I Became the Koi Actor After Entering the Book

**Chapter 60: A Thousand Miles of Yearning**

Translator: Namizaki

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Chi Zhongqiao felt his livestream had gone smoothly. As for the Lotus Root and Pork Rib Soup lacking lotus root…

Chi Zhongqiao was remarkably easygoing—who hasn’t forgotten something before?

After ending the stream, he bent down to sniff the pot. “Yuzhou, I think…”

The rest of his words were lost as Lu Yuzhou’s arms wrapped around his waist. Chi Zhongqiao leaned back, shifting most of his weight onto Lu Yuzhou.

Strangely, before their relationship was out in the open, Chi Zhongqiao had been the more restrained of the two, often acting as a silent guide, subtly steering Lu Yuzhou back on course. Yet after breaking through that barrier, even as Lu Yuzhou struggled to adjust, Chi Zhongqiao adapted to their new dynamic with remarkable ease.

Chi Zhongqiao pressed a kiss to the corner of Lu Yuzhou’s lips.

Lu Yuzhou lowered his gaze and kissed Chi Zhongqiao’s ear.

Feeling ticklish, Chi Zhongqiao recoiled slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Lu Yuzhou murmured softly, “Brother Qiao’s soup is done. Shouldn’t you show some appreciation?”

Chi Zhongqiao looked puzzled. “Appreciation for what?”

Lu Yuzhou softened his tone. “Brother Qiao knows exactly what I mean.”

He leaned in to kiss Chi Zhongqiao’s cheek, whispering, “Brother Qiao needs to pay his tuition.”

Du Yusheng had no idea what kind of news Chi Zhongqiao had stirred up. He was currently fretting over Chi Zhongqiao’s calligraphy as a selling point.

To be honest, among the many actors he managed, none could truly be considered masters of the four arts: qin (zither), qi (strategy games), shu (calligraphy), and hua (painting).

Du Yusheng rewound the progress bar again. On the screen, the restrained and profound characters “诲人不倦” (Tireless in Teaching) lay quietly on the paper. As the camera panned over Chi Zhongqiao, his expression remained calm, showing neither arrogance nor forced humility.

When praised by the other Teachers, he simply set down his brush, a faint smile playing on his lips, his demeanor even more refined and courteous.

Du Yusheng opened the trending topics on his computer. The hashtag #ChiZhongqiaoCalligraphy# had already surged to second place, just behind #FeiXi’sNewDramaMaleLeadCasting#.

When Du Yusheng saw the top trending topic, his expression turned cold. “Trash-talking to ride the hype—it’s standard fare in the entertainment industry,” he thought. “But to assume Chi Zhongqiao’s lower status means Fei Xi shouldn’t piggyback on his fame is a mistake. Fei Xi has used several male stars as stepping stones—that’s quite amusing.”

Poor Li Jinghong got dragged into Fei Xi’s mess too.

Du Yusheng clasped his hands together, suddenly losing interest in further promotion.

A Young Master who writes with such elegance inherently possesses the dignity of a scholar. Using calligraphy for hype feels inappropriate. Chi Zhongqiao wasn’t naturally flamboyant anyway. Better to leave him alone for now and give him a push at the right moment.

Isn’t this the perfect opportunity? Add a little fuel, let the fire burn itself out, and leave behind a pile of warm embers. That’s all we need.

Having made up his mind, Du Yusheng decided to check out Chi Zhongqiao’s livestream.

A few minutes later, Du Yusheng was in despair. “Is he trying to lose followers? Lotus Root and Pork Rib Soup… without lotus root?!”

Why not just livestream writing calligraphy? What’s with the soup?!

**********

After that, the filming of <The Secret to Getting Rich> proceeded smoothly, without any major incidents. The show’s incorporation of local traditional culture resonated strongly with older viewers, who often dominated the remote control. The Director’s cleverly designed challenges also injected plenty of humor, causing the show’s viewership on streaming platforms to steadily increase with each episode.

The Director was reasonably satisfied with the ratings and viewership. As time passed, the final episode of <The Secret to Getting Rich> was filmed.

The last episode was filmed in Chi Zhongqiao’s hometown. After filming wrapped, Lu Yuzhou called to say he had to go on a sudden business trip and wouldn’t be able to return immediately. Chi Zhongqiao immediately lost all interest in rushing back home.

He mumbled a listless acknowledgment, his head drooping.

Zhong Yin, who was driving, heard him speak and assumed he was hungry. He quickly asked, “Brother Qiao, what do you want to eat?”

When he didn’t get an answer after a moment, Zhong Yin glanced back and saw Chi Zhongqiao leaning against the car window, talking on the phone, his eyes brimming with laughter.

Whatever the person on the other end said made Chi Zhongqiao’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “You’re just trying to sweet-talk me,” he teased. “Two days? I don’t believe it.”

Zhong Yin found the tone odd. Is Brother Qiao in love? Is he really flirting with his girlfriend?

He waited about ten minutes before Chi Zhongqiao hung up. Zhong Yin asked again, “Brother Qiao, what do you want for lunch?”

Chi Zhongqiao thought for a moment and named a restaurant.

Zhong Yin nodded and pulled up the navigation app.

They followed the directions, initially noticing nothing amiss. The app consistently showed the route as correct. However, after several minutes, they began to veer further off course, the bustling cityscape gradually giving way to a more remote suburban area.

Chi Zhongqiao glanced around. “This route doesn’t seem right.”

The more excited Zhong Yin became, the more panicked he felt. He also suspected they were off course, and when Chi Zhongqiao confirmed it, he quickly pulled the car over.

Chi Zhongqiao checked the map. It showed they had circled back on their original route, while the navigation app still insisted they were taking the shortest path.

He looked around. The area was mostly residential, with a deserted supermarket across the street and hardly anyone on the streets.

Zhong Yin leaned out the window. “Brother Qiao, get back in the car quickly. It’s scorching out here.”

Chi Zhongqiao was about to get back in when he noticed a child sitting by a doorway, his skin flushed crimson under the blazing sun. Frowning, he told Zhong Yin, “Wait a moment.”

He walked over and crouched down in front of the boy. “It’s such a hot day. Why aren’t you home?”

The boy trembled in fear. “I… I live right behind here.”

Chi Zhongqiao looked up. The door behind the boy didn’t resemble a residential entrance; a sign reading “Virtue Education” hung above it, suggesting it might be a welfare home.

“Then why aren’t you going inside?” he asked.

The temperature was 36 degrees Celsius at midday, with the sun blazing overhead. The boy stood exposed in the scorching sunlight, with no shade whatsoever. Even an adult would struggle to endure such heat, let alone a child.

The boy remained silent, but his stomach let out a loud growl.

“Hungry?” Chi Zhongqiao asked. “Shall I ring the bell for you?” He considered taking the boy out for a meal, but knowing children this age should be wary of strangers, he decided against it.

The boy grabbed his sleeve urgently. “I’m not hungry!”

His stomach growled again immediately after.

Chi Zhongqiao chuckled, bent down to ruffle the boy’s hair, and then stood up to press the doorbell.

The boy’s face flushed crimson with panic, but his height only reached Chi Zhongqiao’s waist. No amount of jumping or tugging could stop Chi Zhongqiao’s hand.

The doorbell rang briefly before the door swung open. A woman startled at the sight of a masked face, eyed Chi Zhongqiao suspiciously for a few seconds, and finally asked, “Who are you?”

Chi Zhongqiao lowered his head. “Is this your child? I’ve seen him sitting outside for a while, his face is quite sunburned.”

The young woman, who looked to be in her early twenties and still a student, glanced down and exclaimed in surprise, “Fang Zhi! What are you doing here? The Dean and I have been looking for you everywhere!”

The boy lowered his head, his already flushed face turning even redder.

Chi Zhongqiao gently nudged him. “Aren’t you going inside?”

Fang Zhi mumbled something, refusing to budge.

The young woman quickly tugged his arm. “The Dean has already spoken to Kong Chi. It’s okay now, don’t be angry anymore.”

Fang Zhi’s eyes suddenly reddened. Chi Zhongqiao crouched down, pulled out a tissue, and wiped the boy’s face. Fang Zhi sniffled, and Chi Zhongqiao smiled. “Still angry?”

Though he didn’t know exactly what had happened, Chi Zhongqiao guessed Fang Zhi had probably had a fight with the other children at the orphanage and had run off in the middle of the day, refusing to go back. After a few patient words of coaxing, Fang Zhi finally took the young woman’s hand.

Chi Zhongqiao asked, “May I come in and take a look around?”

The young woman hesitated for a few seconds, her gaze sweeping over his hat and mask, as if suspecting him of being some kind of suspicious character. Her expression was clearly conflicted.

Chi Zhongqiao simply pulled down his mask and smiled. “It’s for work. I usually have to cover up quite thoroughly.”

The girl immediately covered her mouth, but a short, sharp scream still escaped. She recognized the face instantly, and realizing he wasn’t a suspicious person, she hurriedly invited Chi Zhongqiao inside.

“Could my assistant come in too?” Chi Zhongqiao asked.

The girl nodded. “Of course.”

Chi Zhongqiao texted Zhong Yin, asking him to bring all the items they’d bought from the car.

Zhong Yin huffed and puffed as he lugged the bags over. Chi Zhongqiao took half the load to help him, and they followed the girl into the orphanage, placing the supplies in a cabinet for donated goods.

The orphanage was small but well-maintained, with neat rows of buildings and a spotless courtyard. Vegetable gardens lined the flowerbeds, and the entire place was quiet except for the cicadas buzzing in the trees.

As they walked, the girl introduced herself. “I’m Xu Ling, a volunteer here. There are nineteen children in the Virtue Education program. Volunteers come every week, and though we’re not wealthy, the children live comfortably enough.”

This was a tiny orphanage with no fixed funding, relying mostly on sporadic donations and support from some of its adult alumni to stay afloat.

Chi Zhongqiao had spent several years in an orphanage himself before being adopted, so he knew firsthand the realities of such institutions. They could provide basic necessities, but little more.

“The children are all napping now,” Xu Ling said, bending down to coax Fang Zhi, who had been following them, away.

“Could I meet with your Dean?” Chi Zhongqiao asked.

“Of course,” Xu Ling replied.

She led Chi Zhongqiao to a door and knocked gently. A warm, feminine voice called from inside, “Come in.”

Chi Zhongqiao signaled Zhong Yin to wait outside before quietly entering the room.

The Dean was an elderly woman with a kind demeanor. She gestured for Chi Zhongqiao to sit down. “Hello,” she greeted him.

Chi Zhongqiao introduced himself and explained his purpose: “I’d like to donate a monthly sum to the orphanage. It may not be much, but I hope it can make a small difference…”

Orphanages rarely refuse external funding. After a brief discussion, they agreed on a monthly donation amount. Since no one was waiting for him at home, Chi Zhongqiao decided to stay at the orphanage for a while.

He even had Zhong Yin buy paper and pens so he could teach some of the children how to write—not calligraphy, but rather practicing with hard-tipped pens using copybooks.

Chi Zhongqiao was naturally patient and good at coaxing people. Before long, a group of children had gathered around him. He held a five-year-old boy in his arms, guiding the child’s hand as he taught him to write his name, stroke by stroke.

He knew very well that these young orphans often lacked preschool education. Before entering first grade, they were usually taught basic knowledge by volunteers, but many of these volunteers were quite young themselves, so it was more like playing with the children than teaching them.

As a result, the younger children struggled to write even their own names clearly.

Chi Zhongqiao had experienced this firsthand. He had been lucky, though—his striking good looks had led to his adoption at the age of four or five, and his memories of the orphanage had grown hazy over time.

His adoptive parents later had their own biological child and grew much colder toward him. They prioritized his early entry into the entertainment industry over his education. Fortunately, while they were biased, they weren’t malicious and supported him through high school.

Holding the small hand in his, Chi Zhongqiao momentarily drifted into thought.

He rarely thought about his past life anymore. Although his time as Chi Yi was less than two years ago, the sudden recollection felt like a lifetime ago.

“Gege,” the child in his arms suddenly called out, tilting his head up.

Chi Zhongqiao snapped back to attention. “What is it?”

The child’s voice was soft and childlike. “Gege’s writing is so pretty, and Gege is pretty too.”

Chi Zhongqiao smiled.

The child pointed to the calligraphy practice sheet in front of them. “Gege, what does ‘home’ mean?”

Chi Zhongqiao froze, the brush still in his hand. The first image that flashed through his mind wasn’t his neat little house, but Lu Yuzhou’s face.

The child looked at him, puzzled. “Gege?”

Chi Zhongqiao took the child’s hand and wrote the character for “home” on the paper. “Home is a place where you can sleep peacefully.”

That was true for most people. But for Chi Zhongqiao, home was a place under the same roof where Lu Yuzhou waited quietly for his return—the red thread that tethered him to this world.

The brush slipped from his hand as a sudden surge of longing overwhelmed him, drowning his senses. For a moment, he could barely breathe.

Chi Zhongqiao set the child down and stood up, jogging out of the room. “Zhong Yin, tell the Dean I have to go out for a bit.”

Zhong Yin poked his head out, bewildered. “Brother Qiao, put on your mask! And your hat!”

Chi Zhongqiao slipped into the back seat of the car, fiddled with something for a moment, then moved to the driver’s seat and set the GPS to the nearest courier depot. He mailed a thin envelope like a thief in the night.

*****

Two days later, Lu Yuzhou received a package in another province.

“For me?”

Lu Yuzhou was puzzled when he received the package. He glanced down at the sender’s name, and his eyes softened instantly.

The package was thin and light, no thicker than a single sheet of paper. He couldn’t imagine what it contained. Lu Yuzhou hurried away, shaking off the several executives who were staring at him with inexplicable expressions, and waited until he was alone in his room to open it.

Inside was indeed a stiff piece of paper, completely blank.

As Lu Yuzhou puzzled over it, he caught a familiar scent. He brought the paper to his nose, and the faint, herbal fragrance filled his senses—a scent he knew all too well.

It was… the men’s cologne Brother Qiao wore.

Happy Reading Sweeties. If you like what you read, consider treating me to a coffee and cream-puffs 🙂