Mad Dog

Chapter 84: Wrap-up — It’d be so embarrassing if Jiang Qi found out I’m in his fan group.

When Zhi Qi came home, she walked in to see Jiang Qi cooking in the kitchen.

True to his word, after the film wrapped up, he didn’t accept any new work and “recklessly” declared that he would stay at home for half a month to keep her company, acting as a househusband. While this made Zhi Qi happy, it also made her feel a little guilty.

After all, she still had to go to work as usual.

Since she was still in her internship period, she couldn’t take any time off… except on weekends, she didn’t have much time to spend with Jiang Qi.

When she mentioned this with some regret, he didn’t mind. While picking out fish bones for her, he said calmly, “It’s fine. When you’re at work during the day, I can look over some scripts. Qiu Mi sent over a bunch for me to choose from. Or, I could bring you lunch.”

Zhi Qi had mentioned that she liked his cooking, so since he had nothing better to do, he figured he might as well bring her lunch every day.

“…No, don’t.”

Zhi Qi couldn’t help but laugh. She knew Jiang Qi was serious enough to actually do it, so she quickly waved her hand, “I don’t want to be put on display.”

Jiang Qi was so famous now that even if he went out wearing a hat and a mask, plenty of people could still recognize him. Although her workplace had mostly older employees, it wasn’t like they were all out of touch with the internet. If Jiang Qi really showed up to bring her lunch, she would undoubtedly become the center of attention.

Even now, a few of the interns who had watched the Shengyu Film Awards ceremony recognized her face. There had been several times when Zhi Qi almost got stopped and questioned. Thankfully, they weren’t in the same department, so she managed to avoid any messy rumors.

—She was also grateful that Jiang Qi had people quickly take down the trending searches back then. Her photo hadn’t spread widely, and the public wasn’t particularly interested in an ordinary person. As a result, her daily life hadn’t been disrupted.

Looking back, Zhi Qi realized that sometimes she took for granted how well Jiang Qi treated her.

Thinking of the “gossip” Meng Chunyu had mentioned earlier, Zhi Qi’s gaze softened as she looked at the tall, slender figure in front of her. She took off her shoes and quietly snuck into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Jiang Qi’s trim waist from behind.

“It smells really good.”

The girl rubbed her cheek against Jiang Qi’s thin, straight back like a little kitten, and eagerly asked, “What are you making?”

“Steak.”

Jiang Qi’s voice was gentle. “It’ll be ready in about ten minutes. Go wash your hands.”

So Zhi Qi obediently went to do as told, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she walked away.

Oh, so Jiang Qi really had gone to learn how to cook steak from a chef.

By the time Zhi Qi had washed up, changed into her loungewear, and sat down at the dining table, Jiang Qi had already plated the food and set it in front of her.

Zhi Qi cut a small piece and took a bite, her eyes lighting up.

“How is it?”

Under the warm yellow light of the dining room, Jiang Qi’s pupils seemed to reflect a hint of nervousness as he asked, “Is it good?”

He had gone out of his way to learn this recipe and was trying it out for the first time… he was a bit worried Zhi Qi wouldn’t like it.

“It’s delicious.”

Zhi Qi nodded, her upturned eyes holding a trace of playful mischief as she blinked at Jiang Qi. “It tastes just like the steak from the wrap party.”

So the gossip wasn’t entirely baseless after all—Jiang Qi had really gone to learn how to cook, just because of a casual remark she’d made.

No wonder he’d gone out the other day while she was at work.

“You said it was good, so I learned how to make it.”

Jiang Qi still didn’t know that Zhi Qi had heard about the gossip online, and he didn’t seem to be boasting or seeking credit. He simply smiled and said, “Eat a bit more.”

Zhi Qi: “Mm-hmm.”

She nodded but couldn’t help sighing inwardly.

People often say that “the child who cries gets the candy,” but Jiang Qi was the exact opposite—he was the child who never cried. Whatever he did, he never mentioned it, silently giving his all. If it weren’t for Meng Chunyu’s gossip, Zhi Qi would’ve just eaten the meal without thinking twice, never realizing the effort behind it.

Now that she knew, she understood just how much Jiang Qi cared about her. Along with the feeling of being deeply moved, she also felt pleasantly surprised.

Thinking about it more, it was quite fun. Discovering all the little surprises Jiang Qi had in store for her was like playing a treasure hunt, full of endless joy.

In the evening, Zhi Qi logged into her long-dormant Weibo and QQ accounts and, sure enough, saw that the fan groups she had joined were buzzing with messages.

She used to be an “active member” of these groups, fervently following every move Jiang Qi made, resembling a typical devoted fan. But after they got together, she felt that she no longer needed to monitor these groups since she now had direct access to all things Jiang Qi.

Only now did Zhi Qi realize that this wasn’t quite true.

Some things were better understood from the perspective of a fan or an outsider.

Currently, the fan group was locked in a heated debate over the latest online gossip. Some fans, apparently “girlfriend fans,” were frustrated by Jiang Qi’s constant “wife-doting persona”—

[ I can’t take it anymore! Besides the random photos from the set, we get no new content. And when we do, it’s always tied to *that woman*! Ahhh, this is driving me crazy! If this keeps up, it’s going to make people stop being fans!]

Zhi Qi stared at this message for a while, reasonably suspecting that the “woman” being referred to was herself.

It seemed like some of these fans thought she was hindering Jiang Qi’s “career focus,” which made Zhi Qi huff in annoyance. At the same time, she couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty.

In her whole life, Jiang Qi had been the only “star” she’d ever chased. She didn’t fully understand fan culture, but she had a vague idea that a male celebrity getting a girlfriend during his rise could be a devastating blow to his fans… not to mention a wife.

But so what? Jiang Qi was hers!

Zhi Qi puffed up her cheeks and kept reading.

[ Seriously? There are still girlfriend fans in this group? Hasn’t Qi-ge’s persona been firmly established? What’s the point of being a girlfriend fan anymore? If you can’t take it, just leave the group. I thought we were all career fans here!]

[ That’s easy to say, but every time Qi-ge has some kind of gossip, it’s always tied to his wife. Who can deal with that? The only reason we’re still fans despite knowing he’s married is because his wife is an outsider. If she’s an outsider, why does she have such a strong presence? It’s annoying!]

[ To the person above, you said it yourself—it’s only “gossip.” Isn’t it possible that it’s just made up? Haha, do people still take WeChat chat screenshots seriously these days?]

[ True or not, I don’t care. As long as Qi-ge continues to rake in box office hits and awards, giving me the satisfaction of being his fan, I’m fine with it…]

[ Isn’t it common knowledge that having an “outsider” girlfriend is basically like having no girlfriend at all?]

[ Right, why are we even talking about this? I’d rather look forward to seeing if the “Under Siege” crew will release any new stills today. No new content is killing me, ugh.]

[ No content, agreed. Who knows how many times I’ve rewatched *Hopeful Sky* and *Proud Princess*. Qi-ge is perfect, but his output is too low!]

[ I swear, he has no career focus. I wish he would jump right into his next project!]

[ Same! No idea what his next project will be. So many gossip accounts are teasing it, but nothing concrete yet.]

…

Fan discussions were ever-changing, and Zhi Qi watched as they bickered for a while before shifting to collectively complaining about Jiang Qi’s “lack of career focus.”

They were genuinely concerned.

As she read through the group’s complaints, she realized that Jiang Qi’s low output, his habit of taking long breaks after filming, and his reluctance to do romance scenes were all “unforgivable crimes.”

Some fans were eagerly hoping to see him star in sweet romance dramas—whether historical or modern, or even school-themed. But Jiang Qi had already made it clear in previous interviews that he wasn’t considering romance roles at the moment, which dashed those fans’ hopes—and, naturally, they blamed Zhi Qi for it.

They kept insisting that Qi-ge’s refusal to do romance scenes was definitely because he was married, and that she was the root of all evil!

Zhi Qi felt both amused and exasperated.

So this was what it felt like to be maliciously gossiped about online.

It wasn’t exactly anger she felt, but more a sense of helplessness.

Still, since these fans genuinely loved Jiang Qi, she found their conversations oddly entertaining.

As Zhi Qi continued scrolling, she heard the bathroom door in the bedroom slam shut with a “bang,” likely indicating that Jiang Qi had finished his shower.

Startled, she quickly locked her phone and turned off the screen. It would be too embarrassing if Jiang Qi found out that she was lurking in his fan groups.

Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly felt a warm, slightly damp presence behind her, along with the fresh, minty scent of his body wash.

A drop of water dripped from Jiang Qi’s wet hair onto the nape of Zhi Qi’s neck, making her instinctively shiver and laugh as he hugged her.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Jiang Qi wrapped his arms around her soft waist, his voice tinged with curiosity. “It’s already eleven.”

Only then did Zhi Qi realize that she’d been on her phone for over half an hour without even noticing the time fly by—no wonder fangirls always stayed up so late. Even someone like her, with such a fixed routine, could be affected.

“I’ll sleep soon. I’m not tired yet.”

Zhi Qi rubbed Jiang Qi’s wet hair and smiled as she got up to grab the hair dryer. “Let me dry your hair for you.”

Jiang Qi’s hair was soft and smooth like silk, and she loved the way it felt.

The room fell into a peaceful silence, the only sound being the gentle hum of the hair dryer.

Once his hair was dry, Jiang Qi pulled her onto his lap and leaned down to kiss her soft lips.

“Qi Qi, tomorrow’s the weekend, right?”

His eyes darkened, and his low voice was full of suggestion. “Do you want to stay up a little later?”

“But we have to get up early.”

Zhi Qi’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t reject him. She played with the buttons on his pajama top as she spoke. “We’re going to have lunch with the family tomorrow.”

Earlier in the afternoon, Mei Ran had called, inviting them over for lunch since Jiang Qi was on break and it was the weekend. Naturally, Zhi Qi had agreed.

“Hmm.”

Jiang Qi kissed the corner of her lips, mumbling, “What time?”

“Um… around ten, I think?”

Zhi Qi was feeling a bit warm, her breath slightly uneven. “We can’t arrive just in time for the meal; we should go earlier.”

“Okay.”

Jiang Qi reached out, and in an instant, her nightgown lightly fell over her eyes, plunging her world into darkness. Instinctively, she clutched his arm, feeling a little uneasy.

Jiang Qi chuckled softly, his cool breath brushing against her. “I’ll wake you up.”

Although Zhi Qi usually wasn’t one to sleep in, if she did try to laze around in bed, he would be sure to wake her.

Using all kinds of “methods.”