The Number-One Male Lead Who Doesn’t Like to Eat (55)

Due to the unexpected "livestream incident," Si Jiu no longer wanted to eat out.

Charles had not worn a mask at all today. Since someone had taken photos earlier, if those pictures surfaced online, given Xie Yu’s popularity, the chances of his identity being exposed were far too high.

A tactical error.

"Let’s go. We’re heading home."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"We’ll order delivery when we get home," Si Jiu said, pulling Charles in the opposite direction.

However, after walking for a short distance, the crowd grew denser. A vague commotion rose from up ahead, with a bustling throng of people gathered. More were constantly running toward the scene, mostly young girls with expressions of intense excitement.

Si Jiu frowned. "A fan signing event for G-Group? Charles, let’s take another route back—"

Suddenly, a massive surge of people rushed from behind, screaming the idols' names as they pushed forward. Si Jiu and Charles were passively swept along by the tide.

"Damn it!" Si Jiu cursed.

Charles frowned, bent down, and scooped her up into his arms. "I’ll get you out of here."

Si Jiu did not resist this time. Although Xie Yu’s physique was not particularly muscular, he was tall and long-limbed. Whether it was because the "Charles" persona granted him added strength or not, he easily parted the crowd and navigated against the flow.

Si Jiu was shielded in his arms, entirely untouched by the shoving. Fearing she might bump into something, he pressed her head against his chest, not allowing her to look up.

All Si Jiu could hear were the noisy clamor, the complaints of those pushed aside by Charles, and the faint, distant sound of music. For some reason, the melody felt somewhat mournful and sorrowful. It was a humming by a male voice—a sound that felt inexplicably familiar.

For a split second, the noise in Si Jiu’s ears vanished into silence. Then, it was as if her muffled hearing had suddenly cleared; the faint singing became crisp, accompanied by the sounds of sobbing at varying pitches.

"Has it started?"

She lifted her head to look ahead, and then, she froze.

Before her lay a cobblestone path. Standing neatly on both sides were people dressed in black suits or dresses. Each person held a daisy, their eyes red, all gazing toward the other end of the path.

At the far end, a man with salt-and-pepper hair in a black suit carried a black urn. To his left, a woman in a black ensemble, wearing a white flower on her chest, wept so hard she nearly collapsed, supported by a young woman.

To his right was Zhang Li, clutching a black-and-white photo frame.

Inside the frame, however, was a vibrant, full-color photograph. The man with the captivating peach-blossom eyes wore a warm smile, as if he were gazing right through the frame at her.

"Qi... Yan?"

Was this Qi Yan’s funeral? But how?

Hadn't the plane collapsed? And how had she ended up here?

They walked closer and closer, appearing completely unaware of Si Jiu and Charles. She did not notice that as she whispered the name "Qi Yan," a sudden breeze stirred, and a transparent figure appeared opposite her, casting a deep, lingering look in her direction.

The next moment, she heard Charles’s anxious voice.

"Your Highness, Your Highness... what is wrong?"

Si Jiu blinked, and the scene from a moment ago vanished entirely. She was still in Charles’s arms; he had carried her away from the crowd and was standing by the roadside, looking at her with concern.

"Are you all right?"

"...I'm fine."

"You look very pale. Let’s head home quickly, shall we?"

"All right."

Neither of them noticed that behind them, a pair of melancholic eyes remained fixed upon them. A voice, audible to no one, drifted through the air: *I found you.*