The “Sasaeng” Next Door

“I really didn’t expect to actually get an autograph!”

Once inside the house, Zhang Donghao could no longer contain his excitement. He whipped out his phone and began snapping a flurry of photos of his signed arm, all traces of his previous shyness and tension gone.

After finishing his own photoshoot, he lunged for Ji Fengjing’s arm. “Boss, come here, let’s get a picture together! I need to post this on my Moments!”

Ji Fengjing looked at the black marker stains on his skin and said helplessly, “What’s there to photograph? I’m going to wash it off.”

He found the situation somewhat amusing. While he knew who Wen Xingshen was—the man was simply too famous to ignore—he had never actually watched a single one of his movies. It was just that, in that moment, it would have been even more awkward to claim he wasn’t a fan or didn’t want the autograph.

Ji Fengjing turned on the tap and moved his arm toward the stream of water, intending to scrub the signature away.

Seeing this, Zhang Donghao rushed over and grabbed his arm. “Boss! Stay your hand! Spare the name!!”

Having “rescued” the god’s signature from the faucet, Zhang Donghao delivered a soul-searching interrogation worthy of a die-hard fan: “Wash it off? You’re actually going to wash it off?! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get his autograph?!”

Ji Fengjing: “…It’s just a signature. Even if I don’t wash it now, it’ll come off when I shower tonight.”

Zhang Donghao’s face turned grim. “Then don’t shower.”

Ji Fengjing’s mouth twitched. He promptly kicked him away. “Get lost. If you don’t mind being filthy, I certainly do!”

Seizing the opportunity, Zhang Donghao used his phone to snap a few candid shots of Ji Fengjing. Since they were quick captures, he didn’t have high hopes—he just hoped they weren’t too blurry.

To his surprise, the photos were exceptionally clear. In the shots, Ji Fengjing was turning slightly, a hint of helplessness etched between his sharp, handsome brows, and the signature on his arm was perfectly visible.

“Whoa, Boss, you’re way too photogenic!” Zhang Donghao marveled. “You look great even in a random snap. Putting my photo next to yours is giving me a lot of performance anxiety.”

Ji Fengjing’s lip curled. “Wen Xingshen already thinks you’re a sasaeng fan, and you’re still this happy?”

At that, Zhang Donghao’s feverish excitement cooled slightly. “You can’t blame Brother Shen for misunderstanding. Who knew it would be such a coincidence that your house is right next to his? He’s had plenty of sasaengs in the past who followed him everywhere. It’s not strange that they’d be suspicious.” He pumped a fist, rebuilding his resolve. “But I believe Brother Shen will understand me eventually!”

Ji Fengjing arched an eyebrow. “Understand you how?”

“He lives here, and we live here too,” Zhang Donghao explained. “As long as we ‘bump into’ him a few more times, he’ll realize we didn’t sneak in—we actually live here! Today was just a total coincidence!”

Ji Fengjing was merciless. “It’s not ‘we.’ It’s just me.” He offered a thin smile and pushed Zhang Donghao toward the door. “The stuff is delivered. You can head back now. Remember to drive the car back to the unit. Bye.”

Bam.

He shut the door right in Zhang Donghao’s face. Ignoring the “ghostly wails and wolf howls” coming from outside, Ji Fengjing began tidying up his things.

He didn’t have much, but the villa was thick with dust and needed a deep clean. As he headed to the bathroom to find a bucket, he passed the mirror and saw the signature again. The three characters for “Wen Xingshen” were written in a flamboyant, flowing style—the hurried script of someone used to signing things constantly.

He reached for the tap again, but the phone in his pocket suddenly rang.

Since his hands weren’t wet yet, he fished it out. It was a call from Xiao Liao, a colleague from the department.

“Captain, are you moving today? Are you finished?” she asked urgently as soon as he picked up.

“Go ahead,” Ji Fengjing replied. “What’s the situation?”

“There’s an emergency mission,” Xiao Liao said. “The Director originally intended to send Zhang’s team, but we’ve discovered this group might be more dangerous than initially reported. The cargo they’re transporting is likely the items missing from the 5.22 Research Institute. The Director wants you to handle this personally.”

Hearing about the Institute’s missing items, Ji Fengjing’s expression darkened. “Where?”

“Quport Wharf. If the intel is correct, they’ll be coming ashore around 3:00 AM.”

3:00 AM. Ji Fengjing glanced at the time. It was 6:30 PM. He needed to gather his team and prep. The timeline was tight.

“Tell Zhang Xiao to go to the Narcotics Bureau next door and borrow two police dogs,” Ji Fengjing commanded as he walked toward the door. “I’ll be at the unit in thirty minutes.”

He finished barking out the preliminary orders and opened the door to find Zhang Donghao still “scratching at the wall” outside.

Zhang Donghao looked delighted. “Boss! You finally opened the door! Have you agreed to help me?”

Ji Fengjing tossed the car keys at him. “We have a mission. Move it. Drive back to the department.”

Recognizing the shift in tone, Zhang Donghao stopped playing around. He caught the keys and sprinted to the car.

Quport Wharf.

A night passed. The sun rose over the horizon, and the sky grew bright.

The team, having kept watch all night without seeing a soul, was growing restless. The targets were supposed to land around 3:00 AM; it was now 6:40 AM, and there was no sign of them.

Zhang Donghao turned to Ji Fengjing. “Boss, do you think they found out we’re lying in wait and decided not to come ashore?”

“It’s possible,” Ji Fengjing said, then added, “But it’s also possible they’re still waiting.”

“Waiting?” The others were confused. “Waiting for what? For us to leave?”

“In the past, if we waited until dawn and saw nothing, we might have assumed our cover was blown and pulled out,” Ji Fengjing explained. “They are waiting for exactly that opportunity.”

“What if they landed somewhere else?” Zhang Donghao worried.

“Unlikely,” Ji Fengjing replied. “I ordered a full sweep of the coastline yesterday; every other spot is locked down. This harbor is the only place in the area where they can dock. Because of the heavy daily traffic of cargo ships, the port can’t be completely shut down. This is their only path unless they want to flee into international waters.”

Quport couldn’t be closed. A-City was a top-tier metropolis with millions of residents. The port handled vast quantities of fruits and vegetables daily to meet the city’s needs. If it closed, supermarkets would run out of stock, and the fresh produce would rot—a massive financial loss.

This gave the smugglers their one and only window.

“They are patient,” Ji Fengjing concluded. “So we have to be more patient than them.”

With the Captain’s word given, the others settled back in to wait.

Another half hour passed.

On the other side of the wharf, a fleet of vehicles suddenly arrived. Along with the cars came dense crowds of people, mostly young men and women. Leading the pack were reporters lugging cameras and tripods.

Ji Fengjing frowned. “What’s going on over there?”

“Oh, it looks like that warehouse was rented out. A film crew is shooting there; today must be the opening ceremony.”

“Which crew?”

“Holy crap!” Zhang Donghao slapped his forehead. “It’s Brother Shen’s! No wonder! I was wondering why he came back so fast from the awards ceremony in Country M. It was for today’s ceremony.”

Ji Fengjing blinked. “You mean Wen Xingshen?”

“Yeah!” Fanboy Zhang Donghao was back online. “The crew is likely for The Way Home. It’s a Republican-era film about overseas students returning to China… the plot sounds boring as hell, honestly…”

Ji Fengjing cut him off. “There are too many people. Why didn’t anyone warn us about this?”

“Uh, that warehouse is next to the port but doesn’t actually touch the docks. It’s pretty far from the water. There was no need to cordone it off, right?”

The warehouse was indeed far from their target zone. There really hadn’t been a justification to shut it down. The higher-ups didn’t want to cause public panic just to catch a few smugglers.

Zhou Kai chimed in, “And we aren’t exactly regular police… we can’t just shut things down on a whim. We don’t have that kind of authority.”

Among them, only Ji Fengjing was a properly commissioned officer; the others were specialists. And even with his commission, he didn’t have the power to shut down a major shipping hub solo.

Ji Fengjing sighed. “There are so many people—fans, reporters, staff, actors. If chaos breaks out and the crowd scatters, what if our targets use the confusion to land? Do we want to give them hostages, or do we want them to escape in the mess?”

The team realized he was right. “So what do we do? Go over and tell them to leave?”

Zhang Donghao immediately raised his hand, wanting to go as the representative.

Ji Fengjing didn’t give him the chance. “Xiao Liao, report the situation to HQ and see if we can get another perimeter cleared. Everyone else, keep your eyes peeled. Inform me the moment anything looks off. I’ll head over to handle the crew.”

The fans all knew that Wen Xingshen had recently hinted at retirement. Over the last two years, his film output had dwindled. Some were even whispering that The Way Home would be his final movie.

Naturally, the fans were devastated. They had prepared early, flocking to the opening ceremony to support their Movie God. No one knew if there would be a next time.

The word spread like wildfire, and the ceremony site was soon swamped by fans.

“Brother Shen, your fans are so passionate,” a young man in a casual tracksuit said with blatant envy. “I wish I had this many fans one day.”

The speaker was Chen Chen, the second male lead and the actor with the most scenes opposite Wen Xingshen. With so many reporters around, he was desperate to strike up a conversation to make it look like they were close.

Wen Xingshen simply gave a cold, slight nod, offering no verbal response.

Chen Chen didn’t give up. “Brother Shen, I followed you on Weibo. Could you follow me back? Also, can I add you on WeChat? If I have questions about the script later, I’d love to ask for your advice.”

“Apologies,” Wen Xingshen said slowly. “My team handles my Weibo; I rarely log on. As for WeChat, I forgot my phone when I left this morning. You can add my assistant first.”

Wen Xingshen’s assistant immediately squeezed between them, wearing a fake smile. “Oh, sorry about that, Brother Chen Chen! Here, here, you can add me first!”

Chen Chen: “…” Did he not just see Wen Xingshen taking a call earlier?

But since the rejection was that blatant, Chen Chen was tactful enough to add the assistant and leave. In the entertainment industry, the most important skill was knowing when to back off.

Once Chen Chen was gone, the assistant whispered, “Trying to use Brother Shen for clout! Hmph, in his dreams!”

Wen Xingshen asked, “Is the Director ready?”

“Ready, ready!” the assistant chirped. “The offerings are set; we’re just waiting for the auspicious hour to light the incense. But Brother Shen, there are so many fans today. The Director is worried about a stampede. He wants you to go over and calm them down—maybe hand out a few autographs. You up for it?”

Wen Xingshen nodded. Since he had agreed to the film, he would cooperate with the Director’s arrangements. When the fans saw him approaching, they erupted into cheers and slogans, sending the atmosphere into a frenzy.

Director Xiang greeted him happily. “Xingshen, you’re here! Quick, look at all these fans who came to support you. Come say hi and give out a few autographs as a bonus, eh? Hahaha!”

Wen Xingshen stood by the Director and gave a slight bow. “Autographs are fine, but please, everyone, do not push.”

At his words, the fans who had been frantically jostling to the front immediately quieted down. They stared at him intently, terrified of disappointing their god by being unruly.

Seeing the crowd settle, Wen Xingshen said, “Thank you for your support. Due to time constraints, I can only sign for a few people.”

The fans shouted in unison, “It’s okay! Sign whoever you want, Movie God!”

They all wanted to be the chosen ones, but they were more afraid of causing a scene that would lead to bad press for him.

Wen Xingshen nodded. The assistant handed him a marker.

He began signing. The fans watched in silence, screaming internally: Me! Me! Me! Sign me!!

Ji Fengjing arrived outside the warehouse and was surprised by the orderliness. Despite the crush of people, everyone was being remarkably polite.

Because of this, as the fans politely made way for one another, Ji Fengjing somehow found himself—inexplicably—pushed right to the very front.

Wen Xingshen finished signing for three girls and prepared to sign one last person before stopping. As he turned to the next person in line, he suddenly came face-to-face with Ji Fengjing.

His movements faltered.

“It’s you?”

Wen Xingshen hesitated, his eyes flickering down to the unwashed signature still on Ji Fengjing’s arm. His brow arched slightly. “You want another one?”

Ji Fengjing: “???”

He looked at the sea of fans surrounding him, then back at the Movie God who was poised to sign him again.

…Wait. There has been a serious misunderstanding!