Sickly Bigshot CH 29 Pretending To Be A Couple
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
A tingling sensation rose from the base of Shi Zhou’s neck, quickly transforming into an intense wave of heat that made his legs weak. Flustered and irritated at it, he shoved at Qin Yancheng. “Qin Yancheng, get up already!”
After the chaos, the two of them finally stood up. Qin Yancheng calmly got dressed while Shi Zhou went to change out of his wet clothes. The hospital room was thick with the kind of awkwardness that made the air feel heavy—but maybe Shi Zhou was the only one feeling it. Qin Yancheng remained his usual composed self.
Because of Qin Yancheng’s intense aversion to IV drips and medication, the doctors couldn’t even do routine rounds. Shi Zhou cleared his throat and said, “Hey, you need to dry your hair, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Qin Yancheng, busy typing on his phone, sent a final “Got it” to Xin Jing on WeChat before glancing up. “Your reality show’s been postponed. It’ll start tomorrow afternoon. If you still want to go, go.”
Shi Zhou blinked. “What? How could it be postponed?”
Artists’ schedules were always tight. It wasn’t like they could just move things around on a whim.
Yet within an hour, when Shi Zhou checked Weibo’s trending list, the tag #Real:ZeroDistancePostponedOneDay had actually made it to the top.
The official reason was a reshuffling of the shooting schedule due to new internal arrangements. The production team asked viewers to wait patiently and promised a surprise guest as compensation.
Seeing that it was real, Shi Zhou perked up instantly. He genuinely liked this reality show, especially its unique format and picturesque locations—mountains, oceans, and all.
As the name suggested, Real: Zero Distance was a live-streamed reality show where a central camera broadcasted everything in real-time, supplemented by individual cameramen following each participant. Viewers could pay to focus on whoever they liked.
Shi Zhou disliked the overly-scripted variety shows that required multiple takes and heavy editing. They felt fake and lifeless.
Livestreaming could backfire easily, but since Shi Zhou had no intention of faking a public persona from the start, it didn’t bother him to show his real self.
After a pause, he gave Qin Yancheng a suspicious glance. “You didn’t... pay to delay the show, did you?”
Qin Yancheng replied flatly, “Money wouldn’t help.”
Shi Zhou was finally reassured. Having an entire crew wait for him would’ve been mortifying.
Then again... maybe it was fate?
His good mood didn’t last long. While organizing some daily necessities Aunt Zhang had dropped off, Shi Zhou’s phone began vibrating wildly.
His heart sank—so many notifications like that at once were rarely good news.
Sure enough, when he opened Weibo, he found his name suddenly plastered all over the trending page. Unlike past gossip and baseless rumors, this time he was the main headline—complete with a set of malicious hot tags:
#SugarDaddyExposedForSurnamedSStarlet#
#NoTalentJustTradingFavorsAndSleepingUpward#
#ShiZhouAccompaniesQinYanchengToHospitalAtNight#
#ConfirmedSugarBaby:ShiZhouAndQinYanchengLivingTogether#
#SellingYourLooksToClimbTheLadder#
Shi Zhou’s heart fell like a rock. Flirty interactions and harmless rumors were one thing, but being caught sneaking into Qin Yancheng’s luxurious private estate at night? That was something else entirely.
—A disreputable, D-list celebrity, long rumored to have shady ties with Zheng Qi and accused of sleeping his way to the top, was actually spotted entering an ultra-luxury mansion district in the dead of night?
The first thought that crossed the minds of countless onlookers was: Shi Zhou is a kept man. And with the added fuel of hired trolls and sensationalist media, the situation quickly spiraled into chaos.
Shi Zhou watched as the crowd erupted into a frenzy, waves of mockery crashing over him—it was all so absurd, so sudden.
He knew the paparazzi had probably been tailing him for a while, but he’d always been careful: wearing masks and sunglasses, leaving through the underground garage. Even if there were stalkerazzi lurking, they shouldn’t have been able to identify him inside the car.
But when he zoomed in on the leaked photo, he realized the fatal slip-up had happened on that harrowing night when Qin Yancheng had his asthma attack. In that moment, he hadn’t been thinking about anything else.
The photo showed Shi Zhou in thin sleepwear, standing in front of a lavish villa under the cover of night, his face pale with panic as he followed paramedics into an ambulance.
Maybe the original cannon fodder had offended too many people. Or maybe this was simply his doomed fate—career destroyed, reputation shredded by slander, crushed under the weight of public condemnation.
Now, an army of trolls and gossip accounts swarmed in, turning it into another feast of scandal, steering the narrative toward filthy speculation about under-the-table deals and unspeakable relationships.
Shi Zhou’s fans were too few and too scattered to fight back. Even with the support of his shipper fans, their voices were drowned out by the flood of ridicule and doubt.
[Oh ho, no wonder he clings to Qin Yancheng for clout—turns out he’s just a spoiled sugar baby riding on his patron’s favor!]
[I’m disgusted. And he still dares to play the “self-made” card? More like “self-made” in bed, huh? Wasn’t he already cozy with the CEO of Qixing before this? How hardworking of him.]
[No parents to teach him basic decency, no wonder his character is trash.]
[No surprise he snubbed my idol on that show last time—acting like such a diva. My idol worked his way up step by step, unlike this whore who just climbs from one sugar daddy to another.]
[Zheng Qi’s looking real cuckolded right now, @ZhengQi, how can you take this? Wasn’t Shi Zhou your little pet before?]
[How does he even get these opportunities? He’s about to join Real: Zero Distance—with his level of fame? Who’s he sleeping with for that?]
[The only “masterpiece” he’s known for is his collection of scandals. What’s his best work? 108 Ways to Climb Into a Rich Man’s Bed?]
Qin Yancheng noticed Shi Zhou’s expression darken and asked, “What is it? Show me.”
Shi Zhou handed over his phone. Qin Yancheng skimmed through the storm of comments, his brow furrowing slightly—just as Li Cheng’s call came through, frantic, “Shi Zhou! Have you seen Weibo?!”
Shi Zhou took the phone back. “Yeah, just finished scrolling.”
“Jesus, this wave is too big—Qixing’s PR team can’t suppress it!”
Shi Zhou sighed. They couldn’t just brute-force away the trending topics either—that would only make them look guiltier, and trying to silence the backlash would only make it worse.
—Either he had a plausible explanation to dismantle the attacks, or he had to lie low and take the hits, letting it become a permanent stain on his career.
But what plausible explanation was there? Staying overnight at Qin Yancheng’s place, rushing to the hospital with him at midnight… Their social statuses were worlds apart—no one would buy them being “just friends.” And if they told the actual truth? “Oh, we just live together platonically, totally respectful and chaste”? Yeah, right.
Shi Zhou exhaled, shrugging. “Guess I’ll just lie low and wait for it to blow over.”
Li Cheng let out an exaggerated gasp. “What are you talking about? Aren’t you and Qin Yancheng dating? I called to discuss when to go public with the relationship! Dating and being a sugar baby are completely different things!”
If Qin Yancheng stepped forward and openly acknowledged them as equals in a real relationship, the narrative would flip instantly—from a sordid tale of exploitation to a fairytale romance between a young billionaire and a rising star.
Shi Zhou glanced at Qin Yancheng. “We’re not—”
The hospital room was quiet enough for Qin Yancheng to hear Li Cheng’s voice through the phone. He plucked the device from Shi Zhou’s hand and said coolly, “Tomorrow, at Yanjin Airport. I’ll address the media in person. Tell the press to be there.”
Then he hung up.
Shi Zhou stared at the ended call, stunned. “Wait—hold on, what are you clarifying? Did you not hear him? He wants you to admit we’re together!”
Qin Yancheng’s gaze was steady. “Do you want your career ruined? To be followed by those vile rumors forever?”
Shi Zhou was floored. Holy shit, is he really about to lie for me?
Before, when they’d accidentally been shipped as a couple or when Qin Yancheng had casually defended him on Weibo, it hadn’t been a big deal. But now? A billionaire at the top of the wealth rankings—a man with zero romantic scandals, who could overturn the industry with a flick of his wrist—was going to fake a relationship to save his crumbling reputation?
“You were caught by the paparazzi because of me,” Qin Yancheng said flatly. “I don’t care about gossip. Consider it repayment for saving my life.”
—Was it really just repayment?
There were a thousand ways to repay a debt. Qin Yancheng couldn’t tell if there was something else tangled in his motives—something he couldn’t yet name.
By the next day, Qin Yancheng’s complexion had improved, though he was still slightly pale.
When they boarded the plane, Shi Zhou had been struggling with his oversized luggage—until Qin Yancheng effortlessly lifted the massive suitcase one-handed, startling him into yelping, “Put that down!”
Only then did the bodyguards, belatedly realizing their oversight, rush forward to take everything.
Qin Yancheng recovered quickly. The sight of medical equipment made him nauseous anyway, and he’d refused further treatment, insisting on an early discharge.
"Tsk tsk tsk, this private jet of yours is something else—understated luxury with real class," Shi Zhou finally embarked on his reality show journey in high spirits, glancing around appreciatively. "But you could barely walk straight yesterday, Qin sir. I’m not joking—even the doctor said flying right now isn’t advisable."
"Yesterday, I—"
Qin Yancheng’s sentence trailed off.
Shi Zhou mentally filled in the blank: Yeah, yesterday was probably just you being disgusted by the hospital. He’d never seen someone vomit themselves into near-fainting just from getting a blood draw, an injection, or even a basic temperature check.
"Just how much do you hate hospitals? Did they owe you money or something? This is the first time I’ve heard of someone using sheer spite as motivation to recover faster—just to get discharged."
Qin Yancheng shot him a cool glance. Shi Zhou grinned, sticking out his tongue before diving back into Weibo, curious to see what fresh creative insults the internet trolls had cooked up.
Back in the day, Shi Zhou hadn’t fully grasped the destructive power of cyberbullying. He’d naively thought, just turn off your phone, unplug the internet—who cares what strangers say?
But now that the fire had burned him repeatedly, he realized:
Damn, even for someone as thick-skinned as me—the type to "walk my own path in someone else’s shoes and let them go barefoot"—I’d still love to crawl through the screen and strangle these foul-mouthed, unreasonable keyboard warriors.
A hand flashed into his view—Qin Yancheng’s slender fingers plucked the phone from his grip. "Stop looking."
"Tch, I’m genuinely amazed. These people probably look perfectly normal in real life, but online? Full metamorphosis into demons."
"That’s why they’re nobodies." Qin Yancheng slipped on his headphones and an eye mask.
A moment later, assuming Qin Yancheng was asleep, Shi Zhou slowly—painfully slowly—reached to retrieve his phone from the man’s lap.
Qin Yancheng’s icy voice cut through: "Xiao Ni, cut the WiFi."
Shi Zhou thumped his knee. "Fine, fine! Go to sleep already. If you feel unwell, tell me—don’t just tough it out silently."
An hour later, Qin Yancheng’s private jet touched down at Yanjin Airport. The leaked tip-off had worked—the terminal was swarmed.
For the first time, Shi Zhou experienced the chaos of a fan welcome. Stepping out flanked by bodyguards, he whistled under his breath at the spectacle. Damn, this is next-level.
Front and center: a sea of media, cameras flashing like strobe lights. Behind them, a roaring crowd—Shi Zhou’s fans, Qin Yancheng’s fans, and hordes of "ChengZhou" shipper devotees waving signs. The moment the pair appeared together, deafening screams erupted as fans strained on tiptoe to capture their first official candid shot together.
Bystanders gaped, asking which A-lister had arrived. They had never seen such a grand airport welcome by fans—if one didn't know better one would've thought a concert was taking place right there in the airport.
But the media’s focus wasn’t on Shi Zhou. The real headline? "Reclusive Billionaire Qin Yancheng—The Man Who Never Dates—Is Finally In Love!"
"President Qin! How do you respond to allegations of financially supporting Shi Zhou?"
"What’s the nature of your relationship?"
"Why the late-night hospital visit?"
"Are you accompanying Shi Zhou for his show filming?"
“President Qin…”
Bodyguards muscled through the scrum. Shi Zhou rolled his eyes. Wow, bold of you to ask these pointed questions right in front of the subject—y’know, me?!
Shi Zhou was almost enjoying the chaos—it was the kind of scene where everyone was shouting, yet no single voice could be clearly heard, only fragments of questions breaking through the noise.
But then a flicker of concern cut through his amusement. Qin Yancheng just got discharged, and now he’s being jostled around in this madness? Even a temple fair during peak season wouldn’t be this packed. If his notoriously delicate constitution gives out from all this—
He turned to check on Qin Yancheng, only to find the man as aloof as ever. Their eyes met briefly—then, without warning, Qin Yancheng laced their fingers together, pulling Shi Zhou into a firm, very convincing "couple's grip." Without a word, he strode through the crowd, the picture of protective intimacy, leaving the media scrambling in their wake.
Qin Yancheng’s palm was cool, his grip firm. Shi Zhou, seizing the chance to finally touch those coveted pianist fingers, dared to trace a teasing circle on his palm.
The shippers lost it. Screams hit glass-shattering decibels as signs waved frantically—their ship was sailing in real time.
Shi Zhou marveled inwardly. Qin Yancheng’s acting skills are unreal. This fake romance performance? Oscar-worthy. And the crowd control? Masterful.
The two were already standing close, but with the bodyguards and crowd jostling around them, Shi Zhou found himself nearly pressed flush against Qin Yancheng.
The crisp scent of snow pine and mint shampoo—Qin Yancheng’s signature fragrance—wrapped around Shi Zhou’s senses. He couldn’t help taking a deeper breath. Damn, this man is lethal. Even his scent is an outright seduction.
The reporters, unsatisfied with the lack of answers, doggedly pursued them, firing off questions nonstop.
It wasn’t until they reached the car that Qin Yancheng finally turned. In one fluid motion, he pulled Shi Zhou against his side, arm secure around his waist, and faced the clamoring crowd with icy detachment:
"Do I need to submit a relationship report for your approval—or should I start cutting you paychecks?"
The crowd fell dead silent for two full seconds. Even the camera flashes froze mid-burst—no one had seen this razor-edged retort coming.
After expecting nothing but his usual icy indifference, the media was wholly unprepared for Qin Yancheng’s directness.
Pressed against Qin Yancheng’s side, Shi Zhou bit down hard on his tongue to stifle explosive laughter. Since when did Qin Yancheng develop such killer comebacks? That was equal parts savage and deadpan—absolute gold.