Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 48

When Lu Yiyao’s “implicit rejection” system was activated, the “secret observation” mode was also restarted. However, Ran Lin left quickly, and with the last scene being rushed, the only chance Lu Yiyao had to observe him was during the few short seconds of the late-night snack invitation.

But Ran Lin declined very naturally, and his reasons were legitimate. His tone, voice, expressions, and actions didn’t raise any suspicions.

Lu Yiyao felt his brain was split into two parts. One part, scientific and rational, concluded from observation that “Ran Lin is normal, obviously not interested in you in the way you think.” The other part, relying solely on intuition, stubbornly insisted, “Ran Lin is just pretending to be strong. He does like you and has already received your rejection signal.”

It was only when Ran Lin’s words activated the system that Lu Yiyao realized he had been waiting for a chance to apply the theories discussed with Huo Yuntao over the past two months.

But he never imagined that when his wish finally came true, it didn’t solve any problems and broke the peace he had returned to.

Did Ran Lin get the hint?

Is Ran Lin actually gay?

Does Ran Lin really like him?

None of these questions were resolved.

The situation was more chaotic than that night two months ago.

Huo Yuntao, you troublemaker!

After half a night of restless thoughts, Lu Yiyao finally fell asleep. In his dream, he was back in his high school days at the boarding school for boys. As soon as the class bell rang, he ran to Huo Yuntao’s classroom to drag him out for a beating.

Back then, he and Huo Yuntao hadn’t fully grown yet, appearing like bean sprouts among their rapidly developing Western classmates. But even bean sprouts can have fiery fights. In the end, Huo Yuntao couldn’t take it anymore and climbed onto the roof, yelling down at him, “Lao Lu, you prioritize love over friendship!”

After the tirade, the alarm clock rang.

Waking up, Lu Yiyao had a splitting headache and felt heavy with guilt—guilt not only towards Ran Lin from last night but now also towards Huo Yuntao.

Why did he feel guilty even for beating up a friend in a dream?

Lu Yiyao sat on the hotel bed, puzzled. Suddenly, he remembered what Lu Yimeng used to say when he advised her to reflect more on her actions.

She said, “Brother, you have a halo over your head.”

With a haloed head, the mainland star thought he would see the same natural Ran Lin on set today and had convinced himself to stop overthinking and focus on acting. But from the start of makeup, the second male lead kept glancing at him intermittently, his eyes filled with… pain and hatred?

Tang Xiaoyu, who was also getting makeup done, noticed something was off but didn’t dare to speak out.

Until the first male lead’s seeking gaze turned to him.

Their eyes met, exchanging silent, intense looks—

[Lu Yiyao: What’s going on?]

[Tang Xiaoyu: 🤷]

[Lu Yiyao: Could it be the effect of last night’s hint delayed until now?]

[Tang Xiaoyu: Hint?]

[Lu Yiyao: Bye.]

[Tang Xiaoyu: …You can’t just leave after half a sentence. Look at me again!!!]

As makeup neared completion, Ran Lin’s narrowed eyes became sharper, and his chest heaved with apparent anger, ready to burst at any moment!

Unable to bear it any longer, Lu Yiyao spoke up. “Actually, last night…”

“Shut up!” Ran Lin cut him off harshly; his voice was colder than ever. “There’s no need to explain. Nothing justifies you deceiving and using me!”

Tang Xiaoyu gasped, eyes wide, thinking, ‘Are the first and second male leads about to enact “Pretend Play Turns Real: Tyrannical Brothers Fall for Me” before the shoot wraps up?!’ But this was the makeup room—even if their love was deeper than the sea, they should consider public impact! Don’t they want to work in the industry anymore?!

“Um, Second Brother, I think…”

“Shut up, you too!” Ran Lin suddenly turned, his voice deep and serious. “If you dare speak up for him, we can’t be brothers anymore.”

Tang Xiaoyu blinked in confusion, feeling the words strangely familiar, as if he could naturally follow up with the next line—

“If my brothers are at sword’s point and I can still watch calmly, what difference does it make whether we’re brothers or not!”

Ran Lin was dumbfounded, panting heavily for a while before calming down slightly, then said with a hint of disbelief, “Xiaoyu, your emotional delivery just now was really good.”

Tang Xiaoyu smiled shyly, modestly responding, “Not really, you led me… Wait a minute.” His expression turned serious. “It’s fine to improvise, but at least give me a signal!”

Ran Lin blinked, tilting his head. “You caught on even without a signal, and quite well too. You didn’t even need to build up the emotion. It was just there.”

Tang Xiaoyu smiled, blushing modestly. “You might think I’m always joking around, but I’ve been really trying to understand Xu Chongfei…”

The makeup artist working on the third male lead sighed internally while fixing the eyebrow that had been smeared due to Tang Xiaoyu’s sudden, intense line delivery. He marveled at the director’s keen casting choice—someone so easily flattered and quick to laugh, perfect for Xu Chongfei. If he had played Fang Xian, he’d be completely deceived by Tang Jingyu; if he were Tang Jingyu, well, he probably wouldn’t even uncover his family’s enemies in this lifetime.

As the makeup artist internally commented, Ran Lin teased Lu Yiyao, “Teacher Lu, were you distracted just now? There’s no way you wouldn’t react to the lines I threw at you. Even Xiaoyu caught them.”

Tang Xiaoyu was brought back from cloud nine. “I don’t really like the way you say ‘even Xiaoyu’…”

Lu Yiyao, still looking at Ran Lin’s eyes that were “three parts inquiry, seven parts jest”, suddenly felt a bit aggrieved, wanting to complain like Tang Xiaoyu—I’ve been troubled about your matter from last night to this morning, from darkness to dawn, and without a word, you start acting. Where’s the humanitarian care?!

“Teacher Lu.” The makeup artist’s timid call interrupted Lu Yiyao’s tumultuous thoughts. “Can you stop frowning for a moment? It’s hard to apply makeup…”

Lu Yiyao took a deep breath, his brows relaxed, and he slowly revealed a polite smile.

Ran Lin struggled to pull down the corners of his mouth, afraid to smile too obviously—he was certain that Lu Yiyao was roaring inside, but that’s how he was: even when furious, he maintained the demeanor of a gentle and elegant nobleman.

The façade he put on, no matter how internally painful, had to be endured.

Ran Lin lowered his eyes and realized the truth in the saying, “Heartbreak leads to growth.” Overnight, he had turned wicked, sliding further down the path of villainy.

Strangely, villains really do seem tougher than good guys. At least now, facing Lu Yiyao, he felt as comfortable as before he realized his own feelings, if not more so.

Back then, Ran Lin hadn’t fallen for Lu Yiyao, but he still felt guilty about hyping up their CP for publicity.

Now, Ran Lin was just Lu Yiyao’s friend, having moved past his affection and guilt, enjoying an equal and comfortable relationship.

The dinner they had over two months ago still counted.

Lu Yiyao had said not to worry about popularity, fans, or public opinion and to interact in whatever way felt comfortable.

Although late, Ran Lin decided to start listening to Teacher Lu’s advice.

“Are you brewing emotions again…” Lu Yiyao watched as Ran Lin went from holding back laughter, to a fading smile, then to a serious expression, and finally to a look filled with hatred, inexplicably feeling a chill.

Ran Lin’s hatred was fierce, filled with intense and decisive rage.

Even though it was just acting, Lu Yiyao couldn’t bear it. And this was just him as himself; if he became Tang Jingyu, the character he played, and immersed himself in that emotion, Ran Lin’s—or rather, Fang Xian’s—gaze would drown him in guilt.

“I must brew emotions.” Ran Lin sighed, blinking hard to relax his eyes and dissipate the heat that had almost welled up. “Today’s scene is crucial, and I can’t afford any mistakes.”

Putting aside all other thoughts, Ran Lin spoke the truth, and this was also why he could pull himself together today—not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

Whether in love or heartbroken, it was all just part of life. He couldn’t let his personal emotions ruin the efforts of the crew over the past four months. That would be unfair to the investors, director, and writer who trusted him, and to the part of himself that loved acting.

Lu Yiyao watched the seriousness and determination in Ran Lin’s eyes and, for the first time, questioned his own notion of “professionalism”.

He never thought his acting or insight was exceptional, but he was always extremely confident in his “serious approach to work”.

He wouldn’t compare himself with the true artists who lived for their craft, but even among his peers of similar age and status, Lu Yiyao felt he deserved a “Youth Role Model” medal.

But now he realized he might have been too arrogant.

Yao Hong once made a comparison. She said that they were like two buckets of water at different levels, connected by a tube, with his water always flowing towards the other.

Lu Yiyao now wanted to use this analogy but substituting “fame” with “professionalism (including passion for the job)”. In that case, it would definitely be Ran Lin’s water flowing towards his.

Ran Lin wasn’t just more serious; he also had that extra bit of passion.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. Even if your gaze burns holes in me, I won’t regret doing this,” Lu Yiyao heard himself say solemnly, not a line from the script but the inner voice of Tang Jingyu.

Ran Lin hadn’t expected Lu Yiyao to immerse himself in the role so suddenly. His blood, which had just cooled, started boiling again, every cell shouting—confront him!

“I treated you like my closest brother, gave up the girl I loved for you, and would even choose you without hesitation over Zhao Buyao if forced to…” Ran Lin couldn’t continue. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, feeling a suffocating pain in his chest. “And your response? To deceive me, use me, and ultimately cause my father’s death?”

“Your father destroyed my entire family.”

“And me? Have I ever wronged you in the slightest?”

“No, it’s me who wronged you.”

“You never thought of me when you did those things. It’s too late to feel sorry now.”

“……”

Tang Xiaoyu watched silently as the two main actors immersed themselves in their roles, their performance intense. His heart was rising and falling with the scene.

Finally, with no more words between them, only a heavy silence spread. He turned to his makeup artist with moist eyes. “See, sister. Playing this third male lead isn’t easy…”

“I understand.” The makeup artist nodded, adjusting his head. “Stay still, I’ve been drawing this eyebrow for half an hour.”

While the main actors were getting ready and emotionally preparing, the filming set was being busily arranged.

Ran Lin was right about today’s scene being crucial—indeed, it was an understatement. To be exact, today’s scene was the most important in the entire drama—the Martial Arts Assembly, the death of Fang Huanzhi, the revelation of the Tang Clan massacre, the false accusation against Tang Jingyu by Abbot Haikong, and the rift between Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian.

If the drama was a rollercoaster of conspiracies and brotherly strife, then today was the climax with a 360° roll and a 720° twist.

The vast indoor space was transformed into the Fang Clan’s martial hall, the site of the Martial Arts Assembly. Tables and chairs connected, cups and plates scattered about—it looked more like a jovial banquet of various sects than a martial assembly.

Fang Huan’s seat was the main one, not elevated above the others, highlighting the host’s status while respecting the esteemed seniors of the martial world.

Extras were mostly in place, though not entirely settled, creating a slightly chaotic atmosphere.

The rocker was still swinging in mid-air, searching for angles, while the sound and lighting technicians, though ready, vigilantly monitored the set, prepared for any changes.

Some supporting actors had already arrived earlier, particularly Zhong Jiakun, who played Fang Huanzhi, rehearsing and positioning with the actor playing Abbot Haikong, his old friend.

This big scene, with its ensemble cast and climactic plot, was crucial—whether the most splendid part of the play would shine depended on this moment!

Finally, the five young actors, fully made-up, entered the scene.

Tang Jingyu, Fang Xian, Xu Chongfei, Zhao Buyao, and Li’er.

Regardless of how their acting skills compared to their seniors, there was no doubt that they were the top group of this drama. The quality of the drama depended on them.

With their arrival, the cast was complete.

Everyone on set felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere, and even the extras instinctively quieted down.

Behind the monitor, Chen Qizheng looked at his nearly suffocating partner and sighed helplessly. “Do you have to be more nervous than the actors?”

Song Mang, clutching his chest, his fingers twisting his bright yellow clothes into a knot, said, “I can’t help it. The excitement is uncontrollable, trembling from the soul…”

This wasn’t the first time Director Chen had seen his partner like this, but he couldn’t help but complain about the same thing every time. “You wrote the script. What’s there to be so excited and trembling about?”

Song Mang’s answer was the same as always. “Because I wrote it, I can’t help but be emotional. I have to see the words turned into scenes with my own eyes to be at peace.”

Director Chen wasn’t one to argue, but he couldn’t stand his professionalism being insulted. “When have I ever made a scene that completely distorted your script?”

Song Mang had confidence in his partner but also remembered the objective laws of development. “There are always accidents. I must keep the risk to a minimum.”

Chen Qizheng knew he would never perfectly sync with his partner in this lifetime. They were like two mismatched gears, grinding awkwardly on the artistic path.

“Let’s set some ground rules. You’re here to observe, not to direct. You can’t interrupt and ask me to stop the scene midway again.”

Chen Qizheng had learned from past experiences. During a climax scene in a previous movie, the two had a public argument on set over an actor’s ad-lib, which Chen Qizheng thought was fine, but Song Mang exploded over. In the heat of the moment, they staged a shameful director-screenwriter quarrel in front of all the crew.

“Okay.” Song Mang knew what Chen Qizheng was referring to. He regretted it afterwards. It’s fine for two people passionate about art to clash, but not in public, as it undermines the director’s authority. “That’s the first rule, what about the other two?”

“There aren’t any.”

“Isn’t it three rules?”

“One important rule is worth three.”

“……”

When they turned back to the monitor, all actors were already in place. Chen Qizheng took a deep breath, his heart slowly calming, and he picked up the megaphone, speaking slowly and powerfully, “Attention all units, let’s walk through the scene first—”

A walk-through meant rehearsing complex scenes and setups without filming, allowing actors to perform while the director interrupted to confirm and adjust camera angles, actors’ positions, and even their actions and expressions, aiming for a smooth shoot when filming officially began.

They walked through the scene three times.

By the end of the third walk-through, Ran Lin felt like his chest was about to explode with accumulated emotions.

Lu Yiyao didn’t say any words beyond his lines to Ran Lin. He couldn’t immerse himself as deeply as Ran Lin, whose soul seemed to be possessed by his character, but he didn’t want to disturb such a fully engaged, radiant actor.

Not just Lu Yiyao, but Tang Xiaoyu, Xi Ruohan, and the actress playing Li’er, also refrained from engaging Ran Lin in superfluous conversation.

It was clear to everyone that he wasn’t Ran Lin at the moment, but Fang Xian, and today’s Fang Xian was crazed, tragic, on the verge of collapse—

After learning from Abbot Haikong that the “Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual” was in the Fang Clan, Tang Jingyu agreed to bring Abbot Haikong into the Fang household, aiming to find the manual before the Martial Arts Assembly and expose Fang Huan’s conspiracy.

As Young Master Yu, he brought Abbot Haikong, disguised as an old man, boldly roaming through every corner of the Fang house—kitchen, armory, woodshed, bedroom, treasure vault, and the like. Finally, in a secret compartment in Fang Xian’s study, they discovered the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual.

As Abbot Haikong had said, the news about the manual appearing in Liuma Town was just a ruse by Fang Huanzhi to eliminate opposing sects and smoothly become the leader at the Martial Arts Assembly.

Haikong instructed Tang Jingyu to safeguard the manual, planning to expose Fang Huanzhi’s conspiracy at the assembly. Tang Jingyu agreed, but unforeseen events unfolded at the assembly. Fang Huanzhi was critically injured and on the brink of death, and Fang Xian finally realized all that Tang Jingyu had done behind his back.

“Scene 835, Take 1…”

Click!

“I would like to experience Master Fang’s Ruogu Sword Technique if you would be so kind to instruct me.”

The veteran actor playing Abbot Haikong stood up. His silver eyebrows and long beard, his face kind and benevolent, his voice smooth yet forceful, echoed in the vast martial hall. Instantly, everyone, whether drinking, chatting, or laughing, fell silent, and the entire hall was as quiet as a tomb.

Zhong Jiakun, playing Fang Huanzhi, smiled upon hearing this, put down his cup, and stood up unhurriedly, declaring, “Abbot Haikong overestimates me. It is I who should be learning from you.”

A sly fox facing a deep strategist, their eyes locked in a tense standoff.

Not only was the Bodhi Temple dissatisfied with Fang Huanzhi as the martial leader, but Abbot Haikong was the only one bold enough to challenge him.

Sitting not far away, Ran Lin had lost the intense emotion from the rehearsal. He now stared blankly at his “father” and the respected Abbot Haikong. His expression was calm, his eyes vacant, completely in the dark about what was happening.

Lu Yiyao sat next to Ran Lin, and according to the script, he squinted subtly, quietly holding his breath and watching, waiting to see how things would unfold.

Fang Huanzhi stepped away from the table and approached the center of the martial hall, respectfully bowing to Abbot Haikong, then slowly unsheathing his sword.

Abbot Haikong nodded slightly, his staff slightly lifting, then rapidly descending, thudding against the ground. A dull, suppressed sound reverberated.

“Abbot, please forgive any offense.”

As soon as Fang Huanzhi spoke, his sword flew up into the air…

“Ugh!”

Before the sword could strike, Fang Huanzhi suddenly bent over, clutching his chest in pain.

“Cut! Blood bag—”

At the director’s command, a blood bag was quickly brought over. Zhong Jiakun put it in his mouth and resumed his painful posture of clutching his chest. In the blink of an eye, everyone on set, both actors and crew, remained frozen in their positions and silent, afraid to cause any discrepancies that would be noticeable once filming resumed.

The shooting continued as if the brief interruption had never happened.

As Zhong Jiakun bit into the blood bag, a burst of blood spewed out. Ran Lin leaped up, pushing through the tables and rushing to the center of the scene—

“Father!”

In the scene, Fang Xian supported Fang Huanzhi, his face filled with urgent concern.

Behind the monitor, Chen Qizheng and Song Mang held their breath, fixated on the screen.

Fang Huanzhi, trembling, raised a hand and pointed at Abbot Haikong, three meters away, struggling to speak. “You… poisoned me…”

Abbot Haikong stood still, not even lifting his staff, his eyes full of surprise, as if completely unaware of what was happening. “What are you saying, Master Fang? I only wished to learn the Ruogu Sword Technique of the Fang Clan. How did this turn into me poisoning you? Amitabha, I haven’t even been near you.”

The divine doctor of Baichuan Valley came forward to check Fang Huanzhi’s pulse. Soon, he shook his head regretfully at Fang Xian. “Mie Zhen powder. Once poisoned, if the victim uses inner force, the poison activates, and there’s no cure. From the pulse, it seems the alliance leader has been poisoned for more than three days.”

“Someone!” Fang Xian shouted outside the hall. “Detain Abbot Haikong!”

The situation was unclear, and Abbot Haikong couldn’t be ruled out, but the fact that Fang Xian used the word “detain” showed he had become more cautious and mature than before.

Abbot Haikong looked wronged, chanting, “My Buddha is merciful, Amitabha.”

Before Fang Xian could speak, someone in the crowd shouted, “Young Master Yu entered the kitchen three days ago!”

Fang Xian was stunned, incredulously looking at his best friend, his voice tight and trembling. “What were you doing in the kitchen?”

Tang Jingyu always disliked the smell of the kitchen. When they were young and sneaking food, it was always Fang Xian who went in while he kept watch.

Tang Jingyu stood up calmly, his emotions seemingly at peace. This wasn’t the scene he and Abbot Haikong had planned, but when Fang Huanzhi coughed up blood, he knew he had been trapped.

He just wanted to expose Fang Huanzhi’s conspiracy, not to kill him for revenge—that wasn’t even part of the plan.

Good, Abbot Haikong did it for him, and to show sincerity, he should take the blame for Abbot Haikong.

But he didn’t want to.

In the silence where even a pin drop could be heard, Tang Jingyu’s voice rang clear. “The kitchen, yes, I entered, but the poison, I did not administer.”

Fang Xian’s lips trembled, partly expecting, partly in disbelief, his voice hoarse. “That’s why I’m asking, what were you doing in the kitchen…”

“To find the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual.” Tang Jingyu revealed without any more secrets.

Fang Xian’s eyes widened, shocked. “The Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual… is in my house?”

Tang Jingyu looked at him steadily, then slowly pulled out the sword manual from his clothes. “Yes, I found it.”

Fang Xian, unable to believe it, shook his head.

Tang Jingyu hardened his heart and declared, “It was in the secret compartment of your study.”

Fang Xian’s mind went blank.

Fang Huanzhi suddenly grabbed his hand with effort, his voice strained and breaking. “Don’t… cough, listen to him…”

Fang Xian’s gaze shifted between his father and brother, suddenly unsure whom to believe.

Tang Jingyu scoffed loudly. “Why shouldn’t Fang Xian listen to me? Are you afraid I’ll expose all your dirty deeds? The reappearance of the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual in Liuma Town was your plot to annihilate the sects opposing you, just like the massacre of the Tang Clan thirteen years ago! You can’t forget the Tang Clan, right? Thirty-seven lives, top to bottom… No, you can’t forget. You brought me back, shattered my meridians, and raised me like a dog—this remnant of the Tang Clan, listening to me call you ‘father’…”

“Tang Jingyu!” Fang Xian interrupted him harshly, but after doing so, his voice faltered, trembling. “What exactly are you saying…”

Tang Jingyu was filled with hatred, ready to curse Fang Huanzhi endlessly, but facing Fang Xian’s eyes, the harsh words suddenly wouldn’t come out.

Fang Huanzhi died in Fang Xian’s arms.

To the end, he never admitted anything, neither the massacre of the Tang Clan nor the plot surrounding the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual.

Fang Xian slowly stood up, straightening his back, surveying the room.

Most in the hall were waiting to see the Fang Clan’s downfall. His usually arrogant and domineering brothers hid below, no one stepping up for justice.

Then he would do it.

The Tang Jingyu before him still looked cold, but his eyes were dark and bottomless.

When did it start?

Fang Xian didn’t know.

Perhaps, as Zhao Buyao said, he was too naive, thinking everyone was like him, unchanging.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Fang Xian finally approached Tang Jingyu, naturally shorter as the younger brother, once willing to look up to him.

Now, he realized how uncomfortable it was to look up at someone.

After a long, silent stare, he finally heard his own voice. “Was it you who poisoned him?”

Tang Jingyu thought he was prepared for this moment, but facing Fang Xian’s eyes, he found he couldn’t be frank. “No…”

“Cut!”

The director’s interruption broke the rhythm.

All actors had been immersed in the intense emotional confrontation, with Fang Xian’s emotions like a pre-erupting volcano—the intense heat palpable even to onlookers.

The crew was on edge; a cut meant starting over, meaning all their previous work was in vain!

Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected the cut to be for him; his first reaction was to look at the crew, their faces showing disappointment.

“Lu Yiyao…” For the first time, the director called out his name. This only happened during critical scenes. After calling out, the director even stepped out from behind the monitor and approached Lu Yiyao in the middle of the set, explaining face-to-face. “Your emotion is right, but the intensity isn’t enough. Ran Lin just now was brimming with tension. You could feel the power accumulating in his body, ready to explode. But your delivery wasn’t strong enough; it dissipated the tense atmosphere he had created. Do you understand? In this scene, you and Ran Lin need to influence each other…”

The director wasn’t satisfied with just explaining; he started gesturing. “It’s like you two are competing in rock climbing. He climbs higher than you, and then you have to climb even better. The audience’s emotions will climb with your lines, step by step to the highest point, and then boom! Explode—”

“Director Chen, I understand your point.”

Lu Yiyao didn’t want to waste time and hinder the progress. He understood what Chen Qizheng was saying; what mattered now was how to put it into practice…

“Cut! No, do it again!”

“Cut! No, do it again!”

“Cut—”

Lu Yiyao was mentally and physically exhausted.

The entire set was on the verge of collapse.

The only consolation was that after each cut, they didn’t start from the beginning but from the part where “Fang Xian was already standing in front of Tang Jingyu”. So, the previous efforts weren’t wasted. The duel between Fang Huanzhi and Abbot Haikong, Fang Huanzhi’s death—none of it needed to be repeated. But frequent NGs halted the progress at the “brothers on the brink of a breakup.”

Chen Qizheng was also tired, no longer having the energy to walk up to Lu Yiyao. He knew Lu Yiyao was improving with each take, but it still wasn’t right, especially in contrast to Fang Xian’s full emotions, Tang Jingyu seemed to lack strength.

“Tang Jingyu is reserved, but his inner conflict is intense when faced with Fang Xian’s questioning. Your emotions need to rise with Fang Xian’s…”

Chen Qizheng couldn’t think of a fresher way to put it, tired of repeating the same point. Lu Yiyao was also frustrated; if the same advice was effective, he wouldn’t keep making mistakes.

“Well, Teacher Lu…”

Suddenly, Screenwriter Song Mang’s voice came through the megaphone.

Everyone looked puzzledly, and indeed, Song Mang had somehow taken the megaphone from Chen Qizheng at some point.

“Teacher Lu,” Song Mang said. “Forget about emotions, strength, loud or soft voice. Just focus all your attention on Fang Xian. Don’t get distracted, don’t look at Haikong, Zhao Buyao, Xu Chongfei, or anyone else. Forget this is a Martial Arts Assembly and pretend it’s only you two left in this world. Can you do that?”

Lu Yiyao frowned slightly, glancing around the set. He thought Song Mang was being unrealistic. He would like to pretend it was just him and Ran Lin, but there were extras, supporting actors, lights, cameras, crew, script supervisors, sound recordists…

Suddenly, a shadow pounced at him.

Before Lu Yiyao could react, he was enveloped in an unexpected embrace.

A close, firm, forceful, passionate embrace, without any ambiguity.

Lu Yiyao forgot to breathe.

Eventually, Ran Lin gently let go of him and returned to a face-to-face position, but very close.

Eye to eye, nose to nose, Ran Lin’s gaze was intense, as if it could suck one’s soul in.

“Don’t think about anything else. Just look at me. The one you owe the most, the one you can’t face, is me. But I’m also the only one you must confront. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone else, understand?”

Lu Yiyao heard Ran Lin say this.

Every word was clear, as if his voice was the only one left in the world.

Compelled, he nodded slightly.

Who called for action, whether the clapperboard was used again, Lu Yiyao couldn’t hear. The vast set evaporated from his vision, leaving only Ran Lin, or rather, Fang Xian, talking to him.

The person questioned, “Was the poison yours?”

“No.” He felt countless voices in his body screaming, bursting, but his spoken words were calm as still water.

“What were you doing in the kitchen?”

“Looking for the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual.”

“Alone?”

“With Abbot Haikong.”

“You conspired?”

“No, he used me.”

The old monk looked shocked and hurt. “Tang Jingyu, how can you slander me so? It’s your right to avenge your family, but you shouldn’t tarnish the Bodhi Temple.”

The crowd echoed—

“Yes…”

“Unbelievable…”

“Abbot Haikong is highly respected…”

These voices didn’t reach Tang Jingyu’s ears.

But Fang Xian heard them.

“Shut up!” he roared. “Lock up Abbot Haikong!”

At his command, the Fang Clan’s experts tied up Abbot Haikong, changing “detain” to “lock”.

Abbot Haikong, unable to pretend calmness, angrily shouted, “Tang Jingyu is framing me. Young Master must not believe it…”

“Go to hell, bald donkey! He’s my elder brother! Who should I believe if not him!”

Fang Xian’s uncouth curse seemed like the reckless young master of the Fang Clan, inexperienced, insensitive, but also naive and carefree.

When did the wayward young master become the sensible and upright young hero?

The words “Elder Brother” made Tang Jingyu’s eyes sore.

But he knew he wouldn’t cry. After the Tang Clan was wiped out, he would never cry again.

“Second Brother…”

“Don’t call me that!”

Fang Xian interrupted him hoarsely, almost on the verge of collapse.

Tang Jingyu’s eyes turned red.

Fan Xian’s eyes were filled with tears.

“Did you know about Haikong poisoning?”

“No.”

“Was my father really the one who massacred your Tang family?”

“Yes.”

“When did you know?”

“……”

“Answer me!”

“The night before the three of us became sworn brothers.”

Fang Xian uncontrollably stepped back, clenching his fists, before steadying himself.

It was that early.

“Then why did you agree to become sworn brothers… knowing I am the son of your family’s enemy, why did you still become my brother?”

Tang Jingyu’s voice choked. “We grew up together since childhood. Does it make a difference whether we became sworn brothers or not…”

“It does!” Fang Xian’s voice uncontrollably rose, filled with heart-wrenching pain. “We knelt and swore loyalty to each other, to trust each other in life and death, share fortunes and misfortunes, rescue each other from danger, support each other in adversity, with heaven and earth as our witnesses, mountains and rivers as our alliance, to uphold it for life, and never betray our oath!”

Tang Jingyu closed his eyes, unwilling and unable to speak.

The enemy was dead, but he felt no pleasure in avenging his family.

“Second brother.” Xu Chongfei couldn’t hold back any longer, rushing between them. “There must be a misunderstanding!”

Fang Xian shook his head, showing a bitter smile. “There is no misunderstanding.”

Taking a deep breath, Fang Xian no longer hesitated, quickly walking to his original table, taking his sword, and standing firmly in front of them. The sword unsheathed, emitting a cold light.

Clang.

The scabbard hit the ground.

Fang Xian raised the sword horizontally to his chest, holding the hilt in one hand and the blade in the other, gripping it tightly as if the blade wasn’t sharp, heedless of holding it in his palm.

But the sword was extremely sharp.

Fang Xian seemed not to feel it, gradually bending the blade until it snapped with a crisp sound.

Fang Xian threw the broken sword on the ground, right at Tang Jingyu’s feet.

He said, “From now on, you and I are like this sword.”

When the director called cut or resumed, Lu Yiyao couldn’t hear. He blankly watched the makeup artist come and go. When he came to his senses, Fang Xian’s hanging palm was dripping with blood.

That wasn’t just Fang Xian’s hand; it was his heart.

The brother who resented calling him “Elder Brother” would never return.

Suddenly, warmth spread across his face.

Tang Jingyu, who had forgotten how to cry since the massacre of his family, now wept like rain.

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