MACRM Chapter 43

By the time Lin Zhu came back to his senses, he had already thrown on his clothes, grabbed his huge suitcase, and rushed downstairs. Under the butler’s polite farewell, he bolted straight out the door — only to crash face first into Zhong Yao’s arms.

“I couldn’t resist… I wanted to see you too much.”

Zhong Yao caught him firmly, lowered his head slightly, and with a quiet laugh, rubbed his hair. “Did I scare you? I wanted to give you a surprise… I made sure to avoid the paparazzi, although I’m not sure I managed completely. I bought groceries for two days; this time I’m not making you eat instant noodles—”

He paused mid-sentence when his gaze fell on the massive suitcase behind Lin Zhu, his expression turning a little complicated. “All that… for bringing along?”

Lin Zhu was flushed through with a bubbling excitement, the earlier nervousness completely forgotten. Clinging to Zhong Yao’s arm, he nodded happily.

Zhong Yao lifted the suitcase to test its weight, then — though clearly amused — didn’t have the heart to refuse. With a small smile, he took it in hand. “Alright, bring it all. Anything else?”

“No, no, I packed everything.” Lin Zhu quickly shook his head, trying to take the suitcase back. “It’s heavy, I’ll carry it—”

With an easy turn, Zhong Yao held the suitcase away, opened the car door, and loaded what could only be described as his agent’s entire worldly possessions for a runaway. “Come on,” he said softly, “let’s go home.”

Those last two words hit Lin Zhu square in the chest, warm and dizzying. He tilted his head back, smiling, and obediently climbed into the car.

The streets at this hour were nearly empty. The moonlight spread like silver silk across the quiet road, dreamlike and serene.

Seated in the passenger seat, Lin Zhu watched Zhong Yao shift gears and drive off. The thought still felt unreal. He pinched his thigh quietly.

Was he… really going home with Zhong Yao?

“Sleepy?”

Zhong Yao glanced sideways at him, one hand reaching for a small blanket. “If you’re tired, sleep for a bit. We’ll be home soon.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Lin Zhu said quickly, shaking his head. His eyes turned toward the passing street signs, now becoming increasingly unfamiliar. “I’m just… trying to remember the route.”

Last time, he had accidentally fallen asleep on the way and only woke when they’d already arrived. He still didn’t know how to get there.

Now, under the dim glow of streetlights, he focused on the signboards outside, quietly committing them to memory. Worried he wouldn’t remember, he even pulled out a small notebook to jot down key points.

Zhong Yao looked over curiously. “So serious? Is this for work too?”

“No…”

Lin Zhu smiled, shaking his head. “I just want to remember the way properly. In case my phone dies one day, I’ll still be able to find it.”

He knew this habit was old-fashioned, and people around him had teased him plenty. But he could never break it. In unfamiliar places, if he didn’t write things down, he just couldn’t relax.

Just as he was about to put the notebook away, the small reading light on the car ceiling flicked on.

Zhong Yao slowed the car slightly, caught Lin Zhu’s gaze, smiled gently, and turned back to the road. “Too dark. You’ll hurt your eyes.”

The soft light spilled over them, mingling with the city’s distant glow—so warm it almost made Lin Zhu feel lost.

He lowered his eyes slightly and murmured, “Mm.”

Zhong Yao glanced at him, ruffled his hair, and opened the window a little.

---

What was normally a twenty-minute drive took half an hour this time, Zhong Yao driving unhurriedly before finally pulling up downstairs at his place.

Lin Zhu jumped out of the car to grab his luggage, but Zhong Yao beat him to it. He had already lifted the suitcase down, caught his agent mid-chase, and gently steered him toward the elevator after locking the car.

From the moment he stepped out, Lin Zhu had been tense. Once inside the elevator, he nervously dragged the suitcase into a corner and fumbled through the outer pocket as if searching for something.

Zhong Yao pretended not to notice, though his brow arched slightly when he glimpsed Lin Zhu hiding something behind his back.

He didn’t ask. When the elevator stopped, he opened the door to the apartment and said, “We’re home. Come in—”

Lin Zhu’s face was faintly red. In his hands was a delicate box of handmade cookies. He stood properly at the doorway, almost ceremonious.

“What’s this?”

Zhong Yao, rarely seeing his agent this formal, instinctively paused mid-step and stood beside him just as seriously.

Lin Zhu took a deep breath and stammered, “F-First… first time visiting…”

Zhong Yao’s brows lifted slightly, his eyes softening with an amused, gentle warmth.

He reached out to take the cookie box, but Lin Zhu instinctively tried to pull back, only to have his wrist lightly caught. With a gentle tug, Zhong Yao led him inside.

The body in his arms went stiff, tense to the point of trembling. Zhong Yao wrapped one arm around him and closed the door behind them with a quiet click. “First time visiting someone’s home?”

Lin Zhu gave a small start and turned to glance at the lock.

“Locked,” Zhong Yao said softly. “Now it’s just the two of us.”

He gave Lin Zhu’s shoulder a light squeeze and chuckled. “It’s no different from a hotel. Don’t be nervous…”

Lin Zhu’s face was burning. He stubbornly shook his head. “It’s different.”

Zhong Yao was the middle child in his family — he had an older brother and a younger sister. The Zhong family had long since settled abroad, and the children followed, leaving only Zhong Yao, who had chosen to build his career back home.

This apartment was the one he’d bought at twenty. It was the only place he called home in the country.

He had lived here for ten years.

Lin Zhu took a deep breath, his face flushing even more, and instinctively took a small step back toward the door.

He felt that he still hadn’t been respectful enough. He probably should’ve bowed to this hardworking old house before entering.

Sensing Lin Zhu’s subtle hesitation, Zhong Yao couldn’t help a quiet laugh. He looped an arm around him again, paused thoughtfully, and said, “Then I’ll have to… lay down three rules first, hm?”

Of course there had to be rules!

Zhong Yao deliberately made his tone sound strict and domineering, which only made Lin Zhu relax. He nodded eagerly. “You say it, I’ll remember everything!”

“As long as you are at my home, you can’t use polite language[mfn]actually, Zhong Yao prohibits Lin Zhu using 您 nin; the polite “you”. This is used to refer to someone older than you/have higher status than you. E.g, referring to your teacher, someone your parents/grandparents generation, your client, your customers, etc[/mfn].”

Zhong Yao spoke slowly, looking at Lin Zhu blinking, clearly surprised. The actor chuckled gently, then bent down to pick up a pair of slippers. “Second, you’re not allowed to call me ‘Mister,’ or call me ‘Zhong-laoshi’…”

He paused, briefly at a loss for inspiration for the third rule. His gaze brushed across the amber light in Lin Zhu’s eyes before he set the slippers down in front of him.

“Third,” he said, “you have to walk through every room in the house, otherwise, you don’t get dinner.”

Lin Zhu: “!!”

He looked up, wide-eyed, only to meet Zhong Yao’s smiling gaze. The man patted his head, carried the suitcase into the bedroom, and went straight into the kitchen.

Water began to run, accompanied by the soft clatter of pots and utensils.

Lin Zhu’s eyes slowly reddened around the rims, though his lips had already curved upward. He crouched down, changed into the slippers, and rushed off into the house like a small, excited squirrel.

Zhong Yao leaned slightly to the side, quietly watching his agent pad from room to room in soft slippers, tailing the sounds of his gleeful footsteps. A smile tugged at his lips as he turned back to the stove, fishing out the ginger slices from the pot of ribs that had been simmering all night.

---

Fifteen minutes later, he plated the dishes and sat at the table.

Twenty minutes later, he reheated the soup.

Half an hour passed, and he finally decided he’d better check whether Lin Zhu had somehow gotten lost in his not-even-100-sqm[mfn]100 square meters = 1076.4 square feet[/mfn] home.

Guessing where Lin Zhu might have lingered, Zhong Yao took a short walk through the house. Sure enough, he found the young agent in the study.

Lin Zhu was sitting cross-legged on the rug, carefully handling the items on the display shelves. He touched each one delicately, even keeping a couple of wet wipes beside him so he could gently clean the dust off before putting anything back.

“Like that one?”

Zhong Yao crouched beside him, watching him hold a folded fan prop and smiled. “That’s from a drama seven, eight years ago. I wanted to bring one home as a souvenir… They wouldn’t let me take the gun, though.”

That last role had nearly driven the production director mad with obsession — he’d even assigned two assistants to shadow Zhong Yao around the set. In the end, Zhong Yao hadn’t managed to smuggle out the prop chocolate his character was supposed to give the heroine, and he still felt a little regret about it.

“I loved that drama!”

Lin Zhu looked up, eyes bright as crystal sugar. “You were so handsome in that one! I practiced that fan trick forever, but I still couldn’t—”

He stopped mid-sentence, catching the faintly amused warmth in Zhong Yao’s eyes. His face flushed red, and he ducked his head slightly.

“You— you[mfn]he uses 您 here before switching to 你[/mfn] were just really handsome in it,” he finished quietly

The words came out so awkwardly that Zhong Yao’s heart softened. He coughed lightly to break the moment, then reached over to ruffle Lin Zhu’s ear. “Third strike and you’re out. I’ll have to fine you if you keep it up.”

Relieved, Lin Zhu bobbed his head, scrambled to put everything neatly back where it belonged, and followed Zhong Yao out of the study.

Zhong Yao had deliberately left those keepsakes out, just to make Lin Zhu happy. Seeing the delight in his eyes, he couldn’t help smiling himself. He tousled Lin Zhu’s hair again and led him, his cheerful “tail,” into the dining room.

As soon as Lin Zhu stepped in, the smell hit him. His stomach growled on cue.

Zhong Yao had made three dishes and a soup: white rice, tomato scrambled eggs, braised eggplant and potatoes, corn with pine nuts, and pork rib soup. The savory, sweet, and tangy aromas steamed up together, warming Lin Zhu from chest to fingertips.

He took a deep breath, hurried to wash his hands, and sat down at the table.

“My cooking skills are limited,” Zhong Yao said with a smile, serving food into Lin Zhu’s bowl. “Just simple home dishes. Even if it’s not great, you have to finish it, for the sake of my ego. …What’s wrong?”

He set down his chopsticks and put a hand on Lin Zhu’s shoulder, gently lifting his chin.

Lin Zhu’s breath hitched. Tears were falling, one by one, into his bowl.

“Is it… too bad or too good?” Zhong Yao asked, suddenly uneasy. He tasted it himself. “Seems fine… not terrible…”

“It’s too good,” Lin Zhu said, wiping his face with a laugh before digging into his rice. “So good I cried. I’ve been wanting to eat this for so long…”

He couldn’t tell Zhong Yao what he was really thinking.

The Lin family, worried about rumors and slanders, had erased every trace of their lost son’s past. Every drama and movie he had acted in as a child had been bought back and buried. Every orphanage record was destroyed. Other than the family, no one knew he’d been missing for seven years.

He could always see the guilt that lingered in his parents’ eyes. So he also never mentioned those lost seven years of his life. He tried his hardest to play the spoiled, well-bred young master everyone expected him to be.

He loved steaming-hot freshly cooked rice. He loved drizzling tomato-and-egg sauce over it while it was still a little cool. He loved strong, salty flavors, vivid seasonings, and even the rough sweetness of cheap candy — the kind that melted slowly into a soft, humble happiness.

But every time he ate like this, he would see, reflected in his parents’ eyes, an even deeper remorse.

Lin Zhu didn’t want everyone to be trapped in his past, so he also hid that part of himself away.  Only when he was not at home, or with his parents and elder brother, would he let it out and breathe. 

He didn’t know how Zhong Yao discovered it, nor did he know why he was so disappointed.

If he cried any more, it would spoil the meal. 

It was the first time for Lin Zhu to eat such a meal at home. He didn’t want to leave. He tried his best to hold back his tears and concentrated on eating one bite at a time.

Zhong Yao quietly picked up some food for him, carefully removed the bones from the ribs, patiently accompanied him until he finished his meal, and then served him a full bowl of pork rib soup.

Lin Zhu ate carefully, drank the last mouthful of soup, put down his bowl and chopsticks reluctantly, and looked up with a cautious look in his eyes. “I’m full. The meal was very delicious! Probably one of the best I ever had!”

Zhong Yao smiled and tore off a piece of tissue for him. “Aren’t you sweet-mouthed? If you rub my ego more, I’ll change my career…” 

Lin Zhu burst out laughing.

“My little agent was so easy to cheer up,” Zhong Yao thought, his eyes warmed. He didn’t mention the previous incident again. Together, they cleared the dishes and put the leftover food in the refrigerator. After a short break from their busy schedule, it was already approaching midnight.

Neither of them slept well yesterday, and even after that full meal, they could hardly keep their eyelids up.

“I’ve prepared toiletries and my pajamas for you. I didn’t expect you to bring so many things…”

Zhong Yao led Lin Zhu to the guest room, switched on the air conditioner, and smiled. “I wanted to talk to you a bit more. I thought about making your bed into a floor mat—but I couldn’t bear to.”

Zhong Yao’s pajamas!

Holding the set of pajamas he’d just pulled from his suitcase, Lin Zhu was filled with regret. His mind foggy, he nodded in agreement. “Such a nice bed… it’d be a shame to ruin it.”

“It’s not the bed I was worried about…”

Zhong Yao was momentarily speechless. Seeing his manager’s blush spread all the way to his neck, he couldn’t help pinching his cheek. “Want to hear me talk about my time abroad?”

Lin Zhu instantly sobered. “Yes!”

Of course he wanted to know.

He’d always wondered about those three years when Zhong Yao was overseas — where he’d gone, what he’d done, if he’d been happy. Lin Zhu had always watched him quietly from afar, but those three years were a blank in his memory of Zhong Yao.

Zhong Yao exhaled softly, smiled, and ruffled his hair. “Go take a shower. I’ll come find you in a bit to chat.”

Lin Zhu nodded eagerly. As Zhong Yao turned to leave, the itch in his heart grew unbearable. He blurted out, “Ge—”

Zhong Yao paused, still processing if the agent was calling him, when Lin Zhu padded over in his slippers, face red, head lowered. “Can… can I wear your pajamas?”

Something in Zhong Yao’s chest melted. He chuckled. “Sure. Go shower, I’ll bring them to you.”

Lin Zhu was overjoyed and dashed into the bathroom.

He took a record-fast shower, and when he came out drying his hair, the pajamas Zhong Yao had promised were neatly folded on the rack outside.

They were exactly what one would expect from a veteran actor — impeccably pressed long-sleeved cotton shirt and pants in a clean, pale gray, folded with precision.

Wrapped in his towel, Lin Zhu held the pajamas happily for a long while, then put them on and stepped out, just as Zhong Yao came by with a mug of hot milk.

Zhong Yao was wearing identical pajamas, except in solid black. His hair was still slightly damp, softening his whole look. When he saw Lin Zhu, his eyes curved with a smile. “All dressed? They’re new, and I washed them once myself. Looks like they fit nicely…”

He handed the milk to Lin Zhu, then spread out the quilt and sat on the bed to test it. Satisfied, he patted the spot beside him.

Lin Zhu, giddy with happiness, climbed onto the bed and slipped under the covers. Trying to set the mood, he asked, “Can you tell me now? Should I turn off the light, maybe open the curtains? There should be stars tonight…”

“No need, no need, this is fine.”

It was nearly dawn anyway. If the agent found out, he’d probably never let him sleep in again. Zhong Yao quickly pressed him back under the blanket. Both of them lay down, relaxing. “Let me think where to start…”

By the time he left the country, things weren’t quite as painful anymore.

The false accusations had been cleared, the apologies made, and the official statements released. At that final press conference, not a single reporter tried to stir trouble — the atmosphere had been peaceful and warm. Though Zhong Yao had felt utterly drained, he’d still drawn some quiet comfort from that unexpected kindness.

He’d always been a good student, so after going abroad, there were no language barriers. He directly enrolled in a performing arts school and even reconnected with a few foreign directors he’d worked with before, performing in stage plays for two years and gaining valuable experience.

Zhong Yao was never one to wallow in self-pity. He adjusted quickly, and as he rested on his arm telling stories, he shared with Lin Zhu lighthearted anecdotes and mishaps.

“There was this Italian actor on Broadway. He had royal blood, a real gentleman, kissed everyone’s hand when he greeted them. Somehow he learned I was Chinese, so he insisted on bowing to me and asked, ‘Have you eaten?’”

Lin Zhu lay beside him, laughing so hard he nearly rolled over. His earlier tension was gone, his worries completely eased. “As long as you were happy abroad, I’m relieved.”

Zhong Yao smiled without correcting the address, resting his head on his arm. “But not everything was good.”

Lin Zhu’s eyes widened; he turned toward him.

“I really couldn’t get used to the food. Especially in Britain. Those people don’t seem to know anything beyond potatoes and fish.”

Zhong Yao sighed. “I brought two boxes of instant noodles, but they didn’t last long. I had to force myself to learn to cook. I learned a bunch of dishes then. They’re nothing fancy, but at least better than baked beans on toast. Those professors would drop by uninvited all the time for a meal.”

Lin Zhu was speechless, then sincerely nodded. “Your cooking is great. It looks good and tastes good. I was stuffed.”

“Good food has its downsides too,” Zhong Yao said softly, turning to meet his eyes. His tone was suddenly serious. “If it makes you happy… how do I make it up to you?”

Lin Zhu blinked, dazed for a second, then quickly shook his head. “No, no— I’m really happy! Very happy—”

Before he could finish, Zhong Yao turned on his side and pulled him into his arms under the covers. “Let me hug you. Is that okay?”