Thank you Shihane for the ko-fi donations! I’ll update 2 bonus chapters tomorrow~
When Zhong Yao came out of the bathroom, his agent — who had insisted he was “not tired at all” and “in great shape” — was already curled up under the blankets, fast asleep in the warmth.
It was cozy beneath the covers. Lin Zhu’s cheeks were flushed from sleep, the corners of his eyes faintly curved, hugging Zhong Yao’s clothes as he slept peacefully, as if nothing in the world could disturb him.
Zhong Yao’s heart softened even more. He couldn’t bear to wake him. After drying off and changing into his pajamas, he lay down beside Lin Zhu.
He had just taken a cold shower and was still chilled, afraid of making Lin Zhu catch cold, so he deliberately shifted a little toward the edge.
Before he could even tuck in the blanket around him, the warm agent had already instinctively scooted closer.
The warmth quickly became something shared between two people. Zhong Yao didn’t dare move again. He drew his arm back around him and gently pulled the piece of clothing out of Lin Zhu’s embrace.
Lin Zhu was holding it tightly. Sensing someone tugging at it, he grew anxious in his sleep, struggled twice, and drowsily opened his eyes.
Zhong Yao promptly replaced the clothing with himself, rubbing the head resting against his shoulder and soothing him softly. “Switch with me, switch with me. I’ll let you hold me…”
The strength in Lin Zhu’s body gradually relaxed. He squinted at him for a moment, then his eyes curved in satisfaction. He hugged Zhong Yao solidly, pressing his forehead into the hollow of his shoulder and gently rubbing twice.
Clearly very experienced at hugging a body pillow.
Zhong Yao quickly wrapped him up tightly to stop him from continuing to “start a fire,” closed his eyes and tried to gather sleep. But after a long while, listening to the calm, steady breathing by his ear, he opened his eyes again.
With one arm around his well-behaved, sleeping agent, Zhong Yao took out his phone, flipped through the photos he had received earlier, and opened the chat window of the overseas documentary director he had long muted.
…
Half a world away, it was still daytime. Director David’s reply popped up almost instantly.
David: [Zhong! So you finally don’t think looking at other people’s bodies in rated films is a betrayal of your lover?]
David: [Welcome to the adult world! Do you need Caucasian or Asian types? Asians might suit you better, but Asian classifications are usually more complicated!]
David: [I also have some special positions here. If you need them, I can help you find some…]
Zhong Yao inhaled softly and couldn’t help rubbing his temple. He lowered his head to look at Lin Zhu sleeping soundly in his arms.
He began typing.
Zhong Yao: [Not watching.]
Zhong Yao: [I need some related materials. Realistic artistic works and scripts are fine. Online art courses.]
David: […]
David: [Do you want me to censor the protagonists’ names too??]
David: [You’re not actually seriously thinking about this during that pause, are you? Zhong??]
In disbelief, David sent several more messages before finally getting a reply from Zhong Yao.
After repeatedly confirming the level of content Zhong Yao could accept, David couldn’t help replying: [How about… letting your little one try and see if he can shoulder this responsibility? He might progress faster than you…]
Zhong Yao said no more. He set down his phone, tucked the blanket securely around the two of them, and reached up to turn off the light.
Sensing movement, Lin Zhu drowsily opened his eyes. “Ge…”
“I’m here. Go back to sleep,” Zhong Yao soothed gently.
Lin Zhu rubbed his eyes. After holding it in for a while, he looked up. “Ge, I—I’m not feeling well.”
Zhong Yao paused, turned the light back up, and leaned down to check him. “What’s wrong? Is your wrist hurting again? Is it the weather tomorrow? Let me see. Be good…”
His words suddenly stopped.
Taking advantage of him leaning down, Lin Zhu quickly hid his hand behind his back, pushed himself up, and bumped clumsily against Zhong Yao’s lips twice without aiming properly.
Satisfied, Lin Zhu burrowed back into his arms, yawned softly, and fell asleep again.
Zhong Yao: “…”
Acting on instinct, Zhong Yao hugged him again, his heart melting completely.
Lowering his head, he lightly brushed a kiss against the lips of his agent who kissed and then immediately fell asleep. He turned off the light and lay flat beside him.
Zhong Yao replied: [No scripts either. Just send me your reference materials.]
David: [??]
David: [I was just honestly filming documentaries, and now you’re suddenly giving me the illusion that I’m some indecent, immoral man!]
David: [Your country is already new socialist, not the 70s or 80s of the last century!]
David: [Can’t you let go of whatever outdated ideas were instilled in you and move toward the international, modern artistic space?]
The phone buzzed again. With no choice, Zhong Yao picked it back up.
Zhong Yao: [It’s not really about that. We’re already doing well. We just need to solve technical issues. We don’t need scripts or plots to help.]
David refused to believe it: [If the technical issues aren’t solved, how good can it be?!]
Holding the phone, Zhong Yao sighed softly.
Lin Zhu had mentioned earlier that he shouldn’t always show off. It made it easy to get ambushed with a sack over his head. But since the other party insisted on pressing, it couldn’t be considered his fault anymore.
Zhong Yao: [Want to hear about it?]
Zhong Yao: [It’s too late today. I’ll tell you in detail tomorrow.]
David: [???]
Zhong Yao set down his phone, hugged his warm agent, and finally closed his eyes peacefully.
It was a dreamless night.
Early the next morning, they were woken by the alarm together. After washing up and eating breakfast, they arrived at the filming set ahead of time.
Today’s production was grand, with an outdoor scene and a group scene. To create the effect of a spring hunt, they needed wide-angle shots. The crew had started preparing at dawn, setting up tents, banners fluttering fiercely, weapons gleaming, already creating an imposing spectacle on the surface.
This scene was actually scheduled for later in the script, but they had to finish filming the spring hunt before the green leaves fell, so it had been deliberately moved forward. To avoid having nothing left to shoot once winter fully arrived, they had to rush through it over the next few days.
Jin Zhenbo wasn’t present. The producer, several assistant directors, and the executive director were all running around busily. The production agent was also coordinating everywhere, making final adjustments to the on-set effects.
“Zhong-laoshi!”
The assistant director in charge of Zhong Yao had been waiting by the side of the set and promptly stopped him, guiding him toward the other direction.
“Today we’re switching to a different dressing room. The crew has already cleaned it up for you.”
Walking quickly, the assistant director explained in detail, “It’s fully equipped, just like the other one. We’ll probably have to polish this scene all day. The first few takes definitely won’t pass, so the makeup needs to be done carefully to avoid constant touch-ups…”
Zhong Yao had spent years on set, he’d even touched up makeup sitting on a cliff before. So, he didn’t care much about the location. He nodded and followed. “Are the two of us together?”
The assistant director hesitated, not answering immediately, and glanced at Lin Zhu beside him.
They had already agreed yesterday, yet today they were backing out. The assistant director looked embarrassed and lowered his head. “Lin-laoshi—”
“Alright, alright, you don’t need to call me that.”
The assistant director was much older than him. Lin Zhu smiled and waved his hand. After glancing toward Zhong Yao’s original dressing room, he already understood what was going on.
Li Yijie had clearly decided to compete with them. The man who usually had to be invited with utmost courtesy had arrived early today and taken over the dressing room. His entire team was bustling about, grandly preparing for the shoot.
The production couldn’t openly confront them. With Jin Zhenbo absent, there were always places where they had to bow and compromise.
Lin Zhu understood. He smiled. “The stand-in won’t show his face anyway. Just prepare a costume for me. I can do the styling on site in time.”
Seeing him smooth things over, the assistant director nodded gratefully. “Yes, yes, we prepared everything long ago. The makeup artist will follow the crew today too. It definitely won’t delay anything…”
Before he could finish, Lin Zhu added, “However, tell Li Yijie that if he wants me to be the stand-in today, it won’t be so easy.”
The assistant director froze.
Zhong Yao already understood what he meant. A trace of amusement flickered in his eyes as he gently rubbed Lin Zhu’s head.
Lin Zhu’s eyes shone brightly as he smiled at the assistant director. “Let’s not involve the crew in this. No need to trouble Director Jin. If Li Yijie wants a stand-in, he can come find me himself.”
“When he comes to me, it won’t be at the current price.”
The assistant director was still a little stunned and wanted to ask more, but Lin Zhu had already followed Zhong Yao into the dressing room.
It was rare to have his agent accompanying him during makeup. Zhong Yao didn’t pull him into idle chatter this time; instead, they exchanged a few casual lines and went over their dialogue briefly.
After years of filming, Zhong Yao had accumulated plenty of experience with scenes like this. Although he knew Lin Zhu was capable, he couldn’t help nagging a little more, patiently repeating the lessons and experiences he had learned over time.
“Sometimes scenes that look safe can still go wrong while filming. A few times, I thought everything was secure, and just because I wanted to make the movement look better, I ended up tangling myself in the harness wires.”
He explained carefully, smiling as he recalled the past. “And when I filmed my first drama, I had just learned horseback riding. The trainer thought I was young and couldn’t be bothered to adjust my saddle properly. Halfway through galloping, the saddle buckle came loose. It scared the trainer so badly he nearly went bald…”
Lin Zhu’s face grew inexplicably warm. He glanced up at Zhong Yao.
He knew about that incident.
He knew everything about Zhong Yao’s first drama.
There was almost nothing he couldn’t tell Zhong Yao now, except for this one thing, which he still didn’t know how to bring up. Listening as Zhong Yao continued sharing his experience, Lin Zhu’s heart quietly skipped a beat, his hand hidden in his sleeve curling slightly.
It wasn’t that he had to hide anything from Zhong Yao. It was just that the person he had been back then… hadn’t been good enough.
Because he liked him too much, he wanted to present only the best parts of himself. The not-so-good parts were things he felt embarrassed to show Zhong Yao.
Fidgeting with his sleeve, Lin Zhu sincerely felt a bit embarrassed for his past self, until a warm palm lightly touched his forehead, snapping him back to reality.
“Ge—”
“Getting sleepy?” Zhong Yao checked his temperature, found it normal, and casually rubbed his ears twice, smiling. “If you’re sleepy, rest a bit. It’ll be noisy at the edge of the set. Probably no chance to sleep then.”
Lin Zhu quickly shook his head. “I’m not sleepy!”
He wanted to hear Zhong Yao talk like this. Pulling his thoughts back, he said eagerly, “Ge, keep going. I want to listen…”
Zhong Yao raised a brow and smiled, indulgently nodding before continuing at an unhurried pace.
Lin Zhu knew his intention and didn’t let his mind wander again. He listened attentively from start to finish, and before long, it was time to film.
Freed from the nightmare of listening to “me and my agent” for the nth time, the makeup and styling team worked quickly. They dressed Zhong Yao in a meticulously supervised hunting robe and escorted him all the way to the set.
The producer was discussing camera positions with the cinematography and art departments. The extras were already in place. Filming was about to begin.
For the moment, Lin Zhu had nothing pressing to do. Dutifully, he crouched by the side of the set, watching over things, lifting his head to look at Zhong Yao listening to the director’s instructions.
The scenes filmed in the past few days were set after the new emperor’s ascension. Zhong Yao’s character had already labored for years, becoming an overbearing and domineering minister who was a thorn in countless people’s sides. Clad in a luxurious dark robe, though only in his thirties, subtle silver streaks had been added at his temples. His brows and complexion were adjusted to suit the character, pressing down his aura into something more restrained and weathered.
Today’s scene was a flashback from many years ago. Zhong Yao wore a silver hunting robe embroidered with hidden golden patterns, a long sword at his side. He was dashing and striking to the point of brilliance.
To match the younger age, his brows were shaped softer, his complexion lightened, his long hair bound with a jade hairpin. The innate elegance and refinement that couldn’t be concealed shone through, making him look almost no different from ten years ago.
Standing at the edge of the set, Lin Zhu could hardly look away.
The planning manager, who had finally caught Lin Zhu after days of waiting, stuck close to him to watch the excitement, eyes sparkling. “Zhong-laoshi looks amazing! Like those still photos from back then… Lin-ge, can we leak a few photos? I guarantee fans of more than five years will cry their eyes out and run around stripping in excitement!”
Lin Zhu: “…”
A twelve-year veteran fan looked down at his own clothes and patted the planner on the shoulder. “Not to that extent. Next time, don’t exaggerate like that, especially when spreading gossip…”
He didn’t quite dare to ask how the last rumor about an inflatable doll had started, so he let it go. After considering the planning manager’s suggestion, he didn’t decide immediately. “We can release some behind-the-scenes shots, but it’s best to hit the mark in one go. No rush, let’s wait.”
Zhong Yao’s popularity was high right now. Lin Zhu believed the production would eventually release high-definition, watermark-free stills on their own. If managed well, it might even trend again. There was no need to release lower-quality photos first and dilute the traffic.
The planning manager nodded, half-understanding, and put away his phone. Looking toward the set, he suddenly grew nervous. “Lin-ge, they’re about to start, and Li Yijie’s on too! He won’t deliberately cause trouble, right? That guy’s really not great…”
Lin Zhu was standing a bit far away. He narrowed his eyes and looked up. “Don’t worry. Let’s see what he wants to do.”
Li Yijie had insisted on not using a stand-in and personally shooting this scene. Showing up so enthusiastically now, it was impossible he didn’t intend to stir something up.
They hadn’t had a chance to meet face-to-face yet, so Lin Zhu hadn’t been able to read his mind and didn’t know what exactly he was planning. For now, he had simply prepared thoroughly.
If Li Yijie didn’t harbor ill intentions, that would be fine. But if he truly had improper thoughts… then he would need some proper guidance before learning how to behave again.
“You all watch the setup. I’ll go take a look.”
“Lin-ge—” Before the planning manager could stop him, Lin Zhu had already slipped off his coat, circled past the equipment area, and blended into the crowd at the edge of the filming zone.
“[Serving the Sovereign], Scene 13, Shot 1. Take one— action!”
The Crown Prince galloped ahead, repeatedly turning back.
Someone had lured him into a trap. Behind him, wild beasts roared madly without pause, and the horse beneath him, startled, bolted forward in panic.
…
Hidden assassins seized their moment, crossbows drawn and loaded. The situation was critical. He was already being forced into a dead end.
…
At the assistant director’s signal, Zhong Yao jerked his reins and spurred his horse forward, cutting in ahead of the assassin. “Your Highness, be careful!”
They had rehearsed the choreography several times. As the two horses crossed paths, Zhong Yao rose tall in the saddle, bracing one hand against it and using the momentum to leap toward the snow-white steed beneath Li Yijie.
According to the script, Zhong Yao’s horse would block the assassin’s poison-tipped bolt for the Crown Prince, but would fall as a result. The Prince, flustered, would struggle to control his mount and nearly trample Zhong Yao. Fortunately, Zhong Yao would mount up in time, seize the reins, and gallop back to the safety of the crowd, narrowly escaping death.
Zhong Yao was already secured with wires. As long as he rolled beneath the horse’s hooves, the stunt team would help lift him back into the saddle.
He had filmed plenty of scenes like this. Using the momentum, he rolled across the ground, precisely avoiding the seemingly chaotic hooves. Just as he was about to rise, anxious cries suddenly erupted from the sidelines.
Li Yijie seemed to fumble in the confusion. He yanked the reins at the wrong moment. The white horse, whose front hooves had just lifted, came crashing down again, directly toward Zhong Yao’s shoulder.
A sharp glint flashed through Lin Zhu’s eyes as he stepped forward.
The next instant, the white horse let out a long neigh and reared upright, forcibly avoiding Zhong Yao beneath its hooves.
Zhong Yao reacted swiftly. Rolling again, he was pulled clear by the wires. Li Yijie, however, was nearly thrown straight off the horse, shrieking at the top of his lungs. Several trainers rushed in at once, finally calming the startled animal and getting him down safely.
The sudden accident left everyone shaken. Filming halted immediately, and Li Yijie’s team swarmed around him.
Lin Zhu ran quickly to Zhong Yao’s side, helping him up from the ground and removing the wires.
Zhong Yao brushed off his sleeves and waved at the staff rushing toward him to indicate he was fine. He rubbed Lin Zhu’s head but didn’t speak right away.
Lin Zhu’s heart was still beating fast. He couldn’t help looking up. “Ge…”
Zhong Yao lowered his head and pinched the back of his neck lightly. “Just now—”
He paused, then gave a hoarse chuckle, shaking his head before patting Lin Zhu’s back. “I’m not angry. But no more of that in the future, understand?”
If he hadn’t thought much before, he understood the moment he saw where Lin Zhu had been standing under the horse.
Lin Zhu’s ability wasn’t just useful in subtle psychological battles. It worked in emergencies too. Whether quickly figuring out where an opponent intended to strike in a fight, or predicting the white horse’s movement if things got out of control and pulling himself clear in time. He always had an advantage.
With Lin Zhu’s temperament, if he hadn’t been absolutely certain Zhong Yao wouldn’t get hurt, he would never have allowed Li Yijie to pull something like that.
Zhong Yao didn’t mind Lin Zhu bullying others. But anything that might involve risk. His agent needed to remember not to do it again.
The tension finally drained from Lin Zhu’s body. He let out a quiet breath and nodded obediently. “Got it…”
The same agent who had been ready to roll up his sleeves and charge under a horse moments ago, eyes blazing with determination, was now so nervous from a single word that even his lips had gone slightly pale.
Zhong Yao felt he still hadn’t spoiled him enough. He took off his cloak and wrapped it around him, ruffled his hair, peeled a candy and fed it to him, coaxing gently, “So what should you do next time?”
Lin Zhu replied, “I regretted it just now… I should’ve just kicked Li Yijie straight out of the crew.”
The assistant director — who had just soothed a sobbing, barely-standing Li Yijie and hurried over to apologize to Zhong Yao, planning to beg both sides’ fans not to start an online war — stood there speechless.
