MACRM Chapter 37

“I just wanted to hit number one on the trending search…”

That evening, Zheng Lingyang found out that Zhong Yao had made it onto the trending topic just by going out to buy mooncakes. He clung to the production team’s doorway, unable to be dragged away, crying miserably. “One for Zhong-laoshi, one for [Light and Shadow]’s pre-release, three for ads… I don’t even know what rank I’ll be!”

The more he thought about it, the more wronged he felt. Hugging the vinyl records he’d just gotten, he squatted into a ball. “I just wanted to be number one on the trending topic. Director Wei, I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the heart…”

“Tomorrow the crew will release the first official teaser.” The PR staff patted him on the back, feeling a little sorry but twisting the knife anyway. “The date has been set, it can’t be changed.”

Zheng Lingyang: “…”

Half-dead, he asked, “Homepage… how many trending slots?”

His manager carefully supported him at his side. “Seven.”

Zheng Lingyang couldn’t stay standing. He slid down the doorframe to the floor, his eyes dull. “I just wanted to be on the trending topic…”

“My fault.”

Since returning from the TV station, Lin Zhu had been busy persuading the rooftop PR department not to blow up. Zhong Yao had been pulled into a meeting, rubbing his temples and reflecting. “I was too careless.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault—you already did your best.”

The PR manager quickly waved his hands. “In that situation… no one could’ve avoided it, the only option was—”

The words were true, but he still couldn’t bring himself to say “the only option was to hit the trending topic” out loud. He forced a smile instead. “You were willing to adjust your shoot just to help us, we’re already very grateful.”

Zhong Yao hadn’t caused trouble or hogged the spotlight. He’d agreed to shift his scene, wiped off two hours’ worth of makeup in five minutes, and didn’t sneak to set or go fetch his manager from the station. He only wanted to buy mooncakes; he even wore a stifling coat and mask in the blazing heat.

They’d all seen that Mid-Autumn special. The reporter was sneaky, lying in wait for ten minutes, then pouncing while Zhong Yao was still in the checkout line. Unless he had run out with those unpaid mooncakes, there was no way to dodge it.

—And even if he had bolted, he would’ve ended up on the trending topic anyway. Probably on the front page, no less…

Something like: [Popular actor develops mooncake obsession, shoplifts in broad daylight…]

The manager shuddered, swallowed hard, and glanced at the ever-volatile Zheng Lingyang, quickly smothering the thought.

“You didn’t have to do the interview, but couldn’t you stop showing off?!”

Even knowing it wasn’t his fault, Wei Geping couldn’t help but scold. “All you ever talk about is your agent! If Tianxing’s reporter hadn’t been decent enough to hold you back, were you planning to pull out your wallet and show them pictures too? Huh?!?!”

“How did you know?”

Zhong Yao blinked, startled, and tried to explain. “I really did hold back, I only said a few sentences—”

“You only said a few sentences because your ice cream was melting!”

Wei Geping completely lost it. “Can you have some dignity?! How are we supposed to put you on talk shows later? You can talk about your agent for an hour and a half without repeating yourself! Yes, we know you have an agent! Can’t you tone it down?! Can’t you?!”

Zhong Yao fell silent, lowering his head.

“Alright, alright. Zhong-laoshi has found an agent who’s truly devoted to him, and they get along so well. If Xiao Zhu keeps things private, and Zhong-laoshi cares enough to look out for him, it’s only natural.”

The assistant director, being kind-hearted, couldn’t watch anymore and stepped in to smooth things over. “Besides, in our publicity this time, don’t we also highlight Zhan Yuan and the young master’s teacher–student bond? It’s not out of line. Zhong-laoshi just needs to be patient. Isn’t spending Mid-Autumn with Xiao Zhu more important than showing off to anyone else?”

At the mention of Mid-Autumn, Zhong Yao’s eyes lit up and his lips curled into a smile. “You’re right. I already have it all planned…”

Wei Geping coughed heavily, cutting him off before he could share the full plan with everyone. “On Mid-Autumn night, the crew is scheduled for Shantai TV’s gala. You’re probably not planning to go, so let Xiao Zheng take the spotlight instead. Call it compensation, give him his headline, alright?”

Big galas required strong live experience. Among the cast, none had powerful backing, and Zhong Yao’s seniority and reputation were the highest. He’d attended countless events, and his popularity was on a steady rise. Even if he wasn’t the male lead, and even if he didn’t stand center stage, as long as he appeared he’d still get prime camera angles and script treatment.

Such subtleties might not show during filming, but once broadcast, audiences would notice instantly.

The crew hadn’t planned much for this, just to go along with arrangements. Now that it was clear Zhong Yao wasn’t keen on attending, they had to prepare a backup.

Zheng Lingyang revived on the spot, staring at Zhong Yao hopefully.

Being featured at a big gala was one of the main benchmarks for public recognition of status. If he performed well, even without a trending slot, he could build visibility among audiences, and future opportunities would naturally come easier.

“No problem.”

Zhong Yao didn’t care at all. He laughed and waved it off. “I’m just supporting cast. The male lead should take the spotlight. Next time this happens, just push me to the side.”

Zheng Lingyang instantly brightened, clutching the records and rushing to return them to Zhong Yao with both hands.

Wei Geping already guessed that Zhong Yao only wanted to sit next to his agent, who had cameoed as some background role. He shot him a withering look, held his temper, and didn’t expose him, just waved everyone out. “Alright, enough. Get going. We still have work, and we’re nearing filming wrap-up. Everyone’s busy, don’t make more trouble.”

Zheng Lingyang was content. Even being scolded didn’t bother him; he happily went upstairs with his own agent.

But just from stepping out, Zhong Yao had landed on another hot search. Lin Zhu had no time for dinner, too busy handling PR and press. Concerned his agent was working too hard, Zhong Yao also hurried back to his room.

As the Mid-Autumn Festival drew closer by the day, the moon grew rounder.

When Zhong Yao reached his door, Lin Zhu was crouched outside, arms folded, nodding off, about to topple over.

Worried his agent had worked himself sick again, Zhong Yao rushed over. But Lin Zhu had already recognized his footsteps, springing up. “Zhong-laoshi! Do you have your room card? I accidentally locked mine inside…”

He’d been juggling PR damage control and rushing to stash the ice cream mooncakes in the fridge, got distracted, and let the door swing shut. After making a round of calls, he remembered too late that his card was still inside, slotted for power.

Their schedules often didn’t align, but Zhong Yao had a spare card. Lin Zhu had waited outside half an hour, phone completely dead, so he’d simply dozed off.

Zhong Yao pulled him up, steadying him with one arm, and searched his pockets with the other. “Why didn’t you ask the assistant? Or the front desk?”

Lin Zhu shook his head. “No one was around, and they said it was shift change, telling me to wait…”

Zhong Yao froze slightly. His face showed nothing, but inside, suspicion stirred.

The senior assistants had been assigned by Lin Song specifically to look after his younger brother, and the hotel’s service was five-star. By rights, such a basic mistake shouldn’t have happened. Yet both sides slipped up, leaving Lin Zhu sitting at the door for so long.

Could it be that, with the boss abroad, they’d taken the chance to slack off and stopped taking the young master seriously?

It seemed big families weren’t necessarily full of happiness either…

Zhong Yao shook his head, forcing down the wild thoughts that had leapt up, and pulled out the room card to swipe at the lock.

The door didn’t open, only the error beep of an invalid card sounded.

Zhong Yao frowned, tilted the card under the light for a look, then smacked his own forehead. “Damn… took the wrong one.”

He’d rushed out in the morning without paying much attention, just grabbed a card at random and shoved it in his pocket.

The spare card for the room next door had always stayed in the drawer. He’d never mixed them up before. Somehow today, of all times, he’d ended up pocketing the card to the adjoining mahjong room.

It was late now; going all the way to the front desk would mean more back and forth trouble. Lin Zhu had already had a long, exhausting day. Turning the card over in his fingers, Zhong Yao hesitated a moment. “How about… we just sleep next door for tonight?”

Lin Zhu: “!!”

They’d been sleeping in a two-bed room divided by a screen for quite a while. He couldn’t even remember exactly what the adjoining room looked like anymore. He just remembered that it had one large bed big enough for three or four people.

…And that’s the only bed.

Lin Zhu’s heartbeat suddenly sped out of control. He didn’t dare open his mouth, nor could he bring himself to refuse. He edged a little closer, waiting with bated breath for him to open the door.

Zhong Yao, still without such tangled thoughts, steadied Lin Zhu against the wall and went to swipe open the neighboring door himself. He pushed it ajar and leaned inside. “Come on, it’s not ba—”

His voice caught. A breath swirled in his chest, and the tips of his ears turned faintly red.

Lin Zhu’s legs had nearly recovered; he hopped over on one foot and peeked inside too. A sudden rush went off in his ears, and heat flared across his face.

Zhong Yao coughed lightly. “Not… bad…”

The so-called mahjong room, its table now removed, could no longer be called a mahjong room at all.

The hotel, in keeping with its “varied themed experience” philosophy, had put the empty space to “good use.” Where the table once stood, there now blazed a lush spray of roses, looking bright, extravagant, dripping with vivid freshness.

Beside the roses stretched a fully transparent bathroom, complete with an oversized, gleaming massage tub. Thick wool carpet softened the floor, delicate scented candles glowed from every corner, the lights were low and warm, the air saturated with suggestion. In the display case by the window, two bottles of wine stood ready to “set the mood.”

It was very thoughtful to the last detail, so perfect there was nothing one could fault.

The cloying fragrance of roses made his head swim. Zhong Yao drew in a shallow breath and rubbed at his temple. “You…”

Lin Zhu shook his head furiously. “Not allergic!”

Zhong Yao lifted his gaze, taking in his agent’s equally flushed cheeks. He stared for a moment, then, slowly, a trace of soft laughter warmed the depths of his eyes.

With a small, relieved smile, he raised his hand and ruffled Lin Zhu’s hair. “Then let’s go in.”