LOI Chapter 09 — Yan Zhi's Work

The first ferry back to the mainland departed at eight in the morning.

The ticket hall was sparsely populated with islanders and yawning photography crew members. While the scene appeared unremarkable, anyone glancing towards the corner would find it odd to see a fully disguised individual sitting there.

The person wore sunglasses, a mask, and a baseball cap, concealing their face entirely. Initially, the crew members quietly speculated whether it might be a celebrity, but lacking any leads, they soon abandoned the idea.

Rong Ke knew it was Jiang Si, likely rushing back to the film set.

Pretending not to notice, he sat with Yan Zhi near the front, scrolling through Weibo while waiting for the return ferry.

The ticket hall’s seating consisted of rows of plastic chairs reminiscent of old train stations. The seats were narrow, forcing the two tall men to sit close, their shoulders and knees inevitably touching.

From the corner behind, they appeared intimately close.

Rong Ke’s Weibo kept receiving new private messages.

[Jiang Si: Stay away from him!!!!]
[Jiang Si: If your goal was to anger me, congratulations, you’ve succeeded]

Rong Ke and Jiang Si were mutual followers, so Rong Ke couldn’t block Jiang Si’s messages.

If he were to block Jiang Si, it would appear as a one-sided unfollow, which would surely attract the attention of gossip accounts.

Jiang Si, seemingly aware of this, sent messages to Rong Ke without restraint.

[Jiang Si: Who does he think he is, meddling in our affairs]
[Jiang Si: Don’t tell me you’ve had feelings for him since Fashion Week]
[Jiang Si: Even with Yan Zhi backing you, so what? He’s in fashion, are you planning to become a model?]
[Jiang Si: I’ll only become more famous. You’ll regret this]

Rong Ke was originally in a bad mood when they broke up, but now, watching Jiang Si’s incoherent ranting in private messages, he felt nothing.

With a bland expression, he looked at his phone and asked Yan Zhi beside him, “Has anyone ever complimented your figure?”

“Hmm?” Yan Zhi looked up from his camera where he’d been reviewing photos. “Many have.”

“Add me to that list.”

Rong Ke unhurriedly replied to the private message: [Your proportions are really messed up¹.]

As soon as the message was sent, a loud “bang” came from behind. Everyone, including Yan Zhi, turned to look.

Rong Ke didn’t need to look to know Jiang Si had kicked the trash can.

He turned off message notifications, no longer bothering to check his private messages.

Yan Zhi naturally knew who that person was. He glanced over briefly before turning to Rong Ke and saying, “I’m waiting.”

Rong Ke put away his phone, not following. “Waiting for what?”

“For you to compliment my figure,” Yan Zhi said.

Rong Ke: “…”

He just said it casually, intending to give Jiang Si some self-awareness, not genuinely planning to flatter Yan Zhi.

Realizing Yan Zhi took it seriously, and knowing he had initiated this, Rong Ke conceded, “You have a great figure.”

Yan Zhi raised an eyebrow, unsatisfied. “That’s it?”

“What else?” Rong Ke asked.

He deliberately used the word “great,” which was better than just “good,” and felt he had already put in effort.

However, Yan Zhi was as strict as a professor. “Specify what’s great about it.”

Rong Ke sighed helplessly and said, “You must have a nine-head body proportion. You look exceptionally tall and slender. Your muscle lines are fluid, especially the shape of your abs, which is attractive. Your legs are straight, with tightly defined calf muscles, like a manga character.”

Having said this in one breath, the “Professor Yan” beside him nodded, looking quite satisfied. “You’ve observed very carefully.”

Seeing that he had pleased him, Rong Ke relaxed. He was about to resume scrolling Weibo to pass the time when Yan Zhi suddenly handed over his phone. “What do you think of these photos?”

Yan Zhi selected nine photos taken on the ferry yesterday. Some were casual, others tense, some focused, others relaxed. Each photo captured Rong Ke’s gaze with a story behind it.

He seemed to have only slightly adjusted the curves and set a vintage-like tone. Even as raw images, they met the standard of professional shots.

“They’re good,” Rong Ke said.

“Post them on Weibo,” Yan Zhi took back his phone and sent the nine images to Rong Ke.

Rong Ke didn’t move. “No need, I barely have any active followers.”

“How can you get active followers if you don’t engage?” Yan Zhi asked.

Rong Ke didn’t feel the need to engage and remained still. Yan Zhi then extended his hand. “Give me your phone.”

This scene had occurred before, but with Yan Zhi handing his phone to Rong Ke.

From a reciprocal perspective, refusing would seem petty. Plus, Rong Ke knew Yan Zhi only wanted to post on Weibo, so he handed over his phone, just cautioning, “Don’t write any nonsensical captions.”

“I won’t,” Yan Zhi opened Rong Ke’s Weibo, uploaded the nine photos, and added an extremely brief text.

[@Yan Zhi’s work, please enjoy.]

Rong Ke had been watching Yan Zhi type, ready to take back his phone if things went awry.

But Yan Zhi typed so quickly that by the time Rong Ke wanted to intervene, it was too late.

He watched helplessly as the Weibo post went out, nearly choking. “If you wanted to post your work, couldn’t you use your own Weibo?”

And “enjoy”? Who the hell posts their own photos for others to “enjoy”?

“Of course I’ll post on mine too,” Yan Zhi returned the phone to Rong Ke, opened his own Weibo, reposted, and added: This face sparks my desire to create.

Another moment of utter dismay.

Rong Ke now deeply regretted giving Yan Zhi access to his Weibo and following each other.

The notifications began to increase frantically.

[Gorgeous baby so beautiful [loyal fan]]
[Our unknown idol is finally discovered, I’m so happy [loyal fan]]

At first, comments came from Rong Ke’s few active fans, but gradually, a flood of curious onlookers swarmed in.

[Wow, I see why YZ likes him, even I can’t resist this beauty]
[Honestly, his fashion sense is really good]
[So MQ’s selection criteria is now based on real talent? Kinda excited]
[But isn’t his experience still lacking? Where does this put previous cover models?]

Many discussed the photos normally, but the comment section gradually derailed.

[This face sparks my desire to lick my screen]
[This face sparks my desire to download]
[This face sparks my desire to drool]
[This face sparks my desire to rewatch “Inferno Case”]

…

Everyone copied Yan Zhi’s sentence structure. Checking Yan Zhi’s comment section, the trend of using the same structure was even more prevalent.

Rong Ke took a deep breath, wishing for a moment of peace.

Unlike Rong Ke, Yan Zhi scrolled his phone with interest. “This even made it to the hot search?”

Rong Ke opened the trending list and saw #Desire To Create# prominently displayed on the entertainment page, with an upward trend.

Meanwhile, another trending topic quietly rose: Jiang Si cancels like.

Checking it, it wasn’t a big deal. Jiang Si had liked Rong Ke’s Weibo post, then unliked it, only to like it again shortly after.

When mutual friends like a post, their avatar appears in the bottom right corner. Rong Ke returned to that Weibo post and saw Jiang Si’s avatar there.

Many speculated that Jiang Si’s unlike was accidental, but Rong Ke knew the like was the accident.

He must have liked it and immediately unliked it, but realizing netizens could uncover his previous like, he reluctantly liked it again.

The unread messages in his private inbox kept growing, but Rong Ke couldn’t be bothered to look. His comments and likes were skyrocketing, making Jiang Si’s rants seem insignificant in comparison.

“What does this mean?” Yan Zhi held his phone in front of Rong Ke, showing a new term repeatedly flooding the comment section –

They already had a CP name.

Rong Ke rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “It means we’ll both live to a ripe old age.”