Chapter 63: Look, Your Boyfriend Is Trending Again!

As “Jiao Si” entered its mid-to-late filming stage, it depicted the male lead, Chen Si, drifting through fashion shows in the most frenzied phase of his gender identity crisis.

By this point, he had truly convinced himself that he was a girl, growing increasingly gaunt and refusing to remain confined to the male modeling scene—he wanted to walk in women’s shows, to wear the clothes designed for girls.

Chen Si was sick at this stage, but the fashion world around him was a murky mix of people, and no one pointed out his illness or how wrong things were.

Instead, they welcomed it.

So Chen Si walked in many women’s shows. Whether the outfits were edgy or delicate, whether elaborate gowns or bold, avant-garde designs, every time he wore them, he felt a kind of euphoria—like he was high on drugs.

The production team had invested heavily in portraying this phase of Chen Si’s runway experiences. The costumes, makeup, and set designs were flawless, all sponsored by major brands. Even if Jiang Qi had to cross-dress, the final effect would undoubtedly be stunning.

But Jiang Qi was troubled.

His hesitation wasn’t due to shyness about wearing women’s clothing—he understood the professionalism required for acting. He’d already lost over ten pounds for the role; wearing women’s clothes was nothing. What troubled him were the unsightly scars on his body.

If the outfits were too revealing, they’d be fully exposed.

And that would ruin the visual impact in the film.

He had to tell Qu Heng. He couldn’t let his personal issues compromise the entire production.

So after one scene wrapped, Jiang Qi called Qu Heng into the dressing room and got straight to the point.

“Director Qu, the women’s runway scenes might be a problem for me.”

“Why?” Qu Heng’s eyebrows twitched, his mind immediately jumping to one conclusion. “Are you uncomfortable with cross-dressing?”

Jiang Qi pressed his lips together. “No.”

As he spoke, he unbuttoned his shirt. Under Qu Heng’s stunned gaze, the young man exposed his body to someone other than Zhi Qi for the first time. He took off the shirt, revealing a pale, slender torso crisscrossed with scars—each one horrifying to behold.

Qu Heng felt as if needles were pricking his eyes.

“This…” His voice faltered. “What happened?”

Jiang Qi parted his lips to answer, but the dressing room door was suddenly thrown open, followed by a frantic voice—

“Director Qu, there’s someone outside—”

The staff member’s words abruptly cut off mid-sentence when they saw Jiang Qi half-naked, standing close to Qu Heng. For a long moment, the three of them stared at each other in stunned silence. Then, as if suddenly realizing something, the staff member hastily turned away, stammering, “S-sorry! Director, I didn’t know you were… in the middle of something!”

……

Why did that sound so weird? Qu Heng frowned. “Get out first.”

The staff member scurried away.

By the time the door closed again, Jiang Qi had already put his shirt back on, his slender fingers buttoning it up methodically. He didn’t seem angered by the intrusion, only stating flatly, “My legs are about the same. Would you like to see, Director Qu?”

“…Why the hell would I want to look at that?” Qu Heng felt both exasperated and a pang of sorrow. He couldn’t help but ask, “How did you get all these scars?”

Jiang Qi: “My father beat me when I was young.”

……

Every family had its own hardships. Qu Heng didn’t know how to respond to that.

But now he understood why Jiang Qi had come to him.

With a body like this, filming scenes in revealing outfits would indeed be problematic.

Forget whether it aligned with the script’s demand for “aesthetic perfection”—just the sheer number of scars alone would likely get the film flagged by censors for “glorifying violence.”

It also explained why Jiang Qi always wore long sleeves and pants, no matter the season, covering every inch of skin.

But if they changed all the skimpy runway costumes in the script to more conservative designs… that would undermine the story.

Chen Si’s transformation—each step deeper into his obsession with gender transition—was directly tied to these clothes, to the surreal, intoxicating world of the runway.

Even the smallest alteration would ripple through the entire narrative.

This was a real dilemma.

Qu Heng rubbed his temples, the image of Jiang Qi’s scarred torso flashing in his mind. One particularly long mark stretched from his left shoulder blade down to his narrow waist, giving the young man a haunting, fractured beauty.

Wait—fractured beauty.

How could they conceal that “fracture”? What could possibly cover it?

Qu Heng’s eyes lit up as the word “body painting” flashed through his mind.

Human body art—paired with strategic exposure and the faint glimpses of scars—might just transform those marks into something resembling an art installation.

“Don’t worry about it,” Qu Heng said suddenly, brimming with renewed confidence. “I’ll handle it.”

Jiang Qi gave him a puzzled look, his eyes clearly asking, “How?” But Qu Heng offered no explanation.

The next day, two new faces appeared on set.

Chu Feng, an internationally renowned body painting artist, and her apprentice Yan Sang.

Chu Feng wore a sleek black dress suit and heels, her porcelain skin accentuated by the stark contrast, glasses perched on her nose—every inch the cool, unapproachable professional. Her aura of icy detachment could’ve given Jiang Qi a run for his money.

Her apprentice, Yan Sang, was the epitome of a delicate Jiangnan beauty—soft-featured, willow-slender, with a dewy, ethereal grace. Still a university student, she’d been brought along by Chu Feng to “gain experience.”

These two “walking works of art” were Qu Heng’s specially invited solution.

As every male crew member (except Jiang Qi) openly gaped, Qu Heng ushered the women into the backstage makeup room.

Jiang Qi was seated in front of a mirror, head tilted back as a stylist worked on his hair, when Qu Heng’s voice cut in:

“Xiao Chen, send Jiang Qi over here.”

Xiao Chen—the stylist in question—gave an affirmative hum and tapped Jiang Qi’s shoulder, gesturing toward a nearby lounge bed.

Jiang Qi stood, only to freeze at the sight of the two women behind Qu Heng. His brow arched in silent question.

“Jiang Qi,” Qu Heng announced cheerfully, “alright, strip.”

……

Excuse me?

“So he’s the canvas?” Chu Feng raked her gaze over Jiang Qi like a butcher assessing a prime cut of meat. Behind her glasses, her eyes gleamed with approval. “Not bad.”

“Agreed,” Yan Sang chimed in, clasping her hands eagerly. “Teacher, can I sketch a nude study of him later?”

……

What fresh hell is this?

Jiang Qi’s frown deepened as he shot Qu Heng a “Explain. Now.” look.

“About your scars—I found a workaround,” Qu Heng said, grinning at the confusion in Jiang Qi’s eyes. “Ever heard of body painting?”

Jiang Qi blinked. “You’re going to… paint over them?”

“Exactly.” Qu Heng nodded, oozing confidence. “With Chu Feng’s skills, it’ll be art.”

While the pre-shoot body art sessions would undoubtedly be time-consuming, Qu Heng—a perfectionist—had no qualms about the extra effort.

Jiang Qi understood this was the best solution. Still…

He eyed the two women, whose gazes had taken on a distinctly predatory glint, and suppressed a shudder.

Reluctantly, he had no choice but to take off his shirt and lie down on the bed.

Jiang Qi felt like a piece of meat on a chopping board, utterly exposed under their scrutiny. When the women’s fingers touched his skin, the veins at his temples nearly bulged from the effort of suppressing the urge to bolt upright.

“Mr. Jiang, there’s no need to feel self-conscious,” Chu Feng said coolly, her tone detached. “Touching your body is merely to study the muscle texture and contours for the painting.”

“Exactly,” Yan Sang chimed in cheerfully. “Just think of yourself as an object—relax!”

……

Jiang Qi couldn’t help but think this Yan Sang girl was a little… tactless.

How could she say something like that—and in such an encouraging tone, no less?!

For the next two hours, he lay motionless on that narrow bed like a mummy, enduring their brushes and strokes. When they moved to his back, Yan Sang let out a startled gasp at the sight of the long scar running down his spine.

Everyone assumed she was horrified.

But after a brief pause, the girl actually exclaimed in delight: “This scar is so artistic! Teacher, can we paint a coiled green snake over it?”

……

Qu Heng, watching Jiang Qi’s expression darken, couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter.

Nearly three hours later, the “body art” was finally complete.

Chu Feng, rarely satisfied with her own work, actually smiled—before promptly snapping several photos of Jiang Qi and uploading them to Weibo with lightning speed, leaving Qu Heng no time to intervene.

[@ChuFengV: New piece.]

Just two simple words, accompanied by images of Jiang Qi standing under the lights.

The young man hung his head slightly, as if uncertain where to look, while his pale skin now bore intricate paintings of butterflies—vibrant reds and oranges blooming across his abdomen and waist. Coiling up his arms were serpentine totems, a vivid, multicolored snake so lifelike it seemed to flick its tongue along his fingers, lending him an almost demonic allure.

Chu Feng, true to her reputation as an internationally acclaimed artist, had created something breathtaking.

At first, only art and fashion circles noticed her post, marveling at the craftsmanship—until someone recognized the model as Jiang Qi. Then, all hell broke loose.

Comments flooded in:

[Feng-jie, is that Jiang Qi??]

[Is this for his new movie? What kind of role requires body painting?]

[This is so mesmerizing—if it weren’t Jiang Qi, I’d save these pics in a heartbeat.]

……

Within minutes, the hashtag #JiangQiBodyArt was trending.

Meanwhile, Zhi Qi, currently in Yingzhou for a cell research project with Meng Chunyu, remained blissfully offline—unlike her social-media-obsessed friend.

“Holy shit, Qiqi!” Meng Chunyu grabbed her arm, nearly dropping her phone in excitement. “Your boyfriend’s trending again!”

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