The Ex's Tears Are So Hot - Chapter 1

“Why are you acting all noble?”

In the office, a bulky man with a greasy face slammed a contract down on the table.

“I’m not saying I won’t pay you. So what if the product doesn’t have certifications? That’s how all these health products are—so long as they don’t kill anyone, it’s fine. Why are you making such a fuss?”

Guan Jinnian didn’t flinch. He just quietly tightened his grip on his vibrating phone.

“I’m not taking the deal,” he said again, firm and unwavering.

The boss, realizing Jinnian wasn’t going to back down, changed his tactic and sneered.

“You have no clout, no team, and no fame. Who’s going to give you a legit endorsement? If it weren’t for Xiao Xie, this opportunity wouldn’t have come to you at all.”

The moment that name was mentioned, a flicker of emotion broke through Jinnian’s usually calm demeanor.

His phone buzzed again. Messages from the same person filled the screen.

[Xie Zhixin]: Why are you doing this all of a sudden? I don’t agree with the breakup.
[Xie Zhixin]: Did I do something wrong? Can’t we talk about it?
[Xie Zhixin]: Please don’t end it…

Jinnian glanced briefly, turned off the screen, and ignored them.

His boss kept rambling—praising Xie Zhixin, criticizing him, listing his shortcomings—but Jinnian tuned it all out.

Xie Zhixin… that was his boyfriend.

No—his ex now.

Just this morning, Jinnian ended their three-year relationship. Not face-to-face. Just a text message.

He knew it would look bad. Cold, even cruel. But he didn’t have the energy to deal with the aftermath. He couldn’t handle the emotional fallout. Not anymore.

“…So just listen to the company, stop being so difficult. I promise—”

“I’m terminating my contract,” Jinnian cut him off.

The boss froze for a second, then exploded.

“You think you can just walk away after everything we’ve done for you? Dream on!”

But Jinnian had anticipated this. Calmly, he pulled out his phone and opened a video—footage from a club, showing the boss involved in shady dealings with escorts. Something Jinnian had caught on camera while doing part-time work to prep for a role.

That moment of coincidence had now become his leverage.

“Unless you want this video all over the internet, I suggest you sign the termination papers.”

The boss was livid, pointing and stammering in disbelief. But in the end, he had no choice but to sign.

Jinnian took the papers and walked out without looking back.

As he exited the building, his phone rang again. He almost instinctively thought it was Xie Zhixin—until he remembered he’d blocked the number.

It was his mom.

“Hi, Mom,” he answered.

“Jinnian, are you busy? I won’t take much of your time.”

Her voice was worn, a bit hoarse.

“This year’s been hard, son. The persimmons we dried aren’t selling. The villagers are all counting on our little factory. Your uncles can’t even pay for school fees anymore…”

“You’re a star now, right? Could you help promote them?”

Jinnian watched the traffic passing on the road in front of him.

“Mom… I haven’t made it. I can’t really help sell anything.”

There was a long silence.

“…Then come home, son. That live streaming thing young people do now—we want to try, but we’re too old to understand how it works. Come help us.”

Jinnian stared down at the cracks between the tiles, weeds poking through. The November breeze was biting.

“I was planning to. I already booked a flight for this afternoon.”

His mother’s voice lit up with relief. “Great! I’ll get your room cleaned up. When you’re back, we’ll figure it out together.”

They chatted a bit more before hanging up.

Jinnian leaned back against the bus stop sign and opened a short video app. After scrolling for a while, an idea began to form.

Maybe he could try self-media. If he could grow a following, maybe he could help his hometown sell their produce online.

He saw a popular account doing traditional sugar-making videos. The view counts were impressive. He remembered he still had a few ancient costumes from past shoots…

Yes. That might work.

With a rough plan in mind, the anxiety in his chest began to loosen.

He returned to the company and asked the logistics department to open the utility room. He began rummaging through shelves for his costume box.

While crouched down, he heard footsteps outside. He didn’t pay much attention—until they stopped at the door.

“Well, well, look who we have here. Teacher Guan. Going into cleaning now?”

The mocking voice was unmistakable.

Still squatting, Jinnian looked up—only to see a smug figure in expensive clothes, the same brooch Xie Zhixin had endorsed pinned to his chest.

Wu Zhaoyan.

Jinnian’s heart dropped.

“Just kidding,” Wu Zhaoyan smiled lazily. “I’m here to sign the contract today.”

He lifted his wrist, flaunting a luxury watch—the same one Xie Zhixin wore at his birthday party.

“You probably already know, Xie and I are working as an on-screen couple. Don’t take it personally—it’s all business, you know?”

Jinnian didn’t respond. He simply stared.

But Wu Zhaoyan wasn’t done. He kept chattering, words laced with feigned innocence and real malice.

“Have you talked to him recently? He’s been swamped with that new show. I barely get to see him myself…”

His tone was casual, but the message was clear: He’s with me now.

Jinnian remained silent. No expression. Just stillness.

The lack of reaction only made Wu Zhaoyan more agitated. His voice sharpened.

“Let’s be honest, those short dramas you did before were… embarrassing. Not exactly what anyone wants dragging down a rising star.”

That struck a nerve.

Jinnian stood, picked up his box, and tried to leave. But Wu Zhaoyan blocked him with a rolled-up script.

“You don’t have to be so cold. I’m talking to you nicely, aren’t I? Heard you’re only getting bottom-tier health product deals now—well, fits your aesthetic. Appeals to old folks.”

It was a jab at Jinnian’s mild, gentle appearance—good-looking, but not the type to set hearts racing.

He had no defense against that. It was the truth. His popularity was lukewarm at best.

Still, he said nothing.

Wu Zhaoyan, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice, went on.

“I really don’t get what Xie saw in you. Your videos barely got any traffic. You didn’t help his career at all.”

He sneered and lightly tapped Jinnian’s face with the script. “Just be careful—if you stop being useful, don’t be surprised if he throws you away.”

Smack.

Jinnian slapped his hand away and stared him down.

“At least I earned every opportunity I had,” he said coldly. “Can you say the same? You’ve been cozying up to quite a few ‘investors,’ haven’t you?”

That shut Wu Zhaoyan up.

He lunged forward, trying to grab Jinnian’s collar, but Jinnian easily sidestepped.

“I was joking too,” he said with a smile, then walked away without looking back.

The moment he stepped into the stairwell, he closed the door behind him.

The box fell from his hands.

Jinnian slid down the wall and curled up on the floor, burying his face in his arms.

His chest felt tight. His fingertips trembled.

He stayed like that for a while.

Then, a notification buzzed on his phone.

Your flight departs in three hours. Please arrive early…

It was a travel alert—one he had set a long time ago. Xie Zhixin always ran late, and Jinnian used to remind him. It had become a habit.

He turned it off.

Took a long, deep breath.

Picked up his things.

And left.

He hailed a cab, returned to the dormitory, and packed. There wasn’t much—he had moved in with Xie Zhixin after he got popular, so this place was mostly unused.

He mailed back some props and filming gear he’d bought with his own money, then left for the airport with one small suitcase.

After checking in, he sat in the departure lounge and put on headphones. He opened the app again, researching self-media strategies.

Suddenly, a Weibo notification flashed:

[@EntertainmentFrontline]: Rumor has it that rising star Xie Zhixin is the final guest on the popular show “Seaside Stories.” Thoughts?

The name hovered on the screen.

Jinnian closed the pop-up without reading further.

The announcement for his flight echoed overhead.

He stood, pushed his suitcase forward, and headed for the gate—without looking back.