Damn It! The Main Shou Turned Me Gay! (Showbiz) - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Possessiveness

“Qi-ge, what do you think about me?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Chu Zhiyu felt like his breath had stopped.

Even if he had asked it jokingly, deep down he needed to know—what place did he actually hold in Qi Wenyan’s heart?

Was he just a newcomer who kept causing trouble? A casual acquaintance? Maybe someone he could share a meal with?

Or…

“You’re talking nonsense again!”

His train of thought was shattered by Qi Wenyan’s exasperated voice. Chu Zhiyu snapped back to reality, his palms unknowingly damp with sweat.

But upright and proper as ever, Qi Wenyan didn’t give it a second thought.

He lifted his eyes and said matter-of-factly, “What kind of guy sends his own bros into battle? Xiao Chu, just focus on acting. I became friends with you because I like you as a person, not to use you. Be good.”

Chu Zhiyu was stunned for a second, then suddenly let out a soft chuckle.

Lifting his head, a genuine smile bloomed on his face as he softly repeated, “So… Qi-ge is saying we’re friends now?”

Qi Wenyan gave him a curious glance and replied proudly, “Of course we are! We’re practically bonded over food at this point!”

Friend. Close. Affectionate.

Chu Zhiyu licked the corner of his lips, eyes brimming with joy. Then he leaned over, playfully rubbing up against Qi Wenyan like a puppy.

“Thank you, Qi-ge. You’re the best!”

Qi Wenyan patted his shoulder affectionately.

Given everything the original protagonist had gone through in the novel, no wonder Xiao Chu was so clingy.

Qi Wenyan secretly made a decision: as long as he didn’t cross the line of just friends, he would take good care of poor little Chu.

Break time ended quickly, and Director Li picked up the megaphone to get everyone back to work.

Today’s shoot was a flashback scene between Master and Feng Xiao, so for once, Qi Wenyan wasn’t sitting with the script team—he was dressed in full costume, on set.

It was only May, but the sun was already blazingly hot, like midsummer. Without the shade or the iced mung bean soup, Qi Wenyan felt like he was melting under the sun like a popsicle.

He had anticipated today’s shoot and gone over the scenes thoroughly with Xiao Chu the day before. Together, they worked out emotional cues and substitutes for key beats, so thankfully, there were no repeat disasters like the promotional shoot.

“Nice! The emotion’s spot-on! Take ten—Camera A, let’s go again on Take 45!”

Director Li stared at the monitor, though he still felt like something was missing.

He thought for a moment, then looked at his male lead and head writer whispering to each other at the edge of the set. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his head!

He jumped up and strode into the scene area, practically shouting with excitement:

“Can we add a hug and a head pat at the end of the farewell? Qi-writer, you can help choreograph it—think it’ll work?”

Chu Zhiyu’s eyes lit up, and he gave a reserved little blink—clearly in favor but saying nothing.

Qi Wenyan, fanning himself wildly with a portable fan, was puzzled.

“Is there something wrong with the scene, Director?”

His costume was already stifling, and under the brutal sun, it felt more like sitting in a sauna fully clothed.

Director Li waved his hands around dramatically before finally managing a coherent explanation:

“We talked about the relationship between the Master and Feng Xiao during script readings, right? For Feng Xiao, Qingyuan Daoren is both a mentor and a friend—he introduced him to the path, guided him, and then disappeared at the height of his success.”

He grew more and more animated. “But what about from Qingyuan’s side? Facing death and saying goodbye to this young man he basically raised—who brought meaning and vitality to his long, quiet life—surely there’s more than reluctance? Maybe even… a kind of affection or attachment?”

Qi Wenyan gave a slow, impressed clap and sincerely remarked, “This… is the power of a straight man’s brain.”

He had noticed before while reading the original script—there was something low-key shippable about the male lead and his master. But he’d always brushed it off, thinking he was just reading into it.

Now, seeing Director Li arrive at the same conclusion unprompted?

Incredible.

Wait—no! He was a straight man too! He couldn’t just let himself be kicked out of that club!

After all, it was the original writer who was out—not him!

While Qi Wenyan was busy grappling with existential thoughts, Director Li was already deep in his artistic flow.

“Come on, come on—you two, let’s do a quick run-through while we’re on break. If it looks good, we’ll shoot it for real.”

Chu Zhiyu eagerly walked up to Qi Wenyan, lowering his gaze like a wet, abandoned puppy—utterly pitiful.

Qi Wenyan stood in the doorway of the wooden set house, script in one hand, awkwardly waving the other in the air like he didn’t know what to do.

Seeing this, Director Li marched over, grabbed that flailing hand, and plopped it straight onto Chu Zhiyu’s head.

The entire crew let out a collective “Awwww!”

Qi Wenyan flushed with embarrassment.

He cleared his throat and gave Chu Zhiyu’s head a hasty, light pat, as if it were burning hot.

Looking at his raised hand, Qi Wenyan tried to protest:

“Director Li, does it really make sense for a master to pat his disciple’s head when the disciple’s taller than him? Isn’t that kinda weird?”

Li waved it off. “Not at all! Xiao Lu—how does it look on camera?”

A voice shouted from across the set, “Very! Beautiful! Totally—perfect!”

The crew burst into amused chuckles.

Someone muttered “this ship is so good,” and got a round of quiet agreements.

Still oblivious, Director Li was hyped. “Qi-writer, you wrote the bond between Feng Xiao and Qingyuan so well—we have to show it on screen. Trust me, this touch adds so much!”

Qi Wenyan slowly closed his eyes and nodded in defeat.

Whatever. Let them ship it. If the drama explodes, he gets a bigger cut anyway.

Just as he accepted his fate, someone tugged on his sleeve. Qi Wenyan looked up and found Chu Zhiyu giving him a cautious glance.

In a quiet voice, Chu said, “Don’t worry, Qi-ge. I’ll crouch down a little during the scene. The camera’s only gonna show our upper bodies anyway.”

Qi Wenyan laughed and shook his head. “Nah, no need. Qi-ge isn’t that petty.”

He was a whole 180cm, thank you very much! Just so happened that the kid was still growing!

Seeing that Qi Wenyan didn’t seem upset, Chu Zhiyu asked in a softer voice:

“Then… should Master try a hug too?”

Qi Wenyan gulped.

The jokey vibe from earlier had vanished, and the awkwardness crept back in.

Chu Zhiyu coaxed gently, “We could use this time to try out the blocking. Let Director Li help us find the best framing.”

Perfectly reasonable. Logically sound.

Qi Wenyan cursed himself internally. Get a grip, it’s just a bro hug! Why are you being weird about this?!

He forced himself to stop glancing away and, like a soldier marching into battle, opened his arms.

“Come on, then!”

Before Chu Zhiyu could even move, Director Li interjected, “Hey hey hey—Qingyuan, don’t be so stiff! This is a farewell embrace, like a kiss goodbye between lovers. Not like you’re hugging your mortal enemy!”

Qi Wenyan was scandalized. “How is that even comparable?!”

Li replied, “Love, friendship, family… at the core, they’re all intense emotions. The differences aren’t that big.”

Chu Zhiyu quoted one of Qi Wenyan’s own lines softly, “Isn’t that what you wrote in the script?”

His voice was unexpectedly gentle. And beautiful.

The moment he spoke, Qi Wenyan’s overly anxious heart began to calm down.

Relaxing his shoulders, he took a tentative step forward—then suddenly reached out and hugged Chu Zhiyu.

Chu froze.

Qi Wenyan gently patted his back. Then, feeling like he could go a bit further, he stretched a little and patted the back of Chu Zhiyu’s head.

He could feel Chu’s breath against his ear. Awkward, he flinched slightly and turned to Director Li.

“Like this?”

Li grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “That’s the one! Look—Chu’s ears are turning red!”

Qi Wenyan: “!!”

He instinctively tried to pull back—but realized a beat too late…

Chu Zhiyu was hugging him back. Tightly.

Luckily, Director Li stepped in again with a laugh. “Chu’s a college sophomore, right? So handsome, and still never dated? And now you’re blushing from hugging Qi-writer?”

What the hell!

Two guys hugging—what’s the big deal? Did he think Qi Wenyan was a girl in disguise?!

With a blank expression, Qi Wenyan stomped on Chu Zhiyu’s foot to finally wriggle free.

Chu slowly let go, eyes still on Qi Wenyan even as he answered Director Li:

“No, I’ve never… My family situation was complicated. I never had time to think about things like dating.”

That hit Qi Wenyan right in the heart.

Poor baby protagonist—why else would he be “too busy,” if not because of a tragic backstory and creepy older men?

Once again, Qi-writer’s imagination took off, picturing a pitiful childhood.

He flung an arm around Chu Zhiyu’s shoulders and proudly declared, “With looks like his? If he ever likes someone, they’d fall for him in seconds!”

Director Li was just about to agree when Chu Zhiyu whispered, “No…”

Qi Wenyan, standing right next to him, didn’t catch it. “Hmm? What did you say, Xiao Chu?”

Chu Zhiyu turned to look at him, eyes filled with warmth—tinged with something more complex: a quiet bitterness, and… possessiveness.

He smiled casually and said:

“I’m really not as great as Qi-ge says. In front of the person I like, I always feel inferior… like I don’t deserve to bask in the light that only he gives. But I still can’t bear to watch him smile at anyone else.”