The investigation into the question cards produced results faster than Director Zhou had expected.

At midnight, while most guests had already returned to their rooms, the programme team’s temporary office was still brightly lit. Three unapproved cards lay on the table, silent and neat, as though they had every right to be there.

If a family member hurt Dad in the past but regrets it now, should Dad forgive them?

If your parent quarrels with family, should they apologise first?

Do children want a complete family with grandparents and uncles?

The cards looked identical to the official ones. They had the same paper, the same ink, the same font, and even the same rounded corners. If Director Zhou had not personally approved the question list, even he might have believed they belonged in the box.

The assistant placed a printed access log in front of him.

“Director Zhou, only three people accessed the card box before the evening segment. The props assistant, the field director, and Liu Xin.”

Director Zhou looked up. “Liu Xin again?”

The assistant’s expression turned ugly. “Yes.”

After the kitchen incident, Liu Xin had already been removed from guest-facing work. However, before the suspension notice had fully gone into effect, she had helped move props from the storage van to the courtyard.

Director Zhou’s face darkened. “Bring up her phone records.”

The assistant hesitated. “We can’t access private phone records without consent, but after the kitchen incident, HR asked her to submit her work phone for inspection. There were deleted messages.”

“Recovered?”

“Partially.”

The assistant slid a tablet over, and several recovered chat fragments appeared on the screen. The contact name had been deleted, but the messages were still visible.

Unknown:
You don’t need to do anything obvious. Just give him a chance to show his temper.

Unknown:
People already know what kind of person Shen Qingyu is. The camera only needs to catch it.

Unknown:
For the evening segment, add a few questions about family. Children’s answers are the easiest to use.

Liu Xin:
Director Zhou checks the cards.

Unknown:
Then make them look official.

Unknown:
Don’t worry. If anything happens, Teacher Xie’s side will help you enter another production team.

Director Zhou’s eyes stopped on the final line.

Teacher Xie.

The office became deathly silent.

The assistant whispered, “Xie Linchuan?”

Director Zhou did not answer immediately.

There were many people with the surname Xie in the entertainment industry. However, there were not many whose “side” would care enough about Shen Qingyu to insert questions about forgiveness into a variety-show segment.

Director Zhou leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“Preserve the evidence.”

The assistant nodded. “Should we release it?”

“Not yet.”

“Director Zhou?”

Director Zhou tapped the table lightly with one finger.

“If we release it now, they’ll say Liu Xin acted alone. If we mention Xie Linchuan’s side without complete evidence, they’ll accuse us of malicious speculation.”

The assistant understood. “Then…”

“Keep filming.”

Director Zhou’s gaze fell on the unapproved question cards again.

“The more they move, the more traces they leave.”

After a moment, he added coldly, “From now on, all props involving children must be checked by two people and filmed during preparation.”

“Yes.”

Director Zhou stood and walked to the window.

Outside, Qingshui Village was quiet beneath the winter moon. The guest rooms were dark, and only one room still had a faint light.

Room Four.

Shen Qingyu’s room.

Director Zhou looked at that window for a long time.

He had once thought Shen Qingyu’s return would bring traffic. A controversial film emperor, a hidden marriage, a powerful husband, and twin children were already enough topics to make any variety show explode.

Now, however, he realised the traffic was only the surface. Underneath it, something old and rotten was being dragged into the light, and every time it struggled, it exposed another hand.

The next morning, Shen Qingyu woke before the twins.

For a few seconds, he did not move. The small village room was warm but unfamiliar. The curtains were thin, and early sunlight leaked through the gap, falling across the wooden floor in pale strips.

Beside him, Lu Jingheng was already awake.

Or perhaps he had never fully slept.

He was sitting against the headboard, one hand holding a tablet while the other still rested lightly around Shen Qingyu’s waist.

Shen Qingyu opened his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Six forty.”

“Why are you awake?”

“Work.”

Shen Qingyu glanced at the tablet.

Financial reports.

Market summaries.

Internal messages.

A normal person might have asked how Lu Jingheng could still work during variety-show filming. Shen Qingyu only asked, “Did you sleep?”

Lu Jingheng paused.

Shen Qingyu narrowed his eyes. “Lu Jingheng.”

“Three hours.”

“Total?”

Lu Jingheng did not answer.

Shen Qingyu sat up slowly. His hair slid over his shoulder, slightly messy from sleep, while the pale shirt he wore belonged to Lu Jingheng. It hung loose at the collar, revealing the clean line of his neck and the faint mark near his nape.

Lu Jingheng’s gaze paused there for half a second.

Shen Qingyu noticed.

“Look at my face.”

Lu Jingheng’s eyes returned to his face.

Shen Qingyu held out his hand. “Tablet.”

Lu Jingheng looked at him.

“Now.”

Lu Jingheng handed it over.

Shen Qingyu turned it off and placed it on the bedside table.

“Sleep for another twenty minutes.”

“The children will wake soon.”

“I’ll handle them.”

“The programme team begins at eight.”

“It is six forty.”

Lu Jingheng was silent.

Shen Qingyu looked at him with the calm expression of someone prepared to win a negotiation by force if necessary.

After two seconds, Lu Jingheng lay down.

The bullet comments were not live yet, but if they had been, they would once again have witnessed the empire’s strongest Enigma obeying an order in less than three seconds.

Shen Qingyu looked at him for a moment, then reached out and pulled the blanket higher over Lu Jingheng’s shoulder.

Lu Jingheng caught his wrist.

“Your hand?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Lu Jingheng’s fingers brushed the bandage lightly.

Shen Qingyu sighed. “If you keep asking, it will hurt out of obligation.”

Lu Jingheng looked at him.

Then, very seriously, he released his wrist.

“Then I won’t ask.”

Shen Qingyu’s expression softened before he could stop it.

“Sleep.”

Lu Jingheng closed his eyes, although his hand still held the hem of Shen Qingyu’s shirt. Not tightly, just enough, as if even in sleep he wanted to know Shen Qingyu was there.

Shen Qingyu looked down.

After a while, he did not pull away.

On the child bed, Xiao Heng opened his eyes.

He stared silently at his fathers, then looked at Xiao Nian, who had once again rolled across the blanket boundary and was sleeping with one leg thrown over Xiao Heng’s stomach.

Xiao Heng sighed very softly.

“Family attachment behaviour,” he muttered.

Then he closed his eyes again.