The actor suffering from severe insomnia (17)

As soon as Qi Yan stepped out of the restroom, he saw flames soaring into the night.

His brow furrowed deeply. Of the two bodyguards who had been waiting outside, only one remained—the other was nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“Mr. Qi, it seems the warehouse is on fire. I’ve sent Chengzi to check it out. For your safety, you should stay here for now,” the bodyguard replied.

Qi Yan frowned. How could there be a fire? It was supposed to be an explosion scene, but the amount of gunpowder had been strictly calculated and controlled—loud and dramatic, perhaps, but never enough for such a blaze.

It was only because the director had insisted on another test run that he wasn’t in the warehouse at this very moment; otherwise, he would have been inside when it happened.

A cold suspicion gripped Qi Yan. Something was wrong here. His eyes narrowed, his expression grew grim, and he stood rooted to the spot.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. “Where’s Huanhuan?”

The bodyguard considered for a moment. “Miss Xie should be in the van.”

Qi Yan acknowledged this, but the uneasiness in his heart would not subside. He paced back and forth, then abruptly said, “I’m going to have a look.”

“Mr. Qi—” The bodyguard tried to dissuade him, but at that moment, Chengzi came running back.

“Mr. Qi—it’s bad. The warehouse exploded and caught fire. The director said Miss Xie thought you were inside—she ran in after you!”

It was as if a thunderclap had struck over Qi Yan’s head. For a split second, a deafening ring filled his ears, and darkness closed in around his vision.

But in that same instant, he snapped back to himself and sprinted toward the warehouse.

The two bodyguards exchanged a glance. Chengzi bit his lip in regret, then hurried after Qi Yan with his partner.

The fire at the warehouse had only grown fiercer—no one dared to go in now. The director, soaked like a ritual libation, was preparing to rush in himself to save whoever he could.

Even without mentioning the two missing prop crew members whose fates were unknown, there was Xie Huan. Everyone had witnessed the way Qi Yan treated her over these past days—she was the apple of his eye, and that was no exaggeration.

If anything happened to her, even if he offered his own life, it would not be enough to appease the Qi family’s young master.

How could he have been so careless? He’d never imagined that the delicate-looking girl would really risk her life to charge into the flames.

If they couldn’t save her, and he lost his life as well, he could only hope Qi Yan would spare his family for his sacrifice.

The director was so moved by his own resolve that he nearly brought himself to tears.

But before he could act, a figure dashed past him and plunged straight into the inferno.

The director gaped in shock.

The two bodyguards, a step behind, were terrified out of their wits. “Mr. Qi!” they cried, and dove in as well.

When the director heard “Mr. Qi,” the world seemed to spin.

It was over.

A scorching wave of heat slammed into Qi Yan, and he could smell his own hair beginning to singe.

The fire looked monstrous from outside, but inside, the smoke was so thick he could barely see a thing.

“Huan—” He tried to call out, but a lungful of smoke forced him into a fit of violent coughing.

One of the bodyguards hurried up behind him, somehow having managed to wet a handkerchief and press it to Qi Yan’s nose and mouth, forcing him to stoop lower.

“Mr. Qi, cough… Please, get out. We’ll look for her, cough…”

Qi Yan shook his head and pushed the bodyguard aside, forcing himself deeper inside.

Above him, charred beams and bricks crashed down intermittently.

The warehouse was enormous, crammed with set pieces and obstacles for the shoot. Searching for someone in this smoke was no easy task.

Every minute lost meant tenfold more danger.

Ignoring everything else, Qi Yan braved the suffocating air and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Huanhuan—cough, cough—Xie Huan!”

He hadn’t even hesitated before rushing in.

The smoke was scouring his throat raw, the flames nipped at his skin, and the threat of death—burning, suffocating, asphyxiating—was terrifyingly close.

Yet only one thought filled his mind.

And with it, a sudden, piercing pain in his head, accompanied by a vision, fragmented and fleeting.

He saw flames as high as this, and in the fire, the face of a girl he’d never seen before, with eyes that were almost eerily calm.

The image vanished in a blink, leaving no memory behind.

“Xie Huan. Xie Huan—cough, cough—Xie—”

“Qi Yan.”

He heard her voice—a voice he could never mistake—along with the sound of hurried footsteps drawing near.

The next moment, something half-damp was thrown over his head—a shirt.

“I’m here,” she said. “I’ll get you out.”