Merry Christmas~ have a bonus update as a Christmas present :3
Not long after getting in touch with the [Serving the Sovereign] film crew, they replied that the stunt scenes would be scheduled for three days later. It was just enough time for him. He could fly back immediately, deal with both matters, and rush back as soon as everything was settled.
Lin Zhu made the decision on the spot. He booked a flight for today, sent a message to Zhong Yao, packed his things, and went straight from the hotel to the airport.
There were no secrets in the industry. In the short time he’d been on the road, two more confirmed endorsements had already fallen through.
There were far too many cases of overnight fame collapsing just as quickly. Zhong Yao’s momentum was at its peak, and his talent was exceptional, yet he had the misfortune of being targeted by a giant. Quite a few collaborations were already showing signs of backing out.
The Tteam was on fire. Someone had burned a blister on their lip from stress, and even in the video meeting, everyone kept sucking in sharp breaths.
“If we lose resources, then fine. We’ll just find better ones later.”
The first-class cabin was spacious. Leaning back into the seat, Lin Zhu typed rapidly, a toothpick between his teeth, calmly reassuring the PR manager. “I never thought much of that batch anyway. We were just picking the best out of a pile of mediocrity. If they want to back out, let them. For now, stabilize Huaying. Do not resort to underhanded tactics.”
The PR manager let out a bitter laugh. “Fortunately, they haven’t started blacklisting Zhong-laoshi yet…”
“They have to leave themselves room, after all. If Zhong-laoshi ends up agreeing to sign with them, they’ll have to clean him up and hype him back up. That’d be awkward otherwise.”
Lin Zhu skimmed through the list they sent, selected a few entries, and deleted them outright. Half-focused, he instructed, “Remember to pick me up from the airport. Take me straight there. Fighting doesn’t take long. You’ve all worked hard these days; I’ll treat you to dinner tonight, properly thank everyone…”
The PR manager frowned, carefully studying his expression. “Lin-laoshi, did you and Zhong-laoshi have a fight?”
Lin Zhu paused. “No, why?”
PR manager: “[Serving the Sovereign] just started filming. The male lead can’t possibly take leave. This time you’ll definitely be returning alone, and who knows how long you’ll be stuck here. You two only just… shouldn’t you discuss it with Zhong-laoshi first?”
Lin Zhu’s chest tightened, his fingers unconsciously curling around the mouse.
Not only had he failed to discuss it with Zhong Yao, he hadn’t even called. Once he confirmed the schedule with the crew, he booked his ticket immediately, sent Zhong Yao a message, and rushed out before receiving a reply.
He hurried back not only because of scheduling conflicts, but also out of fear that his parents might reject the invitation if he delayed. He had to get there as soon as possible, make first contact, and seize the opportunity. Secure a foothold for Zhong Yao, and fight for that end-of-year audition…
All of these were reasons, yet somehow not reasons at all.
He knew his mental state wasn’t good. He could stay calm if focused on work, but he was no longer capable of acting fully normal.
In this state, Lin Zhu couldn’t even stand himself, much less face letting Zhong Yao see him like this.
Give him some time and he would be fine. Hua Ying showing up like this was perfect timing. He would go back, settle everything properly, then return, bringing Zhong Yao a version of himself worth seeing.
The thought flashed through his mind. Lin Zhu smiled slightly, lifted his head as usual. “No need. This is urgent. I’ll apologize properly to Zhong-laoshi when I get back…”
He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, haven’t you all taught me enough? I remember, first—”
“Alright, alright!” The PR manager coughed hurriedly. “As long as you’re okay. No need to explain…”
Everyone on the team had already decided that the two of them had reached a state of perfect harmony. Hearing Lin Zhu say this, their thoughts immediately went astray. The whole meeting turned into a chorus of meaningful coughing, collective relief, and silent understanding. No one dared probe further.
Lin Zhu joked around with them for a bit, lightened the mood, then ended the video call.
His palms felt cold. He ordered a coffee, sat back down, opened a file, and suddenly found himself unable to focus.
If no one had brought it up, he might’ve been fine. But now… his mind was full of Zhong Yao.
He hadn’t been on set today. Was filming going smoothly? Did Director Jin nitpick and scold anyone? It was raining outside, so the outdoor scenes must have been cancelled, moved indoors. How was Zhong Yao holding up? Was he eating well? Resting enough? Why hadn’t he messaged yet…
Would Zhong Yao be angry that he left like this?
The rain outside hadn’t stopped. The flight was delayed another fifteen minutes due to weather. Holding his cup, Lin Zhu slowly sipped his coffee, closed his eyes, trying his best not to dwell on these thoughts, shifting his focus back to Hua Ying’s tactics.
A company this large was bound to have dirty secrets.
There were plenty of unspoken rules in the industry — murky areas that, once stirred, could easily spill out. All he needed was to see the person in charge to pick out something useful.
The tenser people were, the more likely they were to remember what they feared others would discover. Lin Zhu learned that as a child; he knew how to use it. All he needed was to walk straight in, confront the boss face to face, slam the table.
He just wasn’t sure if this time he’d be able to slam the table with enough force…
Lin Zhu rubbed his wrist, grimaced as he inhaled.
It was hurting again.
He hadn’t been taking much pain medication recently. Leaving in such a rush today, he forgot the pills at the hotel.
These past days, Zhong Yao had been heating coarse salt bags every day to apply to his wrist, and had gotten several effective remedy recipes from stunt professionals. They really worked and the improvement was obvious. Zhong Yao had even secured two professional protective wrist braces, made him wear them daily, forbade him from using too much strength, and lately had even begun pushing him toward using knives and forks at meals instead of chopsticks.
During last night’s candlelit dinner, Lin Zhu had teased him for overdoing the care.
Last night…
Lowering his head, he flexed his fingers. Pain shot sharply through his wrist.
Last night already felt like a long time ago.
His chest no longer hurt. But even after finishing the whole cup of coffee, he still didn’t feel warm.
Lin Zhu drew a deep breath, found the wrist brace, tightened it, and sat up to check his phone.
With so many things happening at once, his phone should’ve been flooded with messages today. But for some reason, the only unread ones were still the few rushed inquiries his older brother had sent earlier. Neither his family nor Zhong Yao had sent anything since.
Lin Zhu refreshed the screen. Checked again. Put down the phone.
When he sent the message, Zhong Yao should have been filming the final scene of the day. Phones weren’t allowed on set in costume dramas, they had to be kept with the assistant. With Director Jin’s pace, it would take at least two or three hours to wrap up the scene. Zhong Yao probably hadn’t seen the message yet.
But now… the filming should definitely be over.
Lin Zhu remembered today’s schedule: two scenes filmed back-to-back, with a third scene that didn’t require Zhong Yao on camera, only reading lines off-screen. Busy, yes, but not to the point of having no time to check his phone.
Zhong Yao must have seen the message, so why hadn’t he replied?
Lin Zhu reread the message he’d sent twice.
Nothing seemed unusual. The tone was the same as always. It was sudden, yes, but still understandable. Huaying Entertainment had played such a dirty hand; any normal agent would have rushed back immediately.
Zhong Yao… shouldn’t get angry over something like this.
Lin Zhu turned off the screen and let out a bitter laugh.
Even if he was angry, he could at least send a text, scolding him for acting on his own or something.
Right now, he genuinely wanted to talk to Zhong Yao. He didn’t dare call, but with text, he could always hide his tone.
It didn’t matter whether Zhong Yao told him how things were going, or chewed him out to teach him a lesson… so long as they could talk, anything would do.
Surely it couldn’t be that his phone and power bank were both dead…
Lin Zhu pulled at the corner of his mouth helplessly. He was just about to try sending a message when a call came in from Jin Zhenbo.
Lin Zhu blinked and answered, “Director Jin?”
“Unbelievable. Has Zhong Yao returned to the hotel?”
Jin Zhenbo’s voice was sharp with anger, the background loud and chaotic. He sounded like he was still on set. “He vanished as soon as his scene wrapped! The producer came today, and I asked him to meet the man, expand his network. What’s so wrong with that? Was I cutting into his flesh? Taking his life? He’s pushing thirty, what’s he afraid of, someone developing feelings for him?!”
Jin Zhenbo, whose good intentions had been entirely wasted, was furious to the point of incoherence. “Thirty years old and still acting like some little fresh meat? Shameless! Which brainless idiot is trying to seduce him?!”
Lin Zhu: “…”
Stunned by the shouting, Lin Zhu switched the phone to his other hand and sat upright. “Director, please don’t worry…”
His mind wasn’t very clear, but he took a breath, straightened, and flexed his wrist. “You can’t find Zhong-laoshi? When was this? Is his assistant still there? I’ll call him—”
“The assistant’s here, wearing his jacket! He slipped away himself!”
Jin Zhenbo was fuming. “That Firm Emperor Zhong— so noble! So aloof! Too proud to bend for money! If the producer remembers him, he’ll get better resources next time! Right now he’s got nothing but a bare-bones team, what’s he going to shoot once the old favors run dry?”
The older generation didn’t really understand an agent’s job. They stubbornly clung to the belief that networking was everything. “What happens when there are no roles left? Yesterday’s Film Emperor, reduced to nobody, doing mall events to scrape a living?!”
Lin Zhu was speechless, absurdly imagining the kind of things passed around in the elder circle’s group chats. He spoke gently, “Yes, yes, thank you. I’ll talk to Zhong-laoshi later…”
Director Jin, having someone agreeing with him, calmed slightly. “Make sure to talk to him!”
A few first-class passengers had just boarded; the cabin crew were busy asking about preferences. Jin Zhenbo was so loud that Lin Zhu hurriedly lowered his voice and played along. “Of course, I’ll talk to him thoroughly…”
After all, Zhong Yao still had to work with the crew. Lin Zhu went along with the director’s complaints, promising repeatedly to lecture his supposedly unambitious actor, finally soothing the endlessly ranting man into something calmer.
When the call ended, Lin Zhu let out a quiet breath.
Zhong Yao still had a third scene today, so he probably hadn’t returned to the hotel yet. If he didn’t want to meet the producer, he was likely hiding out somewhere.
Li Yijie had gotten into the crew through the producer, and the producer was tied to Huaying. The two sides would tear each other apart sooner or later. Missing one meeting wasn’t a tragedy.
Lin Zhu leaned back in his seat and sat quietly for a while. The chaos in his chest gradually loosened. He lightly pressed his knuckles to his lips, unable to stop a small laugh.
Director Jin was an internationally renowned filmmaker. His ability to describe scenes was unmatched. Just from his complaints, Lin Zhu could practically picture Zhong Yao’s day from start to finish.
Even hearing news about Zhong Yao through someone else was enough for him.
He couldn’t think about why Zhong Yao hadn’t replied. All he could do was cling to the good explanations — he’s busy, tired, occupied — and let that faint warmth take root.
His wrist still hurt. The stiffness in the joint made him feel weak; his whole body felt off.
Lin Zhu adjusted himself and asked the flight attendant for two blankets. Before takeoff, he planned to sleep and gather his strength.
Once he got off the plane, he would face Huaying head-on. In his current state, he wasn’t ready at all. He had to suppress these thoughts first. Even if they returned later in full force… that would be thefuture Lin Zhu’s problem.
He needed to get through this stage first.
Lin Zhu steadied his breathing, calming his emotions, sinking fully into work mode.
Behind him, there was a small sound. The passenger in the row behind seemed to be adjusting something. They whispered to the attendant, swapped seats, and sat directly across from him.
This flight’s first-class cabin was arranged in paired private compartments, only two people total. It didn’t matter where either of them sat; they’d fit.
Eyes closed, wrapped in blankets on the sofa seat, Lin Zhu sensed the movement vaguely. He frowned slightly and shifted, ready to change seats—when suddenly, someone gently grabbed his arm.
Lin Zhu frowned and turned. “Sir, what are you—”
He froze.
Sitting across from him was the person who had rushed onto the plane minutes earlier, taken a seat, then broken etiquette to switch again. Lin Zhu’s heart thudded wildly.
His gaze tightened, slowly tracing upward — past the familiar hand, over the coat, the mask, the sunglasses covering most of the face — until it landed fully on him.
Lin Zhu couldn’t move. Heat pulsed sharply in his chest; he stared blankly.
“Good thing the plane was delayed. I almost missed it.”
Zhong Yao removed his sunglasses and mask, exhaled lightly, stood, lowered the divider, and pulled Lin Zhu into his arms entirely.
Lin Zhu went rigid. His vision blurred white at the edges; his chest rose and fell rapidly. He pinched his thigh through the blankets, wrist aching with the movement.
What kind of dream was this…? How could he see Zhong Yao here, right now?
The warmth surrounding him was overwhelming. Lin Zhu trembled violently, countless thoughts jamming together, chaotic and tangled.
His voice came out hoarse, strained. “Ge—”
He shut his eyes, fighting to stay clear-headed.
Zhong Yao could not go back with him.
He was about to go tear down someone else’s company. Good or bad, that was the agent’s job. Zhong Yao couldn’t appear in person.
If he came because he was worried about this situation, tagging along would be pointless and risky. If paparazzi caught them, it would cause chaos.
If he came because he was worried about him… then all the more reason Lin Zhu couldn’t let him worry.
He couldn’t handle anyone’s concern right now.
The crew still had scenes tomorrow. If Zhong Yao hadn’t applied for leave, he clearly didn’t intend to skip work. Flying back and forth twice in such a short time just for this… it was exhausting and unnecessary on every level.
No matter the reason, he had to persuade him to go back.
Lin Zhu inhaled, crushed the surge of emotion, ready to tell Zhong Yao to return to the crew—
—but then Zhong Yao leaned in, voice low in his ear.
“I think the producer… the producer tried to sleep with me.”
