It wasn’t until they’d gotten home, eaten, and gone into the bedroom that Zhong Yao still failed to pry out of his bright-red agent exactly why Lin Zhu had brought his shirt along.
The young master who’d dared kick over a table at Huaying now burrowed under the covers, mortified and refusing to show his face. Zhong Yao tried digging for an answer for a long time to no avail, and in the end could only scoop the buried-under-the-blanket agent, clearing his throat lightly as he coaxed, “Alright, alright, I know…”
Lin Zhu protested miserably, “You’re not allowed to laugh! Ge, you—”
He had just lifted the blanket when, before he could react, Zhong Yao had already wrapped him up securely and brushed a light kiss against his lips.
Lin Zhu instantly deflated, obediently settling against Zhong Yao’s chest without moving.
Zhong Yao still remembered his wrist, drawing it over to massage it carefully, letting Lin Zhu lean against him. “What kind of cooperation are you talking about? Will it take long? Do you need me to come back and make an appearance at the right time?”
Zhong Yao wasn’t some aloof immortal detached from the world. Even if he wasn’t deeply versed in the finer technicalities, he wasn’t so obtuse as to miss the emotional implications.
Text messages weren’t safe, so Lin Zhu had only vaguely mentioned having important resources to negotiate. Most resources were now handled by the team; anything that required Lin Zhu to step in personally was bound to be difficult, and might keep him here for quite a while.
Lin Zhu hadn’t known Zhong Yao would follow him back, but Zhong Yao could easily guess why Lin Zhu had brought his shirt.
And precisely because he could guess, the image of Lin Zhu hurriedly packing alone in a hotel room, secretly tucking away his clothes before running out, made Zhong Yao even less willing to leave him here alone before everything was settled.
The heartbeat at his back was steady and calm. Lin Zhu curled his fingers slightly, unable to resist lifting his head.
Zhong Yao lowered his gaze to him and smiled. “If I’m needed, I’ll come back more often. Taking leave is hard, but flying back and forth like this isn’t a problem.”
He couldn’t have been clearer. Lin Zhu’s face warmed; he rested against Zhong Yao’s neck for a moment, then gently shook his head. “No need… not yet.”
“It’s a foreign film, directed by Marlensius. Their team will stay here for half a month. We’ll start by making contact and testing the waters.”
Lin Zhu straightened a little. His face was still flushed, but his expression was strikingly serious. “Auditions won’t be until the end of the year. For now, we need to stabilize things, take it step by step. We have to keep the initiative, we can’t let them reach the actor too soon. We’ll keep them hanging for a bit. Anyway… I’m confident I can secure it.”
He looked up. “Once it’s settled, I’ll go back, ge. It won’t take long.”
There was still a faint warmth on the manager’s face, but his eyes shone with a clean, stubborn pride.
Zhong Yao felt a heat stir in his chest. He wrapped his arms around Lin Zhu and murmured, “Alright.”
Lin Zhu pressed his lips together, then folded back into Zhong Yao’s chest, rubbing lightly against him twice.
It was already past midnight. Zhong Yao had a flight the next day and had drunk alcohol tonight as well. Lin Zhu didn’t want him staying up too late. He didn’t say more about work, coaxed Zhong Yao to lie down, and went to soak in the bath himself.
Warm water streamed from the showerhead. Lin Zhu closed his eyes, sinking into the tub and relaxing, running through the plans for the next few days in his head.
Zhong Yao still had filming to do, and running back and forth would be exhausting, but his own matters here shouldn’t be too many. The distance wasn’t far anyway, just over two hours by plane; if there was time, he could even go back to visit the set.
And when Zhong Yao wasn’t around, he could come back here to stay…
Lin Zhu’s face grew warmer. He ducked under the water and blew out a string of bubbles, the corners of his mouth lifting despite himself.
Whether Zhong Yao agreed or not, he was definitely going to sneak back to sleep here.
He still didn’t know how to properly get along with his parents, nor what kind of situation he’d face when he went home tomorrow. But no matter what, even if he couldn’t stay and ran out again, he had somewhere to go this time. No more wandering the plaza all night, pulling an all-nighter at an internet café, or sitting through midnight movies till dawn.
Lin Zhu rubbed his eyes and slid a little lower into the tub.
There was nothing particularly special about Zhong Yao’s place, yet everywhere carried a quiet warmth that made people relax without realizing it. Lin Zhu lingered in the hot water a bit longer, drowsiness creeping in as he let out a soft yawn.
When he got out, he’d ask whether he could stay here for the next few days too…
If he could keep staying, there’d be nothing to worry about at all.
In the bedroom, Zhong Yao was leaning against the headboard, flipping through a script under the bedside lamp.
He wasn’t used to smelling of alcohol, so he’d showered as soon as he got home. Coincidentally, tomorrow’s scene required him to look worn and haggard, so there was no rush to adjust his state or catch up on sleep. After turning a couple of pages, he heard the phone Lin Zhu had left by the bed buzz. He casually picked it up to take a look.
It was the first time the boss had treated them, and the team’s departments were pleasantly shocked. They’d worked overtime together in a high-end massage room and, incredibly, had already sent over a compiled list of recent resources that very night.
Normally, Lin Zhu would filter and screen these himself before discussing them with Zhong Yao. This was Zhong Yao’s first time seeing such a dense, eye-watering list. He couldn’t help frowning, flipping through a couple of pages, and replied: Pay attention to line width and spacing next time. Use at least size-four font for the headers.
The agent never cared about formatting. When pressed for time, he’d even have the resources department dictate things for transcription. The department head, receiving such specific requirements for the first time, was startled and hurriedly agreed.
After a while, another message popped up, from the same department head: [Lin-laoshi is using size four font?]
Zhong Yao thought of the scripts he usually read and typed back: [Size four, bold. Don’t pack it too tightly.]
After fretting for a while, the department head finally got a clear reply, responded with a cautious [Received,] and went back to revising the spreadsheet.
It must be that the agent, busy day and night, was suffering from declining eyesight and needed extra eye protection. That had to be why he wanted larger fonts…
Staring at a screen where four blank lines could already fill it with emptiness, the department head tried hard to convince himself of this and bent his head to continue editing.
Having grown up reading scripts alongside industry veterans, Zhong Yao frowned slightly at the dense small text, rubbed his brow, and skimmed through the resources.
The quality of these compilations varied wildly, with more than half being filtered out by the resources department anyway. They were mainly kept as backups for the agent, in case something with potential slipped through. A sharp-eyed agent could still pick up a hidden gem in time.
Zhong Yao often worked overtime alongside Lin Zhu and could roughly make sense of them. As he flipped page by page, his brow suddenly lifted slightly at one particular entry.
……
When Lin Zhu came out steaming with heat, Zhong Yao was still looking at that consolidated spreadsheet.
“Ge, why are you still not asleep?”
Lin Zhu dried himself, changed into pajamas, and wiped his hair with a towel in one hand as he walked over quickly. “You’ve got a flight tomorrow. If you don’t sleep now, you’ll definitely be exhausted. You need to rest soon—”
“Tomorrow’s scene is the one where my household gets confiscated. I’m supposed to collapse on a table in the prime minister’s residence all night anyway, so I wasn’t going to sleep well to begin with. No rush.”
Zhong Yao smiled, stood up, pulled him into his arms, and took the towel from his hand. “The resources department sent a message just now, reporting on what’s left for the year. I took a look.”
Lin Zhu froze. “Reporting now? I booked them a full sauna-and-massage package. Where exactly are they reporting from?”
Worried about the entire team’s mental well-being, Lin Zhu leaned over to grab his phone. The moment he unlocked the screen, the oversized spreadsheet resent by the resources department stabbed his eyes with brightness. His hand jolted, and he almost dropped the phone.
Zhong Yao: “……”
Not having anticipated the difference between paper and a phone screen, Zhong Yao took the phone, set it aside, and turned the hair dryer up a bit. “I just saw one resource… I’m pretty interested.”
Lin Zhu’s eyes lit up. “What is it? TV or film? Just say the word, ge, I’ll go negotiate—”
Zhong Yao paused, then said honestly, “A variety show.”
Lin Zhu blanked for a moment, then tried hard to broaden his thinking, imagining what kind of variety show might suit Zhong Yao’s temperament. “Is it like the last one, [Light and Shadow], with a competitive format? I haven’t seen many good variety shows lately. There were two that started off well, but they ruined a good hand halfway through. Not worth lowering your status to go on those—”
The last bit of dampness in his hair was blown dry. Zhong Yao turned off the dryer, rubbed Lin Zhu’s head, and spoke gently. “It’s just… a pretty ordinary show. Traveling around, sightseeing. Seven days and seven nights. No competition segments. Seems to have a bit of games.”
Lin Zhu looked up in surprise, instinctively reflecting on whether the schedules he’d been arranging lately were too brutal, so oppressive that his artist was already thinking of using a variety show to relax and cleanse his soul.
“It’s not that—”
The moment he saw Lin Zhu’s expression, Zhong Yao guessed what he was thinking. He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not tired. I just—”
He paused slightly, his voice soft. “That show is for two people. You bring one guest. Industry insiders or outsiders are both fine.”
Lin Zhu’s heart gave a light jump. His hand hanging at his side curled slightly.
Zhong Yao continued, “I checked their most recent episode. They went to soak in hot springs and chase the aurora… I’ve seen the aurora before. Back then, I just thought it was shocking, but it didn’t really move me. But just now I was thinking—if the two of us went together, then no matter what we saw, it should feel…”
He smiled lightly. “It should all feel very beautiful.”
His ears reddened a little. Zhong Yao gently turned the agent in his arms around, lowered his head, and kissed his forehead. “I won’t get to see you these next few days… go negotiate a variety show for me, will you? Indulge me a bit.”
His voice was soft and slow. Lin Zhu’s chest tightened, his eyes finally heating despite himself.
Zhong Yao’s filming schedule was very tight, and he wasn’t used to juggling multiple projects. If they were to talk about a variety show, it could only be crammed into the end of the year. Shows like this usually weren’t well-known. Self-produced programs that couldn’t air on satellite channels. With little conflict and few game segments, the ratings were predictable.
Unless an artist urgently needed exposure, or the production paid extremely well, few would proactively contact this kind of show.
“Ge… you’re the one indulging me.”
Lin Zhu took a deep breath and lowered his head slightly, his voice hoarse. “You’re afraid I’ll miss you, afraid I won’t be able to hold up here on my own. I can do it, Ge. Just what you said just now is enough for me to hold on. Could you— could you let me come back to sleep here these days too? If I can still come home to sleep, I’ll be completely fine…”
Before he could finish, there was a sudden light pinch at the back of his neck.
Lin Zhu shrank his neck and instinctively looked up.
Zhong Yao looked at him with a helpless, gentle smile, rubbed the spot he’d just pinched, then simply turned sideways and sat down, pulling Lin Zhu onto his lap.
He raised his hand and began undoing Lin Zhu’s buttons, one by one.
Lin Zhu’s heart rate spiked. “!!”
“Of course you have to come home to sleep… I finally cooked for three days. If you don’t come back to eat, it’ll all go bad.”
Zhong Yao spoke slowly, his hands gentle as he eased Lin Zhu out of his clothes, undid his own buttons, and pulled him into his arms.
It was Zhong Yao’s first time doing something like this. His heart wasn’t beating any slower either, but years of acting in front of the camera showed. Aside from his flaming red ears, his expression remained calm and composed as he held Lin Zhu against his chest.
“Is it…” His breathing grew slightly uneven. He paused, then continued, “…is it like this that you’ll believe that I also—”
He coughed lightly, took a breath, and slowly lowered Lin Zhu onto the bed, bracing himself above him. “That I also… don’t want to leave?”
Lin Zhu’s chest jolted violently. He trembled slightly as he looked up, staring at Zhong Yao, who for the first time carried a faint sense of pressure.
“Xiao Zhu, remember this…”
Zhong Yao stroked his hair, his gentle kisses falling little by little. “I rushed to catch a flight to chase after you not only because I didn’t feel safe leaving you alone, but because… if I didn’t even get to see you and just heard that you’d run out on your own, I wouldn’t have slept a wink tonight.”
Lin Zhu squeezed his eyes shut, his throat moving.
Zhong Yao didn’t give him a chance to avoid it. He carefully secured Lin Zhu’s right wrist and kissed him slowly. “I want to properly have some time that’s just for us, to stay together.”
“Otherwise—”
As if he’d suddenly remembered something terrible, his expression flashed with extreme embarrassment. He frowned, took a deep breath, and forced himself to say it. “Otherwise, if I didn’t always feel like things have to go step by step, and actually did what they taught me…”
The Film Emperor Zhong, trained from the diaphragm up and always able to deliver his lines clearly and perfectly, pinned his agent beneath him, his face burning as he used alcohol for courage, his words slurred and rapid as he blurted out, “…I’d have slept with you a long time ago.”
Lin Zhu: “……”
All the emotion in his chest tangled into chaos at the worst possible moment. Lin Zhu took a deep breath, hesitating over whether to pretend he hadn’t heard and ask him to repeat it. Seeing Zhong Yao’s completely red ears, he kindly pressed down his slightly malicious urge.
Zhong Yao hadn’t expected himself to actually say it either. His heart raced instantly, and his gaze shifted away on instinct. “That… was that too disrespectful? I don’t think it’s very appropriate, but I couldn’t find any other way to put it—”
Lin Zhu groped for and grabbed his hand. “No.”
Zhong Yao stiffened.
Lin Zhu couldn’t help laughing, coughing lightly twice. Letting the scorching heat in his chest surge, he took a breath. “Ge, you—”
He’d imagined plenty of ways things might escalate, but never this kind of awkward, coded exchange, like hailing an illegal taxi at a train station: you pull the door, I get in.
Seeing Zhong Yao showing clear signs of heading toward completely overheating with him, Lin Zhu swallowed and steeled himself. “Go to sleep. We’re already… already progressing pretty steadily.”
Still flushed from Zhong Yao’s confession, Lin Zhu wanted him to know. Red-faced, he added, “I… I understand what you mean. I’ll go negotiate the variety show later…”
This didn’t seem like the right moment to talk about work. Lin Zhu pressed his dry lips together, said nothing more, turned his head slightly, and took the initiative to grab Zhong Yao’s arm.
Light flickered in Zhong Yao’s eyes. He lowered himself gently and wrapped Lin Zhu completely in his arms.
With no fabric between them for the first time, their heartbeats faithfully imprinted against each other’s chests. Lin Zhu closed his eyes and let out a very slow breath.
Five minutes later, Lin Zhu opened his eyes.
Their bodies were pressed closely together. Zhong Yao held him tightly, carefully avoiding his wrist. He had fallen asleep just like that.
Lin Zhu was surprised, yet not surprised at all. Nestled in Zhong Yao’s arms, he freed one arm to turn off the bedside night light and sighed softly in melancholy.
By Zhong Yao’s standard of “sleeping”…
He had probably already cheated with more than ten life-sized Zhong Yao body pillows.
