Zhong Yao: “……”
He took a quiet breath. “I’m not sure what exactly happened, but I feel like I should clarify—”
“I know, I know.” Lin Zhu started laughing and ended up coughing, shaking his head. “No idea how he believed such a ridiculous rumor… Probably not the sharpest tool in the shed.”
Zhong Yao smiled, unscrewed the thermos, and handed it to him. “Maybe I left too abruptly back then. Some people watch too many idol dramas and imagined some epic, dog-blood ‘you chase, I run’ nonsense. He got a little too immersed.”
It was red date and white fungus tea. Lin Zhu took it and sipped slowly. Warmth spread through him almost immediately.
The temporary dressing room was warmer than outside, though it still carried a faint smell of smoke. Some staff definitely had snuck in for a couple of cigarettes earlier.
Lin Zhu tried to suppress it but couldn’t help coughing twice more.
The makeup artist had already come in to do touch-ups. Zhong Yao didn’t say anything further. He waited until Lin Zhu had drunk a few more mouthfuls before taking back the thermos, lifting the curtain to air the room out, and swapping in a plugged-in hand warmer, pressing it into Lin Zhu’s palms.
With people around, Lin Zhu felt self-conscious. He quickly hid the warm little pouch inside the wide sleeve of his hunting robe.
The makeup artist saw everything and teased with a grin, “Lin-laoshi should visit more often. Whenever Zhong-laoshi has his agent around, he’s like a different person. More energetic, better state, talks less, talks less, talks less…”
Zhong Yao: “……”
He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar.
The makeup artist, long tormented by Zhong Yao’s usual yapping, was finally satisfied to see someone who could rein him in. She wisely stopped there and focused on touching up Lin Zhu.
That previous scene had been stunning. If Lin Zhu didn’t genuinely dislike the role. And if Jin Zhenbo had been present, there was around 80% chance they would’ve simply asked him to finish the part.
Rumors were already circulating on Weibo that Li Yijie would be withdrawing due to injury. The role would clearly need recasting. Fortunately, not many scenes had been shot, and actors of that age range were easy to find. As long as the investment issue was handled, the rest wouldn’t be difficult.
The makeup artist didn’t concern herself with casting politics. After carefully fixing both of them up, she left in high spirits.
Lin Zhu was still secretly pleased by her teasing. He accompanied Zhong Yao back to the set, listening to the cameraman and assistant director go over the angles again, the curve of his lips never quite falling.
Without the disruptive entourage, filming went exceptionally smoothly.
Lin Zhu fulfilled his duties as a stunt double thoroughly, running through the scene multiple times and shooting close-ups from different angles. By the time this sequence officially wrapped, it was already past lunch.
“Perfect, perfect. That’s completely fine now.”
The assistant director, having nervously guided what was likely to become the new major investor, finally relaxed after the last take. Wiping his sweat, he exhaled. “Today’s shooting tasks are complete. We’ll need to handle some follow-up matters regarding Li Yijie. The two of you should rest well this afternoon…”
Lin Zhu smiled faintly and didn’t correct the honorific this time. “You’ve all worked hard. Sorry for the trouble.”
The assistant director waved quickly. “No, no, we should be thanking you…”
No one had been comfortable with Li Yijie around. They had tolerated him only out of fear of his fans and the producer backing him.
Now that the major issues had been handled by Lin Zhu, the assistant director wasn’t about to be ungrateful. “This should’ve been handled by the production in the first place. Teacher Zhong nearly getting hurt was our fault. We’re already grateful you’re not pursuing it.”
If Zhong Yao hadn’t reacted so quickly — or if the horse had panicked more — it might really have turned into a disaster.
The assistant director still felt lingering fear thinking about it and started to apologize again, but Zhong Yao gently cut him off. “Nothing actually happened, and it’s all resolved. If there’s no more filming this afternoon, we’ll head back to the hotel. Is that alright?”
The assistant director nodded repeatedly.
Lin Zhu hadn’t rested properly for days. Zhong Yao was determined to make him sleep well. After thanking the crew, he brought Lin Zhu to remove makeup and change, then went straight back to the hotel.
It had been getting colder. They decided not to go out to eat, turned the heater up high, and had their assistant order food in.
Removing the wig and historical costume was no small task. Lin Zhu hadn’t worn a glued-on wig in a long time. The skin around his hairline was slightly red from the adhesive, and even back at the hotel it hadn’t faded much.
Zhong Yao frowned at the sight. He fetched a warm towel and gently pressed it against Lin Zhu’s forehead, teasing softly, “Can’t let you shoot costume dramas too often. If you turn red like this once, a few more times and it’ll rub raw…”
It was only a little redness. Lin Zhu barely felt it. But at that, his face warmed, and he hurried to prop himself up. “No! I’m actually very sturdy. It just looks serious. I don’t feel anything at all—”
“Alright, alright. I know.”
Zhong Yao laughed and pulled him back down, settling him against his lap again. He leaned down and kissed his manager’s reddened forehead. “You looked especially handsome today. In costume, you outshone Li Yijie… Honestly, I couldn’t even imagine how I was supposed to play that scene with him.”
Lin Zhu’s eyes lit up instantly, lips pressing together in an uncontrollable smile.
Zhong Yao complimented him!
Even though it happened fairly often, every time he heard it in person, Lin Zhu couldn’t help but glow about it for ages.
Seeing the bright sparkle in his eyes, Zhong Yao’s smile deepened. He dried Lin Zhu’s hairline with a soft towel and applied a thin layer of ointment. “Still, be careful. If it starts itching, tell me. Some people are allergic to this glue. After every shoot their heads swell up like they’ve been slammed in a door.”
Lin Zhu burst out laughing.
Hearing him laugh, Zhong Yao’s eyes softened further. He pinched his ear lightly. “Nothing much this afternoon. Sleep well and recharge.”
Noticing the tone, Lin Zhu looked up. “Ge… are you staying too? Or do you have something later?”
Zhong Yao met his gaze, heart softening, and wrapped him in his arms.
Whatever had happened with Lin Zhu’s family, it couldn’t possibly have left him untouched.
Lin Zhu was vague about it; Lin Song even more so. Zhong Yao had only pieced together a rough idea, but instinct told him it wasn’t a pleasant story.
He rubbed Lin Zhu’s hair and let him rest against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple. “A few colleagues here have been wanting to get together.”
Perhaps still faintly irritated by the so-called romantic producer, Zhong Yao cleared his throat and explained in detail, “I’ve turned them down several times. After what happened today, they’ve all been messaging to check if I’m alright. I’ll go see them, reassure them in person, and come back. Won’t take long.”
Zhong Yao’s friends were the kind who would come to comfort him and still end up writing self-criticisms. Thinking of them, Lin Zhu felt a surge of sympathy and nodded quickly. “You should go. I’ll have the planning manager prepare some gifts.”
Lin Zhu took out his phone and messaged the planning team: “It’s rare for you all to meet. Ge, it’s fine if you stay a little longer. Just remember not to mention me.”
Lin Zhu actually quite wanted Zhong Yao to meet up with his old friends. But most of the people Zhong Yao had known back then were serious, dedicated actors. In today’s industry system, many of them were still struggling, and quite a few were even facing the possibility of having no roles at all.
Once their studio grew bigger, maybe they could choose scripts themselves and build their own production team. No need to slowly tough it out, and make sure that actors who truly wanted to act would have roles to play.
Right now, though, their resources and reputation weren’t enough. They couldn’t rush things; they had to move step by step. At a time like this, it wouldn’t be appropriate for Lin Zhu to follow Zhong Yao and make things awkward for others.
Zhong Yao understood the situation and smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
He might be a bit old-fashioned, but he wasn’t clueless about social niceties. Lin Zhu wasn’t worried. He slipped under the covers, ready to lie flat and rest. Zhong Yao, however, casually took off his shirt, pulled on a T-shirt, and lay down beside him.
Lin Zhu paused. “Ge—”
“Not in that much of a hurry. We can sleep for a few dozen minutes.”
Zhong Yao wrapped him in his arms, dimmed the lights, and kissed his forehead. “Close your eyes. Being with you is more important.”
Lin Zhu pressed his lips together, shut his eyes quickly, and couldn’t help but nuzzle against Zhong Yao’s chest.
Warmth seeped in. Curled up in his arms, Lin Zhu gradually warmed through.
Still with his eyes closed, he spoke softly, “Ge, you’ve got a lot of expenses right now. That 70 million—”
Before he could finish, Zhong Yao gently sealed his lips with a kiss.
Lin Zhu’s chest fluttered. He instinctively tried to open his eyes, then quickly shut them again.
“Do you look down on me that much?” Zhong Yao said seriously, though his voice carried a smile, soft and steady by Lin Zhu’s ear. “I’ve been acting for twelve years. Even if I spent three of those abroad, it’s not like I couldn’t make money overseas.”
Smiling, he deliberately teased him gently. “This movie will definitely break even. Can’t I make a profit while I’m at it? Besides, you’re working so hard. If I can’t even earn back 70 million, your big brother might really throw me out with a pillow.”
Lin Zhu’s face warmed. “He wouldn’t dare…”
Zhong Yao pressed, amused. “Why wouldn’t he?”
Although they had already confirmed their relationship, it was usually Zhong Yao who said such things. Lin Zhu always did more than he said. His confessions had come in moments of emotional upheaval. This was the first time he had to say it plainly.
Embarrassed, practically burning up, Lin Zhu squirmed in Zhong Yao’s arms. Even his ears felt hot. He forced himself to stammer it out, “I—I like you. We’re… together. My Dage knows. He wouldn’t—”
Zhong Yao chuckled and tightened his arms. “See? You know it perfectly well.”
Lin Zhu blinked.
“From now on, you don’t have to carry everything yourself… I’m here.”
Zhong Yao pulled him closer and slowly patted his back. “Aren’t we together? It’s all shared property now. No need to keep accounts so clearly.”
Lin Zhu couldn’t help laughing.
Completely relaxed, the worries drilled into him by his family faded away. With his eyes closed, he muttered softly, “We’re not legally married yet. It doesn’t count…”
Holding him, Zhong Yao’s brows lifted slightly, thoughtful.
Lin Zhu had only said it casually and didn’t think more of it. Zhong Yao’s embrace was too comfortable. After wearing a thin spring hunting costume all day in the cold wind, he especially craved this warm closeness. Resting against Zhong Yao’s chest, he soon fell asleep.
The speaker may not have meant much, but the listener did.
Zhong Yao kept patting his back until his breathing grew long and steady. Only then did he quietly get up to change clothes and check something on his phone.
After a while, he couldn’t find his T-shirt. Reaching into the covers, he couldn’t help smiling wryly.
He didn’t disturb him. Letting Lin Zhu hug the slightly worn T-shirt, he tucked the blanket around him.
Lin Zhu shifted toward him, lightly brushing against the back of his hand, lips curving up in contentment.
Zhong Yao’s heart softened completely. He almost considered ditching his old friends again. After taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he kissed Lin Zhu’s forehead and left quietly.
Lin Zhu didn’t sleep long.
Such a big incident couldn’t be kept from the director. Jin Zhenbo soon got the news and called, scolding him thoroughly.
Used to this elder-style concern, Lin Zhu lay under the covers and apologized good-naturedly. “I understand. Don’t worry. Just this once. Next time I won’t cause trouble for the crew…”
“Trouble? You think I care about that?” Jin Zhenbo snapped. “You’re throwing money you earned through hardship into a film like this?”
He didn’t hide his attitude toward his own film. “This kind of film restricts advertising. At best it breaks even. If it earns 30% profit, that’s luck. That’s for old bones like us who insist on making art. What are you doing getting involved?”
“You young people should build artistic credibility and save money, more and more money. Only with money do you get the right to speak, to choose what you want to make.”
He was frustrated. “We’re stuck sinking with this. Why jump in too? If you tie up all your money here, how will you move forward?”
Lin Zhu had rarely encountered elders like this: harsh words, soft heart. His chest warmed. He cleared his throat. “Director Jin, don’t worry. I’m not short of money…”
After patiently explaining his situation, he finally reassured the director.
Just as he was about to hang up and sleep again, Jin Zhenbo added, “By the way… that Li Yijie suddenly targeting Zhong Yao… be careful.”
Lin Zhu froze, suddenly alert.
“There are no conflicts without cause. Your Zhong Yao didn’t provoke him…”
After a pause, the director guessed, “Did someone make him misunderstand something?”
Embarrassed to admit the truth, Lin Zhu responded vaguely, “Yes, but it’s all baseless.”
“Of course it’s baseless,” Jin Zhenbo cut in. “But who was so bored as to pass those baseless rumors to him right before that scene?”
Lin Zhu’s heart jolted.
“You young people may not see it. We’ve been here long enough to overthink these things,” Jin Zhenbo said. “You’re his agent. I won’t tell him this, so keep your eyes open.”
“The domestic industry is very closed now. After the wave in the 90s, it’s incredibly hard for anyone to break out internationally. He has that potential. Don’t let someone with ulterior motives ruin it now.”
After that, the director hung up.
Lin Zhu tightened his grip on his phone.
He had entered the industry too recently and was used to straightforward strategies. He rarely encountered such behind-the-scenes manipulation. Whoever passed the message to Li Yijie had been careful. It was just enough to make him believe it and provoke him to challenge Zhong Yao.
Li Yijie probably still didn’t realize he’d been used.
Lin Zhu closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
If someone capable of such a move, and with reason to do so at this moment—
His gaze sharpened.
Song Tianlang.
Fortunately… he had kept something in reserve too.
Lin Zhu knew he probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon, so he got up, rummaged through the hidden compartment of his backpack and found a small medicine box. He broke off half a sleeping pill, swallowed it with water, and went back to bed.
Zhong Yao is like a dam; as long as he’s around, those dreams won’t rush in like waves. But as soon as Zhong Yao is gone, those subconscious thoughts he read about resurface and relentlessly creep into the dreams.
Lin Zhu did not resist. Instead, he let his mind sink even deeper into the depths of his being.
Song Tianlang’s agent’s memories had been stored in his body for several days, but he never dreamed when he was with Zhong Yao, which worried Lin Zhu a lot.
Lin Zhu turned over, wrapped himself in the blanket. His brows furrowed slightly.
Song Tianlang’s agent certainly knew a lot, some things he knew and some things he didn’t. Lin Zhu wasn’t interested in some petty gossips. He quickly sifted through useless information, letting them go by in a blur, then moved on, focusing on the content that was useful to him.
The memories have been stored for too long, and the timeline has become somewhat chaotic and out of place. Scenes flash through dreams like a revolving lantern, and suddenly a subconscious thought from who-knows-when flashes by.
Lin Zhu’s heart skipped a beat, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Every time he fell into his subconscious, it was extremely difficult for him to wake up on his own. Lin Zhu closed his eyes tightly, desperately trying to recall those chilling memories, forcing himself to wake up little by little, and suddenly sat up, breathing heavily.
The room was quiet, with soft light spilling from under the bedside lampshade. The light was not strong and not dazzling at all, giving everything in the room a gentle glow.
Lin Zhu was still dizzy. He raised his arm, then bit it until it bled.
The sharp pain brought him fully awake in an instant. Lin Zhu hurriedly put down his sleeves, picked up his phone, and called Zhong Yao.
Some clubs block signals, so Zhong Yao might not be able to receive calls outside. While waiting for the call, Lin Zhu took out his laptop and sent a message to the planning team.
“Who’s here?” The planning manager was a little taken aback by Lin Zhu’s sudden question and pulled out his memo, reading it aloud. “Cui Songyuan, An Lei, Gong Xuefeng, Shao Xingfan, Wu Chen…”
Lin Zhu’s heart skipped a beat, but he remained unusually calm. “Wu Chen went?”
The planning manager paused slightly to think. “He didn’t actually go. I think something came up and he was going to be two hours late… What happened?”
Lin Zhu closed his eyes, trying to suppress the images in his mind for the time being.
If it’s two hours… there’s still time.
There should still be time.
Lin Zhu took a deep breath. “It’s okay, get a car and pick me up, I’ll go find Zhong-laoshi…”
Lin Zhu hung up the call and then made another call to Zhong Yao.
He was wearing pajamas and needed to change before going out. Lin Zhu paced around the room twice, forced himself to calm down, changed his clothes, and touched Zhong Yao’s tie.
Zhong Yao still didn’t answer the phone. Lin Zhu’s hand trembled slightly. His fist clenched, he stood in front of the medicine box for a while, but still didn’t touch it. Then he hid the medicine back in his bag.
Lin Zhu closed his eyes, and the subconscious images he had just pieced together from those fragments resurfaced.
Song Tianlang’s agent handed a pack of cigarettes to Wu Chen, speaking in a kind tone: “It’s laced. Just get him to smoke one.”
“If he doesn’t smoke, teach him. What kind of rigid person refuses even that?”
“After this is done, that prime-time TV lead role is yours…”
Lin Zhu held onto the edge of the bed and slowly squatted down.
It’s all his fault… He should have been more careful.
He shouldn’t have kept indulging in Zhong Yao’s warmth… It’s his fault, it’s all his fault.
If he hadn’t shown up, if he hadn’t come back to find Zhong Yao, if he had collapsed in that place twelve years ago…
Lin Zhu clutched the clothes at his chest, knelt on the ground, and tried his best to drive the thoughts that shouldn’t have come to mind. All the while, his body shivered.
At the club, Zhong Yao frowned at his phone. It had no signal no matter how he tried to fix it.
Someone offered him a cigarette, but he waved it off with a smile. “I don’t smoke, thanks.”
“You’re an actor. Sooner or later you’ll play a male lead who smokes.”
The actor who handed him the cigarette was in his early thirties. He patted him on the shoulder with a friendly smile. “Have one to relax. It’s not illegal. Who in this industry can go their whole life without smoking…”
“Nothing wrong with never smoking. It’s better for your health.”
Instead of going home, Zhong Yao just wanted to go outside and send a message to lin Zhu, so he replied casually with a smile.
Remembering his agent’s instruction, he had been trying his best not to brag to anyone. But he pushed the cigarette back firmly. “There’s a kid at home who hates the smell of smoke. He coughs every time he smells it. I’m not learning that. When I kiss him later… he won’t be happy.”
