(The Fight and the Truth)
The restroom at Starlight Entertainment was as luxurious as one would expect from a company that was never short on money.
Under the bright white light, Hu Xiaoyu's skin looked like polished jade, luminous and smooth.
His lips were red, his teeth gleamed white, and his black eyes shone like glass—delicate and perfect, almost too beautiful to be real.
A face like that, even when angry, could hardly inspire fear. His voice was calm, his tone polite; it only made his threat sound gentler.
Yang Kai's eyes flickered with something dark. He didn't take a single word seriously. Following instinct, he reached out to touch that flawless face.
The next second, his wrist was caught.
A heartbeat later, the perfectly styled hair and makeup he'd spent hours on were drenched with water.
He struggled wildly, but for all of Hu Xiaoyu's slender limbs and delicate frame, the boy's strength was monstrous. Yang Kai couldn't move an inch.
In the world of demons, strength spoke louder than reason.
Hu Xiaoyu didn't like violence.
A hundred years ago, Yu Tan had taught him martial arts and told him:
"You learn to protect yourself, not to bully others. Always reason first."
But at this moment, Hu Xiaoyu very much wanted to use violence to answer violence.
One filthy word from Yang Kai wasn't worth a beating—but for the original soul who'd suffered under him, it was long overdue.
Back then, Yang Kai had been his classmate in junior high.
He'd transferred in halfway through, rich, arrogant, and bored—quickly becoming the self-appointed king of their small, ordinary school.
Because the original boy was too pretty, he became Yang Kai's favorite target.
When Yang Kai was in a good mood, he'd "tease" him with wandering hands.
When he wasn't, fists and kicks followed.
Even the other students had learned to sneer, to isolate him, to treat him like something dirty.
Under constant humiliation, the boy's grades fell apart.
He lost his scholarship to a top high school, and when Grandma Cui fell ill, he quit school entirely.
Later, after returning to the Hu family, he could've gone back to studying—
But the fear, the shame, the memory of laughter and blows had left a shadow too deep to cross.
Until he died, he was still the "illiterate good-for-nothing" in everyone's mouth.
So yes, maybe this man deserved a little payback.
Yang Kai let out a strangled scream, loud enough to draw attention.
Hu Xiaoyu released him then, his voice as calm as ever. "I hope you stay away from me. If you bully me again, I'll fight back."
Yang Kai gaped at him, sputtering, "You—you're full of shit!"
Hu Xiaoyu frowned slightly. "Language."
A faint gleam of green light flashed in his eyes—and in the next instant, it sank into Yang Kai's throat.
Yang Kai hiccupped violently. His diaphragm seized, pain shooting through his chest, stealing his breath and his words.
Someone banged hard on the door.
Hu Xiaoyu washed his hands again, unlocked the door, and greeted the worried-looking Xin Shibai with perfect composure.
"I'm fine. Don't worry."
To look at him—quiet, polite, beautiful—you'd never guess there was a drenched, trembling man behind him.
Xin wasn't the only one who'd heard the commotion.
Director Zhong and several crew members arrived, along with the two other young actors scheduled for the shoot.
Both actors exchanged a glance when they saw Yang Kai's dripping, miserable state. Surprise flashed in their eyes, followed quickly by something like satisfaction.
Yang Kai's reputation preceded him: petty, spiteful, a bully in expensive shoes. No one felt sorry for him.
Zhong Yizheng's expression hardened. "What happened here?"
Yang Kai latched onto him like a drowning man, half-yelling, half-sobbing.
His words tumbled out in fragments, but everyone caught the gist—he'd come in to use the restroom, and Hu Xiaoyu had "attacked" him out of nowhere, ruining his look.
Zhong sidestepped the dripping hand that tried to grab him. "He ruined your makeup—why?"
Yang Kai shot Hu Xiaoyu a venomous look. "Because he's jealous of me!"
The room fell silent.
Every single person looked at him with the same unreadable expression—half disbelief, half pity.
Jealous? Of him?
Even with his makeup running and hair plastered onto his forehead, Yang Kai was still convinced of his own charm.
Hu Xiaoyu, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a dream—no styling, no polish, just natural perfection.
It was laughable.
Yang Kai's jaw tightened. "You don't believe me? You think I'd make myself look like this?"
Zhong's gaze shifted to Hu Xiaoyu. "Your side of the story?"
Hu Xiaoyu nodded honestly. "It was me."
Yang Kai's back straightened. "See? He admitted it! And you're still going to let him shoot—"
"Interrupting people is rude," Hu Xiaoyu said quietly.
Yang Kai froze mid-sentence. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
He stepped back, eyes wide, throat working uselessly.
Zhong raised an eyebrow, thoughtful now. "Go on."
"I went to use the restroom," Hu Xiaoyu said. "He followed me, said my makeup was too thick, and offered to wash it off. I thought he was bullying me, so I fought back. That's called self-defense… right?"
Xin Shibai jumped in instantly. "He's right—it was self-defense."
Zhong's lips twitched. He wanted to laugh but kept his face straight.
He knew Yang Kai's temperament; Hu Xiaoyu's calm logic only made it funnier.
"Yang Kai," he said. "Anything else to say?"
The smart move would've been to deny everything.
But something in Yang Kai's expression cracked.
Words spilled out before he could stop them:
"So what if I did? He's prettier than me, the camera will like him better—"
He stopped himself, eyes widening. His hand flew to his mouth.
The silence that followed was almost painful.
Everyone stared.
You were supposed to think that, someone thought, not actually say it out loud.
Hu Xiaoyu swayed slightly, gripping Xin Shibai's arm for balance.
Without enough spiritual energy, even forcing that small truth out of him had drained him.
And just like that, the truth was laid bare.
Yang Kai had picked the wrong fight.
Zhong Yizheng's decision came swift and sharp. "We don't keep people like that on my set. Pack up and leave."
The industry had seen plenty of underhanded tactics—but rarely someone stupid enough to get caught red-handed.
Yang Kai glared, trembling. "You're firing me? Do you even know who I—"
"Get out," Zhong snapped.
No one missed the frost in his voice.
Filming had to go on. The remaining three actors would rotate through their parts.
Zhong looked at Hu Xiaoyu again, softer now. "Touch up your makeup. We start at fifteen."
Xin Shibai smiled faintly. He knew Hu Xiaoyu didn't need a single brushstroke. The director was just giving him time to breathe. "Thank you," he said.
Yang Kai left the set in humiliation, his assistant trailing behind.
Once outside, he turned and slapped the boy across the face. "Idiot! Why didn't you back me up?"
The assistant said nothing, only lowered his head, hatred simmering in his eyes.
Blame everyone but yourself, he thought. You deserve every bit of this.
Yang Kai didn't feel better. If anything, his fury grew.
He'd never been humiliated like this before.
That quiet, timid boy he used to torment—that useless kid—had dared to strike back.
He couldn't let it stand.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number, his voice low and desperate. "Uncle Yu… please, you have to help me. They… they're bullying me…"
When he hung up, unease prickled under his skin.
His father had always warned him not to call in favors from the Yu family lightly—debts like that were costly.
But humiliation burned hotter than fear.
If he didn't make that fox pay, the whole of Starlight would laugh at him tomorrow.
End of Part I.