instant, and he turned away indifferently to go back to scooping his ice cream.
Realizing he’d been played, Zheng Qi nearly lost his temper—but then he remembered how Qixing had finally made a qualitative leap this year, rising from a mid-tier entertainment company to doubling its assets, with a bright future ahead. How could he let all his years of hard work be casually destroyed by Qin Yancheng?
Suppressing his anger, Zheng Qi lowered his voice into a tender murmur. "Zhou’er, I know you can’t forgive me right away. I know you hate me—it’s all my fault. But I truly love you. If I could, I’d cut out my heart to show you—it’s completely filled with you."
He delivered the lines with such sincerity and seriousness that he absolutely deserved an honorary Oscar for Best Actor on the Run.
Unfortunately, Shi Zhou had read these lines before too—they were originally meant for Song Duannian. Now, with the pronouns swapped and even a cringey nickname slapped on him, all Shi Zhou could think was "I’m not oily, the heavens made me this way," as if Zheng Qi was radiating a greasy aura from head to toe.
—With skin that thick, you wouldn’t even need oil to fry him. Just coat him in breadcrumbs and you’d have a whole plate of pork rinds—enough to make the neighbor’s kid puke.
Suddenly, the vanilla ice cream in his hand didn’t taste so good anymore. Shi Zhou wolfed down the last two bites and turned to leave, needing a cigarette to calm his nerves.
Thankfully, Zheng Qi had enough sense not to chase after him and continue oozing grease.
Leaning lazily against the bathroom wall, cigarette in hand, Shi Zhou coincidentally ran into another "acquaintance"—Song Duannian, who must have come with Zheng Qi.
The moment their eyes met, Song Duannian’s expression stiffened. He pretended not to see Shi Zhou, lowering his head to wash his hands.
After a moment’s thought, Shi Zhou took a drag and said in a carefree tone, "Song Duannian, I once had a dream..."
What followed was essentially the original novel’s plot progression. Given Zheng Qi’s personality, this kind of soap-opera-level melodrama wasn’t just plausible—it felt almost inevitable.
The faucet’s water trickled steadily as Song Duannian silently cupped his hands under the stream, not saying a word.
Shi Zhou knew he was listening, but he had no idea how much was actually sinking in. A gut feeling told him—Song Duannian’s gentle nature wouldn’t hold up against Zheng Qi’s relentless pressure. In the end, he’d probably still walk the same old path.
Shi Zhou sighed. He really was a meddler—wanting to spare Song Duannian the humiliation and suffering ahead, wanting Qin Yancheng to live a healthy life—but why were they all so damn stubborn?
By the time the golden-red sunset painted the sky, Shi Zhou had had his fill of fun and was finally driven back. Seeing that Qin Yancheng had already returned from work, he was about to launch into a lecture about his self-destructive habits when his phone buzzed ominously with Weibo notifications.
Swearing up and down that he hadn’t done anything to trend again, Shi Zhou tapped open the app—
A crisp video interview played. A sweet-voiced female reporter asked, "Zhou Zhou, is the ‘ChengZhou’ ship real? Or will it be real in the future?"
Shi Zhou’s heart skipped a beat.
Then, the video showed him looking directly at the camera, smiling faintly—and nodding.
Shi Zhou: "......"
God-freaking-dammit!
How the hell did this misunderstanding happen?!
No wonder the reporter had given him that bizarre, delighted grin after his response—
That was the legendary "fujoshi smile"!