Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 57

The bitter cold wind couldn’t penetrate the thick walls of the nanny car, but the slivers of air that crept in through the cracks of the doors and windows were enough to chill Yao Hong’s heart. She had made many plans for Lu Yiyao, even accounting for his insistence on “being himself”, and had considered what to do if one day Lu Yiyao offended the financiers or what to do if he dated a female star in the circle, but she had never considered his sexual orientation.

She had been in this circle for twenty years and was no stranger to homosexuality; there were artists, financiers, makeup artists, stylists, screenwriters, hosts, models, and more who were gay. Perhaps because the circle itself was more open, it seemed like there was a higher proportion of gay people compared to other industries.

But no matter how open the play was, it could never be openly acknowledged; once it became public, the tolerance for it dropped to zero.

Many artists suddenly flopped, perhaps with the audience never knowing what happened, only feeling that they disappeared from public view. But behind the scenes, it might be due to a fallout with a powerful “resource backer”; others directly caused trouble or scandals, entertaining the masses with their controversies. Even powerful companies couldn’t recover from such situations, as no one would risk their capital on such individuals. The companies could only “shelve” these people; some artists would retire, and others might return after the controversy dies down, but they would never regain their former glory.

But the pursuit of love and desire is human nature, and even the best teams and the most capable agents can’t control it. Artists are people first and stars second. If it were controllable, many artists’ relationships would be nipped in the bud, and there wouldn’t be situations where companies and teams are busy with PR damage control after a secret relationship is revealed.

Yao Hong believed Lu Yiyao understood all this and knew what he was getting into and the risks involved when he chose to be honest about himself, or, rather, when he started liking Ran Lin. So she swallowed her initial rush of cost-benefit analysis and lecturing, not wanting to add more burdens to an already stressed artist.

If possible, she wanted to be someone who could help alleviate the other’s burden.

However, looking at her own artist animatedly talking about falling in love, Yao Hong felt her worries might be superfluous—at least in the early stages of love, all thoughts of future risks and troubles are pushed aside for the joy of being in love. Even if there is a burden, it’s the sweet, almost silly kind of worry like, “Why doesn’t he love me?”

Before Lu Yiyao, the most successful actress Yao Hong had managed decided to marry, have children, and retire at the peak of her career after winning a prestigious award, turning into a legendary goddess in the circle.

While people have their own aspirations and Yao Hong respected and blessed her, as an agent, she felt a sense of regret because that girl was truly talented and could have had a longer artistic career.

That girl also confessed her love and intention to retire one winter night in the nanny car after a film festival.

Yao Hong felt she might be cursed by Cupid.

After much discussion, the conversation hadn’t touched on why he was rejected. Yao Hong sighed and brought her thoughts back to the present. Lu Yiyao’s animated expression suddenly stopped, his mind racing like a hamster wheel in overdrive.

The reason for the rejection was because Ran Lin thought he was straight and shouldn’t embark on this difficult path because of a momentary impulse or even a delusion.

The result of thinking for him was that the person didn’t even get to enjoy a bit of the joy of being confessed to, which made Lu Yiyao feel sorry.

But he couldn’t tell Yao Hong all this; she would explode.

“Rejection doesn’t need a reason. Of course, it’s because my charm isn’t enough.” Lu Yiyao slowly calmed himself down in his natural tone of voice.

Yao Hong, however, saw through it. “If you’re not going to tell me the truth, you shouldn’t have been honest with me from the start.”

Lu Yiyao was stunned but insisted. “I am telling the truth.”

Yao Hong looked at him skeptically. “First, your mind was racing just now. Don’t think I couldn’t tell; second, if your charm isn’t enough, then who’s is? Is he looking for someone as handsome as Pan An?”

“It’s not just about looks…”

“Even if it’s about looks, you’d still need to compete, but considering personality and character, you surpass all male artists of your age group, right?”

“……”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re right, but if you keep going like this, Hong Jie, we can’t continue this conversation…”

You two have gone off-topic!

Li Tong looked out the window in despair, feeling as if a mother-son duo—a doting mother and a narcissistic child—were hand in hand, soaring to the skies, vowing to stand shoulder to shoulder with the moon.

“Forget it, Hong Jie, I’ll tell you the truth.” Realizing he couldn’t bluff his way through, Lu Yiyao decided to go all out. “He wasn’t gay to begin with, so he’s still hesitating.”

Yao Hong was stunned; her face was a picture of astonishment. She had thought of many possibilities, even the slightly sordid guess that “Ran Lin had a long-term ambiguous relationship with a male financier, making it inconvenient for him to freely love”, but she never expected the truth to be completely unexpected.

“So… he didn’t like men before?” Yao Hong confirmed again in disbelief.

Lu Yiyao nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, I bent him.”

Yao Hong frowned, somewhat helpless and worried. “Why do you have to go for someone like that? Even if he agrees to you now, he might just be curious and want to try. Once he finds it uninteresting or the pressure gets too much, he might go back to finding a girlfriend. What will you do then?”

Lu Yiyao listened quietly, suddenly realizing that Yao Hong wasn’t advising him but rather Ran Lin.

“I… no, he’s not just curious. He’s seriously considering being with me.”

“How long can that seriousness last?”

“I feel like it will last forever now, but…” Lu Yiyao said honestly, yet objectively, “I don’t have solid proof.”

Yao Hong sighed softly, looking at her artist with a mixture of pity and concern. She didn’t want to persuade him to change his mind, but she hoped he would be mentally prepared. “That’s the uncertainty. You have to prepare for the worst.”

Lu Yiyao fell silent for a moment before raising his eyes, his voice low but steady. “Hong Jie, even if the person I fell for today was a female artist, we can’t guarantee that our feelings for each other will never change. Life is long, and no one knows what the future holds. All we can do is face our current feelings, take on our responsibilities, live without regrets now, and face the future without fear.”

Yao Hong looked at him quietly, saying nothing, just gazing intently.

The car was plunged into a long silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Yao Hong finally let out a breath and said, “Go back and rest.”

Lu Yiyao felt like an eternity had passed and his heart had nearly dropped to the bottom, only to receive such a response, feeling like his emotions had been played with. “That’s it?”

Yao Hong looked at him impatiently. “You’ve thought it through so clearly. You’ve taught me enough, what else can I say?”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback but also objectively said, “I thought you would be more concerned about the potential PR crisis in the future.”

“Of course, I care. I’m almost worried to death.” Yao Hong shot him a look but then sighed. “But that’s not for you to worry about. On the periphery, I and the entire team will protect you to the fullest. You only need to do two things: one, be careful with your words and actions. Don’t let people catch or photograph any leverage against you; two, date with a normal heart. Don’t let it affect your work, and don’t get yourself hurt.”

Lu Yiyao felt a warmth in his heart; no, it was burning. All the sweet words seemed pale at that moment, so he leaned over and gave Yao Hong a big hug, as tight as he could.

Yao Hong gently patted Lu Yiyao’s back but couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I knew all those years of you being easy going were just an illusion.”

With an internal alliance formed, what remained were external issues—

Yao Hong: “Does Wang Xi know about this?”

Lu Yiyao: “I can’t be sure, but their relationship is different from ours. Wang Xi also manages other artists, so I think given Ran Lin’s cautious nature, he probably hasn’t spoken yet.”

Yao Hong: “It’s better that way. Wang Xi and he aren’t in an independent collaboration, and there’s still Dream Without Limits above them.”

Lu Yiyao: “I understand. Don’t worry, Ran Lin will definitely weigh it out. He’s very smart.”

Yao Hong: “… I need to go rest too. I’m exhausted.”

……

Ran Lin sneaked back home at noon the next day. Thankfully, he was still a minor celebrity and deliberately low-key, so no paparazzi was willing to follow him.

After returning home, he took a thorough shower, washing away a night of reckless abandon, and emerged feeling refreshed. He made himself a simple lunch, and after eating, he lay down on the sofa, warmed by the afternoon sun, replaying Lu Yiyao’s confession like a movie in his head, finally savoring the sweetness of it all.

Last night, he was overwhelmed by the confession, caught up in disbelief and guilt for “turning a straight man gay.” Even if there were blossoms in his heart, he had no time to notice them, let alone dare to look at them, hoping to persuade Lu Yiyao back to the straight and narrow.

But now, after a night of calm, the chaos passed, and recalling Xia Xinran’s words and Lu Yiyao’s confession, that hidden joy finally surfaced, first a little, then gradually blooming.

All thoughts of moving on, giving up, or just being friends were lies he told himself when facing others, but not his heart.

If Lu Yiyao, as Xia Xinran said, has really turned and can’t go back, should he accept and take responsibility?

Of course! Especially thinking of Xia Xinran’s prediction that even if not with him, Lu Yiyao would find someone else on this path, he felt an overwhelming urge to declare his claim to the world.

Now, all that was left was to wait.

Wait for time to allow Lu Yiyao to settle, for calm to bring him back, or to continue.

If Lu Yiyao turned back, he would sincerely bless him from the bottom of his heart. If Lu Yiyao insisted on continuing, he would do everything to respond and protect him.

Such a wonderful person as Lu Yiyao, he wished he could encase him in a glass dome, admire him every day, clean him every day, pristine and handsome as ever.

All afternoon, Ran Lin rolled around on the sofa, the television playing in the background becoming mere noise, unable to distract him as he secretly reveled in his own lush world of thoughts.

As evening approached and the surging tide of emotions began to settle, he remembered to call Wang Xi.

The phone rang twice and was then hung up. Ran Lin didn’t call again until ten o’clock at night, when the phone finally rang back.

“Did you call me?” Wang Xi’s voice sounded tired, with noisy background sounds.

Ran Lin hesitated before asking, “Xi Jie, are you outside?”

“Yeah, I was at a dinner, so I didn’t pick up your call. What’s up?”

Seeing Wang Xi didn’t want to elaborate, Ran Lin didn’t pry and just asked, “I want to talk to you about <Chronicles of Winter>. Is now a good time?”

“It’s fine,” Wang Xi said. “I’m in the car.”

Ran Lin got straight to the point. “Xi Jie, I’ve read through the script of <Chronicles of Winter> multiple times, and to be honest, I feel the second male lead is somewhat dispensable in the story. I really… don’t want to take it.”

Wang Xi was silent, only the sound of wind blowing through the car window could be heard over the phone.

Ran Lin paused, feeling the need to explain further. “It’s not that I’m upset with you or Han Ze for the role being taken away. I’m not happy about it, but you know I’m not impulsive. If it was truly a good opportunity, with a good script and role, I’d even take the third male lead. It’s not that I’ve become arrogant after <Sword of Fallen Flowers>, but I really want to be a bit more selective in script and role choices.”

“However.” Wang Xi finally spoke, not angry as Ran Lin had expected but with a heavy, serious tone. “Have you considered that you might not have the luxury of being so selective with your resources? What if you don’t find anything better and miss this one too? That would be a loss on both ends.”

Ran Lin was quiet for a long time before saying, “I’m willing to take that risk.”

Wang Xi: “Even if it might mean flopping entirely?”

Ran Lin: “Or it might mean shooting to stardom.”

Wang Xi: “Keep dreaming.”

Ran Lin was stunned. The laughter in Wang Xi’s words was too evident, not like a rebuke but more like teasing in relief, uncertainly asking, “Xi Jie, do you agree?”

“Okay,” Wang Xi responded, then fell silent for a while before saying, “Initially, I was only competing for the male lead role, I hadn’t considered the second male lead… Forget it. This situation was mishandled on my end. I’ll arrange some variety show appearances, events, and fan meetings for you soon as a prelude to <Sword of Fallen Flowers>. If the drama does well in ratings, opportunities won’t be scarce.”

Ran Lin didn’t expect things to go this smoothly and was at a loss for words.

Wang Xi added, “You’re doing the right thing by being patient. Only by keeping your composure can you firmly seize the real opportunities when they come.”

Ran Lin felt there was a sense of emotion in Wang Xi’s tone, but they briefly discussed other topics, and then the moment was forgotten.

After hanging up, Wang Xi stared blankly at her phone.

The dinner she had just attended was to network with the financiers of the movie <Mint Green>, a youth novel that had been very popular two years ago. After its film and television rights were sold, various financiers had been eager to invest, believing it to be a guaranteed hit. In the end, including the company that bought the rights, five companies co-produced it. The dinner was with the rights holder, who also invested. Securing them would almost certainly secure the lead role for their male lead.

From the dinner that day, it was clear that the capitalist wasn’t easy to deal with.

Ding Kai, at thirty-seven years old and self-made, had grown a small workshop-style team into a sizeable film and television company in less than ten years, relying on his sharp market sense and precise project investments. In the recent two years of IP popularity, he had seen success after success with his investments.

Even occasional failures didn’t significantly impact his substantial earnings. Before that meal, Wang Xi hadn’t truly interacted with him, but afterward, she was fully convinced of his abilities to achieve such successes.

Everyone at the table had their own agenda, but from start to finish, Ding Kai’s responses were appropriately measured—never too cold nor overly eager. One could not discern any particular inclination from his eyes, yet somehow, there seemed to be a thread of hope for everyone’s objectives.

A smiling fox.

Wang Xi hadn’t been fond of using such a term, but for Ding Kai, she found no better fit. He was cunning to the point of being inscrutable, never giving away clear intentions yet keeping everyone engaged and unwilling to give up, always maintaining absolute initiative. By comparison, she found herself preferring the straightforward investors who might not always speak comfortably yet were direct and exuded an air of “money talks.”

This was also why she hadn’t discussed <Mint Green> with Ran Lin. The project was intended for Ran Lin, but it seemed too premature to bring it up at that point.

If Han Ze hadn’t been so impatient and insisted on snatching Ran Lin’s role in <Chronicles of Winter> that leading role might have been secured for him, given his qualifications and status. However, once <Chronicles of Winter> moved from Ran Lin to Han Ze, it was unlikely to revert, as it would offend too many. Neither Dream Without Limits nor Han Ze were presumptuous enough to flip-flop so openly.

She had received the news the night before and had been introduced to the dinner through a contact that day. Had Han Ze been more patient for a few more days, the opportunity might have arisen, but unfortunately, he wasn’t as farsighted as Ran Lin.

Opportunities were not only for those who were prepared but also for those bold enough to take a chance.

In this regard, Ran Lin had more courage.

…..

At the end of March, the weather still carried the chill of late winter, and the promotion for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> began to heat up. The official Weibo released the character posters.

Thanks to the individual popularity of Lu Yiyao and Xi Ruohan, the CP popularity of Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, the adaptable popularity of Tang Xiaoyu, and the word-of-mouth street cred of Chen Qizheng and Song Mang, the character posters were released and immediately went viral.

The production company also invested in some promotional resources, engaging marketing accounts and influencers to set a good pace early on. This was followed by spontaneous discussions among the audience, raising the show’s profile. The phrase <Sword of Fallen Flowers> trended all day, as did several of the leading actors.

Lu Yiyao’s character, Tang Jingyu, was cold and reserved; Xi Ruohan’s Zhao Buyao was charming and heroic; Ran Lin’s Fang Xian was carefree and dashing; Tang Xiaoyu’s Xu Chongfei was gentle and refined…

As a wuxia drama, a genre that has been scarce on screens in recent years, it drew both praise and criticism, but most of all, anticipation.

This was exactly what the producers hoped for—to whet the audience’s appetite.

That day, Ran Lin’s Weibo was flooded with fans of his looks and fans of the “Green Forest” CP, who had been quiet for a while. Although the last paparazzi incident made many fans aware that he was filming with Lu Yiyao, it wasn’t until the character posters and official announcements that everything became clear. With the drama scheduled for release at the end of May, everything became clear, and fans finally felt relieved and began to voice their excitement.

However, Lu Yiyao’s dedicated fans were overwhelmingly passionate, so most were careful in expressing their anticipation under Ran Lin’s posts. The Burning Noodles were relatively gentle; no matter if you liked one or both, as long as Ran Lin was involved, they welcomed you.

The buzz around the character posters continued for a week until Ran Lin went to Shanghai to record a show. Even with occasional browsing on Weibo, he could still see active discussions.

Familiar IDs popped up in his Weibo feed, making Ran Lin smile secretly.

As if on cue, his WeChat pinged. Without looking, Ran Lin knew it was Lu Yiyao. Their relationship had recently entered a stable phase. While their chats were about daily life, with no overstepping boundaries, there was an undeniable warmth to their conversations.

Love Yao For Life: [The look is pretty good, hmm, running away fast.]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [@Love Yao For Life Why run? I miss you!]

Just after finishing recording the show and returning to the hotel, Ran Lin couldn’t help but chuckle as he scrolled through familiar IDs on Weibo.

As if by telepathy, WeChat pinged at that moment, and without looking, Ran Lin knew it was from Lu Yiyao. Their relationship had recently entered a stable phase. If you say there’s a flirtatious undertone, they only chat about everyday things with nothing inappropriate, but if you say there wasn’t flirtation, Ran Lin wasn’t sure how Lu Yiyao felt. Regardless, he found himself smiling from start to finish in every conversation, feeling warm inside even when discussing mundane topics like what to eat.

Wang Xi, busy at both ends, didn’t have the time to scrutinize him closely, unlike Liu Wanwan, who had asked him several times, “Ran Ge, what exactly are you so happy about?”

Ran Lin always seriously replied that he was just happy without any particular reason.

Liu Wanwan’s consideration was evident in her acceptance of such obvious deflections and her persistence in asking again next time.

[Still in Shanghai?]—Lu Yiyao’s message was straightforward, cutting directly to the subject.

Ran Lin didn’t see anything wrong with it and replied—[Yes, I have to record another day tomorrow and will return the day after.]

This time he was a guest for an internet variety show, and the filming spanned two days. Wang Xi was also there, mostly managing the promotion team in Beijing remotely to maintain the buzz about his character poster and extend the topic further.

If not for the <Chronicles of Winter> incident, Wang Xi would be deemed a fully competent agent. Both <National First Love Drifting Stories> and <Sword of Fallen Flowers> involved luck, but much of it was due to Wang Xi’s efforts, without which they wouldn’t even have the chance to rely on luck.

But the <Chronicles of Winter> incident was like a shadow over them, and regardless of her relationship with Han Ze, it had eroded Ran Lin’s complete trust in her.

So, rather than saying he was deflecting from Liu Wanwan, it was more accurate to say he was keeping things from Wang Xi.

Regardless of where his relationship with Lu Yiyao would ultimately go, as long as there was a chance it could affect Lu Yiyao, he wouldn’t reveal even a hint to Wang Xi.

[Let’s meet up when you get back.]

As he was thinking, a new message from Lu Yiyao came in, causing Ran Lin’s heart to race.

At some point, they had both taken to texting, which had the advantage of not revealing any emotions but the disadvantage of leaving a sense of loneliness.

Ran Lin didn’t know how Lu Yiyao felt, but in the quiet of the night, he would secretly play Teacher Lu’s original dramas, stealthily enjoying them, frightened by his own obsession.

[Do you have time?]—Ran Lin instinctively avoided a direct answer and threw back another question.

Since that party, they hadn’t seen each other face to face, and frankly, Ran Lin was a bit intimidated. Given Lu Yiyao’s straightforward nature, who knew what new developments were in his script. Ran Lin felt his heart couldn’t withstand another shockwave.

Lu Yiyao had said, “From now on, I’ll pursue you,” a phrase that hadn’t been mentioned again but haunted Ran Lin, leaving him unsettled and restless.

[My best friend from my days studying in England, Huo Yuntao, is coming back to the country, the one I mentioned at the party, who Peng Jingyu also knows. He was supposed to come back in May, but he’s coming earlier now.]

Lu Yiyao didn’t answer whether he had time but instead brought up something else. But combining the context, Ran Lin felt Lu Yiyao wouldn’t mention these two things together without reason.

Sure enough, the second message followed closely—[When he comes back, even if I don’t have time, I have to make time to welcome him. Otherwise, I’ll be bracing for a backlash.]

Ran Lin was momentarily stunned and looked back at the previous message [Let’s meet up when you get back], feeling his heart flutter at the word “us”.

A third message from Lu Yiyao came—[I want you to meet him, and I assure you, he’s more eager to see you than me.]

Ran Lin didn’t respond.  He just watched as message after message from Lu Yiyao came, his heart going through a whirlwind of emotions, feeling both sweet and sour at the same time.

Lu Yiyao seemed a bit exasperated and sent a fourth message—[If you don’t ask ‘why,’ it’ll be awkward for me.]

Ran Lin, holding back a smile, replied—[If I ask, then I’ll be the one feeling awkward.]

Lu Yiyao—[Why?]

Ran Lin—[Because you’ll say you’ve already told your friend about us, and you’ve probably praised me too much in front of him. But if I were your friend, I wouldn’t be too happy to see you going down the wrong path.]

Lu Yiyao—[I haven’t praised you too much; I’ve been objective since you have faults too.]

Ran Lin—[……]

Lu Yiyao—[But indeed, the path isn’t exactly straight and narrow; ‘wrong path’ is indisputable.]

Ran Lin—[Good that you know.]

Lu Yiyao—[But then again, race tracks are better when they’re rugged and winding; drifting is more thrilling that way.]

Ran Lin’s typing fingers paused, his cheeks warming up.

Not seeing each other for three days seemed to make a difference—the bad boy started to race!

It was the first time they had such a slightly over-the-line conversation since the party, yet it felt so natural that by the time Ran Lin realized it, the conversation was over.

The topic then shifted back to the more proper subject of “meeting up”, and Lu Yiyao’s reasoning was legitimate—Huo Yuntao was returning to marry and inherit the family business, which involved the entertainment industry. It would be good for Ran Lin to know more people in the field.

Ultimately, Ran Lin declined without giving any excuses, simply stating the truth—[I would feel awkward.]

With the ambiguous nature of his relationship with Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin was nervous about meeting him, let alone his friend.

WeChat messages could be bold and carefree because they weren’t sharing the same space, unable to see facial expressions or hear voices. But face-to-face, Ran Lin admitted, he’d chicken out.

After a while, Lu Yiyao replied—[I was inconsiderate and oversimplified things. Sorry.]

Ran Lin—[Actually, I’m just being a bit melodramatic 😓.]

Lu Yiyao didn’t reply with words but sent an animated gif—Tigger happily bounding over and pouncing on Winnie the Pooh.

Ran Lin stared at it for a long time, feeling somehow taken advantage of.

After the sensitive topic concluded, Lu Yiyao switched back to discussing the character posters of the day. This subject was much safer, and they chatted for a while until Lu Yiyao asked—[Got any opportunities coming up recently?]

Ran Lin honestly replied—[Wang Xi hasn’t mentioned anything. Probably not yet.]

Lu Yiyao—[Once the promotion for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> fully kicks off, there should be some movement. If they have any foresight, that is. Otherwise, they’ll come knocking after the ratings explode, and by then, Wang Xi will surely hike up the price.]

Ran Lin chuckled.—[Hope for a price hike!]

Lu Yiyao—[Little money-lover.]

Ran Lin looked at those words, feeling mixed emotions.

He was only a year younger than Lu Yiyao, so why did it sometimes feel like this guy was scolding him like a father!

……

After bidding each other goodnight on WeChat, just as he exited to the phone’s home screen, there was a knock at the hotel room door. Ran Lin got up, puzzled, and asked through the door, “Who is it?”

Outside, his agent’s voice came through. “Wang Xi.”

Ran Lin was stunned for a moment, then hurriedly opened the door to let her in.

As he closed the door and turned around, Ran Lin’s eyes immediately caught the script in Wang Xi’s hand, sparkling with anticipation.

Wang Xi didn’t beat around the bush and handed him the script. “It’s a movie, still uncertain if it will go through. I had dinner with the financiers before and couldn’t gauge the situation. But the impact of the official announcement of your character poster for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> has made the financiers optimistic about your prospects. I’ve already received a signal that if <Sword of Fallen Flowers> meets the expected reputation and ratings, you have a strong chance for the lead role.”

Wang Xi’s speech was characteristically fast. Ran Lin took a moment to digest before grasping the key phrase. “Lead role… in a movie?”

Wang Xi was both amused and exasperated. “I’d like to emphasize again. It’s uncertain.”

Ran Lin couldn’t help but beam with happiness, his voice lightening. “Even a glimmer of hope is worth working hard for!”

Wang Xi liked his spirit and patted his shoulder. “First, read the script. Then, we can’t just passively wait for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> to air. We need to start working on it beforehand. I’ll try to schedule another meeting with the investors. Many people are eyeing this script, and if we’re not careful, someone else will snatch it away.”

It was late, and Wang Xi didn’t linger after giving a brief rundown. She left to try and schedule a meeting with the investors from her office.

After seeing her off, Ran Lin looked at the script titled <Mint Green>, feeling as if the world had suddenly become refreshingly cool.

Just as Lu Yiyao said, if they had any foresight, there would be movement. And then Wang Xi brought the script.

Ran Lin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking he’d really fallen in love with a harbinger of good news.

Just as Ran Lin was proud of his foresight, Wang Xi faced rejection from the “matchmaker”. Ding Kai was currently abroad and unreachable. Frustrated, Wang Xi’s phone then blazed with a call from Han Ze; her first thought was that the other side had gotten wind of the news.

As expected—

“Do you intend to give <Mint Green> to Ran Lin?” Han Ze interrogated as soon as the call connected.

Wang Xi, accustomed to such confrontations, sometimes struggled to keep her cool. “It’s not me who wants to give it to Ran Lin; the financiers are optimistic about him because of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.”

“That’s not right. You must have started working on it before the official announcement of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>. You must have already connected with them.”

“Yes, but it was still after you snagged his <Chronicles of Winter>.”

“<Chronicles of Winter> hasn’t been signed yet!”

“If you dare to back out now, your reputation will be ruined by tomorrow. Which investor will want to work with you then!”

“…”

Wang Xi took a deep breath, forcing her voice to soften. “What did I tell you when you insisted on his <Chronicles of Winter>? I told you better opportunities would come, to not rush. Did you listen to me?”

Han Ze: “You should have stood your ground back then. No matter how much I demanded, you shouldn’t have helped me fight for it.”

Wang Xi: “…You know I couldn’t do that.”

Silence followed from Han Ze’s end.

Finally, he said resentfully, “<Mint Green> is so much better than <Chronicles of Winter>…”

Wang Xi, feeling a bit sorry for him, comforted, “Don’t worry. I’ll find you other better opportunities.”

Han Ze: “But now I don’t have any slots available…”

Wang Xi: “Then focus on shooting <Chronicles of Winter> well. There will be other opportunities.”

Han Ze: “Will <Chronicles of Winter> make Ran Lin an overnight sensation?”

Wang Xi: “Do you want the truth?”

Han Ze: “What do you mean?”

Wang Xi: “From a professional agent’s perspective, I think Ran Lin should have been famous long ago.”

The call abruptly ended.

Wang Xi sighed, feeling helpless and a bit saddened.

Han Ze always wanted the best but didn’t realize that the best wasn’t something he could achieve alone. It required the artist’s effort to broaden their horizons and enhance their capabilities so they could clearly see where they’re headed and match up with better resources.

……

As Ran Lin held the <Mint Green> script, smiling foolishly, and Wang Xi stared at the hung-up phone in a daze, Teacher Lu in Beijing was video chatting with an old friend—

“What do you mean you can’t meet up?” Huo Yuntao was busy organizing gifts for a slew of relatives and stopped in surprise at the question.

Lu Yiyao explained plainly, “Just what it sounds like. I hadn’t thought it through before, just focused on introducing you two. But the truth is, my relationship with him isn’t clear yet. If I bring him along, under what pretext should I introduce him to you? Especially since you’re privy to the situation, it’d be really awkward for him.”

“Wait.” Huo Yuntao picked up the phone, speaker on, and widened his eyes at the screen. “You haven’t won him over yet?! Didn’t you say you were going to confess to him a while ago?”

Lu Yiyao explained casually, “I did confess, but the confession was rejected.”

Huo Yuntao: “Because you had rejected him before, so now he’s seeking revenge?”

“Only you would think something so juvenile!” Lu Yiyao, both exasperated and resigned, retorted. “He doesn’t want me to stop being straight for him, to take a different path.”

Huo Yuntao was baffled. “So now he regrets trying to bend you? What was he doing earlier then?”

Lu Yiyao frowned. “Could you think before you speak? From the beginning, he never made it clear. It was us who sensed something was off and took the opportunity to subtly reject him. Have you forgotten?”

Huo Yuntao was speechless. “So it’s our fault for being too smart?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Huo Yuntao was frustrated. “But later, he did make his feelings clear, right?”

Lu Yi Yao explained, “That was because we had already understood each other without words. He clarified it because he was worried I’d overthink and feel pressured, hoping to reassure me.”

Huo Yuntao: “And because he clarified, you ended up falling for him…”

Lu Yiyao: “More precisely, it was an opportunity to understand my true feelings.”

Huo Yuntao: “So is this like… a strategic retreat for him?”

Lu Yiyao paused, thought about it, and smirked. “Not sure, but it seems I’m particularly susceptible to this tactic.”

Huo Yuntao despaired. “You really are…”

Lu Yiyao: “Pathetic.”

Huo Yuntao: “…I admire your honesty.”

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