MACRM Chapter 72

To get in touch with Marlensius’s team as soon as possible, there was no way around making a trip back home.

Lin Zhu replied to the message, telling his older brother not to come pick him up. He washed the dishes, put everything away, carefully tidied up the apartment, grabbed his laptop, and headed out.

The drive was unexpectedly smooth, he barely hit any red lights. He parked at the front gate of the house and was still hesitating over whether to wait a bit before going inside when Lin Song, who had already heard he was coming, came out to meet him.

“Mom and Dad are inside. I’ll take you up. Let them make you some snacks.”

Lin Song had been worried about his younger brother all night. Seeing that Lin Zhu looked all right, he finally relaxed a little. He took the laptop from Lin Zhu’s hands. “Are you feeling uncomfortable? If you really don’t feel well, don’t force it. Dage can take you and run away from home. Anyway, I’ve been mad at them lately too…”

Lin Zhu laughed softly and shook his head. “I’m fine, Ge. How are Mom and Dad?”

The more normal Lin Zhu acted, the more worried Lin Song became. He frowned slightly as he studied his face. “They’re fine… don’t overthink it. Xiao Zhu, I’m still here at home. If anything happens, don’t hold it in. Come find me, understand?”

Lin Zhu smiled and nodded lightly, his hand at his side unconsciously clenching into a fist.

Actually… the misunderstanding hadn’t been this big at the start.

When he was first brought back, he could still get along with his parents. He tried seriously to pull himself out of the shadows, reintegrate into the family, and meet everyone’s expectations of him.

Until two years later, when Lin Song officially took over the family business. Their parents avoided his gaze and told him he needed to go abroad to develop overseas markets.

The world that fourteen-year-old Lin Zhu had painstakingly built collapsed completely once again.

By then, Lin Zhu had already learned to tuck away his emotions. He didn’t alarm anyone, calmly seeing his parents off, calmly going to school, coming home, eating, and following celebrities. It wasn’t until the Lunar New Year, when he saw his parents on a video call, that his heart suddenly seized up. He couldn’t catch his breath, cold sweat poured down his body, and his throat locked so tightly that he couldn’t make a sound.

Lin Zhu followed his brother inside, rubbing his forehead and tugging helplessly at the corner of his lips.

To this day, his brother still thought that incident had been a seafood allergy… and Lin Zhu was quite willing for him to think that way. So for a long time afterward, he never video-called their parents in front of Lin Song again.

It wasn’t until many years later, when Lin Song happened to run into Lin Zhu video-chatting with their parents, that he vaguely realized there was already an irreconcilable, deep-seated knot between his younger brother and their parents.

The front door opened, warm yellow light from the wall lamps spilling out through the crack.

Lin Zhu took a deep breath and followed Lin Song inside.

Lin Song had probably given advance notice. Along the way, they didn’t even run into the butler. Lin Zhu went upstairs quietly and followed Lin Song back to his room.

“Play by yourself for a bit first. I’ve set up a dinner for tomorrow with their team. I’ll introduce you, it won’t be a problem.”

Lin Song ruffled his brother’s hair, helped set up the game console, and stuffed the controller into his hands. “I’ll go have them make some snacks and prepare the materials you’ll need. Rest if you’re tired. Work and rest in balance. You can’t always be working. Play properly for a while.”

None of this needed to be said so urgently. Lin Zhu knew his brother was probably going to explain things to their parents. He nodded instinctively, watched Lin Song leave in a hurry, and lightly tightened his grip on the controller.

If only he could do a little better, his brother wouldn’t have to work this hard…

Lin Zhu lowered his head, looking at his hands that were unconsciously trembling. He pressed his lips together slightly, turned on the game console, and slowly played until his hands steadied again.

Being at home with his brother wasn’t a problem, but it had been far too long since he’d lived under the same roof as his parents. Even without seeing them yet, his body still reacted on instinct.

Before long, the bouncy plumber on the screen was knocked transparent by a turtle for the fourth time, losing yet another life.

Lin Zhu tossed the controller aside and fell back onto the bed.

He was already starting to miss Zhong Yao badly.

Messaging him in this state would only make Zhong Yao worry. Lin Zhu still hadn’t figured out what was wrong with his last text, so he didn’t dare contact him rashly. He opened his laptop and watched some rough cuts of his own videos.

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While he was spacing out, his phone suddenly buzzed.

Lin Zhu froze for a moment before realizing it was a video call. He grabbed the phone and, at a glance, saw Zhong Yao’s familiar avatar. He sprang upright, his heart suddenly racing.

Flustered, Lin Zhu ran to the mirror to check his complexion, rubbed his face hard a couple of times, vigorously kneaded his pale lips, then jumped in place a few times.

If he weren’t afraid of making Zhong Yao wait too long, Lin Zhu felt he could’ve climbed out the window, run laps around the backyard, and come back.

The video call kept vibrating steadily, unhurried, not at all impatient with the fumbling on the other end. Feeling his complexion was finally acceptable, Lin Zhu dashed back to the bed, panting, and pressed connect, eagerly meeting Zhong Yao on the screen.

“What’s going on with you…?”

Zhong Yao was startled. His gaze shifted to the slightly unfamiliar environment behind Lin Zhu, paused, then he smiled. “You’re home? Didn’t cause you any trouble, did I?”

“No, no!” Lin Zhu shook his head quickly. “Ge, have you finished filming? I heard Li Yijie is acting up again. When I get back, we’ll deal with him slowly…”

Zhong Yao didn’t mind at all and smiled lightly. “It’s not really trouble. Things like this happen a lot when filming.”

His voice was gentle and calm as he told a story like a joke. “Once there was someone with a huge entourage who insisted the entire set wait for him. Every time, over half an hour. We got fed up too. One time, even the director joined in, and we all agreed that whoever he talked to would act like they couldn’t see him…”

Zhong Yao continued, “Everyone just did their own thing. When it came time to act with him, the actor performed opposite thin air.”

“It was a low-budget film, everyone knew each other, and there was no rush. We all went all-in with the acting and even made a bet beforehand. Whoever let him realize it was an act would lose.”

Lin Zhu listened, fascinated, eyes widening. “That actually worked?”

“It did. We’re professionals at acting, after all. He really fell for it.”

Zhong Yao smiled. “Especially the actor opposite him. Not only did he do a full imaginary-partner scene seriously, he even got pushed against the wall and slapped… Later the guy panicked, really thought he’d turned invisible and no one could see him. He ran around the set shouting, even stripping off his clothes. The director didn’t dare laugh. He was about to burst.”

Zhong Yao added, “Eventually his assistant finally showed up, and someone acknowledged him again. The assistant, who usually had to squat down to tie his shoes, clung to his leg and bawled… He was so scared he couldn’t even stand and just sat down on the ground.”

Lin Zhu laughed so hard his stomach hurt, rubbing his eyes frantically. “That’s so evil… Who was the actor opposite him? To make him believe it like that, the acting must’ve been amazing…”

Zhong Yao replied without the slightest guilt, “Me.”

Lin Zhu stared, stunned for a moment, then finally collapsed onto the bed laughing uncontrollably.

Seeing him laugh so hard, Zhong Yao’s eyes also softened with a smile. He said gently, “You don’t need to worry about Li Yijie. Things are going smoothly on my end. Filming isn’t hard either… How about you? Tell me, what were you busy with today?”

The farther apart they were, the harder Lin Zhu found it to endure Zhong Yao speaking to him so softly. His face heated up, and he vaguely described his day’s work.

“It wasn’t too busy, really. I’m just making preparations. I’ll meet their team tomorrow.”

Unwilling to look away, Lin Zhu studied Zhong Yao carefully and explained in a low voice, “I originally planned to sleep at home, but my brother had me come over. Since I’ll be contacting the team tomorrow, I needed to prepare in advance…”

Hearing his unconscious choice of words, Zhong Yao felt a slight ache in his heart and interrupted gently, “Is this your room?”

Lin Zhu nodded instinctively.

“When I went to pick you up last time, I forgot to come up and see what your room looked like.” Zhong Yao then smiled. “Can you walk around and show me?”

Lin Zhu hesitated for a moment, then obediently stood up with his phone.

They’d already been chatting for quite a while, and his mood had unknowingly relaxed. Holding the phone up, he slowly turned around the room.

“The wallpaper color is nice. I’ve always liked this kind of pale blue. What color is the carpet… beige?”

Zhong Yao watched attentively, commenting carefully. “The carpet in my childhood bedroom was beige too. I loved lying on it to read. Every time I got home, I’d sit on the floor, toss my bag aside, read a novel for a bit, then do my homework.”

Following Lin Zhu’s view, Zhong Yao commented on whatever he saw. “That in the corner is a game console? They used to drag me along to climb walls and go play games. I’m bad at these because of my slow hands. Every time I’d get pushed aside to watch…”

His pace was unhurried, his tone casual, like idle chatter. Lin Zhu listened quietly, unable to resist pressing a hand lightly to his chest as warmth slowly spread inside.

Everything in his room was ordinary to the point of banality. But it was suddenly linked, bit by bit, to Zhong Yao.

Even those fragmented, painful years of youth trapped in this room seemed to be coated in a layer of gentle light.

After circling the room once, Lin Zhu sat back on the bed, feeling inexplicably warmer.

Sitting against the bed, heart beating a little faster, he softly asked, “Ge… next time I come back, can I invite you to come over?”

Zhong Yao paused at his unusually formal wording, then smiled. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking? I’ve wanted to visit your home for a long time, so I was afraid you’d be shy. It’s settled now.”

With a smile in his eyes, Zhong Yao started listing terms. “I’ll go home with you, but you have to treat me to your family’s snacks, let me play the game console, let me sleep with you, and let me see what you’ve hidden in that wardrobe you barely open…”

Lin Zhu nodded along to each point, but at the last one he suddenly jolted upright, cold sweat instantly breaking out on his forehead.

Those dozen or so body pillows in the wardrobe…

His body stiffened as he stammered his agreement, secretly vowing to shove all the pillows into his brother’s room as soon as the call ended, just in case.

Seeing that his mood had finally eased, Zhong Yao chatted a bit more, made him promise to sleep on time and not stay up late, and only then hung up the video call.

Lin Zhu’s hands were no longer shaking. He went back to play some games, still didn’t see Lin Song return, but instead received a message from publicity.

The person they’d run into at the airport earlier turned out to be Song Tianlang, Best Actor at Cannes three years ago.

Publicity Manager: [He won Best Actor at nineteen, and also got an award at Cannes back then… seems like he’s been focusing overseas these past couple of years.]

Publicity Manager: [He’s been doing films and working with foreign directors, so his domestic presence has been a bit low recently. Looks like he’s trying to break into the international high-end market. His news exposure isn’t high, so this return shouldn’t attract so many reporters. It was probably his agent buying hype.]

Publicity Manager: [Should we keep an eye on him?]

Lin Zhu looked at the messages, a glint flashing in his eyes.

The name Song Tianlang was not unfamiliar to him. In fact, Lin Zhu had kept an eye on this person for quite a long time. Only back then he was still in school, and later Song Tianlang went abroad to develop his career, so Lin Zhu hadn’t been able to keep tracking him.

Judging purely by ability, it wasn’t surprising that Song Tianlang had made it this far.

He had debuted even earlier than Zhong Yao. At nineteen, he’d snatched the Best Actor title from a group of veteran actors and was widely reported for a time. Unfortunately, the scripts and production quality of his subsequent films were mediocre, and the box office kept declining. He was mocked relentlessly for a full ten years before finally reclaiming the Best Actor trophy in one decisive stroke with a movie called [Thirteen Months].

Looking at his résumé, Song Tianlang had undoubtedly pulled off a textbook comeback.

The media was always quick to follow the wind. Three years ago, when Song Tianlang made his comeback with [Thirteen Months], praise poured in without restraint: “ten years forging one sword,” “enduring hardship in silence,” “well-deserved”…

Laurels piled upon him.

Almost no one remembered anymore that the film’s originally intended male lead had been Zhong Yao.

Award-bait films were always cautious in casting. Zhong Yao had been splashed with unfounded filth, and the impact was too severe; the producers had no choice but to reselect the lead actor. In the end, they settled on Song Tianlang, someone who had long competed with Zhong Yao for leading roles and whose seniority was nearly the same.

Most importantly… Song Tianlang was from Huaying Entertainment.

Back then, the incident was ultimately defined as malicious slander and rumor-mongering by unethical media seeking sensational headlines, in collusion with Zhong Yao’s former agent. Two not-insignificant media outlets were pushed out as scapegoats and were savaged mercilessly by enraged fans and onlookers.

As for what had really happened inside that affair, no one knew anymore.

When Lin Zhu went to Huaying this time, he had originally wanted to see if he could dig up the truth of that incident, but unfortunately the executive he met knew only limited details. Everything he could access was just the latest dirty secrets.

Lin Zhu tightened his grip on his phone and replied: Keep an eye on him. Let me know immediately if there’s any movement.

The publicity team agreed and went back to work.

Lin Zhu read through the materials they’d sent over again, then stood up thoughtfully, taking the throw pillows out of the wardrobe one by one, his mind still turning over what he’d just read.

Song Tianlang hadn’t come back early or late. Now he suddenly returned to the country and deliberately stirred up hype. Chances were high he was also aiming for Marlensius’s film.

As they say, enemies will meet on a narrow road… and the matter from back then was about time to be clarified.

The pillows were sprawled all over the bed, and the wardrobe was instantly more than half empty. Lin Zhu wiped the sweat from his brow, straightened up, and let out a breath. Just as he was about to move the pillows over to hide them in his brother’s room while Lin Song was still with their parents, a routine video meeting request from the core team popped up right on schedule.

Preoccupied, Lin Zhu accepted the call casually. “What’s up?”

“Nothing big. When you went to the airport to see Zhong-laoshi off, a few reporters who were there to pick up Song Tianlang caught you on camera. They’re planning to spread rumors about you—”

The PR manager reported lazily, then gave the screen a casual glance. His words suddenly stopped in a very strange way.

“What is it?” Lin Zhu froze, snapping back to attention and turning around.

PR manager: “……”

Lin Zhu: “……”

The PR manager swallowed hard and corrected himself carefully. “They’re planning to expose you—”

Lin Zhu’s face instantly burned as he reached out and shut off the camera.