Sickly Bigshot CH 21 Gift
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
Shi Zhou stood at the entrance like he’d been struck by lightning, staring at the trending Weibo list. His brain was filled with a chorus of little versions of himself screaming—all with the expression of The Scream painting.
—Yesterday, Qin Yancheng caught him writing smut fanfiction. And today, he just ambiguously smiled and nodded to confirm the “ChengZhou ship”? As one of the supposed parties, he actually had the guts to publicly fan the flames of their fake relationship himself?
He was done for. Dead. Toast. Looking back now, maybe Qin Yancheng got nauseous yesterday because he read that filthy fic. And now, pulling this kind of stunt the day after... Did he have any dignity left in Qin Yancheng’s eyes?
Qin Yancheng was sitting in the living room on a work call. Hearing the door close, he looked back at Shi Zhou, said a few more things, then hung up.
His tone was calm and detached as always. “Why are you standing there? Come eat dinner.”
Shi Zhou bit his lip, nodded, washed his hands, and then sat down at the dining table like he was heading for execution.
Qin Yancheng didn’t seem to know he’d just been forcibly shipped online. He quietly sipped his porridge in that usual, elegant way. Meanwhile, Shi Zhou felt like he was having his last meal. After all, he had written explicit fanfiction about the guy. And now this massive misunderstanding? He, once so brash, now shrank like a scared little quail, eyes down, completely subdued.
Dinner used to be lively. Shi Zhou was a chatterbox who could yap nonstop with anyone. Even if Qin Yancheng only occasionally hummed in response, Shi Zhou could still carry a conversation all by himself—and sometimes even coax a rare smile out of him.
But today’s dinner felt like a funeral. A silent mourning for someone who had no media experience and had foolishly smiled and nodded his way into scandal.
Qin Yancheng put down his spoon and said slowly, “I saw the video.”
Shi Zhou’s hand trembled, and a chunk of braised pork fell back into his bowl.
Trying to act cool, he replied, “Ah, you’re pretty well-informed...”
There was a brand-new phone identical to Qin Yancheng’s on the table. Shi Zhou had hoped he was the kind of boring guy who didn’t read gossip or Weibo—figured he’d at least be delayed in hearing the news.
Qin Yancheng saw right through him and asked, exasperated, “Do you think I just stare into space when I’m not working?”
While he usually stuck to current affairs, ever since this little whirlwind from the entertainment industry entered his life, he’d occasionally check up on his antics online. Just to see if he’d gotten himself into more trouble.
Unlike Qin Yancheng, who took the whole thing with detached amusement, his fans were already exploding:
[What the hell! Shi Zhou really has some nerve. Latching onto someone else’s popularity without shame.]
[This is like someone loudly claiming to be the hunter in Werewolf—just stupid and doomed. Waiting for karma.]
[I bet he’ll be groveling in an apology within two days.]
[That’s not enough—I bet President Qin will kick this shameless loser out of the industry.]
Shi Zhou gave a dry “oh,” waiting for Qin Yancheng’s reaction. But the man seemed to have nothing more to say.
After a long silence, Shi Zhou could only lower his head and admit fault. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have nodded. I swear I wasn’t trying to use you for clout… I’ll post a clarification after dinner. I’m sorry.”
He knew full well that if he clarified now, after gaining attention, it would only look worse—like he intentionally stirred hype and then tried to backtrack. Not only would Qin Yancheng’s fans mock him mercilessly, but even his own tiny fanbase—those who’d defended him—would feel betrayed. A betrayal like that? It would be devastating.
Shi Zhou had few fans to begin with, and his public image was already bad. This incident would just make things worse.
Still, he had to take responsibility for his actions. He had a mental draft of the apology post ready, and planned to run it by his cheap manager before posting.
Then Qin Yancheng tapped his finger on the marble table, recalling how Shi Zhou had cared for him the day before. After a pause, he said, “Don’t make that mistake again. But today, you didn’t confirm anything directly—no need to clarify. Just let it cool down.”
Shi Zhou blinked. He hadn’t expected Qin Yancheng to be so... understanding. Immediately, he perked up. “Awesome! Qin sir, you’re so generous! Should I pledge my undying love to repay you?”
He was used to cracking flirty jokes, so the words just slipped out. But then he remembered—wait, the smut fanfic thing hasn’t been resolved yet! Why hasn’t Qin Yancheng brought it up? Did he accept it? Or was he so sick yesterday that he forgot?
If he forgot, great! That night, Shi Zhou continued typing away on his “masterpiece.” The few chapters he’d posted last night unexpectedly drew in a crowd of excited readers. His bold move at the press conference had only grown the “ChengZhou ship” fandom, who now had enough confidence to fight off anyone who doubted them.
Seeing the joyful reactions, Shi Zhou sincerely appreciated Qin Yancheng’s tolerance. If he’d posted a clarification now, things would’ve turned ugly real quick.
His comments were flooded with flowers and requests for updates. He posted another few thousand words, then checked his DMs—someone called him “Airship Madam” and asked if he’d write an ABO version of the story for extra spice.
ABO? That was unfamiliar territory. Curious, Shi Zhou checked out the infamous “Flower Market” website everyone mentioned. After skimming a few chapters, he was confused, so he researched more thoroughly.
Suddenly, everything clicked: Damn. People really know how to play these days! Such vivid imagination!
Inspired, he dashed out 2–3k words, getting more and more excited as he wrote. Eventually, he closed his laptop and glanced at his phone’s calendar—only a week left until Qin Yancheng’s birthday.
The supposedly big deal reality show he’d signed up for started three days after the birthday—just enough time. Since he owed Qin Yancheng a mountain of favors, Shi Zhou decided to throw him a big birthday celebration. After all, Aunt Zhang said Qin Yancheng never celebrated his birthday. Probably thought it was boring and hated the empty flattery that came with parties.
Shi Zhou slapped his chest and vowed: This young master will show him what real birthday joy looks like!
He had a week to plan, but the question of what gift to give was already tricky.
Qin Yancheng was too rich. Anything expensive would seem average to him. And Shi Zhou, though he’d picked up some ad gigs recently, was still broke after basic expenses. His star status was still too low, and he couldn’t afford luxury.
After pondering a bit, he decided to turn to the internet for help.
—@RunawayAirship:
[If I want to give someone a birthday gift, what should I give?]
He added some basic context: [Male, turning 27 soon, I don’t know what his hobbies are either.]
Responses came quickly:
[Omg! Is it your boyfriend, Airship Madam?]
[If you can’t think of anything, conquer him with money—just buy something expensive. At least it shows your attitude.]
[+1, agree with the one above.]
[+1, me too.]
[Go big—five figures minimum. He’ll love it no matter what.]
[Even better if it’s six figures.]
Shi Zhou added more context:
—@RunawayAirship:
[He’s super rich. I can’t conquer him with money.]
[Besides work, he has no hobbies. Personality is super boring.]
[Only guess is maybe he likes sports cars. His garage is full. But I can’t afford that either.]
After posting, the thread went quiet for a moment.
Then someone cautiously said:
[Wait, this sounds...familiar.]
[Yeah…]
[27, filthy rich, cold personality…]
[Even I, a casual lurker, know who this is. Isn’t that Qin Yancheng?!]
Shi Zhou: ………?
Time from “posting” to “being exposed”: less than ten minutes? What??
As more people connected the dots, Shi Zhou panicked. Crap, crap! This throwaway question might’ve accidentally exposed that someone’s living in Qin Yancheng’s house?!
Luckily, when people clicked on his profile and saw him posting ChengZhou fanfiction, they redirected:
[Ohhh, the OP writes ship fics. Got it. This is just for inspiration, huh?]
[So the real question is: “What birthday gift should Zhouzhou give President Qin that’s the sweetest and spiciest?”]
[Nice question! I’m following your fic, Airship Madam! Let’s brainstorm together!]
However, the comments quickly devolved:
[I suggest a box of condoms—gift-wrapped with a soft, sweet Zhouzhou inside.]
[Or book a kinky hotel for three whole days and nights.]
[Yes! A deluxe adult toy bundle!]
Shi Zhou’s mouth twitched. He quickly replied. “I’m being serious here!” But he couldn’t blame them—they were just like him. Smut writers attracting smutty readers.
After much chaotic debate, Shi Zhou eliminated gifts like watches, ties, and cufflinks, and filtered out all the raunchy options. Eventually, his eyes landed on one suggestion: “Bake a cake yourself.”
He smacked his forehead. That’s it! Sure, anyone else would say that with Shi Zhou’s cooking skills, the best-case scenario would be “not burning the house down.” The worst? Poisoning Qin Yancheng. But Shi Zhou was confident! With a good scale, timer, and a step-by-step guide, how could a genius like him fail?
Once he announced “cake” was the winner, the netizens got hyped again:
[Put something special in the cake, wink wink~]
[Yes! Drug the cake! Let’s go, Madam! Pen to paper!]
[Totally agree. A cake full of “love”!]
Shi Zhou tilted his head, staring at the screen, thinking: In real life, it’ll be a normal cake... but in the fic? Definitely adding that in. Spicy plot unlocked!
.
.
.
AN: Baby, go wild. If your identity ever gets revealed, everyone might just assume those fics were autobiographical~