MACRM Chapter 87

Lin Song stopped and slowly came to a halt.

Zhong Yao stood there, sharp-edged and imposing.

He hadn’t slept all night, had been rushing back and forth between set and hospital. Fatigue was evident between his brows, yet it couldn’t conceal the storm surging in his eyes.

Smoking wasn’t allowed in public places. Lin Song took out a cigarette anyway and bit it between his teeth without lighting it, giving a faint smirk. “When did you get here?”

“From when you asked him on how his hand got injured,” Zhong Yao replied.

Lin Song: “…”

He absolutely refused to believe he had just sold his little brother out so thoroughly. He stared at Zhong Yao in disbelief. “You just stood at the door listening for over ten minutes?”

The hallway had been completely quiet. That was why neither brother had noticed someone outside.

And not a single person had come looking for Zhong Yao for an autograph or photo all this time… It seemed this Film Emperor really had become yesterday’s news.

Lin Song looked at Zhong Yao with a complicated expression and began seriously reconsidering the conditions of this marriage.

Unaware of what was going through Lin Song’s mind, the Film Emperor — whose natural icy aura had already kept all irrelevant people at bay — gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. He didn’t push open the closed door. With a gesture of one hand, he turned and walked toward the stairwell.

Lin Song paused, then followed.

“Xiao Zhu… really didn’t tell you anything?”

Even though he had already roughly gauged his brother’s feelings, seeing Zhong Yao’s reaction in person still made it hard to believe. “He trusts you that much. I thought at least—”

“That’s not what he wants.”

Zhong Yao still couldn’t fully pull himself out of what Lin Song had just said. He spoke in a low voice, his chest still aching.

“He… is afraid I’ll know.”

Because back then he wasn’t good enough yet. Because he was too battered and disheveled. Because the scars crisscrossing his wounds were jagged and hideous, impossible to hide.

That was where all of Lin Zhu’s obsession lay.

Three years ago, because he felt he wasn’t good enough, Lin Zhu had only given him a warm, steady farewell, hiding in a place no one knew and watching him leave. Three years later, because of a sudden accident, because he’d almost failed to protect him, Lin Zhu had blamed himself to the brink of collapse.

Lin Zhu only wanted to give him the best. Everything else had to be carefully hidden, so he wouldn’t see it, even if it was only slightly imperfect.

Zhong Yao clenched his fist, recalling the bouquet from three years ago that had arrived without a name.

“What merit I have to deserve this?”

He closed his eyes, the corner of his brow trembled faintly.

Lin Song fell silent.

If even Zhong Yao could see it, then as someone who had watched his brother grow up, Lin Song certainly couldn’t have missed it.

Their parents had made irreparable mistakes during the most critical years. Lin Zhu wasn’t incapable of understanding those theories about forgiveness and letting go. But no amount of correct reasoning could erase the deeply carved suggestions planted in him since childhood.

Scars like that were carried for a lifetime. The only option was to slowly learn to coexist with them, letting time mend what it could.

If he had to lick those wounds alone and recover by himself, it would be far too exhausting. Far too hard.

Suddenly, Lin Song wanted to say more.

“When he was around 15 years old, Xiao Zhu would go rigid whenever he saw Mom and Dad. His face would drain of color. He’d break out in cold sweats and couldn’t speak.”

Since he had already sold his brother out almost completely, Lin Song gave up resisting and leaned against the window, crushing the unlit cigarette bit by bit.

“When he got a little older, he started climbing out the window at night, wandering outside till morning… If I wasn’t home, he didn’t dare stay there alone.”

Zhong Yao’s chest tightened quietly.

He suddenly remembered the Mid-Autumn Festival they had agreed to spend together on August fifteenth. Lin Song had been abroad, and Lin Zhu had been home alone. On the phone, Zhong Yao had jokingly said, “What if I don’t come pick you up tomorrow?”

Lin Zhu’s reaction had startled him. He hadn’t dared tease further and immediately admitted he was already downstairs waiting.

Later, Lin Zhu had thrown himself into his arms just fine, jumping and clinging to him, so Zhong Yao had felt relieved and never paid that small episode much attention.

Until now.

Only now did he truly realize… if that joke had been real, how unbearable it would have been for Lin Zhu.

Back then, Lin Song hadn’t been in the country and hadn’t known what Zhong Yao was thinking. He continued, “Later, when he really grew up, he could endure it no matter how bad it felt. His ability to pretend everything was fine got better and better, so good that even I couldn’t see through it. I thought… he was completely better.”

“Then once, at a family gathering, he had a fever after sleeping all night. We rushed him to the hospital. I went into his bedroom and saw…”

Lin Song gave a bitter smile. “There were over a dozen sheets of paper on the desk, covered edge to edge with the words ‘I’m sorry.’”

“After that, I kept Xiao Zhu by my side completely. I never let him see Mom and Dad again.”

Zhong Yao’s heart sank heavily. His hand at his side clenched without him noticing.

“My brother may still have some things from the past he can’t let go of. I’ll have to trouble you to be more patient. Take good care of him.”

Lin Song shot him a glance, preemptively warning, “To avoid the two of us trending together and adding to my brother’s workload, let me warn you first. No matter your intentions, if you dare say my brother is sick or abnormal, that you’ll ‘tolerate’ him or ‘understand’ him more— I’ll probably punch you on the spot.”

“Abnormal?”

Zhong Yao couldn’t help interrupting. His brows furrowed even tighter. “How much more normal does he need to be?”

“He’s barely in his twenties. If he feels bad and sheds a few tears, hides in someone’s arms and cries. What’s abnormal about that?”

He genuinely couldn’t understand this logic. “Should he bottle everything up? If he wants to cry, wash his face and hide it under running water? That’s how you really make someone sick. If he can trust me and vent a little with me, I’m grateful for that. I couldn’t be happier.”

Lin Song was slightly stunned.

Zhong Yao’s chest hurt so badly it was almost unbearable. He steadied his emotions, his voice hoarse. “And, you may have gotten it wrong. He’s the one who’s been taking care of me. He takes care of me incredibly well. Better than anyone.”

Zhong Yao slowly drew a deep breath and looked at Lin Song. “I’ve never had such a good agent. And it’s the first time I’ve had such a good lover. He stays up night after night burning the midnight oil for me, runs everywhere to secure resources for me, plans my development and future, drives away reporters and blocks dirty tricks. He’s more capable and more impressive than anyone.”

“I’m in this industry. I’ve seen all kinds of people. I know what I’m talking about.”

Zhong Yao’s gaze was sharp and resolute, proud beyond question. “He does better than anyone.”

Listening to him, Lin Song suddenly felt his eyes burn.

At last, he was completely reassured. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, pulled out a cigarette and bit down on it, smiling. “Of course. Look whose younger brother he is…”

Lin Song: “Can I beat you up right now?”

Zhong Yao: “?”

Not only did he fail to receive the treatment of having his younger brother throw himself into his arms for a good cry, he instead got the shocking news that his younger brother had grown up, become formidable, and didn’t need his big brother’s protection anymore. Overjoyed and exasperated at once, the eldest of the Lin family dragged Zhong Yao into the demonstration room, took off his coat, rolled up a medical file, and used it to smack him across the head seventeen or eighteen times like a storm.

Breathing unevenly, Lin Song tossed the file aside and threatened him, “Don’t tell my brother about today. Or else—”

Zhong Yao looked up.

Lin Song: “…”

Experiencing for the first time the frustration of having a mind-reading younger brother, Lin Song calmly cut himself off, took out his phone, and had his assistant book an overnight flight back to the capital.

“I should still… remind you.”

Standing at the hospital entrance, he hesitated for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve probably noticed. Sometimes Xiao Zhu can’t control his emotions very well…”

Zhong Yao nodded. “I know.”

During the half-night he spent bandaging Lin Zhu’s injured hand, he had been thinking about exactly that.

Lin Zhu had too many suppressed emotions piled up inside him. Over the years, without proper guidance, once he wandered into a dead end, he would need a hand to lead him back out.

But fortunately… when it came to things like this, Lin Zhu had always learned very quickly.

Thinking of the patch of stars Lin Zhu had mentioned in the hospital room, a softness passed through Zhong Yao’s eyes. He smiled faintly. “It’s alright. Slowly, it’ll get better.”

His agent had always been clever. He was never the type to sit and cry when lost. The first time, he’d be led out. The second time, led out again. In the future, even if he wandered in and Zhong Yao couldn’t get there in time to guide him, he would circle around and find his own way out.

And besides… he wouldn’t be too late.

Zhong Yao would never let something like that happen a second time. Having made up his mind, he looked up and began, “Don’t worry, we—”

“I’m not worried. Mainly about you.”

Lin Song cut him off. Remembering what the doctors had once told him, he coughed lightly. “You… be more accommodating.”

Theoretically, when someone loses emotional control, they can’t fully regulate their thoughts and behavior.

In such a state, it’s possible to do relatively extreme things.

Lin Song thought about the small handcuffs he had seen during an overseas inspection, then looked at Zhong Yao’s long, straight legs. For a moment, he didn’t know how to phrase it. He patted his shoulder. “It won’t be easy for you…”

Zhong Yao looked at him in confusion.

Not daring to let his younger brother know he had beaten Zhong Yao, Lin Song said a brief goodbye and got into the car.

Watching the sharply dressed President Lin flee in something close to panic, Zhong Yao stood there for a moment, then quickened his pace, went upstairs, and returned to Lin Zhu’s hospital room.

What had happened today was impossible to hide, and there was no need to. Sooner or later, he would find out. At most, the process had taken an unexpected turn.

From Lin Song’s words, he had come to know the 20 years old Lin Zhu, the 18 years old Lin Zhu, and the 15 years old Lin Zhu. Those lonely years of the past had already been swept away by the torrent of time. He couldn’t pass through that stretch of years and hold that child who had struggled and floundered again and again.

In all the time he hadn’t been there to witness, Lin Zhu had already stood up on his own, stumbling forward, scarred but cutting through wind and fog to grow up.

Just thinking about it still made Zhong Yao’s heart ache.

Which was why… he was even more unwilling to waste a single moment of the time they had ahead.

Not wanting to delay any longer, Zhong Yao stepped quickly into the elevator, returned to the ward, and prepared to talk to Lin Zhu.

Unexpectedly, the room was still brightly lit.

“Ge! You’re back?”

Lin Zhu recognized his footsteps immediately but didn’t jump up to pounce on him. Instead, he was curled up on the hospital bed, hugging his laptop and working intently. “Quick, help me out. The Marlensius team sent over a pile of forms, and I haven’t had time to fill them out yet…”

Zhong Yao looked at the materials covering the bed, startled for a moment before striding over. “What can I help with?”

“These application forms, I just remembered I haven’t written my outline yet. There are only a few days left!”

One thing had followed another recently, and Lin Zhu had almost forgotten about the Marlen Hughes team entirely. During the evening gala, the PR manager had reminded him, and he had immediately been thrown into near chaos. “They’re all in English. Not only do we have to fill in basic information and resumes, we also need to write a short essay of more than 600 words straight from the heart, summarizing our understanding.”

International-level production teams were always demanding. Unless an A-list star had already been decided from the start, the rest went through blind selection and screening. Not only were actors required to submit their work history and performances, they also had to personally write about their understanding of relevant types of roles. Only if they caught the eye would they break through and enter the next round of interviews.

Lin Zhu’s English was just fluent enough for conversation, thanks to years of negotiating with foreign clients. But he had almost no literary foundation. He was utterly distressed. “I didn’t even write 600 words on the college entrance exam…”

“I’ll handle this.”

Zhong Yao laughed softly, took the spare laptop, and ruffled Lin Zhu’s hair. “We’ll do it one by one. Don’t rush. Anything else?”

Lin Zhu shook his head, instinctively rubbing against his palm. His eyes narrowed in contentment. “Nothing else. I can manage the rest. It’s just the outline, I’m missing too much. I’ll probably have to pull a few all-nighters to finish it…”

Things like this required inspiration, and inspiration usually struck late at night. Barring surprises, his schedule would be flipped upside down for the next few days.

Lin Zhu typed rapidly, lavishly praising Zhong Yao to the heavens in the Chinese version of the artist profile. While multitasking, he calculated the next few days’ arrangements. “I think I’m almost better. Ge, how about we talk to the doctor and go home today?”

Zhong Yao sighed helplessly and touched his forehead to check his temperature. “Almost better?”

It was just a cold. After sweating it out for a night, the fever had mostly subsided. Lin Zhu stared at the screen and nodded quickly, fingers flying as he responded to questions from the publicity team. “I’m fine. Really—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Zhong Yao cupped him with one hand, leaned over the laptop, and gently pressed a kiss to his lips.

Lin Zhu’s hands trembled, and he typed a whole row of periods.

Usually, they would build up the mood before kissing. Still in work mode, the agent was stunned, turning red from head to neck. He stammered as he looked up. “Ge, I—”

“Just checking. If it’s not contagious, then you’re better.”

Zhong Yao pinched the back of his neck. His tone was strict, but his voice remained gentle. “You’re only just recovering and already this busy. Don’t you care about your health? I can’t help with the outline, but delegate the rest of the work. Let them practice a bit too…”

Lin Zhu broke out in a nervous sweat, never having regretted his usual work habits so much. “I-I’ve delegated it— d-doing it now…”

“Right. So, Zhong-laoshi, please move aside. You’re blocking the camera.”

The PR manager, who no longer doubted that one day Zhong Yao would kiss Lin Zhu on the red carpet, was completely unfazed. Speaking numbly from the other end of the group video call, they said, “Li Yijie’s fans are insinuating that when you were acting with him, you harbored ill intent and deliberately tripped the horse, which led to his fall and injury. What would you like to say in response—”

Lin Zhu, face flushed red, popped out from Zhong Yao’s arms, snapped the laptop shut with a smack, and cut off the video call.