Marrying the Male Lead’s Disabled Uncle – Chapter 51

As soon as he walked through the door, Pei Lang gave Aunt Lin a big hug and helped her put on the bracelet he had bought. The two of them chatted and laughed like mother and son, completely forgetting about the actual owner of the house sitting nearby.

Pei Lang soon heard a dissatisfied sound behind him. Turning around, he saw Yan Han sitting there with a cold face, his brows tightly furrowed. The little man perched on his shoulder was full of jealousy, literally bubbling with sourness.

“Long time no see,” Pei Lang said with a teasing smile, deliberately approaching to greet him, wanting to poke fun at the jealous man.

“How many days?” Yan Han asked in a low tone.

“Three days.”

“So short?”

Pei Lang: “…”
Boss, if it weren’t for your influence, do you think Director Jin would’ve given me personal leave? Do you know how hard it is for Zhong Yixiao to even take a half-day off when shooting a commercial? I rushed back without stopping the moment filming wrapped.

“Let’s eat,” Yan Han said, standing up and heading to the dining table. Pei Lang followed closely behind.

But today, something seemed off with Yan Han. Pei Lang noticed that he was acting a bit strange.

Dinner had already been prepared. Aunt Lin quickly set the table. As soon as Pei Lang and Yan Han sat down, she cast a cautious glance at Yan Han before suddenly blurting out something strange:

“Xiao Lang, you’re the first man Mr. Yan has ever brought home.”

And with that, Aunt Lin fled the scene, leaving Pei Lang looking completely confused.

How awkward. Seriously, too awkward.

Yan Han had instructed her to say that before Pei Lang returned. She didn’t understand why, but she didn’t dare ask questions when it came to her employer’s personal matters. She just did what she was told.

Yan Han, on the other hand, looked extremely satisfied. The corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly in amusement, and his cold gaze held a flicker of joy as he looked at Pei Lang.

“…”
Pei Lang thought about it and still couldn’t figure out the significance of that statement. So he could only play along with a smile. “So I’m the first man you’ve ever brought home?”

“Mm. The others weren’t worthy,” Yan Han replied calmly, cutting into a piece of beef with elegant precision.

That line appeared in every single book Qi Shaoheng had given him—spoken by a chef, a housekeeper, an assistant. It was always step one in showing affection. This was the standard routine in a domineering CEO’s love strategy.

One step closer to success.

Yan Han quickly reviewed the contents of the books in his mind.

Meanwhile, Pei Lang caught sight of the little guy on Yan Han’s shoulder, diligently studying a stack of over-the-top CEO romance novels and making notes in a small notebook when he came across something useful.

Damn it. I can see his thoughts, and I still can’t figure out what he’s trying to do. Is he too complicated, or am I just too dumb? I can’t even copy the answers when they’re right in front of me?

Pei Lang fell into a moment of serious self-doubt, turning over Aunt Lin’s earlier words in his mind. Something felt off. “Wait a minute… Am I really the first man you’ve ever brought home? What about Su Jia? He’s been with you for years. Don’t tell me he’s never set foot in this house?”

Wasn’t Su Jia your personal assistant? When I first came here, he seemed so familiar with everything—it clearly wasn’t his first visit.

Yan Han’s smile disappeared instantly. His expression turned cold. “That’s different.”

Pei Lang seemed to get it. “Oh~ I see.”

But he really didn’t. Yan Han just wanted to pry open his head to see what kind of thick mental armor he had in there. How could someone be so dense? He’d dropped so many hints, and Pei Lang still hadn’t caught on?

Frustrated, Yan Han finally went quiet.

After dinner, Aunt Lin came out to clean the dishes. Pei Lang went back to his room to work on composing. He hadn’t released any new songs in a long time, and the moment he uploaded one online, his inbox exploded. The platform even lagged for a bit from the flood of private messages.

Most of them were words of concern—and thinly veiled cries for updates.

Pei Lang posted a new original song, but only a single verse due to time constraints.

Still, that one verse was enough to make listeners put it on endless repeat. Within two hours, it was trending.

Every time Pei Lang dropped a song, it made the hot search. The play count and number of reposts often exceeded that of top-tier singers. Naturally, this led to jealousy. Soon, someone stirred up trouble in the comment section: Is this really the voice of an uncle?

Sure, some people naturally have youthful voices. But this one sounded too young. When they ran his voice through software that estimates age, it came out as someone in their twenties. Even accounting for a margin of error, the gap was still too big.

Later, a marketing account jumped on the bandwagon and ran tests on various singers of different ages. The results were mostly accurate—the tech held up. Whether it was a deep baritone or a bright tenor, the age detection software never missed by more than a few years.

Science doesn’t lie.

So… is this so-called “uncle” really who he says he is?

And if not, why lie? Was it all just hype? Or something else?

The speculation drove netizens crazy.

Rather than anger at being deceived, it was more like rampant curiosity. Soon, Pei Lang’s music account was mobbed. He didn’t bother responding to any of it. If he admitted his identity now, it would only bring trouble to the platform. Once public opinion cooled down and people stopped acting like he owed them something, he might come clean—or he might just keep the secret forever.

The hot search burned for a few hours, then gradually died down.

Pei Lang thought of someone.

He headed upstairs to find Yan Han—only to catch him listening to the newly released song.

“Did you help push it to the trending search?” he asked.

“Who else would help you, if not me?” Yan Han said calmly, turning off the computer. The little guy on his shoulder puffed up with pride, obviously waiting to be praised.

Pei Lang looked at him with warm, gentle eyes. He had the sudden urge to pinch the little man’s cheeks—but the moment he saw Yan Han’s stern face, the impulse vanished.

This man, with such stark contrast between his cold exterior and his jealous inner self… he was kinda cute.

“As expected of my husband,” Pei Lang said with a smile. “There’s nothing he can’t solve with a single move.”

Although the exaggerated praise sounded a little fake, it was very effective—Yan Han was visibly pleased.

“But when I think about the fact that you’ll only be my husband for another four years and a few months, I start to feel kind of sad.”

Yan Han’s smile instantly disappeared.

They were, after all, a contractual couple, and Pei Lang never forgot that. Yan Han helped him because they had a partnership. There was nothing Pei Lang could give back. All he could do was work hard, return the money he earned to Yan Han, stay out of his way once the contract ended—and disappear as soon as possible.

An awkward silence filled the air.

Pei Lang saw that Yan Han was upset. He wanted to say something but hesitated and ultimately stayed quiet.

The silence was broken by the ringing of Yan Han’s phone. It was Su Jia, reporting that they’d found out who had hired someone to stir up trouble online. Surprisingly, it was the singer Di He, a well-established artist with a good career. His voice was rich with storytelling quality and frequently used in theme songs for popular TV dramas.

Coincidentally, Pei Lang had also been invited to act in one of those dramas.

The more popular someone was, the more afraid they became of being replaced—especially by an unknown internet singer. That’s why Di He had hired marketing accounts to start trouble, trying to use public opinion to drown out Pei Lang or force him to reveal himself.

But he hadn’t expected that this internet singer was backed by Yan Han, someone he couldn’t afford to mess with.

“Today’s trending search—it was Di He’s doing.” After hanging up, Yan Han turned on his computer and began typing quickly.

“Di He…” Pei Lang caught on immediately. A few days ago, the guy had visited the film crew, surrounded by fans asking for autographs. Word had it that he composed the theme song, so his fans had come to get a glimpse of him and maybe draw some inspiration.

Pei Lang wasn’t one to join in the crowd, so he’d kept his distance. Although Di He had been nearby, Pei Lang hadn’t paid much attention. The entertainment circle was full of shady business, and Pei Lang had seen plenty of it—but he couldn’t quite understand why Di He would come after him like this.

He pulled up Baidu and searched for Di He’s info—representative works, variety shows, awards, photos, his agency—it was all there. “Is my identity about to get blown?”

Yan Han and Su Jia could sense it too. The more people Pei Lang came into contact with, the easier it would be to recognize him. His live broadcasts didn’t alter his voice, so being recognized was just a matter of time.

“No,” Yan Han replied firmly. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Really?” Pei Lang’s eyes lit up. Yan Han had already done so much for him, and he really didn’t know how to repay that kindness.

“Of course,” Yan Han nodded. “We’re family.”

He emphasized that last sentence. But Pei Lang didn’t think much of it—he just smiled.

Then Yan Han called Su Jia and gave some cryptic instructions over the phone. Pei Lang couldn’t understand what he was saying, and asked curiously after Yan Han hung up.

“What are you going to do?”

Yan Han looked out into the distance with a deep, unreadable expression, and finally muttered:

“The weather’s getting cold. It’s about time for Huasheng to go bankrupt.”

“…?”

Huasheng was the company Di He was signed with.

Pei Lang turned to glance at the fiery red sunset, then checked the weather on his phone—it was still 28 degrees even with the sun going down.

He carefully digested the utterly ridiculous line Yan Han had just dropped and had a vague idea of what he meant.

Without another word, he turned and went downstairs.

Yan Han assumed Pei Lang had been frightened by his overwhelming power. Just as he was wondering if that line—borrowed from one of those cheesy CEO novels—had backfired, the study door opened again.

Pei Lang walked in, holding a blanket, and gently laid it over Yan Han’s lap.

“I didn’t know you were so afraid of the cold. Does this help?”

As he tucked the blanket in, his hand brushed Yan Han’s. Sure enough—it was icy cold. Yan Han’s body really did run cold.

Yan Han’s face twitched between anger and joy. He ultimately chose silence.

Su Jia moved quickly. Soon, a flood of negative rumors about Di He broke out online, and Huasheng was hit as well. Since Di He and Huasheng were tied together, when one stumbled, the other fell.

Di He had done plenty of shady things in private. Yan Han hadn’t bothered to intervene before, since it didn’t affect him. But now that Di He had overstepped and touched someone he shouldn’t have—well, once Yan Han made a move, he’d grind the guy straight into the dirt.

If anyone wanted to place blame, they could only blame Di He for picking the wrong target.

Feeling a bit hungry, Pei Lang went downstairs to see what Aunt Lin was cooking—only to find the kitchen empty.

A moment later, Yan Han came down and explained, “My father’s been missing me a lot. I’ll be heading over to the old house for dinner tonight. He asked for you to come too.”

Pei Lang hadn’t been prepared for that. The first time he’d visited, it was for the wedding banquet, and he hadn’t brought a gift. To go empty-handed a second time would be too impolite.

Just as he was about to go out and buy something, Yan Han stopped him and said calmly, “You don’t need to bring anything. Your presence is enough—I’ve already taken care of the gift.”