Li Yijie’s tone was blatantly provocative. The area outside gradually fell silent, and the expressions of several assistant directors darkened.
The assistant director who had been going over the scene with Lin Zhu stepped forward, suppressing his anger and explaining patiently, “Tomorrow’s scene is very dangerous. It requires professionals to perform under protective conditions. This is for your safety—”
“Who are you trying to fool? If it’s really dangerous, would Zhong Yao actually dare let that frail, push-him-and-he’ll-fall agent of his do it?”
Clearly having heard something from someone, Li Yijie didn’t take the crew’s explanation seriously at all. He casually put on his sunglasses and sneered. “I’ll report on time tomorrow. If you’ve got the guts, let him do it. The next day the whole internet will know how the [Serving the Sovereign] crew props one up by stepping on another.”
He’d already stirred things up several times these past few days. With the director away at meetings and no one firmly in charge, he had grown even more arrogant. “Isn’t Jin Zhenbo not here? If something this big blows up, that’ll be enough to keep you busy, won’t it?”
The “frail, push-him-and-he’ll-fall” agent arched a brow and couldn’t help stepping forward.
Zhong Yao’s authority had once been overwhelming. No matter how much Li Yijie postured now, he still didn’t dare directly mock or target Zhong Yao himself.
As long as it didn’t inconvenience Zhong Yao, Lin Zhu usually didn’t bother interfering much, and he didn’t really mind being mocked.
But the firecrackers set off earlier by that “Zhong Yao’s kid” comment hadn’t even finished exploding yet, and Li Yijie had just walked straight into it…
Lin Zhu narrowed his eyes, interest sparkling brightly within them.
Zhong Yao had always liked watching his own manager act like a little bandit. Smiling faintly, he took a step back, clearly indicating he wouldn’t restrain him.
Lin Zhu’s gaze brightened further. Just as he excitedly prepared to step forward, the assistant director hurriedly blocked him.
“Lin—Lin-laoshi.”
The assistant director’s face was equally tinged with anger, yet he had to grit his teeth and endure it, lowering his voice to persuade him. “You can’t clash with him. [Serving the Sovereign] can’t light the fuse…”
[Serving the Sovereign] was a serious, educational drama, specifically designated for use as a historical teaching film. The moment it became entangled in any messy public feud, regardless of who was at fault, it would count as a major error on the production side.
At an arts and literature work forum, such a mistake would require Jin Zhenbo to personally report and reflect on it.
Li Yijie’s fans were notoriously volatile. Combined with Huaying’s usual promotional tactics, they were like a time bomb that could explode at the slightest spark. The crew’s tolerance toward Li Yijie wasn’t just because he had a producer backing him, but also because once scholars meet soldiers, reason becomes useless. They didn’t dare let his fans erupt again.
Lin Zhu had long been aware of this. His eyes curved slightly as he replied with confidence, “Don’t worry. I know.”
The assistant director was momentarily stunned. Lin Zhu had already stepped around him and stood in front of Li Yijie.
“Is this never going to end? Can’t you understand plain words?”
Li Yijie snorted. “Zhong Yao’s agent is so broke he has to come out and work as a stand-in to support himself? Why not come run errands for me instead? I’d pay you more than you earn as a stand-in—”
Lin Zhu looked mildly surprised, then smiled after a moment. “I am pretty broke. There’s a small budget gap, so I have to pick up gigs to earn some extra money.”
Polite as ever, Lin Zhu asked, “Does Mr. Li have some spare cash on hand?”
Just the form of address had already displeased Li Yijie. Seeing that Lin Zhu’s tone was still fairly courteous, he shot him a glance, sarcasm thick in his voice. “At least I’m better off than your Zhong-laoshi. No need for my agent to sell himself working for others. You—”
He had planned to use the moment to subtly step on Zhong Yao a few more times, but Lin Zhu beat him to it, amiably patting his shoulder.
Lin Zhu smiled. “As long as you have money, that’s good. Go find a better psychologist, preferably one who specializes in dealing with psychological trauma.”
With sincere goodwill, Lin Zhu added, “You’ll need one sooner or later.”
Li Yijie froze on the spot. When he came back to his senses, he flew into a rage and was just about to lash out when Zhong Yao walked over, lightly tapped Lin Zhu on the forehead, and gathered the audacious manager by the back of his neck, leading him away.
While Lin Zhu drew the fire, the crew quickly dispersed. Li Yijie and his agent and assistants were left standing in the empty corridor, where he kicked the half-closed door viciously in frustration.
…
Lin Zhu didn’t rush back to the hotel. Instead, he went to the stable on set.
More than ten tall horses were still awake, guarding their feed and snorting, swishing their tails at him. Lin Zhu grabbed a handful of corn kernels, found the white horse scheduled for tomorrow’s shoot, and went over to hug its neck.
With Jin Zhenbo absent, Zhong Yao single-handedly held back the anxious crew members who had wanted to come persuade him, leaving plenty of space for his manager to do what he needed.
Squatting beside the feed, Lin Zhu spent more than ten minutes having a “heart-to-heart” with the horse.
After painstakingly reaching an agreement, Lin Zhu felt satisfied. He fed the last handful of corn into the horse’s mouth, clapped his hands, and quickly slipped out.
Zhong Yao was organizing photos he’d secretly taken of his agent . With a turn of his wrist, he put his phone away and drew the jogging manager into his arms, wrapping his scarf snugly around him. “Finished talking?”
Lin Zhu nodded confidently. “Finished. We can go home!”
After squatting outside for so long, Lin Zhu’s body had grown icy cold. Afraid he’d catch a chill, Zhong Yao promptly tucked him into the car and turned on the heater.
He didn’t let the assistant follow. Zhong Yao got into the driver’s seat himself, fastened Lin Zhu’s seatbelt, and asked curiously, “Can horses understand?”
“Nope.” Lin Zhu shook his head briskly. “I can tell what they’re thinking, but getting them to understand me takes a bit more effort… though this time it wasn’t too hard.”
“I hadn’t paid much attention before… but when I was running around the set later, it suddenly occurred to me; since I know how they think, as long as I reward them in time when they respond correctly, simple intentions can still be conveyed.”
His fingers were pale from the cold as he held them near the heater vent. His expression was serious. “As long as it understands that you’re my person and it mustn’t hurt you, that’s enough.”
Li Yijie usually had to be invited repeatedly just to show up, often lining up literary and action doubles for rehearsal. For him to suddenly jump up like this today, either someone had said something behind the scenes, or he was deliberately targeting Zhong Yao.
Tomorrow’s scene was already difficult to film. Li Yijie came from a decent background and had studied horseback riding for quite some time. While that didn’t necessarily matter for acting, if he took the opportunity to let a startled horse injure Zhong Yao, it wouldn’t be that hard.
Lin Zhu had no intention of giving him that chance. Only after talking at length with the horse just now did he finally gain a bit of confidence.
Zhong Yao looked at Lin Zhu, his heart softening, and ruffled his wind-tousled short hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll be more careful.”
The warm air from the heater felt comfortable. Lin Zhu narrowed his eyes and gently rubbed against his palm. “I can’t not worry. I still haven’t figured out what Li Yijie is actually trying to do. What if he really is coming after you? And why was he wearing sunglasses indoors for no reason? Just getting in the way…”
Something stirred in Zhong Yao’s heart. Watching his agent complain so earnestly, he unwrapped a piece of candy and fed it into Lin Zhu’s mouth.
Starting the car, Zhong Yao pulled onto the road. “If he’s wearing sunglasses, you can’t read his mind?”
Lin Zhu nodded honestly. “I can’t anymore.”
As if guessing what Zhong Yao had wanted to say but hadn’t, his eyes curved slightly. Leaning back in the seat with the candy in his mouth, he said, “I’ve known for a long time… I just never told my parents.”
Zhong Yao nodded gently and didn’t ask further, casually putting on some slow, soft music.
After a moment of quiet, Lin Zhu turned to look out the window, his voice lighter. “I did think about whether to tell them. Later I figured… better not.”
Lin Zhu: “Like now, when my parents are abroad, I can tell myself it’s for the family business. They video call me, and I just assume they’re too busy to come back.”
Lowering his head, he smiled faintly. “But if one day my parents actually wore sunglasses while talking to me… I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
Before he finished speaking, Zhong Yao’s palm had already settled on top of his head, gently rubbing.
“…That’s not it,” Zhong Yao said.
Lin Zhu was startled.
The red light turned green. Zhong Yao started the car again, focusing on driving. “If you had told them, the ones who would’ve gone back and forth in torment would’ve been your parents.”
His voice was warm and steady. “If you told them, you’d hand all the problems and choices over to them, and you wouldn’t have to think anymore. But then they’d have to struggle. Would wearing sunglasses make you uncomfortable? Would not wearing them let you see what they’re thinking? What’s the right way to treat you? What’s the right thing to do?”
Zhong Yao: “By not telling them, you kept all that pressure for yourself.”
Zhong Yao: “Just like you didn’t tell me these things either. It was only so I wouldn’t feel bad… As for the consequences, you’d already prepared yourself for all of them.”
Used to reading others’ minds, Lin Zhu rarely experienced someone dissecting his own thoughts so precisely. He opened his mouth, his voice dry. “Ge, it’s all in the past. I—”
“Wait a bit. At least let me say this… in case someone’s excitement fades and he starts overthinking again.”
Zhong Yao smiled, parked steadily under the hotel building, and turned slightly in his seat, hand still on the steering wheel. With a soft smile, he rubbed Lin Zhu’s ear. “You kept it from me. I’m not angry.”
Lin Zhu’s chest fluttered, and he quickly looked up.
Zhong Yao gazed at him, his eyes serious and gentle. “Now that you’re willing to tell me, I’m very happy. And very honored. Other than having to re-plan your birthday next year to avoid accidental spoilers, I don’t have any new worries for now.”
Zhong Yao: “So in the future, if anyone suggests you switch jobs or anything like that, you can emphasize a few more times that our contract expires in seventy years…”
Lin Zhu’s eyes widened as he listened. After a long moment, he carefully ventured, “Ge… so just now… were you jealous?”
Zhong Yao: “…”
He coughed twice and looked away, explaining somewhat futilely, “I didn’t think about it at first… A lot of people in this crew already know you’re an outstanding agent.”
Zhong Yao: “Li Yijie doesn’t count for much. But after hearing that, others might come try to poach you. Next time you can reject them more firmly…”
Lin Zhu, deliberately poking where it hurt, circled around him trying to catch his eye. “Ge, you were jealous! You can get jealous? I saw people online say if you get jealous you have to punish someone. I can take the punishment. I’m in great shape right now! Let me see—”
Old scars deep in his heart were gently smoothed over bit by bit, then filled with joy he could hardly contain.
The sweetness unique to a lover swelled in his chest, almost overflowing. Lin Zhu pounced on Zhong Yao, messing around, until Zhong Yao, flustered, wrapped his arms around him and lowered his voice in warning. “Enough. If you keep this up, I really will punish you…”
Lin Zhu wasn’t afraid at all. He lifted his head, full of anticipation.
His slender body pressed firmly against Zhong Yao’s chest. Leaning back in the seat, Zhong Yao wrapped an arm around him, his heartbeat quietly speeding up, his ears gradually heating.
It was the first time Lin Zhu had… been this uninhibited with him.
Not avoiding his gaze. Not carefully maintaining boundaries. Not obedient, not overly mature, not overly sensible…
No longer secretly hiding burdens that could crush a person. The light in his eyes was sweet and sparkling, as if a single roll would leave him dusted in sugar.
Through the thin layers of clothing, a subtle heat spread across overlapping skin. Holding him fast, Zhong Yao’s breathing grew heavier.
His voice turned slightly hoarse. “In great shape?”
Lin Zhu’s ears were red as he nodded vigorously.
Zhong Yao ruffled his hair and slowly exhaled. “Good…”
He took off his coat and, without explanation, wrapped it around Lin Zhu, making sure not a bit of him felt cold, then led him out of the car and upstairs.
Following behind Zhong Yao, Lin Zhu was so excited and nervous he nearly moved in sync with the same hand and foot.
He was going to be punished!
Even if Zhong Yao still didn’t fully understand the exact “turning off the lights” process, at least he could pedal the tricycle forward three or five meters. Last time they’d already hugged, so maybe this time there would be touching!
Lin Zhu’s face grew warm, his heartbeat even faster.
Where would Zhong Yao touch him? They still had filming tomorrow, so it couldn’t be too obvious… his chest? His back? His waist? He was ticklish at the waist; he might accidentally laugh, and that would ruin the mood. He’d better practice holding his breath, at least to endure it…
Clenching his fingertips, Lin Zhu devoutly practiced holding his breath while watching Zhong Yao unlock the hotel room door.
Zhong Yao waited for him to enter, then shut the door behind them.
Lin Zhu’s gaze burned as he circled around him, repeatedly reminding himself of his status as someone about to be punished.
Zhong Yao methodically turned on the air conditioner, raised the temperature, locked the door, drew the curtains, slowly rolled up his sleeves, and unbuttoned two buttons at his collar.
…
Ten minutes later, Lin Zhu lay on the floor, numb, doing their tenth push-up together with Zhong Yao.
“Remember?” Zhong Yao said, leading by example and sharing the “punishment” with his manager. After washing and drying his hands, he continued, “Next time emphasize it more. I’ve already warned them, but there are still many people coveting you, especially some colleagues older than me who don’t even have an agent…”
Lin Zhu, having just washed his hands, nodded listlessly. “I remember.”
Zhong Yao paused, then pulled him into his arms, a hint of laughter flashing in his eyes. “Not happy?”
“I was going to thank the cannon fodder for advancing our progress again.”
Lying in Zhong Yao’s arms, Lin Zhu sighed weakly. “Now I realize, Ge… my expectations of you were too high.”
Zhong Yao coughed lightly, no longer hiding his smile. He bounced him slightly in his arms and lowered his head to kiss away the rest of his words.
This kiss was different from the ones before.
Before Lin Zhu could react, Zhong Yao had taken the initiative, gently exploring and caressing. When Lin Zhu wasn’t paying attention, he slipped slightly deeper, lightly biting at his lip.
Lin Zhu: “!!”
Heat spread from the top of his head through his entire body. Flustered, he almost bit Zhong Yao’s tongue again. “Ge—”
“It’s not that I don’t know how to punish you. No matter how clueless I am, haven’t I at least read scripts like that?”
Zhong Yao’s breathing was also uneven. His face was red as he tucked Lin Zhu into his arms and kissed his brow lightly. “I just can’t bear to.”
Lin Zhu’s heart fluttered as he burrowed closer into his embrace.
“We still have filming tomorrow. If we mess around too late tonight and you feel unwell or tired, what then?”
Rubbing his arm, Zhong Yao’s voice was low and gentle. One hand moved to his wrist to feel his pulse. “Your heartbeat is already too fast. Too much happened to you today. You need to relax. There’s no rush for us. We have a lifetime together…”
Lowering his head, his voice slightly hoarse, Zhong Yao continued, “We are both men. It’s not like… in those sex education. I’ll learn properly, then once I figure out how, we can take the next step.”
He stroked Lin Zhu’s hair again and again. “Slowly. Step by step. I’ve read some of those articles they write. Mostly young girls wrote them. They’re not very realistic. A lot of it doesn’t match real human anatomy. I asked for some materials—”
Lin Zhu, practically steaming in his arms, forced out words with a bright red face. “It’s fine, Ge. We can just… try.”
“My heartbeat speeding up is normal. I’ve been like this since I was little. When I’m nervous, my heart races and my face gets red. It’s not uncomfortable…”
Suddenly, there was a slight pain at the back of his neck. He instinctively shrank back and looked up at Zhong Yao.
“Not uncomfortable?”
One hand cupped the back of his neck, gently kneading. “No palpitations? No feeling like your heart’s beating so fast you can’t breathe, dizziness, weakness, unsteady on your feet, chest pain… none of that?”
Lin Zhu’s knees ached slightly. He opened his mouth, a little embarrassed, lowering his head. “Does that even count as uncomfortable…”
Zhong Yao closed his eyes briefly, then lowered his head so Lin Zhu met his gaze. “It does.”
Lin Zhu blinked, startled.
“You’ve just gotten used to being uncomfortable…”
Zhong Yao carried him to the bed, placed him down, and laid a palm against his forehead before leaning down to kiss him. “I’m going to take a cold shower. You lie down for a while first.”
“From now on, with me, that counts as being uncomfortable. Remember that.”
T/N:
Zhong Yao: I’ll punish you.
Lin Zhu: 👀Oya? Punish♂️me♂️? What kind♂️♂️♂️?
Zhong Yao: Push up 🙂
Lin Zhu: …
