Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Editor: Eli
Chapter 47
[One year ago]
The bedsheet was half-wet, making it uncomfortable to sleep, but Jiang Yu didn’t want to move.
After just experiencing a bout of sex, the room was filled with the scent of desire. Jiang Yu used some effort to lift his head, trying to find where Yu Ruoyun was.
Where was he? Oh, he remembered now, he had gone to the bathroom to shower. It had only been a few minutes, yet he had already forgotten.
Had he gotten hard earlier? It seemed like he had, thanks to the little blue pill, which worked in thirty minutes and was quite effective.
The illness brought more than just emotional fluctuations; it also caused physical sluggishness, a decrease in libido, and memory loss, but he didn’t want anyone to find out.
Especially not Yu Ruoyun.
The sound of water stopped, and Jiang Yu turned his back to the wall. Yu Ruoyun came out and sat by the bed, seemingly talking to Jiang Yu, urging him to shower to avoid getting sick.
Jiang Yu felt extremely irritated. The more Yu Ruoyun spoke, the more his nameless anger grew. Initially, he could have remained silent, but Yu Ruoyun seemed to notice something was wrong and leaned over to check on him.
Jiang Yu was reaching his limit. He grabbed the nearest item and threw it. “Can’t you shut up!”
The sound of the object hitting the floor snapped Jiang Yu back to reality. He sat up. The cup was broken, liquid spilling on the floor, but Yu Ruoyun was unharmed, just looking at him.
“It was just hot milk,” Yu Ruoyun said. “It’s fine if you don’t want it.”
Yu Ruoyun seemed used to this, but Jiang Yu thought, how can anyone get used to this? Even he couldn’t get used to himself. It was a torment to be his employee, and having a closer relationship was an even deeper torment. Jiang Yu knew others tolerated him for money, and when they couldn’t take it anymore, they’d quit. Yu Ruoyun was tolerating him too, but for what? Love? But love would eventually wear out.
Jiang Yu remembered his father. At first, he could accept Jiang Fangping pursuing her dreams, but later, he uttered nothing but complaints. He said he worked all day and just wanted to come home to a clean house and a good meal, not to Jiang Fangping rehearsing with her friends and Jiang Yu practicing piano at a training center. He’d rather the woman at home be a dishwashing housewife than someone who didn’t give him any sense of family. So, he divorced and never saw them again. Child support stopped after a few years, and Jiang Fangping didn’t bother to ask for it. Jiang Yu gradually forgot him, only occasionally reminded when flipping through old photo albums. Jiang Fangping once pointed to a black-and-white photo and said, “This is me and your dad on our first outing, taken in a park.”
In the photo, the two were smiling, a couple in love. It seemed they were genuinely in love. But love could disappear because of trivial things—because the wife didn’t wash the dishes, because he didn’t want to wait for the day Yu Ruoyun couldn’t take it anymore.
Jiang Yu stood up, still naked. “I’m going to shower.”
Yu Ruoyun held him back. “Put on your slippers.”
He was still worried he might get cut by the shards on the floor. Jiang Yu almost laughed.
Yu Ruoyun was always like this; it was his nature. Jiang Yu wanted to see this side of Yu Ruoyun, not the one that couldn’t stand him after reaching the limit. Every rare meeting this past year had ended unpleasantly. Even Jiang Yu found it tiresome. After all, people were together to seek happiness, not to force themselves. Yu Ruoyun could be kind to anyone, and anyone other than Jiang Yu would be moved and reciprocate, unlike Jiang Yu, who only held a knife ready to strike back.
Jiang Yu no longer wanted to drag this out. He didn’t want to wait until everything shattered completely.
Jiang Yu stood up, still naked, and started to leave. “I’m going to shower.”
Then he said, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll sleep in the next room.”
Saying this, he walked to the bedroom door but stopped, stood there for a long time, and then said, “I’ll come here less often in the future, just in case I get caught.”
It made sense. It wasn’t just about avoiding paparazzi anymore. Anyone with a phone could snap a picture. Jiang Yu was far from a nobody who could go unrecognized.
“Change places?” Yu Ruoyun suggested. “Or I can come to you.”
Jiang Yu smiled bitterly. “I mean… let’s take a break for now, stop seeing each other.”
Dead silence followed. Maybe they were too far apart. Jiang Yu couldn’t see Yu Ruoyun’s expression.
After what seemed like an eternity, Yu Ruoyun said, “Is being with me that unbearable?”
It wasn’t wrong. The more Yu Ruoyun was kind and gentle, the more Jiang Yu wanted to drag him into the mud. People were always better at hurting those close to them.
“Maybe,” Jiang Yu said. He didn’t look into Yu Ruoyun’s eyes, turned his face, and left.
……
He couldn’t help but look back, surveying the whole room. This place had become familiar after countless comings and goings, but now it seemed like it was time to leave.
“Time to go,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Did you pack everything?”
Yu Ruoyun had become increasingly assertive. He had never mentioned it on the phone. After being back for just a few days, he was told to move out. The house was sold, and the new owners were about to move in.
“You bought a villa without a word,” Jiang Yu said. “Where am I supposed to live, the company dormitory?”
“It’s a townhouse,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You can live in the one next to mine.”
“Did I make enough money to buy a villa?” Jiang Yu was surprised.
“Of course not,” Yu Ruoyun shattered his delusion. “It’s company property, just a loan.”
Damn, the company belonged to Xu Ye, which was basically Yu Ruoyun’s. If Yu Ruoyun ever got tired of him, he’d be kicked out, maybe in the dead of winter, snow falling, and his luggage thrown out with him.
Yu Ruoyun said, “Your imagination has become very vivid. I hope it stays that way for your college entrance exams.”
It was a hard-hitting comment. Jiang Yu immediately deflated. He had almost finished packing and sat on the suitcase, waiting for the moving company.
“Not taking the bed?” Jiang Yu asked suddenly.
“No.” Yu Ruoyun stood by, watching Jiang Yu swing his legs on the suitcase. “Too many memories with the old lover here. Moving it might upset the new one.”
It was a line from a scumbag who’s addicted to acting. “The new lover” jumped off the stacked boxes, squatted by the bed, lifted a corner of the mattress, and seemed to be searching for something.
Soon, he found it and handed it to Yu Ruoyun—a Polaroid photo, dusty but still clear.
“The last item, left by your old lover,” Jiang Yu said. “I thought you’d find it when moving, but you’re so ruthless, not even taking the bed.”
It was something Qi Yiren had bought out of interest. Initially, she was enthusiastic, sometimes saying to Jiang Yu, “Boss, smile.” Then snapping a candid shot of Jiang Yu looking at the camera, not smiling.
She soon lost interest and left the camera at the office to gather dust. One day, Jiang Yu took it back, and Qi Yiren spent half a day teaching him how to use it.
He successfully took only one photo, snapping it while Yu Ruoyun was asleep. He stared at it for a long time, unsure why he kept it, then casually slipped it under the mattress.
“This is a group photo,” Yu Ruoyun said.
“Where’s the group?”
Yu Ruoyun pointed at himself in the photo. “Your shadow, it was captured.”
With the light on, Jiang Yu’s shadow was cast over Yu Ruoyun’s face, leaving a half-black silhouette. It was indeed a group photo of sorts.
Yu Ruoyun suddenly recalled that when he woke up after an accident, Jiang Yu was sitting by the bed with a smile, asking him, “Do you really not remember me? I’m your boyfriend.”
Then he edited the video, cut off the beginning and end, and posted it online, saying he was joking with Yu Ruoyun. At that time, Yu Ruoyun didn’t understand what Jiang Yu was up to.
A video that was quickly deleted, a photo hid under the bed—both testaments to Jiang Yu’s stubborn yet always slightly misguided love.
“Moving over there,” Yu Ruoyun said. “The security will be much stricter, far enough that reporters won’t bother. It’s almost in Hebei.”
“That’s great.” Jiang Yu hadn’t caught on yet.
“But it might be a bit troublesome for you,” Yu Ruoyun added.
“What trouble?” Jiang Yu grew wary.
“Home is far, and you don’t have a driver’s license.” Maybe it wasn’t just Jiang Yu’s imagination, but Yu Ruoyun’s voice did sound a bit amused. “You should get your driver’s license after the college entrance exam.”
In the scorching summer heat, he couldn’t enjoy a vacation but would be sent to learn driving. Jiang Yu was indignant. “I won’t move. I’ll stay in the dormitory.”
Yu Ruoyun, however, continued, “I asked them to plant fruit trees in the garden…”
“What for? I won’t water them.”
“I always felt the area under the trees was perfect for kissing, but I’ve never tried it,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I wonder what you think.”
“…” Jiang Yu asked, “Are there apple trees?”
“There are.”
Jiang Yu thought, ‘I might as well go.’ He wanted to eat apples.
Honestly, he wanted to be with Yu Ruoyun, to taste the apples, or do nothing at all. Another summer was approaching, and they had the entire world.
……
They watched the finale of the TV series in their new house.
The discussion about the series had reached its peak. Jiang Yu asked his new assistant agent innocently, “Can I post on Weibo? Although my scenes ended earlier, I was still an important supporting character. I can repost Teacher Yu’s post to ride the wave.”
It sounded so proper that the agent felt awkward refusing. Everyone knew about Jiang Yu and Yu Ruoyun’s close relationship, so she could only agree.
So, as soon as Yu Ruoyun posted a thank-you to the audience and hinted at the next season, Jiang Yu reposted it. He then scrolled through Yu Ruoyun’s homepage, realizing Yu Ruoyun hadn’t followed him back. Jiang Yu promptly took Yu Ruoyun’s phone and, without hesitation, followed his own account.
“People say that generally, only one web series explodes in popularity each year,” Jiang Yu said while operating the phone. “And here we are, just starting the year, and you’ve already taken the spot. An acclaimed actor competing for attention in a web series. Yu Ruoyun really is something else.”
At this, Yu Ruoyun leaned in close, his face so near that Jiang Yu could see the fine hair on it. “What did you post on Weibo? ‘Thanks to Teacher Yu for taking care of me on set.’ How exactly did Teacher Yu take care of you?”
Jiang Yu was almost out of breath from the weight. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? Teacher Yu takes care of me in bed, throws me out when he’s done, not even letting me put my pants on properly, still dripping with your…”
The rest was purely imaginative nonsense, venturing into R-rated territory. Yu Ruoyun couldn’t take it anymore and decided to take care of him thoroughly.
……
In the end, Zhong Mo didn’t debut, missing by just one spot. When he returned, he cried, though whatever he went through, it seemed to have softened his temper. Seeing how unreliable the company still was, with most of the investment money probably spent, Jiang Yu advised Zhong Mo to prepare for other paths. Zhong Mo’s singing was average, he had little acting talent, and his strength was dancing, most captivating on stage. Unfortunately, he lacked a stage.
This time, Zhong Mo seemed to listen, nodding and saying he’d think it over. Jiang Yu sighed. The entertainment industry fulfilled some people’s dreams while consuming their passion for life.
Jiang Yu suddenly remembered a journalist’s interview many years ago. In a rare moment of enthusiasm, he spoke about his youth, knocking on hotel doors, introducing himself, and auditioning for roles. The journalist asked why he wanted to act in the first place.
Of course, Jiang Yu wouldn’t say it was because of Yu Ruoyun. He thought for a moment and gave another correct answer. “Maybe it was during my teenage years when my worldview was forming. I watched a movie and felt this was what I wanted. Humans inherently love acting. Every one of us, at some moment, is moved by the absurdity and drama of life and realizes this desire has never ceased.”
But fortunately, what he truly desired didn’t turn into a bubble in the sunlight.
……
The college entrance exam came and went in a flash, and Jiang Yu was soon overwhelmed by work. The backlog from his time off caught up, even more than before, including a cover shoot for a third-tier magazine.
Journalists asked about his transition from idol to actor, why he didn’t apply to a music academy despite his singing talent, and how he felt about the prejudice against “fresh meat” by veteran actors.
At the last question, Jiang Yu remembered hearing something similar from the same journalist two years ago. Back then, he was the veteran with the prejudice.
That day, already in a bad mood, such questions further drained his patience. He even questioned the journalist’s professionalism, asking what kind of questions these were. The tables had turned, and faced with the same question, his role had reversed.
Jiang Yu chose the safest response, thanking all critics and saying he would prove himself with actions. What else could he say? He couldn’t just declare that those veterans were stuck in their ways or that Jiang Yu wasn’t a good person. He was still at the bottom of the entertainment food chain, barely evolving from a paramecium to an insect, with many predators above. He needed to be self-aware.
He still had to climb higher until he stood at the peak. But this time, he no longer feared the fall.
Jiang Yu rode the wave of popularity, mentioning Yu Ruoyun, saying he was about to start school. He had been accepted to Yu Ruoyun’s alma mater. “Teacher Yu wasn’t like that. He taught me a lot on set and told me to study well.”
“But others say that the crew was a bit afraid of him,” the journalist probed. “Except you.”
“I’m not afraid. I see him as a peer.”
Every word was true, just not the whole truth. Yu Ruoyun was strict but not harsh, gentle but firm, and he had a side that the public never saw, which only Jiang Yu could witness.
For instance, when Jiang Yu returned, he saw an orange cat sleeping on Yu Ruoyun’s lap.
“What’s this?!” Jiang Yu was incredulous. “Why is there suddenly a cat?”
“I opened the door, and it darted in,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I couldn’t chase it away, so I fed it some food.”
How did it escalate to feeding? “Where did you get the food?”
“I ordered it online,” Yu Ruoyun said, scratching the cat’s chin, making it purr contentedly.
Jiang Yu found it baffling. “Why did you suddenly want to keep a cat?”
“I didn’t plan to. It came in on its own. I don’t know how it appeared.” Yu Ruoyun looked at Jiang Yu with a mock epiphany. “I get it. I forgot. Getting a new cat requires the original resident’s approval.”
“Do you approve?” Yu Ruoyun asked Jiang Yu.
It was a trap. No matter the answer, it would be wrong. Jiang Yu grew angry. “Who are you calling a cat?”
Yu Ruoyun had indeed become mischievous, increasingly hard for Jiang Yu to handle. Yet at the same time, Jiang Yu willingly let Yu Ruoyun weave more connections between them, binding them closer until he’d find it hard to fly away.
Maybe he would regret it one day. Perhaps years later, he might no longer want to be gay, wanting to be Long Xingyu again, free from the fading shadow of Yu Ruoyun, who could no longer benefit him. But by then, he’d be too entwined, with too much evidence left by Yu Ruoyun and too much blackmail handed over by Jiang Yu, leaving him to rue his past decisions, seeing his past days as irreversible mistakes.
But mistakes or not, maybe this was the best mistake he ever made.
That night, Yu Ruoyun had a dream, recalling many years ago.
“Xiao Yu!” Xu Ye still called her cousin that after two years. “Why aren’t you coming over?”
She found Yu Ruoyun and complained as they walked. When she saw he wasn’t responding, seemingly lost in thought, she asked, “What are you thinking about?”
Yu Ruoyun said, “Someone seemed to glance at me just now.”
Xu Ye thought he was stating the obvious. “Plenty of people look at you.”
But that person seemed to have raised their head simultaneously, their gaze still fixed on him.
Maybe there were too many people, and his head was spinning, causing a hallucination, Yu Ruoyun thought.
That was a long, long time ago. Only in dreams could he capture that past shadow and those young eyes looking at him.
But fortunately, as time flew, he finally found gold amid the sand, proving that love was never an illusion.
“In my flesh and blood, there is a foundation for love. Looking back, even if it was a mistake, it was a mistake worth making.” — Lin Xi, “People Are Not Grass”.
The author has something to say:
This final chapter was delayed for several days, constantly revised, and interrupted by other matters. My apologies. Destiny destined to part, hopes fulfilled dissolve. The story ends. Extras to follow in a few days.
Kinky Thoughts:
This marks the end of the main story. If I have to say, I quite like it, but I wish there was more to it. While the writing was good, it was quite erratic. The constant jumps between different scenes were quite jarring, affecting the reading experience. Pacing was all over the place, which was a huge issue for me.
If I had to put it, it felt like I was reading an arc in a quick transmigration novel, where everything was rushed forward and explained quickly (like I’m watching something at 4x speed). This is probably why there were so many jumps between scenes, which only led to awkward transitions. Also, many things were really glossed over, like Jiang Yu’s death for instance (simply explained away in a few paragraphs with Yu Ruoyun just solving it). I mean if you’re going with that route, why not just have it truly be an accident. Not everything needs to be a conspiracy.
Then again, the focus of this novel wasn’t so much a deep storyline or the showbiz aspect, but the relationship between Jiang Yu and Yu Ruoyun. However, I would’ve liked a more slowly developing plot as it explores the intricacies of their relationship (how it broke and how it mends).
That said, there’s a lot of great quotes that I could pick out from this author. When the lines hit, it really hits (like how Yu Ruoyun mentioned that rather than saying “I love you” he thought his actions would speak for themselves, but then he forgot that words are actions too).
This is probably why I usually don’t pick up anything under 100 chapters—though that’s not a good indication but rather word count, which this novel was quite low (134k) in comparison to other novels I’ve worked on—as slow plot development is a big factor for me. Nevertheless, it was a good read, and sometimes you need something short, a bit more emotional, and not too heavy (plot-wise).
I also like both characters. They are very flawed individual and sometimes it’s nice to read a story where characters aren’t portrayed as simply perfect. I’ve read too many showbiz novel of such nature that it grows tiring.
If you like the showbiz genre, I strongly recommend Suddenly Trending, which I believe is the best in the genre that I have read.
If you did enjoy it, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on Changpei (gongzicp). Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
You can also purchase the physical copy here.
Finally, I would like to thank everyone for your comments, encouragement, help with my translations, and ko-fi donations.
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