MACRM Chapter 39

At dawn the next morning, Lin Zhu was woken by the alarm he had carefully set. He peeked out from his fortress of pillows.

The sky outside was still dark, the barricade of cushions still standing firm.

Zhong Yao seemed not to have moved at all, still lying on his side in quiet sleep. His phone lay tossed beside the pillow, the tiny red light flashing desperately with its last dregs of power.

Puzzled, Lin Zhu got up and tiptoed around.

It was he who had used Zhong Yao’s phone before bed, making sure to plug it into the charger. When he put it down, the battery was full. But now, just after a single night on standby, the power was nearly gone. The battery decay was truly severe.

It looked like they would need to replace it with a model that had stronger battery life.

Lin Zhu silently added the expense to his mental ledger, found Zhong Yao’s charger, plugged the phone in for him, then busied himself dismantling the fortress of pillows one by one and piling them back onto the sofa. Finally, he slipped back into bed.

Bit by bit, daylight began to seep in.

Today was the final shoot. Neither of them had really dared to sleep soundly. When the alarm rang, they both rose as usual in tacit understanding, washed up and dressed, ready to head early to the set to get familiar with the environment.

Lin Zhu was checking the room to make sure nothing was left behind while Zhong Yao went to open the door. Just as he stepped out, he ran headfirst into the screenwriter. He had rushed back to China for the wrap-up, had just learned the final filming arrangement for the climactic scene, and had come furiously to confront the culprit.

“The script I stayed up all night writing! All night! I even went onto forums to post anonymous bounties for material! And this is how you repay me?!”

The screenwriter, still reeling from jet lag, jabbed a furious finger at Zhong Yao’s chest. “I even made you two deluxe hard copies! Used Yahei font[mfn](I google’d it, and it looks like a very standard font? Probably the Arial of Chinese font. It looked like this [/mfn] on purpose! Just to give you the chance! And you—you—” )

He choked on his words, still stringing together his outrage, when his eyes suddenly fell on Lin Zhu, just stepping out of the room.

The screenwriter froze, hesitated, then lifted his eyes to confirm the room number.

“!”

His gaze turned suddenly… meaningful.

“Sorry about that. At the wrap banquet, I’ll buy you a few extra drinks to make it up…”

Zhong Yao coughed lightly, lifting his hand to clear a path, when the screenwriter’s fury abruptly turned to delight. He clapped Zhong Yao hard on the shoulder. “You’re making me proud!”

Zhong Yao: “…”

“Great… great progress, really fast.”

The screenwriter, tactful enough not to pry in front of Lin Zhu, simply patted Zhong Yao’s shoulder again, eyes kind, voice full of weighty significance. “You’ve got heavy scenes today. There are fight sequences, so don’t overexert yourself. You can’t afford to throw your back out…”

“Still tired? Want to go back and get more sleep?”

Zhong Yao hadn’t slept a wink all night. He had no intention of guessing what wild scenarios the screenwriter had imagined. He shut the door in a single motion, smoothed down the stray lock of hair sticking up from his still-groggy agent’s head, and suggested, “Why don’t we go down for breakfast? They’ll start with my scene later. You can always catch up on sleep at the set.”

“Not tired!”

Desperate to hide his late-night antics, Lin Zhu immediately perked up, shaking his head. “I’m waiting to see your final scene. I can’t miss it this time…”

Remembering Lin Zhu’s listlessness all morning yesterday, Zhong Yao’s eyes softened with amusement. He rubbed that disobedient lock of hair into place, guiding him downstairs.

The ignored screenwriter didn’t mind at all, happily watching the two of them until they disappeared at the stairs, before heading back to his own room.

The set was already mostly built. The crew bustled about moving equipment; the explosives specialist and assistant director were coordinating the day’s sequence. After breakfast, the two soon received the schedule from the crew.

Lin Zhu also had shooting today, and the two were pulled off separately for styling. Zhong Yao leaned back in the swivel chair, letting the stylist fuss over every detail, drowsiness quietly washing over him again.

“Zhong-laoshi, you don’t look very well today… Did you stay up all night on purpose to match the role?”

Having not slept at all, Zhong Yao inevitably bore faint dark shadows under his eyes. The makeup artist touched them up with a careful hand, joking, “No need to do much more. The effect is already perfect.”

This scene called for Zhan Yuan to be detained in a hotel, spending a sleepless night maneuvering with the enemy. In the morning, just as he planned to escape, he discovered that a traitor had betrayed them, the protagonist already teetering on the edge of exposure, the entire underground organization in danger of being wiped out.

The day before, Zhan Yuan had spent the night looking after his little young master, then attended a banquet through the night, only to be taken captive. Another night of exhausting mind games left him in his most haggard, worn state of the entire drama.

It was a rare chance for the makeup artist to work on him. While carefully following the design requirements, she couldn’t help but sigh, “These days, there are too few dedicated artists like you. Honestly, the little fresh meats with their tender faces should really learn from you. Aside from being good-looking, what do they even have left…”

Zhong Yao, at this moment particularly unable to tolerate the phrase “tender-faced,” straightened slightly, coughing to explain, only for the makeup artist to press pale powder onto his lips for a weakened look. “Alright, close your lips—”

Zhong Yao: “…”

The truth was, he really hadn’t slept all night, but it had little to do with dedication.

No matter how big the bed, fitting two people and a barricade of pillows was still awkward.

Lin Zhu was slight and thin, barely taking up space, and a steady sleeper, so he didn’t knock into the cushions. But Zhong Yao, long-limbed and used to sprawling, toppled the fortress with a single careless turn.

By the third time he accidentally knocked them over and painstakingly rebuilt the barricade while holding his breath, he no longer dared close his eyes. He spent the entire night scrolling through phone guides on health maintenance. Only when he heard Lin Zhu’s alarm did he realize dawn was already approaching.

That kind of explanation was impossible to give, so after a pause, Zhong Yao cautiously said, “Actually, it was just insomnia…”

The makeup artist nodded rapidly, convinced, seeing only a humble veteran artist unwilling to boast of his own dedication. “Studying the script, I know, I know.”

Zhong Yao: “…”

He shut his mouth.

At least his current look fit the character perfectly, especially since this scene needed a stark contrast with the suave, genteel businessman he had played earlier. The makeup artist didn’t add much embellishment. After the final touch, she stood up with satisfaction. “All done.”

The stylist at his side immediately rushed up to help him pick out clothes. Following the same standard as yesterday, they smoothly and quickly settled on his makeup and final styling.

It wasn’t long before the loudspeaker from the set called them to position.

This scene was a massive production. The crew had thrown in the bulk of their remaining budget. They’d even hired a special effects team, setting up explosives everywhere. Once the shoot was done, the entire outdoor set would probably be destroyed. If there was an NG and they didn’t pass in one take, Wei Geping would probably come charging in with a knife.

Zhong Yao had seen plenty of large-scale shoots like this. He listened carefully to the distribution of the explosive points, memorizing his positions, and was about to ask Wei Geping if there were any further instructions when his brows lifted slightly and he gestured toward the edge of the set.

The assistant director, who was in the middle of giving him notes, turned back in confusion, only to see Zhong Yao’s agent slip past the barricade and run over quickly.

“Don’t worry, I’ve done this kind of thing plenty of times.”

Seeing the lingering worry in Lin Zhu’s eyes, Zhong Yao gave a soft smile and ruffled his hair. “Just make sure you stand far away later. Our little young master looks this good. If you got hit and ruined that face, it’d be a tragedy.”

Lin Zhu had already changed into his costume but hadn’t gotten his makeup done yet. The moment he heard Zhong Yao teasingly call him “little young master”, his cheeks flushed again without his control.

Zhong Yao had only called him over to ease his worries, intending to reassure him with a joke. But when he saw Lin Zhu hesitating, like he still had something on his mind, he raised a brow and lowered his voice with a smile. “What is it? Still brooding about something?”

The assistant director was long used to these two clinging to each other in every situation, so he paid it no mind, clapping for the explosives team and repeatedly stressing the safety precautions.

Lin Zhu looked around, bit his lip, and tiptoed closer. “This morning… did the screenwriter bully you?”

When the writer had arrived, Zhong Yao’s expression hadn’t been quite right. Lin Zhu had noticed, and when he overheard something about “drinking as apology,” he made a mental note. His artist was usually stingy, but when it came to this, he was protective. How dare anyone try to force Zhong Yao to drink?

Even he hadn’t made Zhong Yao drink!

Lin Zhu had tried alcohol himself, finding it harsh and bitter, and being drunk was even worse. He knew there would come a time when Zhong Yao would inevitably have to drink for work, but he still hated the thought of someone forcing it on him.

Zhong Yao blinked in surprise. He had been about to laugh and shake his head when a thought struck him, and the words changed at his lips: “…He did bully me.”

Lin Zhu: “!!”

Lin Zhu bristled, ready to charge into battle. “Tell me, how did he bully you? I’ll go confront him myself—”

Zhong Yao coughed lightly, pushing aside his conscience for now and tossing the blame mercilessly onto the screenwriter’s head. “He said I’m getting old, that I’ve lost my charm, that young people don’t like me anymore…”

“Impossible!”

Lin Zhu was stunned, then denied it outright. “That’s just his messed-up taste! You’ve got tons of people who like you. Your fan count has already tripled, and casual fans are piling up too—”

His voice suddenly faltered. Meeting the faint smile in Zhong Yao’s eyes, his mind went blank with a loud crash, and his face burned crimson.

His heart hammered wildly. He glanced around, bit his lip, lifted his head, and stammered, “And… I, I also—”

Back when he was just a fan, he could’ve said this line openly and sincerely without hesitation. But after everything they’d been through, with his heart so clearly hoping for something beyond that, saying it now…

It felt like it would take every ounce of courage in his life.

Lin Zhu drew in a breath, ready to speak.

“All departments in position! Run through once without the explosives! Zhong Yao! If you don’t get in place right now, I’ll confiscate your agent for 72 hours! Move it!”

Wei Geping’s furious roar rang out from the sidelines, and Lin Zhu startled back to reality. That lifelong courage drained away in an instant. “Go film first. We’ll talk after you’re done…”

Zhong Yao was left speechless, but he couldn’t bring himself to push further. He nodded, about to head over, when Lin Zhu suddenly seized the moment of turning away to grab his arm, then pulled him into a quick but serious hug.

The young man’s heartbeat thudded against Zhong Yao’s arm, earnest and fierce.

They had hugged countless times before, yet this not-quite-a-hug still made Zhong Yao’s heart skip a beat.

“L-last night, I didn’t get to hold you…”

Muttering in a low, embarrassed voice, Lin Zhu bolted into the crowd before Zhong Yao could react.

Watching his retreating back, Zhong Yao felt the haze in his chest scatter, the corners of his lips lifting without his realizing.

But fate didn’t cooperate. Wei Geping only got more irritable the harder he tried to rush things, and the number of NGs kept rising.

“Lighting! Next time get a spotlight that actually brings out his profile! Shine it behind him, I want a clean silhouette!”

“And those guards putting on the handcuffs, don’t go easy on him! Cuff him hard! You’re soldiers! He’s not some delicate flower that’ll break if you touch him!”

“What is this, a fight scene or a dance routine?! Put some strength into it! Kick him! Kick him!”

Wei Geping paced furiously, finally snapping. “Zhong Yao! Are you happy because you’re about to die in this scene?! Is that why your face is glowing with joy?! Do I need to blow the whole building up to celebrate with you?! Don’t make me stop and give you notes! Smile again and I’ll kidnap your agent!”

“…Sorry, Director Wei.”

Zhong Yao fell silent, forcing the curve from his lips. He cleared his throat softly. “I’m ready now. Let’s do it.”