Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 10
People were coming and going, and no one noticed what was happening here. Long Xingyu sat there, recalling the countless times he had practiced acting with imaginary props.
An empty stage where he had to pretend all sorts of activities were happening. Sometimes, he had to hug the air and perform gut-wrenching cries, throwing his emotions into the void. Just like Yu Ruoyun now, expressing love to someone who was no longer there.
During his college entrance exams, he had passed the retests for several top film schools. He eventually chose a good school that didn’t prohibit freshmen from filming and was lenient toward slightly famous students, whether in terms of entrance scores or attendance rates. Back then, he hadn’t gone independent yet. He told his former agent, “Time is precious. I don’t have the luxury of spending it in school. I want to surpass Yu Ruoyun.”
The goal was too grand. The agent didn’t take it seriously, thinking it was just youthful ambition. They jokingly asked, “Why are you so fixated on Yu Ruoyun?”
Jiang Yu said, “Of course, because the first time I…”
Long Xingyu picked up a glass of water and drank it all in one go. He drank too quickly and ended up choking, splashing water on his face. He looked at Yu Ruoyun and said, “I’ve never heard of Jiang Yu having any romantic relationship with you. Do you have any evidence?”
He knew Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t have any and that none existed.
If Jiang Yu hadn’t died, this year would have been their seventh year together. For ordinary couples, the seven-year itch would be approaching—men would start balding, women would start gaining weight, and even children would become disobedient. They didn’t have these worries, nor did they have anything beyond worries—no photos together, no trips, never pulling open the curtains during the day. Nothing at all.
Yu Ruoyun said, “The road where his accident happened was only three hundred meters from where I lived. He was probably coming to see me that day, but I wasn’t home. I forgot to tell him I wouldn’t be there.”
Long Xingyu realized something was wrong with himself. He looked down to see his hand holding the glass shaking uncontrollably.
Was Yu Ruoyun feeling guilty? He thought, Yu Ruoyun indeed seemed like someone who would take the blame.
“You don’t think it’s your fault he died, do you?” Long Xingyu tried to lighten the mood. “You’re overthinking this. The media reported that he jaywalked, and the driver was fatigued. That’s why the accident happened.”
He focused on covering his own emotions, not noticing the sharp change in Yu Ruoyun’s expression.
Long Xingyu continued to gather his thoughts. “I’ve seen your movie. Actually, almost everyone has. The first time I saw you act, I wanted to kill you. How could you be so lucky, so perfectly timed, to become famous and win awards with just one movie?”
Good luck aside, it was visible talent, something many actors couldn’t achieve in a lifetime. He never faced setbacks. That movie became the director’s final work. He retired afterward, leaving no chance for replication.
But he couldn’t say any of this now. It was better for Yu Ruoyun to see him as a jealous junior striving for fame than to remind him of someone from the past. This wasn’t just about awakening Yu Ruoyun’s memories but also about dredging up his own.
In Yu Ruoyun’s words, what kind of person would Jiang Yu be? He didn’t dare to listen.
“So I just want to become famous—more famous than you,” Long Xingyu said. “I know you’re a good person. Good people do good deeds. So maybe be my sugar daddy. Sleep with me and pay the bill. Help me escape this hellish company. Support me to gain more fans. Get me leading roles, anything. Ignore me like before if you want. Just don’t talk to me about your ex.”
Yu Ruoyun lowered his eyes. Long Xingyu couldn’t help but look at his dense eyelashes, like those of a deer, innocent. Yu Ruoyun finally said, “But I have no one to talk to.”
He truly was an actor. That single sentence carried so many mixed emotions—sincere yet sad. Long Xingyu realized that Yu Ruoyun was telling the truth.
Yu Ruoyun was a rational person. He wouldn’t idly chat with any friend about his affair with Jiang Yu. Just like he didn’t attend Jiang Yu’s funeral even after calling all night from abroad. Yu Ruoyun wasn’t there to show off on the red carpet. He was a film festival judge. And it wasn’t just forgetting to tell Jiang Yu. He had deliberately withheld it, as Jiang Yu’s film wasn’t shortlisted, and Yu Ruoyun didn’t want to upset him.
“What about me?” Long Xingyu asked. “If you can’t tell anyone else, can you tell me?”
“I spoke to the casting director,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Asked how you got into the crew.”
Long Xingyu’s heart tightened.
“You approached an investor Jiang Yu had helped before. You said you were close to Jiang Yu, that he treated you like a brother, asking for support,” Yu Ruoyun said. “That was smart because Jiang Yu indeed wouldn’t have talked about such things. You might have had contact with him before. You told me over the phone to scold you if you were wrong. So here it is.”
Yu Ruoyun leaned forward slightly, as if about to have a close encounter with Long Xingyu. “Since we met, you haven’t said a single good thing about Jiang Yu. You said he died, called him arrogant, said his songs were outdated, and that he deserved to die for jaywalking. Understand this: you have no right to judge Jiang Yu. He might have helped you, but you’re not worth it.”
Long Xingyu was stunned by this barrage.
If Yu Ruoyun hadn’t listed it out, he wouldn’t have realized how many times he had insulted himself. Why was Yu Ruoyun angry? Weren’t these all facts?
Before he could retort, Yu Ruoyun changed his demeanor, handed him a tissue, and said, “Wipe your face.”
Wipe what? Long Xingyu was confused. He touched his face and realized it was wet.
Yu Ruoyun was also somewhat speechless, possibly not understanding why Long Xingyu, who seemed so indifferent, would cry after a few words.
But this time, Yu Ruoyun didn’t apologize. He continued, “If you knew Jiang Yu, we could still be friends. I just hope you won’t say such things again.”
‘Screw you,’ Long Xingyu cursed inwardly. Who wants to be friends with you? Do I need your permission to insult myself? You fucking psychopath.
But outwardly, he nodded and continued to roughly wipe his eyes with the tissue, thinking, if Yu Ruoyun really cared about him this much, maybe they still had a chance to start over.
He hoped so.
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