Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 49

“Cut—”

Director Chen’s command was like the chime at midnight in a fairy tale, where the magic disappears, and everything returns to reality. All the tension held by everyone relaxed instantly after that word, and even the heavy air in the hall started flowing again.

Crew members immediately came over to untie Lu Yiyao—after the scene of breaking the sword and renouncing brotherhood, Fang Xian had ordered Tang Jingyu to be locked up just like Abbot Haikong, and Tang Jingyu didn’t resist at all, surrendering without a fight.

Strictly speaking, this wasn’t just a scene; the multi-angle, multi-position shooting would make the future editing present this as a series of tightly interwoven shots, showcasing both the grand panorama of the Martial Arts Assembly and the close-up intense emotions of brotherly betrayal. But for the sake of the actors’ emotional continuity, Director Chen minimized the breaks in between, leading from Abbot Haikong provoking Fang Huanzhi to Abbot Haikong framing Tang Jingyu, then to Fang Xian confronting Tang Jingyu, and finally to the decisive break between them, creating a crescendo of emotions and tension until the final explosive climax.

Everyone in the crew was drawn into the performance.

Especially the actors involved.

Even though he was untied, Lu Yiyao still couldn’t snap back to reality for a long time, standing there dazed with tears still in his eyes. The crew members, without saying much, quietly left with the props rope. Li Tong wanted to bring water over but seeing how invested and moved his boss was, he too stopped a few steps away, not wanting to disturb.

Behind the monitor, Song Mang was already in tears. Without the director’s call, he dared not speak up. Now that the shooting was over, he finally removed his glasses, wiping them while sobbing. “They both cared and valued each other so much. How could they end up breaking apart? It’s too tragic…”

Director Chen rolled his eyes. “Who are you asking?”

His partner always believed in the power of emotional expression, thinking that only by moving himself to tears first could he move the audience.

Song Mang sniffled hard, feeling his emotions relieved, and finally put his glasses back on, patting his partner’s back and said in a nasal voice, “They both were amazing. How did we ever choose them for these roles? Divine foresight…”

Chen Qizheng sighed and took a sip of tea, staying silent. In their partnership, one self-congratulator was enough. If both started praising each other, they might get carried away.

Ran Lin was the first to pull away from the scene.

Despite the lingering bittersweet feeling, perhaps it was because of the cathartic cry, he felt surprisingly refreshed and light.

Crying, indeed, is a great stress reliever, especially when one doesn’t need to worry about explaining the reason—uninhibited, liberating. When he came back to his senses, he had stepped out from Fang Xian and the steamy bathroom scene from last night. 

Ran Lin thought to himself, ‘It’s great to be able to act.’

But Lu Yiyao might not think so.

Ran Lin leisurely observed his partner, feeling that Lu Yiyao at the moment was like a dog who had accidentally stuck its paw into an electrical socket, stunned by the sudden shock, standing still, forgetting who he is, where he is, and what he was about to do.

He looked too dazed, wasting a handsome face, especially with those tear streaks on it. 

A teasing smile crept onto his face. Ran Lin was about to remind him that they were done, and it was time to snap back to reality, but someone patted his shoulder first.

He turned around to see Zhong Jiakun, who played Fang Huanzhi.

Ran Lin quickly turned around and greeted politely. “Teacher Zhong.”

Zhong Jiakun might not be well-known to the younger generation, but thirty years back, he was an icon, and with a lifetime of acting, his prestige in the circle was immense. Even Chen Qizheng would have to respectfully address him as a senior.

And now, as if feeling that wasn’t enough, Zhong Jiakun, after Ran Lin turned around, patted his arm twice more, nodding in approval. “Good job, kid. Your acting is solid.”

Ran Lin was pleasantly surprised. Usually, Zhong Jiakun liked to jest with young actors like a playful old man, but once it came to acting, he was incredibly serious. He wouldn’t give direct feedback on someone’s performance—that was the director’s job—but he had his own standards. You could tell if he was excited or not by his demeanor. If his partner was good, he’d be particularly thrilled; if not, he’d still deliver high-quality performance, but the difference in his engagement was subtle.

Yet, whether his partner was good or not, Ran Lin had never seen him so openly compliment another actor from the same production. It felt like a big sweet date had fallen from the sky, thumping right on his head.

“Thank you, Teacher…” If he needed to be polite, Ran Lin could come up with a truckload of compliments, but when he was genuinely happy, he could only muster a simple and dry thank you.

Zhong Jiakun didn’t mind and leaned in a bit.

Ran Lin quickly got the hint that the veteran had some quiet advice to offer and leaned in closer.

Sure enough, Zhong Jiakun whispered, “Voice like a bell, energy like a rainbow. The audience shouldn’t see your effort, but every word should be emphatic, striking right to the heart… You need to practice your lines, try reciting when you have time.”

Ran Lin felt a surge of inspiration, as if he was groping for a path in the dark and suddenly a light shone in the distance, showing the way.

“Thank you for your guidance, Teacher Zhong.” Ran Lin sincerely thanked him.

Zhong Jiakun just smiled, didn’t continue, and patted him twice more before walking away. The old man was indeed robust; Ran Lin thought, feeling the lingering soreness from the pats on his arm.

Turning back around, Tang Xiaoyu, Xi Ruohan, and the actress playing Li’er were huddled not far off, looking at him and Lu Yiyao whispering together. No, Ran Lin felt they were mainly looking at Lu Yiyao because, as the crew members began to bustle about, preparing for the next scene, the stoic standing Lu Yiyao was rather out of sync.

But compared to the previous electrified daze, Lu Yiyao, though still standing, had a noticeable change in his eyes. Before it was a blank stare following confusion; now it was deep contemplation as if he was pondering the ultimate questions of the universe and humanity.

“Teacher Lu…” Ran Lin felt that if he didn’t speak up, Lu Yiyao might truly become too immersed in the character and unable to pull back. Just as he spoke out, Lu Yiyao suddenly interrupted him.

He said, “Can you hug me again?”

As he spoke, his previously distant gaze firmly fixed on Ran Lin. Their eyes met, and even with all his defenses up, Ran Lin’s heart skipped a beat.

Such deep eyes should be illegal!

And then—

“What did you say?” Ran Lin swore what he had just heard couldn’t be right.

Lu Yiyao understood Ran Lin’s reaction; if he were in his place, he’d also find the request bizarre. But he genuinely wanted to feel that embrace again.

Over the years, he had acted in many roles and had always been told by directors to immerse himself in the character. He believed that being “in character” meant concentrating fully, bringing the script’s lines and emotions to life, faithfully delivering the actions and even facial expressions the director wanted. Until he kept being called out for NG, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with his method. But as one NG led to another, he began to feel anxious. 

Director Chen’s attitude made him realize there was indeed an issue, but no matter how much Chen Qizheng explained, he couldn’t grasp where the problem lay.

Until Ran Lin’s embrace.

At that moment, he was pulled into the world of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>. He didn’t need to try hard to “act” anymore; he had become Tang Jingyu, completely forgetting Lu Yiyao. And he finally understood that being in character wasn’t about “concentration” but about “losing oneself”.

The turning point was Ran Lin’s hug. After being embraced and hearing “Don’t think about anything else,” he really stopped thinking and focused solely on Ran Lin. He listened to someone so obediently for the first time, as if brainwashed or hypnotized. So he needed to experience it again to confirm.

“Can you hug me again?” Lu Yiyao, seeing Ran Lin’s baffled face, repeated his request and, anticipating further confusion, added, “Just like when we had to NG earlier. Just a hug.”

This time, Ran Lin heard clearly. He blinked innocently and said, “No.”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback, feeling almost wronged by the rejection. “Why?”

Ran Lin stared at him for a while, then slowly grinned, revealing a teasing smile. “That’s a big move, only to be used at crucial moments.”

Lu Yiyao was flustered and just as he was about to persist, the trio of whisperers approached.

They hadn’t come up earlier because Lu Yiyao seemed too off, but seeing him now chatting with Ran Lin, they immediately joined in. However, as they approached, they split off, with Xi Ruohan and Li’er heading straight for Ran Lin, leaving only Tang Xiaoyu still thinking about his “Elder brother”.

Lu Yiyao watched as Ran Lin was led away by the two ladies for a discussion on acting insights, feeling a sense of loss. But Ran Lin had already clearly said no, so he couldn’t just forcibly hug him…

“Brother, stop staring,” Tang Xiaoyu comforted, patting Lu Yiyao’s shoulder. “Traditionally, the male lead drives the plot, but it’s the second male lead who’s meant to be loved.”

Lu Yiyao paused, asking reflexively, “Have they fallen for him?”

Tang Xiaoyu had initially just made a casual remark, not expecting Lu Yiyao to take it so seriously, but upon reconsideration, it didn’t seem entirely like a joke. “You might not notice acting opposite him, but we were all shaken by his performance. He was truly amazing. If I were a girl, I’d become a fan… Of course, you were great too.” Worried about Lu Yiyao’s feelings, Tang Xiaoyu quickly added, “But Tang Jingyu is not as pitiable as Fang Xian, right? Doesn’t stir up girls’ protective instincts.”

Lu Yiyao chuckled, took a deep breath, and finally felt completely detached from Tang Jingyu. “This is the first time I’ve felt so passionate while acting.”

Tang Xiaoyu understood completely. “I hardly have any lines, and just watching you two, I couldn’t relax for a second, feeling like I was about to explode along with your confrontation.”

Lu Yiyao fell silent, just quietly watching Ran Lin being pulled away.

Following his gaze, Tang Xiaoyu sighed after a while. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t risen to stardom with his talent. Compared to him, I’m really lucky.”

Ran Lin, being interrogated by the two ladies, looked utterly dejected. Yet even so, his features remained delicate, and his profile was still attractive. Lu Yiyao unconsciously smiled, as if answering Tang Xiaoyu or reassuring himself. “When this drama airs, he’ll be a hit.”

Tang Xiaoyu looked curiously at Lu Yiyao’s eyes, which were flashing with an unreadable light. At first glance, it seemed like admiration, but it was too fervent.

……

The subsequent shooting went smoothly, wrapping up at 8 p.m., marking the earliest end to a day’s work in recent times. Lu Yiyao rarely felt this lingering excitement after wrapping up, as if every fiber of his being was activated. He didn’t want to stop, eager to extend this enthusiasm with his friends.

“Eating together? No problem,” Tang Xiaoyu agreed readily. His mysterious girlfriend who had visited the set had already left, and now he was a free little fish again.

Lu Yiyao was pleased, slowly watching Tang Jingyu in the mirror morph back into Lu Yiyao, while planning to extend the same invitation to Ran Lin once he came in to remove his makeup.

However, left waiting and waiting, Ran Lin didn’t show up.

Tang Xiaoyu was already done with his makeup, waiting for the generous mainland star to finish so they could leave together.

Unable to calm down anymore, Lu Yiyao decided to call Ran Lin.

The phone rang until it naturally cut off, and Lu Yiyao’s mood shifted from anticipation to confusion and then to a slight melancholy, aggravated by the soulless “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later” repeating in the earpiece.

“What’s wrong?” Tang Xiaoyu noticed Lu Yiyao’s downturn. “Second Brother didn’t pick up?”

Lu Yiyao nodded. “Yeah.”

Tang Xiaoyu frowned in confusion. “What’s he busy with? Not picking up the phone, not coming to remove makeup.”

A sudden worry hit Lu Yiyao. “What if something happened?”

Tang Xiaoyu looked bemused, feeling his elder brother was being overly anxious. “We’re on a film set, not a battlefield.”

Before Tang Xiaoyu could finish speaking, the phone Lu Yiyao was holding rang. Dramatically, Tang Xiaoyu witnessed a metaphorical spotlight illuminate Lu Yiyao’s face as he saw the caller ID.

“Hello, where are you?” Lu Yiyao’s voice sounded almost ready to burst into song.

“So come over quickly once you’re done talking. Xiaoyu and I have already finished removing our makeup.”

“Oh, is that so? I wanted to talk to you more…”

“Oh, I see…”

“Yeah, it’s okay…”

“Alright, see you tomorrow.”

Tang Xiaoyu observed the entire conversation, experiencing firsthand what was called a rollercoaster of emotions. He watched as Lu Yiyao’s demeanor went from bright to dim to forlorn, and even as a bystander, he felt a pang of sympathy.

Clearly, Lu Yiyao was turned down, but the call was too brief to speculate much. Tang Xiaoyu gently asked, “What’s wrong?”

“He was discussing the upcoming scenes with Screenwriter Song, which is why he didn’t come to remove his makeup earlier.”

“And then?”

“He said the discussion was very enlightening and he needs to head back to the hotel right away to delve into it.”

“So our dinner is canceled?”

“I invited you; how can I go back on my word?”

Tang Xiaoyu looked at Lu Yiyao’s earnest face and felt a surge of warmth. He knew Lu Yiyao valued his relationship with Ran Lin, and he was just an add-on. At this moment, Lu Yiyao’s insistence made him feel appreciated. Of course, after enduring an awkward dinner with Lu Yiyao later, Tang Xiaoyu would vow never to dine alone with him again, but that’s a story for another time.

Meanwhile, in a hidden corner of the filming location.

Liu Wanwan approached the suave and solitary Fang Xian. “Ran Ge, you’ve been hiding here for half an hour. If you don’t go remove your makeup soon, the makeup artist will leave.”

Ran Lin frowned in disagreement. “How is it hiding? I’m reflecting…”

Liu Wanwan: “On God Lu’s phone number?”

Ran Lin: “On the scene we just shot!”

Sighing, Liu Wanwan tried to coax him. “Ran Ge, I’m your assistant, one of your own. If you even try to fool me, soon you’ll have no one close to confide in.”

Ran Lin met his assistant’s gaze unflinchingly, and after a few seconds, caved in. “Can you check if Lu Yiyao has left?”

Liu Wanwan’s “I knew it” expression said it all, but she made a quick call instead of moving.

Ran Lin heard her say, “We’re running late on our side. Haven’t gone for makeup removal yet… Oh, you’ve already finished and left? Oh, in the car already?”

The call lasted less than a minute.

Efficiently hanging up, Liu Wanwan smiled. “God Lu has already left in the car.”

Ran Lin swallowed hard, asking, “Who did you call?”

Liu Wanwan casually pocketed her phone. “Li Tong, God Lu’s assistant.”

“When did you two get so close?” Ran Lin was surprised, immediately picturing the lively and clever assistant.

Liu Wanwan smiled ambiguously. “When you and God Lu got close, we followed suit, moving with you guys.”

Ran Lin felt exposed and clamped his lips shut, wary of saying something that might give Liu Wanwan more ammunition. You can keep things from the company or the manager, but trying to fool an assistant is a Herculean task.

Liu Wanwan didn’t really suspect anything; she’d witnessed the two from awkwardness to natural camaraderie to friendly chats. She genuinely found their relationship precious. So, seeing Ran Lin avoiding Lu Yiyao today, she felt a bit off. 

When the area cleared, Liu Wanwan decided to be honest. “Ran Ge, I know you’re worried about being seen with God Lu all the time, getting photographed, and the rumors making things awkward for both of you. But since God Lu doesn’t seem to mind these things, and you don’t have any fans to lose, why are you the one avoiding first?”

Ran Lin pondered for a while, then beckoned Liu Wanwan closer.

The girl immediately leaned in. “What?”

Ran Lin narrowed his eyes slowly. “What do you mean by I don’t have any fans to lose?”

Educated along the way, Liu Wanwan finally realized that even an 18^th-tier celebrity has dignity.

As Ran Lin finally stepped into the makeup room, seeing supporting actors but not the lead, he finally felt at ease.

From the moment the director called wrap, he knew there would be a dinner invitation from Lu Yiyao. It wasn’t a magical premonition; after months of working together, he had grown very familiar with Lu Yiyao. A flicker in his eyes and Ran Lin would know whether he wanted to discuss the scene or grab a meal. Perhaps it’s because Lu Yiyao never concealed his thoughts, quite unlike Tang Jingyu in the drama but more like Xu Chongfei.

Ran Lin thought to himself that he was the real Tang Jingyu, harboring a multitude of thoughts, suffering silently, never revealing a thing.

However, unlike in the drama, where Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian have a dramatic and soul-stirring split, in real life, he and Lu Yiyao could just let any ambiguous distance between them gradually fade.

Lu Yiyao might think a hint is enough, and the sun will rise as usual the next day. Indeed, the sun did rise, but Ran Lin needed a bit more time before he could bask in it carelessly again. If Lu Yiyao wasn’t giving him that time, he’d have to sneak it bit by bit. 

Fortunately, Lu Yiyao was easy to deceive.

……

History has proven that you can tease the naive and innocent, but you shouldn’t push them too hard. Ran Lin underestimated Lu Yiyao’s intuition, and Lu Yiyao underestimated Ran Lin’s determination.

Finally, on another winter night of being politely refused, Lu Yiyao realized he couldn’t secure this dinner! For two whole weeks, he tried to invite him every other day, but even as several important supporting actors wrapped up their scenes, he hadn’t secured a single dinner. With an array of reasons like needing to study the script, preparing for the next day, needing early rest, and so on, the clever Lu Yiyao saw through it all—Ran Lin was avoiding him.

What was frustrating was that Ran Lin’s avoidance tactics were highly sophisticated. He wouldn’t just turn and run upon seeing you but would engage in any other topic with you. He’d discuss the weather or dance at the crow of a rooster but just wait until you invited him out. Then he’d look at you with a pained expression, earnestly throwing out those irritating excuses, and then look at you with those big, sincere eyes as if to say, “Everything I’m saying is true. Look into my honest eyes.” It made you want to call him out, but you couldn’t bear to.

Even Tang Xiaoyu noticed something was off and asked privately, “Brother, did you do something to upset Second Brother?” Every time this came up, Lu Yiyao was noncommittal—as if he really had done something and lacked the confidence to shake his head.

On the way back, Liu Wanwan pondered and then cautiously suggested, “Ran Ge, you’ve been avoiding too obviously recently, God Lu must have noticed.”

“Let him notice,” Ran Lin replied, putting the script over his face as if he didn’t want to continue the conversation.

Liu Wanwan, slightly anxious, advised, “Brother, more friends mean more paths. I’m not saying you should stick with God Lu because he’s popular; I think it’s a pity if you two, having hit it off so well, let the relationship cool down.”

The car jostled, and the script fell from Ran Lin’s face.

He picked it up, patted it, and covered his face again.

Liu Wanwan suddenly felt sympathy for Wang Xi. It’s not easy being an agent, especially when your artist is so uncooperatively silent. Ran Lin actually felt quite guilty; he knew Liu Wanwan cared about him. Otherwise, she would just do her job as an assistant and collect her salary. Why bother with all the extra care? But the questions she asked, he really couldn’t answer.

He couldn’t tell her that he hadn’t planned it this way. His original intention was to keep things purely platonic with Lu Yiyao. But later he realized it wouldn’t work. Whenever he was around Lu Yiyao, unless he was engrossed in acting, he couldn’t maintain a casual demeanor at any other time. All those apparent easy-going conversations were the result of his painstaking efforts. He lacked the confidence that he could maintain his composure during a dinner alone at night, facing a friend eager for a heart-to-heart conversation.

Just agreeing to dinner would inevitably lead to Lu Yiyao wanting to “share feelings”. The old Ran Lin would have found this a precious quality, but now just the thought of Lu Yiyao possibly saying, “I really want to be friends with you, heart to heart,” made him want to kick the mainland star.

It wasn’t Lu Yiyao’s issue; it was his—having developed feelings, he couldn’t expect pure friendship anymore, even if it was offered on a silver platter.

Liu Wanwan saying “it’s a pity to let it cool” resonated with him, and he knew it. That’s exactly why it was even more bitter. 

He had often thought, if only he hadn’t fallen for him in the first place.

……

When Huo Yuntao received a video call invitation from his old friend while he was at his countryside villa in front of the fireplace, flipping through his phone and waiting for the delightful “ding” from the oven indicating the completion of his creation—a Huo-style gingerbread house—he was startled. 

Two months ago, he had promised Lin Panxi to make the most beautiful gingerbread house in the UK for his girlfriend to admire from afar. Now, after New Year’s Day, the gingerbread house was still an uncertainty in the oven.

The video call from Lu Yiyao popped up unexpectedly, startling him enough to nearly toss his phone into the fireplace.

Clicking accept, his old friend’s face appeared on the screen. Oddly enough, when on camera, Lu Yiyao’s face was always perfectly handsome from every angle, but during video calls, he always managed to fill the entire screen with his face, leaving no room to even glimpse the background wall.

Checking the time, it must be past midnight in China.

“Just finished working?” It had been a while since they last talked, and Huo Yuntao vaguely remembered Lu Yiyao saying they were wrapping up at the end of the month, so they must be working overtime now.

“No, just finished showering.” Lu Yiyao’s deep voice came from the video.

Huo Yuntao felt bewildered. “Then could you move back a bit and show your hair? I really can’t judge your state just by your face.”

Lu Yiyao: “Can you judge my mood then?”

Huo Yuntao squinted his eyes, sensing the words ‘no good intentions’. Typically, when Lu Yiyao wanted to pick a fight or argue, this was his approach.

“Ahem,” Huo Yuntao cleared his throat and sat up straight, uncharacteristically solemn. “Before making any judgments, I need to hear the backstory first.”

The image on the screen started to shake. Huo Yuntao, feeling dizzy, was about to complain when the image finally stabilized. Apparently, Lu Yiyao had been lying down and now sat up.

Thus, two old friends, spanning continents, sat opposite each other, somewhat resembling a scholarly debate.

“The backstory starts with that bad advice you gave me…” Lu Yiyao went straight to the point without any hesitation.

Huo Yuntao raised his eyebrows in surprise, interrupting, “Wait, that matter… It’s not over yet?”

“It isn’t.”

“I thought there was no follow-up?”

“I never said that.”

“But you haven’t contacted me since.”

“Am I not contacting you now?”

“……”

Ding—

“What’s that sound?”

“The oven.”

“Aren’t you going to check?”

“It’s okay. Whatever I made will serve as a Valentine’s Day gift as well. Come on, continue with the story!”

Lu Yiyao looked at the strange glow on his old friend’s face on the screen and suddenly thought that perhaps consulting the same “strategist” twice might not have been the best idea. Moreover, he had come to accuse, so how did it turn into sharing gossip updates?!

Ten minutes later.

Huo Yuntao: “So, after you hinted at rejection, he started avoiding you?”

Lu Yiyao: “Not exactly avoiding. Everything’s normal during the day—filming, resting, chatting, no issues. It’s just that I can’t get him to agree to a meal anymore.”

Huo Yuntao: “…”

Lu Yiyao, growing impatient for a response, pressed, “What are you thinking?”

After another moment of contemplation, Huo Yuntao rolled his eyes. “Why did you spend eight minutes telling me how good his acting is?”

Lu Yiyao blinked, genuinely perplexed. “Did I?”

Huo Yuntao: “You did.”

Lu Yiyao: “For that long?”

Huo Yuntao: “And you were beaming.”

Lu Yiyao: “…”

“Let’s talk seriously.” Huo Yuntao swiftly changed the subject, knowing well that if they started bickering, it would never end. “If he’s avoiding you, it means he got your hint and is restraining himself.”

Lu Yiyao didn’t quite like the sound of that, as if implying Ran Lin had done something excessive. He instinctively refuted, “There’s nothing about his behavior that needs to be restrained.”

Huo Yuntao massaged his forehead. “You’re questioning if he’s gay, isn’t that a problem?”

This was one of Lu Yiyao’s biggest conundrums. “So is he gay or not?”

Huo Yuntao pondered for a moment. Unlike last time when he was ambivalent, this time he gave a definite answer. “I think he is.”

Lu Yiyao fell silent.

He had had these suspicions and Ran Lin’s avoidance only amplified them. He had always harbored a hope that Ran Lin wasn’t gay because if not, their issues would be much simpler.

“What’s with that expression?” Huo Yuntao saw his friend’s furrowed brows after his answer, resembling a craggy landscape. “Didn’t we analyze this last time? If he is gay and has picked up on your hint, his behavior and psychology towards you would change. Isn’t that the result we wanted?”

“That’s not the result I wanted,” Lu Yiyao blurted out. “He’s avoiding me now. How can we continue being friends?”

“Why can’t you be friends if he’s avoiding you?” Huo Yuntao was baffled. “You just said everything is normal during the day—filming, resting, chatting. It’s just dinner he’s avoiding. No big deal. He’s been rejected and still goes out to eat with you? Either he has a masochistic streak, or he hasn’t given up.”

Lu Yiyao looked like he had more to say but ultimately remained silent.

Huo Yuntao rarely saw Lu Yiyao like this. Their relationship was such that even if one was bereft of logic, they’d still dig up some illogical argument to continue the banter. This speechless Lu Yiyao unnerved him.

“What kind of friend do you actually want to be with him?” Huo Yuntao asked, suddenly having a bad feeling, instinctively adding, “Like us?”

Lu Yiyao stared blankly through the screen. “Why not?”

The premonition came true.

Huo Yuntao’s heart sank. “It’s not that it’s impossible, it’s that it’s unlikely.”

Lu Yiyao’s eyes narrowed slowly.

“Glaring at me won’t help.” Huo Yuntao rolled his eyes. “Our friendship is tight; we can share clothes. Ask him if he wants to share clothes with you. He’d probably rather strip you of yours.”

Lu Yiyao knew nothing good would follow Huo Yuntao’s statement. What karma did he accumulate in his last life to end up with a friend like this, so despairing? Just when he finally wanted to make a second friend, it turned out to be complicated…

No, Lu Yiyao realized something was off. He never really cared whether Ran Lin was gay or straight. Even if Ran Lin liked both men and women, he would completely respect it and wouldn’t let it be an obstacle in their relationship. What had been troubling him all these days was only one thing—the person Ran Lin likes might be him.

“Trust me.” Huo Yuntao sighed, turning into a rare voice of reason. “If you really consider him a friend and want what’s best for him, stop emphasizing wanting to be friends. Let’s pretend nothing happened. The fact that he can interact normally with you during filming and chatting is already a win. If you don’t want to push him further away, just let things take their course.”

“So he really likes me,” Lu Yiyao suddenly said.

Huo Yuntao’s reflexive cynicism toward his friend’s narcissism kicked in, and without thinking, he retorted, “Maybe not. Maybe he doesn’t like you at all, and you misinterpreted his intentions and rejected him. It’s embarrassing and irritating for him, of course he’s avoiding you.”

“No, he likes me.” Lu Yiyao suddenly had a flash of insight, recalling a specific memory with vivid details. “Once we were eating with another person, and I felt that person’s behavior towards him was ambiguous. I warned him to be careful. I said men are generally insensitive to these things, don’t be fooled and taken advantage of…”

“Why didn’t you mention this earlier.” Huo Yuntao perked up. “What was his response then?”

Lu Yiyao hesitated.

Huo Yuntao’s eyes widened. “Well?”

Lu Yiyao bit the bullet. “He held my hand and said, ‘Let’s encourage each other.'”

Huo Yuntao: “…”

Lu Yiyao: “He must like me. That sentence was hinting at me.”

Huo Yuntao: “So you didn’t react at all then!”

Lu Yiyao: “I didn’t think much of it.”

Huo Yuntao: “I need to test the IQ of my friends before making friends in the future…”

Now recalling that incident, it does sound quite awkward, but having admitted the most embarrassing parts to his friend, Lu Yiyao stubbornly persisted, “Now you have to believe me.”

Huo Yuntao frowned. His friend was quite narcissistic, but he never used other people’s affection to boost his image because Lu Yiyao found exploiting someone’s genuine feelings for self-aggrandizement distasteful. But now, his friend was dredging up old incidents to prove that Ran Lin indeed liked him.

This wasn’t a good sign.

“Why aren’t you moving? Is there a delay?” Lu Yiyao mistook Huo Yuntao’s silence for a frozen screen, thinking the video had lagged.

“I’m here; stop shaking. I’m getting dizzy,” Huo Yuntao said irritably.

Lu Yiyao stopped his shaking hand and was about to speak when he heard the other side ask seriously, “Bud, do you like that Ran Lin?”

Lu Yiyao paused. “In what way?”

Huo Yuntao was exasperated. “How many aspects of him do you like?”

Lu Yiyao chuckled. “Acting, character, personality, looks, voice, skin—I like all of it. Oh, and I’m particularly envious of the last one.”

Huo Yuntao looked at him, ready to explode. “Love, I’m asking if you’ve fallen in love with him!”

Lu Yiyao’s laughter subsided, and he sighed tiredly. “If I could fall in love with him, would I still be discussing this back and forth with you?”

“That settles it.” Huo Yuntao leaned into the screen, intently looking at his old friend as if trying to blow some serious advice onto him. “Since you don’t want to develop feelings for him, does it matter whether he likes you or not?”

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Kinky Thoughts:

I need a friend like Huo Yuntao.

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