Mad Dog

Maybe acting is one of those things that starts off feeling awkward and stiff, but eventually, before you even realize it, you start to find joy in it.
All the way back to the lounge, Zhi Qi couldn’t stop smiling.
Seeing her so happy, Jiang Qi’s expression softened as he gently held her in his arms and asked softly, “Do you enjoy acting?”
Zhi Qi was so cheerful, perhaps she had developed a bit of interest in acting?
“No, I don’t.”
Surprisingly, without a moment’s hesitation, the girl shook her head and firmly said, “I don’t know how to act at all, and saying those lines in front of the camera… It was so embarrassing.”
If it hadn’t been for Jiang Qi’s presence beside her, Zhi Qi was certain she would never have overcome her sense of shame.
Jiang Qi was taken aback: “I thought you were enjoying it.”
After all, Zhi Qi had been smiling the whole time.
Zhi Qi spoke honestly, “If I had to act on my own, I wouldn’t be able to do it no matter what.”
She could clearly recall the moment her veil was removed, when the camera zoomed in for a close-up of her. Her entire body stiffened, down to her very hair.
Luckily, Jiang Qi was right next to her, calming her down.
But the feeling made Zhi Qi deeply realize that acting is not something everyone can handle.
Thinking about this, she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around Jiang Qi’s, tilting her head up slightly to look at him with admiration: “I’ve realized you’re amazing.”
Jiang Qi was caught off guard by her sudden compliment.
The boy blinked in surprise, smiling shyly for once: “What is it?”
“Acting—being able to stand in front of the camera and find the right emotions with so many people around isn’t something just anyone can do.”
Having experienced it firsthand, Zhi Qi marveled sincerely, “I don’t ever want to act again.”
Jiang Qi chuckled softly.
He had been smiling more lately, no longer the “boy who never smiles” the media had portrayed. Zhi Qi noticed this and smiled even more brightly, her eyes curving in satisfaction.
As a guest cameo, Zhi Qi’s part was over, and she gratefully retreated to change out of her costume. Jiang Qi, however, still had several scenes left to shoot. After dropping her off at the makeup room, he quickly returned to the set.
Zhi Qi obediently let the makeup artist remove her makeup, then carefully took off the cumbersome, ornate costume and changed back into her own dress. By the time she finished, she had worked up a thin layer of sweat.
Shooting a historical drama was truly exhausting. With the intricate layers of gauzy skirts wrapped around her in the summer heat, it was a hassle whether putting them on or taking them off. She imagined Jiang Qi’s general’s costume must be even hotter.
As she quickly rinsed off in the makeshift shower set up behind the set, Zhi Qi couldn’t help but think sympathetically.
After her shower, she came out, towel-drying her wet hair, and saw Ji Liang sitting in the makeup room. Ji Liang’s long, bare legs were crossed as she scrolled through her phone, her long, polished nails clearly making it a bit cumbersome, but every movement she made had an effortless grace.
Zhi Qi froze for a moment. “Sister Liang?”
“Mhm.”
Ji Liang looked up at the sound of her voice and playfully blinked at Zhi Qi, her tone mischievous as she asked, “How did the filming go?”
“Don’t ask.”
Zhi Qi sat down next to her, still drying her hair.
She was naturally a likable person, and after a few days on set, she had grown quite close with Ji Liang. Now, feeling a bit embarrassed, she muttered in a small voice, “I was so nervous.”
“Nervous? I thought you did great.”
It was clear Ji Liang had joined in the fun and watched the scene earlier. She laughed and added, “Our little Zhi was so beautiful that Jiang Qi couldn’t help but kiss her on set. Do you think that might make the trending topics?”
As she spoke, Ji Liang handed her phone over to Zhi Qi.
There, in large text on a trending topic: **Jiang Qi’s Kissing Scene Leaked**.
This kind of news was always exciting for Jiang Qi’s fans, and within an hour, the post had garnered over a hundred million views. The leaked photos weren’t all that clear, with some parts obscured, but it was still obvious that they were from the scene they had just filmed.
On the bed in the tent.
A tall man pressed down on a petite woman dressed in a green gown, his hand gripping her chin as he kissed her intimately.
The girl’s face wasn’t visible, but the man’s half-revealed profile, with its sharp features, was unmistakably Jiang Qi. There was no one else it could be.
Just two hours after they finished filming, this scene had been “leaked” onto trending social media. It was clear that the production team had done this deliberately as a marketing tactic.
Zhi Qi felt a mix of speechlessness and embarrassment. She instinctively scrolled through the thousands of comments under the post, most of which were from fans screaming in excitement:
[==: OMG?! AAAAAAAHHHHH Jiang Qi actually filmed a kissing scene?!
!!!
!!!]
[==: I can’t believe this! I thought I’d never live to see the day!]
[==: Wait, isn’t Jiang Qi supposed to never do romantic scenes? How come he’s suddenly filming kiss scenes now?]
[==: Confused… Is his ‘devoted husband’ image falling apart?]
[==: Wow, Jiang Qi’s haters are really something. Is filming a kiss scene enough to ruin his image? Newsflash: the Qing dynasty fell long ago.]
[==: Haters gonna hate. They’re always like rabid dogs, sniffing for trouble. Don’t mind them.]
[==: Lol, fans are so funny. Isn’t the ‘devoted husband’ image something he built up himself? It’s not like the internet forced him to sell that image.]
[==: Exactly, a married actor shouldn’t be stirring up drama with kiss scenes. Ugh.]
[==: Lol, actors are different from other professions, aren’t they? Haters must be fuming right now. Looks like today’s another day to cry for Jiang Qi’s haters. Haha.]
[==: Forget the drama—just look at these photos! So beautiful, there’s definitely chemistry…]
—
As soon as the leaked photos hit the internet, a debate erupted, with people saying all sorts of things.
Zhi Qi frowned as she skimmed through the comments for a while, then quietly turned off her phone.
Honestly, she had grown accustomed to this over the past two years.
Jiang Qi seemed to be naturally prone to drama. No matter what he did—or didn’t do—he was constantly the subject of endless discussion and scrutiny.
He rarely spoke up, but whenever he did, whether in interviews or on social media, even a single punctuation mark in his words would be dissected and analyzed to the point of exhaustion.
Maybe this was the “top star” treatment?
Zhi Qi didn’t quite understand it, but she remembered how, a few months ago, at an awards ceremony, Jiang Qi’s acceptance speech had shocked both the industry and the public. For a brief moment, it seemed like everyone’s emotions were drawn into his narrative as a “victim of a dysfunctional family.” Sympathy for him surged.
Those few days were perhaps the only time Jiang Qi had been treated favorably in public opinion.
But human nature is fickle.
Once the wave of sentiment passed, the public returned to their usual skeptical stance, questioning everything.
For example, people began to dig into Jiang Qi’s family background, wondering whether his claims of a gloomy upbringing were true, and whether he was merely putting on a show…
But Jiang Qi had never paid attention to any of it.
After winning the Sheng Yu Award, he had a brief break. During that time, at Zhi Qi’s suggestion, he invested in a website.
A website where “victims of dysfunctional families” could register and seek help.
Once the site was launched, many of the celebrities Jiang Qi had worked with reposted about it on social media, contributing donations.
Shen Lei and Qu Heng, both wealthy, donated seven-figure sums. As the main investor, Jiang Qi had contributed even more, thanks to his rising fame and financial success.
The website, in essence, was a platform where the wealthy could support those in need.
As Jiang Qi began to accept more projects to earn money, the website was managed by professionals. Zhi Qi, when she had time between her studies, would occasionally check on it. One day, she was astonished to find that an anonymous donor had given 500,000 yuan.
She was genuinely shocked.
The site had been receiving donations regularly from fans of Jiang Qi and well-meaning individuals, but no one had ever donated such a large sum all at once.
After some investigation, Zhi Qi discovered that the donor was her brother.
…
No wonder.
Zhi Yu had always been the kind of person who liked to do good deeds without taking credit.
Because of this, Zhi Qi made a point of visiting his office.
When she arrived, her brother raised his eyebrows and lightly scolded her, “How long has it been since you last came to see me at work? Honestly, it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about me.”
Zhi Yu was starting to feel like his little sister was slipping away from him.
Feeling guilty, Zhi Qi wrinkled her nose and went over to massage his broad shoulders, trying to make amends.
“Brother, I’ve been busy with my internship lately.”
Now that she was in graduate school, Zhi Qi had started an internship, recommended by Jiang Yu. Although it wasn’t too busy day-to-day, it wasn’t exactly a leisurely time either. She pouted, “I didn’t mean to neglect you—why did you donate to ‘Xin Yuan’?”
“Xin Yuan” was the name of the website Jiang Qi had invested in to provide aid.
It had been running for a month now and had received quite a few calls for help. Some were genuine, others fake. Some were people in real need, while others were scammers.
There were always those who would exploit the system for personal gain.
After hearing Zhi Qi ramble on about the website, Zhi Yu frowned and said bluntly, “Then why not hand it over to professionals? You two can remain the investors behind the scenes.”
Zhi Qi blinked in surprise, “Professionals?”
“Exactly. Let the right people do the right job.”
Zhi Yu glanced her over, chuckling, “Are you a psychologist or an IT manager? Is this really something you should be handling?”
…
It was yet another day when Zhi Qi considered cutting ties with her brother.
But she knew Zhi Yu was right.
She had her studies and work, and Jiang Qi was even busier. Even though they had the best intentions, they wouldn’t be able to manage the website long-term.
So Zhi Qi humbly asked for advice, “What kind of professionals should we hand it over to?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Zhi Yu didn’t bother explaining further.
But Zhi Qi smiled, knowing her brother was in the business of running internet ventures.
“I have a serious question for you.”
Before Zhi Qi could fully process his words, Zhi Yu asked, “When are you and Jiang Qi planning to have your wedding?”
Zhi Qi froze, “Wedding?”
She hadn’t thought about that at all.