After filling in the missing backstory, Zhong Yao considerately stopped there.
Lin Zhu was already so mortified he couldn’t speak. He retreated beneath the covers and pulled the blanket completely over his head.
The famous agent who had once dominated film crews and terrorized orphanages alike, yet had needed to learn from adults and drink alcohol for courage just to confess to his idol — only to accidentally drink himself into a state of partial amnesia — buried himself in the blankets, wishing the ground would swallow him whole as he slowly cooked himself red from embarrassment.
“Alright, alright. I was actually very touched back then. I even pulled myself together and applied to the Beijing Film Academy because of you.”
Zhong Yao chuckled softly. Patiently peeling him out of the blankets bit by bit, he rubbed his head reassuringly. “It’s normal. Who hasn’t had a reckless youth?”
“I actually—”
Lin Zhu lay limp against Zhong Yao’s arm, burning with embarrassment. “I actually did something like that…”
Covering his face with one hand, Lin Zhu didn’t think his actions back then deserved a lofty description like “youthful recklessness” at all.
The worst part was that Zhong Yao had already tried his best not to tell him. It was Lin Zhu himself who had stubbornly kept asking. Now he regretted everything. He desperately wished time could rewind so he could do this entire conversation over.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
Seeing his agent so animated, Zhong Yao’s heart warmed further. Smiling, he gathered him into his arms and kissed him gently. “This is a secret between the two of us. I promise.”
Lin Zhu was so embarrassed he couldn’t even raise his head. Taking a deep breath, he was just about to speak when he met Zhong Yao’s eyes and suddenly froze.
Perhaps because Zhong Yao’s description had been so detailed… fragments of memory actually began piecing themselves back together.
It had been near the end of filming. When he’d sneaked into the set to see Zhong Yao, he’d overheard people saying there was only one week left before filming wrapped, and Zhong Yao only had four or five days of scenes remaining.
Until then, he’d always protected Zhong Yao from the shadows. He had thought that was enough. It had never occurred to him that one day, Zhong Yao would leave too.
Just like all the other places that had drifted through his life — stopping briefly, then moving on again.
After wandering for so long, he’d forgotten how to properly show kindness to another person. He had so many things he wanted to tell Zhong Yao. He had wanted to give him a proper hug. Yet no matter what, he couldn’t force himself to open his mouth or take that step forward.
By then, he’d already picked up quite a lot simply by observing other people. He knew what it meant to drink for courage. He knew alcohol could make people say what they really wanted to say. After agonizing over it for an entire night, he’d finally taken the money he’d saved and secretly gone out to buy a bottle of alcohol.
He had never imagined alcohol could taste so awful. The young Lin Zhu had endured the burning sensation and forced down several large gulps.
Then… without any surprise whatsoever, he got completely drunk.
Lin Zhu couldn’t remember where he’d found the bamboo pole, or why he needed that, or what he’d said to Zhong Yao.
But he vaguely remembered… After running who knew how many laps around the film set, cold, exhausted, and slowly sobering up. The eyes that had greeted him when the young Zhong Yao came running after him, breathing hard, and wrapped him in an embrace.
Zhong Yao had probably been searching for him the entire time. His clothes had already become chilled through. Afraid Lin Zhu would get cold, yet afraid he’d run away again if he let go, Zhong Yao had loosely held onto him and crouched down so they were at eye level.
Even as a teenager, Zhong Yao had already begun developing the steady, composed demeanor he would later become known for. His dark eyes had been warm, clear, and gentle. He had earnestly promised that he would never tell anyone and this would be a secret shared only between the two of them.
Lin Zhu blinked. Turning his gaze away slightly, his nose suddenly stung.
Zhong Yao had never broken that promise.
Even though it had merely been a pinky-swear made hand-in-hand with a drunken child, Zhong Yao had honored it meticulously all the way until now. Even when he himself had been framed and overwhelmed by troubles years ago, he had still used the very last resources available to him to keep Lin Zhu out of it.
Lin Zhu remembered something Zhong Yao had once told him on New Year’s Eve.
In Zhong Yao’s memories, he had been kind-hearted, exceptionally hardworking, and also… obedient and adorable.
No matter how hard he tried, Lin Zhu couldn’t connect those descriptions to his younger self. Nor had he ever dared imagine, even for a moment, that in Zhong Yao’s eyes, he had been such a lovable child.
Closing his eyes tightly, Lin Zhu rubbed against Zhong Yao’s chest.
“Remembering now?” By now, Zhong Yao knew his reactions very well. Pulling him closer into his embrace, he lowered his head with a smile. “I was at fault too. I should’ve tried asking around afterward. Maybe I could’ve found you.”
Lin Zhu shook his head and sniffled. “You couldn’t have. My family erased all traces of my past. They even bought out the rights to the movies I’d acted in…”
Zhong Yao paused slightly before understanding dawned.
No wonder when he’d asked Director Jin to help locate the films Lin Zhu had worked on as a stunt double, not a single one could be found.
Thinking about the injuries Lin Zhu had suffered, Zhong Yao’s chest ached again. Taking the wrist that had once been injured, he enclosed it in his palms and gently massaged it.
Lin Zhu had completely relaxed by now, leaning comfortably against Zhong Yao while having his wrist rubbed. Fully content, his eyes narrowed. “I actually had quite a few pretty impressive performances back then. I couldn’t bear to lose them, so later I had my brother secretly recover all the copies for me. I kept them hidden and watched them myself.”
Touching his head, he looked a little embarrassed. “I’m probably the only person who watches their own performances.”
Zhong Yao’s heart softened painfully. Lowering his head, he asked quietly, “Then let me watch them too someday, alright?”
Lin Zhu looked embarrassed, yet expectation sparkled unmistakably in his eyes. Putting on the airs of a seasoned actor, he feigned modesty. “My acting… wasn’t that good. It’d be showing off in front of an expert…”
Keeping a perfectly serious face, Zhong Yao played along. “No, no. Mutual learning and mutual improvement. Lin-laoshi is far too modest.”
Lin Zhu’s happiness was impossible to hide, the corners of his mouth immediately shot upward. Throwing his arms around Zhong Yao, he declared, “We’ll watch them together when we get home! I’ll have my brother sneak them all out for me!”
Looking down at him, amusement softened Zhong Yao’s eyes as he tightened his embrace.
Back during the filming of [No Bridge], the assistant director had once told him that the promotional video Lin Zhu made for the production had been edited from sixteen different projects he’d acted in since debuting.
Later, Zhong Yao had obtained a copy and watched it repeatedly. He confirmed that his own debut film was indeed included. But he hadn’t discovered anything more.
Lin Zhu had only selected scenes that best demonstrated his professional skills and acting ability. Not a single personal indulgence had been slipped in. Among all the clips, there wasn’t even one shot from the period when he’d been an unnamed extra whom Zhong Yao had looked after.
Even though he’d suffered so much, even though he had loved him so much.
Lin Zhu had always been easy to satisfy.
Just imagining watching those old films together with Zhong Yao already made him indescribably happy. He pushed himself upright, about to say something, when a glance at the clock startled him. “It’s so late!”
Though he technically held the title of co-producer, Lin Zhu had been completely influenced by Zhong Yao’s work ethic. He worked diligently every day, never late, never leaving early, never taking time off. His biggest concern was accidentally affecting Zhong Yao’s condition for tomorrow’s filming. “No, no, no. Ge, you need to sleep right now. Otherwise you won’t film well tomorrow…”
His agent immediately tried stuffing him back under the blankets. Coughing lightly, Zhong Yao pulled him into his arms, the tips of his ears turned red without his noticing. “Actually… I don’t have any filming scheduled tomorrow. There’s no urgent need for me to sleep.”
Lin Zhu stared at him in shock.
“I wanted you to stop staying up late and get some proper rest, so I didn’t tell you…”
By now, Zhong Yao thoroughly understood his agent’s personality. He knew that if Lin Zhu found out they had a free day tomorrow, he’d get so excited he wouldn’t sleep all night. Ruffling his hair, Zhong Yao told the truth. “We got word today that we can start choosing the church. I wanted to take you tomorrow to have a look. And while we’re there, we can start planning what kind of—”
This was the first time they’d ever discussed something like this together. Clearing his throat, Zhong Yao rested his forehead against Lin Zhu’s. “—planning the kind of wedding you like. If you’re eager to get the marriage certificate, we could even sneak away and get married while the movie’s still filming…”
Lin Zhu: “!!”
Lin Zhu felt like he could perform two somersaults into the sky. Fortunately, Zhong Yao reacted quickly enough to grab his shoulders. Even then, he bounced excitedly twice. “S-so-so-so—”
That soon?!
Lin Zhu couldn’t calm down. Snatching up his phone, he immediately opened the calendar.
The church reservation took a maximum of three days. Invite relatives and friends, plan the process, prepare materials, and then his older brother will fly here and hand him over to Zhong Yao…
Before long, they would truly, genuinely be together.
Lin Zhu hugged his phone and recalculated the timeline over and over again. Terrified that his older brother might be delayed by some completely irrelevant trivial matter — like buying Huaying for example — he proceeded to bombard him with more than a dozen additional messages.
Under Zhong Yao’s wary, foresighted gaze, Lin Zhu tossed and turned dozens of times in bed before finally becoming completely incapable of sleeping.
Unable to sleep, Lin Zhu became very restless. And now that he knew Zhong Yao didn’t have to get up early the next morning, all his reservations disappeared. Every few minutes he would ask another question and start another conversation with Zhong Yao.
To stay prepared for Huaying’s final desperate counterattack, Lin Zhu had been leading the team around the clock for days, keeping watch without regard for day or night. His schedule was already completely upside down.
Zhong Yao wasn’t in a hurry to sleep. Looking at his agent , who was nodding off from exhaustion yet still unable to suppress his excitement, he couldn’t help feeling concerned.
“I’m not sleepy…” Lin Zhu’s eyelids could barely stay open. Drowsily resting in the crook of Zhong Yao’s arm, he mumbled, “Ge, I want to talk to you. I’ve saved up so many things I want to tell you…”
Zhong Yao’s heart softened. He kissed him gently. “I know.”
Lin Zhu truly had accumulated those words for far too many years.
The ache in Zhong Yao’s chest still hadn’t faded. He kissed him more tenderly and carefully than usual.
Instinctively, Lin Zhu’s eyes curved into crescents. Tilting his head up, he did his best to respond, unconsciously clutching Zhong Yao’s clothing.
Zhong Yao’s breathing faltered, his heartbeat inexplicably quickened.
They still had many things to say, and a very long time ahead of them in which to say them.
But right now, his agent genuinely needed a good night’s sleep.
Knowing Lin Zhu wouldn’t be able to calm down anytime soon, Zhong Yao held him close. After hesitating for a moment, he finally acted on a fleeting thought. Taking hold of Lin Zhu’s hand, he slowly began undoing the buttons of his pajamas.
…
By the time dawn approached, the utterly exhausted agent was leaning against Zhong Yao’s chest. His breathing was long and steady, finally fallen completely asleep.
Holding the deeply sleeping Lin Zhu, Zhong Yao carefully cleaned away the traces left on his body, changed him into clean and comfortable clothes, even replaced the bedsheets, and tucked him back into the warm blankets.
Curled up beside him, Lin Zhu slept peacefully, as though the sky itself could collapse and fail to wake him.
Gently stroking his manager’s short hair, Zhong Yao felt the faint pressure of Lin Zhu unconsciously nuzzling back. Warmth quietly spread through his eyes. Lowering his head, he kissed Lin Zhu’s forehead, then he turned off the lights again and carefully lay back down.
The next day, Lin Zhu — who had spent the entire night eagerly anticipating their church visit — failed to wake up without the slightest surprise.
They had gone to sleep around four or five in the morning. Lin Zhu had been severely sleep-deprived for days, his emotions had gone through intense upheaval, and all those fragmented memories and feelings — both the ones he had noticed and the ones he hadn’t — had finally been completely released during the passionate intimacy they shared.
Now, utterly relaxed, Lin Zhu slept soundly in Zhong Yao’s arms. By the time he opened his eyes again, it was already growing dark outside.
The curtains had been carefully drawn, allowing only a muted, gentle glow of daylight into the room. Everything had been cleaned and organized, with their clothes neatly folded nearby, and a cup of steaming hot milk tea sat on the bedside table.
Lying beneath the blankets, Lin Zhu spent a while struggling toward consciousness. Gradually, memories of last night and the early morning returned.
Lin Zhu suddenly jolted awake.
Church viewing!
Zhong Yao was very gentle last night. He hadn’t left him particularly uncomfortable, nor had he left many visible marks. Lin Zhu, whose mobility hadn’t been affected., jumped straight out of bed, and immediately began searching everywhere for his phone.
He had only checked a few places when Zhong Yao pushed open the door and walked in.
“Awake?”
With quick reflexes, Zhong Yao caught the agent who nearly crashed into the door. Handing him a slice of cake along with a spoon, he explained, “They forgot to bring a spoon when they delivered the cake, so I went to get one… What’s wrong?”
Filled with disappointment and despair, Lin Zhu looked up at him while leaning against his arm.
Zhong Yao raised an eyebrow, instantly understanding what was bothering him. He smiled and ruffled the agent hanging from his arm. “I told them we’d like to schedule the wedding ceremony for the evening. It’ll be more romantic with the stars out, so we’re going to view the church a little later…”
Checking his watch, he added, “There’s still half an hour from now.”
Like a ray of sunshine breaking through thick clouds, Lin Zhu’s eyes immediately lit up. “Really?!”
Zhong Yao nodded. “Really.”
The weight lifted from Lin Zhu’s chest. Happily, he allowed himself to be led back to the bed. He sat down, then ate cake one bite at a time while drinking milk tea.
Zhong Yao pulled the curtains open to let the twilight in. Then, reaching beneath Lin Zhu’s pillow, he immediately found the phone the manager himself had hidden there. Handing it over, he emphasized carefully, “Don’t keep your phone next to your pillow anymore. It’s not good for you.”
Lin Zhu nodded obediently. Taking the phone, he began checking on the situation back in China.
The United States and China were separated by half a globe and a massive time difference. It was already morning in China. The previous day’s battle had completely reversed the situation. Under the PR team’s subtle guidance, public outrage had become concentrated entirely on Huaying Entertainment, the mastermind behind everything.
Yesterday, Lin Song had spent most of his time battling Huaying’s shareholders. Even so, he’d still managed to reply to over a dozen of his younger brother’s messages.
Aside from accidentally handing his little brother over to someone else, Lin Song was the type of businessman who never acted without guaranteed returns. Every arrangement had been meticulous. Negotiations had entered their final stage, and the only thing left was settling on the acquisition price. The final result would come sometime that morning.
Lin Zhu multitasked, stuffing cake into his mouth while scrolling through Weibo page by page.
The stronger the public pressure became, the weaker Huaying’s negotiating position grew. His brother still needed cash flow to keep the company operating. So every bit saved mattered.
Public ridicule on Weibo continued to swell, and Huaying’s stock price continued to plummet. Satisfied, Lin Zhu was about to put down his phone and focus on finishing his cake before heading out with Zhong Yao when his eyes suddenly froze on one of the trending topics.
Holding the phone, Lin Zhu felt a sudden warmth in his chest.
Opening the trend, he handed the phone to Zhong Yao. “Ge…”
Zhong Yao rarely remembered to check Weibo on his own. Seeing the unusual expression on Lin Zhu’s face, he accepted the phone and read carefully. The light in his eyes immediately stilled.
A group of artists had voluntarily paid contract termination penalties and formally requested to leave Huaying.
Some were popular young actors poached away by larger companies at enormous expense, others were rising stars heading to smaller agencies where they could become top talents.
But most of them were middle-aged actors who were not especially famous. Yet the moment someone saw their acting résumés, they would instantly recognize them. In today’s heavily capitalized television industry, they struggled to find a stable position. Without a company helping them secure resources, many of them might end up with no roles and nowhere to go.
Zhong Yao reread the trending topic several times. Then he quietly lowered the phone. His voice turned low. “They… never discussed this with me.”
Lin Zhu stood up and hugged him.
Warm arms wrapped around his back and tightened slightly.
Lin Zhu’s voice was soft. “We’re fighting Huaying. This creates a huge wave of public opinion. Huaying’s stock price is crashing. This is the best chance to destroy them…”
China’s entertainment industry was slowly transitioning, with skilled actors receiving more and more recognition. Audiences’ damaged standards were gradually recovering.
Aside from the celebrities who had already left, these people were actually Huaying’s final source of support.
Lin Zhu recognized most of their names and could even remember many of their faces.
He had seen them before.
On the night Zhong Yao had almost accepted that cigarette laced with drugs, in that private club where Lin Zhu had nearly been overwhelmed by guilt and fear, almost losing control and crippling Wu Chen on the spot.
His head had hurt too much back then that his memories weren’t complete, but among those fragmented recollections, he still vaguely remembered seeing those people.
The actors who had been poached away were pursuing better futures. Climbing upward was only natural, there was nothing strange about it.
But these people were different.
At their age, they didn’t know how many more years they would have to struggle. They didn’t know if their breakthrough would ever come, whether audiences would ever truly remember them… Without a company backing them, they were effectively cutting off their own final path.
But Zhong Yao was at war with Huaying.
Zhong Yao and Huaying were locked in a fight to the death, so they simply chose to leave.
After entering the entertainment industry alongside Zhong Yao, Lin Zhu had seen too many friendships dissolve once the tea cooled. He had seen too many close companions driven apart by profit and betrayal. This was the first time he had ever realized that people could do something like this to protect a friend.
Closing his eyes, Lin Zhu took a deep breath.
He should have known.
These were Zhong Yao’s friends.
The warm hand continued patting his back slowly and steadily.
Looking up from Zhong Yao’s embrace, Lin Zhu met the turbulent emotions hidden beneath those calm dark eyes. Pressing his lips together, he wrapped his arms tightly around him. “Ge, you have to convince all these actors to come back. They can’t terminate their contracts.”
Zhong Yao paused, puzzled. “Why?”
Lin Zhu opened his phone and pulled up the messages his brother had sent. Finding the conversation, he held it out.
He had already been planning this for a long time, and now the opportunity had finally arrived. Straightening up, his eyes sparkled. “Once we buy Huaying, why don’t we talk to Tianxing TV about producing a second season of [Battle of Light and Shadow]?”
This wasn’t his first time throwing money at Tianxing. The plan flowed effortlessly from his mouth. “We’ll buy a better studio directly. Invest in it, sponsor it. No shady tricks. Just honest-to-goodness acting competitions. If the show is done well, it’ll be perfect for supporting veteran actors who are talented but never became famous. Once their visibility rises, it’ll be easier for them to get scripts…”
The sudden turn of events left Zhong Yao almost unable to process it. Quietly, he listened as his agent laid out a plan that was already astonishingly complete.
“This was always my responsibility. The whole reason we’ve been targeting Huaying these past few days was to drive down their stock price. The negotiations have been going all night. The result should come within the next hour or two.”
Lin Zhu’s eyes were bright and clear. There wasn’t a trace of the boy who had been too excited to sleep and needed comforting the night before. “Ge, don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone is taken care of.”
Looking at him, Zhong Yao accepted the phone. A burning warmth quietly surged through his chest.
Lin Zhu lifted his head and smiled. “You don’t have to worry anymore…”
Taking a small breath, he spoke with complete certainty. “I’ve grown up.”
The boy who once could only protect the person he loved from the shadows, who had needed alcohol just to gather enough courage to speak or offer a hug, had grown into an incredibly capable adult.
Gathering a lock of his hair, Zhong Yao pressed a solemn, treasured kiss to Lin Zhu’s forehead.
“If we need connections, resources, or funding, tell me. I still have the phone numbers of dozens of veteran professors and old artists. We’ll harass every one of them when the time comes.”
Sitting down beside him, Zhong Yao carefully considered additional preparations. “I can host the show occasionally. I’ll focus on this film and try to win an award. The more recognition I have, the more influence we’ll have.”
Listening seriously, Lin Zhu nodded. “That’ll definitely help. We’ll still need professionals to design the show’s format. We’re not experts. We can’t waste the teachers’ performances…”
They had only discussed a few details when Lin Zhu’s phone suddenly lit up.
Both of them had already been expecting something. Lin Zhu’s heartbeat inexplicably quickened. Before he could react, Zhong Yao leaned over and handed him the phone.
The message was from Lin Song.
Gege gege gege gege: [Done.]
Gege gege gege gege: [Got it at a bargain price. Still had five hundred million yuan left unspent.]
Gege gege gege gege: [So, how’s that thing I asked you to agree to coming along?]
“What did you agree to?”
Apparently that President Lin had a surprisingly domineering and reliable side too. Ruffling Lin Zhu’s hair, Zhong Yao smiled. “Looks like I really do need to work hard and become your company’s top star.”
Since he had never taken the whole “keeping Zhong Yao as a sugar baby” thing seriously, Lin Zhu merely flushed and waved dismissively.
The corners of his mouth lifted as he was about to answer, but then his phone lit up again.
On the screen hung a final message from the calm and authoritative President Lin.
Gege gege gege gege: I’ve kidnapped your Xiao Lanlan, Xiao Honghong, and Xiao Heihei[mfn]Little Blue Blue, Red Red, and Black Black in that order lol[/mfn]. Make Zhong Yao unable to get out of bed tomorrow, or I’m executing the hostages.
