The skewer-eating team didn’t seem inclined to share their names, but Xu Wang memorized them at a glance anyway—four people, each with a distinct style, none of whom looked like they matched the other.
The man who initiated the conversation seemed to disapprove of them holding a cup of tea. He looked like the leader of his team. He was in his mid-thirties, bald, and wearing a black t-shirt that showed his bulging muscles. He was the kind of person one would mistake for a tough guy collecting protection fees, looking even more imposing than Qian Ai.
The other three were around their late twenties.
One had phoenix-shaped eyes, radiating a mischievous kind of handsomeness, and was wearing a jacket and Martin boots. He exuded a punk vibe mixed with a hint of a playboy air. Holding a disposable transparent plastic cup, he managed to make it look like he was sipping an ’82 Lafite.
The second was slender with delicate features. Given his elegant body lines, he was probably a dancer. He looked elegant wearing a very casual knit sweater, which was quite pleasing to the eye. Even the skewer in his hand looked artistic.
The last one was an ordinary young man who was well-proportioned and dressed casually. He was neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, and had faint dark circles under his eyes, like many young people striving for a living in the city. Such a young man would blend into the crowd on the street, but standing next to his imposing, phoenix-eyed, and slender teammates, he stood out with his unique “approachability”.
Xu Wang hesitated over whether to explain the “red tea and cologne”, as doing so would inevitably reveal information about the Flying Island. However, before he could respond, the tough guy spoke again. “First time on the Flying Island, right?”
Xu Wang was startled, then realized he had fallen into a misunderstanding—since it was their first time ascending the lighthouse to the Flying Island, they assumed others were newcomers like them.
Wu Sheng, Kuang Jinxin, and Qian Ai, initially just listening to their captain’s socializing, became alert after hearing this.
The tough guy noticed their reaction but didn’t mind, casually saying, “These teams around us have mostly retreated from earlier challenges. Anyone seeing your style would know you’re newbies.”
Xu Wang caught the implication. “You mean we’re now targets?”
The tough guy sighed. “At least you’re sending a signal that ‘we’re easy to bully’…”
“Teacher Wei,” the phoenix-eyed man couldn’t help but say after having finished his beer. “When will you change your habit of trying to guide every newbie you see?”
The tough guy turned around and said with full of righteousness, “It’s the duty of the gardener to give guidance.”
The phoenix-eyed man rolled his eyes, almost turning his single eyelids into double.
The slender man leaned against a tree, admiring the moonlight throughout.
The young man with dark circles was uninterested in his teammates’ banter. He looked sleepy. He yawned and sat down on the ground, only to jump up as if he were a spring. “Damn, the grass is wet—”
Xu Wang, Wu Sheng, Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin: “……”
Just as they were at a loss for words, the ground suddenly vibrated.
They looked up to see where there had been a forest, the ground bulged, trees fell, and a giant stone maze slowly rose.
A minute later, the dust settled.
Under the moonlight, the gray-white stones took on a serene glow.
At the same time, all forty people present received a “Ding—”
[Cheat Sheet]: 59 seconds until the [Moonlight Maze] opens.
The number kept changing. It was more of a countdown than a notification.
At this moment, Xu Wang realized that only their team looked at the message. The other teams, obviously familiar with what this meant, were already moving towards the maze’s entrance.
The four companions exchanged a glance and quickly followed the main group.
Seconds later, all the teams gathered in front of the stone slab at the maze’s entrance, each vying for a good starting position but none wanting to spark a conflict before the challenge began. Despite some jostling, there was no talking, only a silent struggle.
Xu Wang led his three teammates, not too far forward but also not letting others push them to the edge.
In the distance, faint footsteps suggested more teams were on their way.
Xu Wang found some comfort in these footsteps. It at least indicated that it wasn’t just them who were newcomers.
Experienced teams, knowing the nature of the challenge, wouldn’t choose a location so far from the coordinates to enter the “Owl”. It must be new teams who, based on their experiences in the 2/23 Red-Eye Flight and 3/23 Doomsday City levels, thought this challenge would have a similarly open map. Assuming the entry location wouldn’t make much difference and seeking to avoid the crowd, they deliberately chose a spot away from the main coordinates.
The one-minute countdown ended.
All forty people heard the last reminder before the challenge began—
[Owl: Enjoy the moonlight, but no climbing the walls~~]
The stone slab blocking the entrance to the maze slowly lowered.
The “new teams” rushing towards them hadn’t arrived yet, and the ten teams gathered at the entrance and charged in, seizing the initiative!
As soon as they entered the maze, there was a straight path four people wide, about fifty meters long. They could see straight to the end, where there was no path, just a wall—a dead end.
But on both sides of this path, there was a door every meter, each marked with a number. From the entrance to the end, there were fifty doors on each side, making a total of one hundred.
These doors were the real entrances to the maze.
There was only one maze and one endpoint, but the path had to be chosen!
The teams of forty people sprinting rapidly diminished as people entered the doors. The sounds of doors opening and closing were incessant!
“Crash—”
“Damn—”
Noise and curses came from behind, signaling that some team had gotten into action as soon as they entered.
Finally, Xu Wang’s team reached the door they had eyed, not delaying any further, and turned right into door number 44, the lucky door Kuang Jinxin had chosen during the day!
Inside, the path narrowed to three people wide, with straight and branching paths, truly maze-like.
Xu Wang slowed down a bit, reminding while running, “Adjust your breathing. From now on, maintain a steady pace. Don’t rush too fast to avoid running out of steam.”
Before his teammates could respond, another voice came from behind them. “Good point. Hear that? Everyone, adjust your breathing!”
The four teammates stopped and turned around to see that another team had entered through door 44.
The man, apparently the team captain, who was using Xu Wang’s words on his team, was in sportswear with a color similar to a school uniform. The other three were also in athletic gear and running shoes, clearly well-prepared.
“Sorry.” The sportswear team captain explained apologetically as he caught up with Xu Wang. “Everyone chose a lucky number, so we have to compete fairly.”
Xu Wang looked at him speechlessly. “How lucky can 44 be…”
The sportswear team leader just smiled.
“Let’s not beat around the bush.” Xu Wang didn’t want to engage in pleasantries while running out of breath. “Just say you thought we’d be easy to pick on, and let’s have a showdown…”
Before he could finish, Xu Wang was stunned to see a wooden basin slowly appear above the sportswear team leader’s head.
Before he could make sense of this stationery, a gust of wind suddenly rose from behind!
Instinctively turning back, he saw countless leaves flying towards them, forming a giant, deadly green net that was impossible to avoid!
[Owl: Someone used [(Offense) Picking Leaves and Flying Petals*] on you~~]
*I think this is a reference to a move in martial arts novels where, when someone reaches a certain qi level, they can basically fling leaves and petals, making them into sharp flying weapons.
The same message rang in the ears of all four teammates.
Simultaneously, the leaves curiously avoided the sportswear team leader, who stopped, stood still, and smiled as they passed by.
But to his disappointment.
The “rain of leaves,” just about to hit the four faces, seemed to crash into an invisible wall.
In the sound of crisp collisions, the “rain of leaves” all fell at the feet of the four, piling up, almost resembling their intended autumnal purpose.
The sportswear team captain and his teammates were momentarily stunned!
In that moment of surprise, the sportswear team captain’s teammates also noticed the wooden basin above their captain’s head. Just as they were about to warn him, they sensed something amiss with the light and shadows around them and looked up…
Sure enough, the basin was impartial. There were four in total, and no one was left out. Just as they looked up, the basin tilted slowly, pouring its liquid contents down.
[Owl: Someone used [(Offense) Pouring Dog Blood*] on you~~】
*(狗血淋头) Idiom that comes from old superstition. Originally, it refers to a saying that if dog’s blood is poured onto the head of a demon, its magic will be disabled. Later, it’s used to describe scolding fiercely, to the point that the scolded person looks like a demon soaked in blood, completely speechless to do anything.
Four basins of dog blood, one for each person, were poured from head to toe without waste.
The sportswear team captain, along with his teammates, was subjected to irreversible mental trauma amidst the suffocating smell of blood.
Finally, the sportswear team captain regained his senses, furiously wiping the blood off his face to clear his eyes, only to find that the initiators were long gone, vanished into one of the branching paths.
“Chase—” Not caring about his wet hair and sticky, blood-stained clothes, the sportswear team captain roared!
In fact, there was no need for the sportswear captain to shout. The other three teammates were already riled up! It was wrong of them to ambush the other team but using dog blood… where was their humanity!
Just ahead, there were two turns—one left and one right. The sportswear team captain hesitated for two seconds, then took a gamble and went left!
After running madly for a minute, they didn’t catch up with the culprits but ran into another team.
The team, happily running, was terrified by the sight of the four blood-covered people, mistaking them for some new horror NPC, and immediately launched a double attack with offense and illusory stationeries!
The sportswear team captain, not to be outdone, quickly led his team in a counterattack.
However, the heavy dog blood greatly hindered their performance, and after a struggle, the sportswear team was sent home.
On the other hand, Xu Wang’s team, which had chosen the path on the right, turned several corners, making sure no one was following, and then slowed down, breathing a sigh of relief.
Qian Ai finally got to say, “Thank god we used the [Fire, Theft, and Ambush Protection] beforehand.”
[(Defense) Fire, Theft, and Ambush Protection], when used, can protect against one fire attack, one theft, and one ambush (of any kind).
As soon as the entrance opened, Xu Wang had Qian Ai use this defensive stationery, anticipating encounters with teams that targeted weaker newcomers.
But Wu Sheng’s [Pouring Dog Blood Pour] wasn’t part of the plan, and it clearly appeared before [Picking Leaves and Flying Petals].
Xu Wang was about to discuss this when Kuang Jinxin beat him to it. “Sheng Ge, did you use the [Pouring Dog Blood] before [Picking Leaves and Flying Petals]?”
Wu Sheng admitted openly, “Yeah.”
Kuang Jinxin: “How did you know they would ambush us?”
Because that guy was smiling slyly at Xu Wang with eyes that were unappealingly greasy.
Replaying the scene in his mind, Wu Sheng affirmed, “I saw their ill intentions through their fake smiles.”
Xu Wang: “Is that your line…”
Kuang Jinxin: “Sheng Ge, if the captain ever says you can’t read people and only know tactics and theory in the future, I’ll be the first to disagree!”
Wu Sheng: “Good.”
Xu Wang: “……”
Another fork appeared ahead, and the group stopped.
To the left, a path continued deeper into the maze. To the right, at the end of the path and around a corner, stood a blond young man leaning against the wall. Initially whistling leisurely, he smiled and waved his hand when he saw them looking over. “Come here~~”
The voice of Captain Yue echoed in the ears of all four teammates—
[In the maze, NPCs are both obstacles and lucky stars. Encountering them means you’re on the right path. Defeat them to receive hints for the next part of the route. If you can defeat the NPCs all along the way, the endpoint is yours. But remember, they are both combat-capable and can use stationeries, so be very careful once you encounter them.]
The sky was as blue and vast as the sea, yet without the tumultuous waves of the ocean. A gentle breeze brushed against the face, occasionally bringing along a white, soft cloud so close it seemed like one could reach out and touch it.
Xu Wang lay on the railing of the airship, comfortably admiring the beauty of the clouds. Occasionally, when he found it monotonous, he would look down at the sea below. The ship flew high, and from above, the sea surface looked like a piece of light blue crystal glass, shimmering with fine light under the sun.
Half an hour ago, they had boarded the lighthouse on the Flying Island. Learning from previous experiences, they didn’t bring large luggage this time—just a backpack each, traveling light.
What greeted them was a retro and luxurious airship. After entering the coordinates, a fantastical flight journey began.
“Qian Ge, come over here and look. It’s so beautiful that any random shot could be a wallpaper—”
Kuang Jinxin’s admiration came from the other side of the railing.
This classmate had been the happiest for the longest time. Since the airship took off, he had been excited and showed no signs of calming down.
Qian Ai had been watching him take photos for a long time. Hearing Kuang Jinxin’s call, he immediately approached, curiously leaned in, and took the other person’s phone to admire each picture one by one.
“These dozens of photos you took…” Qian Ai hesitated, not wanting to go against his conscience. “Aren’t they all just blue?”
“Look closely. Some are deep blue, some are water blue, some are light blue, some are azure blue…”
“……”
Xu Wang initially wanted to ask Kuang Jinxin to stay away from the railing, fearing his jumping around might accidentally flip him over. But seeing him now gathered with Qian Ai, his attention shifted from outside the airship to the phone, so he didn’t disturb his teammates’ “unity and camaraderie”.
Phones could be brought into the “Owl”, but photos taken inside would disappear without a trace once back in reality and wouldn’t reappear upon re-entering the “Owl”. After trying a few times, they didn’t want to take photos in the “Owl” anymore, as it all seemed futile.
Only Kuang Jinxin remained enthusiastic.
Xu Wang wanted to continue looking at the sky, but when he turned his head back, he inadvertently caught sight of Wu Sheng.
Wu Sheng leaned against a corner of the airship, not looking at the sky or the sea, but just staring into the air, his gaze seemingly flickering with countless formulas.
“What are you doing?” Xu Wang asked out of curiosity as he walked over.
“Combining.” Wu Sheng replied succinctly.
Xu Wang was at a loss. “Explanation, please.”
“We currently have a total of 49 stationeries. Some are of the same quality, while others are incompatible with each other. If we combine some of them, the lethality will increase geometrically compared to using them individually,” Wu Sheng explained. “I was just simulating battles, testing the effects of different combinations.”
Xu Wang: “……”
No drafts, no calculations, no listed combinations—just ‘simulating’ in his mind.
The most powerful brain wasn’t only amazing but also eco-friendly!
[The fourth challenge is a maze. The team that first reaches the end and opens the treasure chest will successfully turn in their papers. The available routes are doors numbered 1-100, but no one can be sure which door leads to a shortcut, a long route, a live route, or a dead end. So, while it’s partly luck, remember three things: one, you must be quick. If you find the wrong path, you can go back and choose another door or just break through it, but don’t waste time; two, don’t hesitate to use your stationeries. If a battle can be solved with five stationeries in one minute, don’t drag it out with just one for five minutes; three, you can confront all teams and NPCs, but the only exception is a little girl in a black cloak—if you encounter her, run immediately.]
This was the advice shared by Captain Yue, whom they escorted to the Flying Island yesterday, covering all the insights for 4/23 and 5/23. The above was the part about 4/23.
What about 6/23? Sorry, Captain Yue, who totaled less than 20 minutes in two entries, didn’t want to talk about it and had nothing to say.
As for the shared insights of 4/23 that could help in preparation, it was mainly about the “stationery battle”. Xu Wang thought it was just about familiarizing everyone with their own stationery, considering when to use which one. But Advisor Wu had already started planning the “overall combination strategy”.
Wu Sheng began to explain his tactical research approach with a glint in his eyes full of confidence and determination. “The effects of all stationeries can only be inferred based on the categories of offense, defense, illusory, and the names of the stationeries. The final lethality might deviate from expectations, but the overall direction should be correct. Once all tests are complete, I will list the optimal combinations. Whether we can fully utilize these combination techniques depends on our timing and coordination.”
Xu Wang nodded. “Alright, once you’ve compiled the combination list, we’ll memorize it completely.”
Wu Sheng frowned slightly. “Why does it sound like cramming for an exam…”
Xu Wang gave him a ‘haven’t you realized it yet?’ look. “Ever since you became our advisor, our team has embarked on a path of scientific research of no return.”
“Fortunately, we met Captain Yue.” Xu Wang sat down next to his advisor. “If it weren’t for his intel, we would have blindly stumbled into the fourth level, and it would have ended disastrously.”
Wu Sheng narrowed his eyes at his team captain, seriously considering this for the first time. “You didn’t decide to escort him to the Flying Island yesterday just to extract information, did you?”
“Of course not,” Captain Xu said righteously. “I did it entirely out of humanitarian concern!”
Wu Sheng: “……”
“Think about it. Did I ask him anything from start to finish?” Captain Xu always persuaded with facts.
Wu Sheng: “…” No. Not only had he not asked, but when Captain Yue turned back at the lighthouse door to offer them intel, their captain politely declined several times, making Captain Yue feel so guilty that he changed from “I can tell you” to “I must tell you no matter what”.
“I didn’t even want to listen,” Captain Xu added, somewhat aggrieved. “He insisted on telling me!”
Wu Sheng: “……”
In high school, Xu Wang always rushed into things, and Wu Sheng always advised him to be more strategic.
Now, Wu Sheng apologized for his past ignorance—when it came to being “strategic”, Xu Wang’s talent was like a lush tree adorned with colorful lights.
The coordinates for 4/23 were in Huainan, Anhui Province. From Hebei to Anhui, it would normally take nearly two hours by plane.
But the airship leisurely floated and descended after just an hour.
Simultaneously, the four companions received a notification “Ding—”
[Cheat Sheet]: Welcome to the [Flying VIP Lounge].
The four of them disembarked from the airship to see an English-style manor in front of them.
The towering manor gates opened slowly, revealing a vast front lawn with playfully trimmed patterns and a central fountain with dancing water, accompanied by the melodious sound of a harp coming from somewhere.
Behind the fountain stood a retro English-style building, about three stories high, with an additional two-story tower in the middle, like a watchtower.
Despite its retro style, the building had no sense of age or decay. Its exterior was clean stone white, the windows were bright, and the fountain and lawn added a touch of freshness and vitality.
“Is this… the lounge?” Qian Ai stood at the entrance, hesitant to enter.
Kuang Jinxin felt the same. “Too luxurious for a lounge…”
Then, he dashed into the lawn like the wind, taking a selfie with the fountain.
With one classmate taking the lead, the other three followed suit.
Once all four entered the manor, the [Cheat Sheet] updated again: Welcome dear guest. I am the butler, Xiao Feidao! I will guide you around and ensure you are fully recharged before midnight comes again~~
Qian Ai: “A lounge on the Flying Island, so it’s called Xiao Feidao… Could they be any more perfunctory*?”
*Clarity: His name translates to Little Flying Island.
Xu Wang: “That drag at the end gave him away.”
Kuang Jinxin: “Is Xiao Feidao also part of the ‘Owl’?”
Wu Sheng: “Before the next midnight?”
Xu, Qian, Kuang: “……”
Why was their advisor always so outstanding in his focus?
At 04:12 Beijing time, the airship landed, and the four entered the [Flying VIP Lounge], each getting a low-key luxurious king-sized bedroom, allowing them to sleep soundly.
At 14:00 Beijing time, Xiao Feidao automatically announced the time, waking the guests to head to the dining room for a luxurious afternoon tea.
From 16:00 to 21:00, they had free time and were reminded that they could discuss their examination strategies. Of course, they didn’t waste it, memorizing the tactical list Wu Sheng wrote during afternoon tea, quizzing, and reciting it to each other, creating a fervent learning atmosphere.
At 21:00, Xiao Feidao announced the time again, inviting the guests to the dining room for an even more luxurious and romantic candlelit dinner.
At 22:30, they bathed in a jacuzzi tub and then sprayed some lucky cologne.
At 23:50, all four gathered in the hall, each with a cup of English red tea, waiting for midnight.
At first, the four companions felt awkward, but now, three of them didn’t want to leave—
Qian Ai: “Can we always take the Flying Island to the coordinates in the future…”
Xu Wang: “Maybe this is a one-time benefit for new users, and we won’t get such good treatment next time.”
Kuang Jinxin: “But how do we know if we don’t try again?”
Xu Wang: “Good point.”
The three companions reached a soulful understanding amidst their smiles and then simultaneously turned to Wu Sheng.
Advisor Wu was holding his black tea as he stared into his cup, lost in thought. After a while, he finally looked up and gave his teammates a “V” sign.
Xu Wang was the first to react, immediately responding with the same gesture. “Victory!”
Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai, a bit slower on the uptake, followed suit. “Yeah!”
Wu Sheng: “…I meant, don’t forget those two points!”
Xu Wang’s team, whose tacit understanding had been eroded by the extravagant preparations for war, finally reached unity of thought at the last moment before midnight.
Two key points—speed and the little girl in a black cloak.
The grandfather clock completed the last minute before midnight—its hour and minute hands aligned, and the pendulum sounded a loud chime.
There was no owl hoot.
The four companions felt a flash of bright light before their eyes, and when they opened them again, they were in a moonlit forest.
In the quiet of the night, unidentified insects chirped as if it had just rained, with dewdrops still clinging to the grass tips.
But the four companions had no time to appreciate these details, as appearing with them were nine other teams.
One team was almost shoulder-to-shoulder with them.
The other eight were scattered under trees not far away, each team maintaining some distance from the others, occasionally exchanging glances but without any team initiating conversation.
However, these teams carried an enticing… late-night snack aroma.
Especially the team right next to them, consisting of four people: two holding disposable plastic beer cups and two holding unfinished skewers.
Team Xu Wang observed them, and they were also sizing up their “neighbors”. Unable to resist the fragrance of red tea and cologne, they finally spoke first—
“Isn’t it a bit too pretentious for all of you to be holding a cup of tea…”
The real-world coordinates for 4/23 were a night market food street.
There were nine teams waiting for midnight. Eight were enduring the temptation of various street foods like meat skewers, Huainan beef soup, tornado potato, and grilled squid, carrying the scent of late-night snacks they had resisted.
Only the team next to Xu Wang’s indulged in the food from one end of the street to the other, as joyfully as four worker bees gathering honey.
When Lu Yiyao woke up, his head ached a bit. He remembered only drinking a few glasses the previous night, and, despite his low tolerance, that shouldn’t have knocked him out. The only explanation must be the so-called special cocktail recommended by Huo Yuntao, which, despite its sweet taste, packed a surprisingly strong punch.
The “person” in his arms was soft and plushy, not quite warm enough, leaving him with a sensation of holding more than enough but without the desired warmth…
Huh?
Lu Yiyao felt something amiss and slowly opened his half-closed, peach blossom eyes. The expected clean face vanished like an illusion, leaving him embracing a clean… blanket.
Maintaining his side-lying position atop the blanket, it took him two minutes to piece together last night’s memories. A few drinks shouldn’t have made him black out, so he vividly remembered being carried away by Huo Yuntao—which was half-true. He was indeed tipsy, but not so drunk that he couldn’t walk. But Huo Yuntao claimed that only if he was drunk could Ran Lin come to the room to take care of him, setting the stage for what was to follow. He had vehemently criticized his friend’s devious plan, then decided to fully cooperate.
So when Ran Lin came in, he was awake—in fact, waiting for that moment.
But how did it go from a storm to a gentle breeze?
After thinking it over, Lu Yiyao still felt Ran Lin should take the blame—because holding him quietly was just too comfortable.
Comfortable enough to make one relax completely, lower all defenses, willing to share everything, open up entirely, and just quietly hold him and talk until the end of time… which, unfortunately, didn’t happen!
Lu Yiyao hugged the corner of the blanket and rolled back and forth, still unsatisfied, eventually grabbing the blanket over his head and letting out a muffled but forceful roar—
“Lu Yiyao, you’re useless!!!”
When Huo Yuntao called, Teacher Lu had calmed down and was despondently brushing his teeth in the bathroom.
The man in the mirror looked lifeless, his complexion ashen, and the toothbrush moved lifelessly over his teeth. The white toothpaste foam was the only vibrant part of the scene, bubbling up as if dancing on his teeth.
“Uh…”
The first sound through the phone startled Huo Yuntao.
He knew Ran Lin had work in the morning, so he figured only his old friend would be left in the room, still immersed in the aftermath, ready to call and gossip + take credit.
But the voice on the other end didn’t sound like a man who had just enjoyed a passionate night.
“Not awake yet?” Huo Yuntao could only think of this reason.
Lu Yiyao spat out the toothpaste foam, rinsed his mouth, then spoke to the phone on speaker placed beside him, lifelessly. “Brushing my teeth.”
Huo Yuntao, sensing something off in his friend’s voice and believing he understood the truth, immediately teased, “You’re not up for it, huh? One night and you’re already spent?”
Lu Yiyao froze as if he heard a “thud”, the sound of a knife plunging into his heart.
“How could that be?” Lu Yiyao put down the cup and picked up the phone, shaking off his earlier dismay. “I was thinking about things.”
“Stop pretending.” Huo Yuntao’s scoff came through the phone. “Just admit you’re reminiscing.”
Thud, thud.
Two more stabs.
Lu Yiyao pretended not to hear the sound of his breaking heart. “Anything else?”
“Hey, is this how you treat a brother who’s worried sick about you?” Huo Yuntao sounded incredulously hurt. “There’s no true friendship in this world anymore…”
“I’m sorry.” Lu Yiyao rarely apologized to Huo Yuntao, but willing to sacrifice for a quick end to the call. “You arranged everything very thoughtfully, considerately, and touchingly.”
Huo Yuntao chuckled, triumphant, like a flag fluttering in the wind. “Of course. My buddy’s finally growing up. I had to make sure everything was perfect; even then, I was worried you wouldn’t make it. My heart hung all night. Finally it can rest.”
Thud, thud, thud, thud—
“Huh? Hong Jie’s calling me. Might be something important. Gotta go.”
“Wait, wait, when you leave, I need to go help you check out…”
Click.
The phone screen returned to the home screen.
Lu Yiyao sighed deeply, silently pulling out the imaginary knives from his chest and applying countless band-aids, barely stopping the bleeding.
Life, indeed, is too hard.
……
Ran Lin returned to his apartment before dawn.
He took a shower and then went to bed for a brief sleep until the alarm he set went off, then quickly got up, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into clean clothes.
While brushing his teeth, Ran Lin carefully observed himself in the mirror, initially worried about signs of a sleepless night, but later, realizing that apart from mild dark circles, nothing else was noticeable, his thoughts drifted to Lu Yiyao, left alone in the hotel.
Imagining Lu Yiyao’s state upon waking up, Ran Lin thought he would probably be clutching the blanket in frustration.
Looking at his own reflection covered in toothpaste foam, Ran Lin playfully thought, perhaps at this very moment, Lu Yiyao was also morosely brushing his teeth in front of a mirror?
In late June, the sun hangs early in the sky, already showing signs of scorching heat, but the mornings and evenings are still cool. As soon as Ran Lin left his apartment, he was recognized by several young women who also got up early for work. They surrounded him for autographs and photos.
With a bare face, Ran Lin was actually a bit nervous about the photos, but after the young women took them, they kindly showed him, which dispelled his worries. The photos, all more or less beautified, showed him with delicate skin and bright, large eyes, looking even better than if he had put on makeup.
Finding a taxi during the early morning hours was difficult, especially since Ran Lin purposely avoided crowded areas. So, after finally catching one, he began seriously considering buying his own car.
Last night, when they parted, Wang Xi had asked Liu Wanwan to pick him up in the morning, but he was worried about any special circumstances with Lu Yiyao and not having time to return home, thinking he might have to go directly from the hotel to the company early in the morning. This would surely give things away if Liu Wanwan came to pick him up, so he found an excuse not to arrange it that way.
Unexpectedly, he not only made it home but also had time for some extra sleep, which gave him really mixed feelings.
“Ran Ge!”
As soon as he entered the company, Ran Lin saw Liu Wanwan waiting at the reception, thoughtfully holding buns and soy milk in her hands.
“Good morning.” Ran Lin took the breakfast from her with a smile.
Liu Wanwan tilted her head, looking puzzled at him for a while, and asked, “Ran Ge, did you stay out late with friends yesterday?”
Ran Lin instinctively curved his index finger, touching just below his eyes. “Are my dark circles very noticeable?”
“A little.” Liu Wanwan nodded, but quickly changed the subject. “No worries, Ran Ge. Just go to the makeup room. I’ll let Xi Jie know you’ve arrived. Once you’re made up, she won’t notice a thing.”
“Clever girl,” Ran Lin praised, giving his assistant a nod, though he still felt it wasn’t quite right. “I should still go and greet Xi Jie. Now that I’m at the company, it wouldn’t be right not to see her, in case she has something to instruct.”
“No need,” Liu Wanwan said. “Han Ze is here today too. Xi Jie and him are both in the boss’ office, so she probably won’t come out for a while.”
“Han Ze?” Ran Lin frowned instinctively, feeling that nothing good ever came when this colleague’s name was mentioned. The filming for <Chronicles of Winter> was starting at the end of June, and Han Ze should be in the last stages of preparation. Ran Lin couldn’t think of anything that would require his attention at this time.
“And they’re in the boss’ office?” Ran Lin finally caught the main point.
“Yep. They’ve been in there since early this morning and haven’t come out yet,” Liu Wanwan said with a curious look.
Without saying more, Ran Lin had only a vague guess but nothing concrete. Being called in by the boss early in the morning could mean a significant issue like contracts or a tricky problem that needed direct consolation from the boss.
Thinking all this, before he realized, Ran Lin had followed Liu Wanwan into the makeup room. Shaking off his thoughts, he decided not to overthink and took a quick nap while the stylist worked.
The company recently hired a new executive director who initiated several comfort improvements for the staff, resulting in more plants and flowers around, including in the makeup room with lilies in a glass vase, which gave off a refreshing fragrance.
In this gentle scent, Ran Lin dreamed.
He was back at last night’s hotel, where after Li Yiyao told him about the estrangement with his father, he was turned over and pressed down. They tussled through the night until the morning sun came up with Lu Yiyao still holding him, insisting on canceling all his schedules…
Then, Ran Lin woke up startled, making the stylist quickly pull away the curling iron to avoid his face. He felt a surge of guilt seeing himself with half straight, half curly-haired in the mirror. He felt he had no conscience, dream worrying while thinking about delaying work.
“What dream did you have?” teased the stylist. As Ran Lin was about to speak, the makeup room door opened, and Wang Xi entered.
The agent, dressed in a professional yet charming skirt suit, was obviously well-prepared for the day’s signing. But her expression was strained. There was a forced smile on her face, especially her eyes, which lacked their usual brightness.
“Xi Jie,” Ran Lin greeted softly.
Wang Xi looked up, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Her voice feigned cheerfulness. “Good, it seems you didn’t overdo it last night.”
Ran Lin’s makeup hid his dark circles, but he was still concerned, previously about being called out and now about Wang Xi’s well-being.
Wang Xi, however, didn’t notice his concerned look, focusing instead on his styling. Once satisfied, she said, “Once you’re ready, come to my office, and we’ll go together.”
“Going together” meant she would accompany him to the client for the signing. Being able to give such instructions meant the earlier conversation hadn’t impacted Wang Xi’s workflow. Either the conversation wasn’t as serious as he thought, or Wang Xi was indeed very professional.
“Okay.” Ran Lin reminded himself not to overthink or ask too much, focusing on securing the day’s contract.
Wang Xi nodded in satisfaction and left. Once the door closed, Liu Wanwan quietly asked, “Ran Ge, don’t you think something’s off with Xi Jie?”
Ran Lin glanced at the stylist through the mirror and didn’t reply. Liu Wanwan got the hint and kept quiet.
After another half-hour, the styling was complete. Ran Lin, transformed from a plain-faced boy to a dashing young man, donned a fresh summer outfit and left for Wang Xi’s office.
However, before he reached the office, he encountered Han Ze in the corridor.
The other person’s spirit and energy seemed quite good, in stark contrast to Wang Xi. Upon seeing Ran Lin, he even offered a smile. “Morning.”
Ran Lin muttered to himself, both being called to the office. It made no sense for Wang Xi’s face to spell bad news while Han Ze’s spelled good; it was unscientific.
But Han Ze’s cheerful demeanor was unmistakably apparent.
“Morning,” Ran Lin responded, as one doesn’t slap a smiling face.
He thought they would just exchange greetings and pass by, but then Han Ze added, “Looking good there.”
It seemed like he was in the mood for a chat but Ran Lin couldn’t think of anything to talk about, so he ended up responding dryly, “You look good, too.”
“Going to sign a contract later?”
Han Ze kept the conversation going, but Ran Lin decided to cut it short. “Yeah, Xi Jie is waiting for me, so I’ll head over first.”
Han Ze surprisingly stepped aside, making way for Ran Lin, who was puzzled but keen on not lingering. Just as he took a couple of steps forward, he heard Han Ze wish from behind, “Good luck with the signing.”
“Thanks,” Ran Lin turned and smiled, then quickly walked towards Wang Xi’s office, full of suspicion.
He knocked twice on the door but got no response, although he could clearly hear Wang Xi’s voice inside, sounding agitated as if she was on a phone call. Knowing they didn’t have much formality between them, Ran Lin naturally pushed the door open, only to hear Wang Xi’s voice, suppressed with anger—
“I need a reason!”
Liu Wanwan, who followed, quickly closed the door and ushered a stunned Ran Lin to sit on a couch in the corner.
Unlike her forced spirits before, Wang Xi was now fully combative, her elaborate makeup making her look even more striking and forceful.
“Are they thinking Ran Lin is stupid, or do they think I am stupid? Can you believe such reasons… Yes, I know the contract isn’t signed yet, but nobody gets stood up on the day of signing…”
Hearing his name, Ran Lin had a bad feeling. Listening further, his heart sank. Liu Wanwan also sensed something was off and kept quiet, praying nothing drastic had happened.
It was clear the person on the other end of the phone wasn’t the client but a mediator conveying a message, which allowed Wang Xi to vent some frustration. But anger wouldn’t change the outcome; the person on the phone likely knew their role as a buffer and seemed to be trying to soothe Wang Xi with polite words.
Finally, Wang Xi’s anger subsided, ending in a helpless sigh. “I understand, but this is too much. But like you said, without a signed contract, we can only take the loss… Don’t worry, I know the rules. I’m just venting to you. Okay, let’s stop here. I still need to console my artist. Let’s have dinner sometime and talk.”
After hanging up, Wang Xi turned to Ran Lin, seated on the couch, with a wry smile. Ran Lin had a guess but still clung to a sliver of hope, asking, “What happened?”
Wang Xi didn’t respond but instead walked over and filled a cup of water from the cooler, handing it to Ran Lin. The chill from the cup was a small comfort in the summer heat.
Standing still, Wang Xi looked down at Ran Lin and said, “<Mint Green> has decided on Zhang Beichen.”
Her tone had shifted from the fierce one on the phone to a more soothing and gentle manner.
Ran Lin had suspected something was up with <Mint Green> but hadn’t considered Zhang Beichen as a competitor. Hearing the name from Wang Xi made him freeze.
“They say after reviewing the audition tapes repeatedly, the director still prefers Zhang Beichen’s performance,” relayed Wang Xi, her voice carrying a hint of mocking humor.
Ran Lin couldn’t laugh. After losing a role in <Chronicles of Winter> and now <Mint Green>, he felt like the saying “lucky in love, unlucky in gambling” might be true for him. If gambling represented his career, then he was indeed in a dire state.
“Xi Jie.” Ran Lin looked up at his agent. “What do you think the real reason is?”
It was important for him to understand the truth behind losing the role.
Wang Xi, silhouetted against the light, was indistinct except for the disdain in her tone. “What else could it be? How did a sure thing turn into a competition for you, and how did he swoop in at the last minute?”
“Are you suggesting he got involved with Ding Kai?!”
Ran Lin knew Zhang Beichen was gay, so with Wang Xi’s insinuation, he couldn’t imagine any other scenario. He felt a sudden desolation, knowing he had no right to pity anyone, as they were doing far better than him. This sadness even overshadowed the bitterness of losing the role.
After all, they were friends once, Ran Lin thought, so he still couldn’t treat the other party as an indifferent stranger.
“I can’t be sure.” Wang Xi, surprisingly, didn’t confirm Ran Lin’s suspicion. “But I can’t think of any other reason that would make the financiers change their minds the day before signing.”
Ran Lin understood her point. If Zhang Beichen had secured the role earlier, it wouldn’t have even reached Ran Lin, or he might have just received a rejection from the audition. The most plausible scenario was that Zhang Beichen had worked his way in after failing the audition, just in time before the signing.
Remembering Ding Kai’s previous “invitation”, it was hard not to suspect foul play.
“Alright.” Wang Xi clapped her hands, breaking the somber mood. “Buck up. Without <Mint Green>, there are other scripts. My phone’s been blowing up recently. Do you know how popular you are now, my dear little prince?”
As she spoke, Wang Xi went back to her desk and began searching through a pile of documents. Ran Lin got up from the corner and sat down across the desk, basking in the sunlight.
“Really… are there other scripts?” Ran Lin wasn’t doubting her, but it was hard to believe as Wang Xi searched without success.
Fortunately, the agent wasn’t bluffing and eventually pulled one out, passing it over.
“The schedule clashes with <Mint Green>, so I declined it, but they haven’t finalized it yet. There’s still a chance.”
1Chinese mythological figure and one of the Eight Immortals in the Taoist pantheon. He studied Taoist magical arts under the tutelage of Lü Dongbin, another of the Eight Immortals. Han Xiangzi is often depicted carrying a dizi (Chinese flute), so he is also regarded as the patron deity of flutists. 2A group of legendary immortals in Chinese mythology. Each immortal’s power can be transferred to a vessel that can bestow life or destroy evil. Together, these eight vessels are called the “Covert Eight Immortals”.
Wang Xi looked at Ran Lin’s indescribable expression and felt a pang of pity. “Or… wait for other scripts?”
“Yeah!” Ran Lin answered almost instantly.
Wang Xi smiled wryly. She didn’t really want Ran Lin to take that role; after all, starting from a good point with <Sword of Fallen Flowers> it wouldn’t make sense to go back to a low-quality drama. She just wanted to make sure Ran Lin wasn’t too defeated by losing <Mint Green>, especially since it was his first shot at being a male lead in a hot IP with a top production team. She couldn’t stand there and ask Ran Lin to take it lightly, as she couldn’t herself, particularly after the recent debacle with <Chronicles of Winter>…
With mixed feelings, Wang Xi blurted out impulsively, “I’ll make sure you play the male lead in a big-screen movie, and it must be with a top team!”
Ran Lin thought Wang Xi was just comforting him and was about to make a joke but swallowed it upon seeing the seriousness in her eyes.
After a while, he put the now-warm paper cup on the desk, looked up at Wang Xi seriously, and said, “Xi Jie, I want to act, to produce good works, big screen or small screen doesn’t matter, as long as you think the project is good and worth the passion and effort.”
Wang Xi watched him for a moment, then sighed softly. “I want you to be famous.”
Ran Lin said, “I hope to have roles to play all my life.”
Wang Xi’s lips curled into a rare smile—her first of the day. “Being famous is how you’ll always have roles to play. Our goals align, no problem there.”
…….
On the way back to his apartment, Ran Lin saw a construction site enclosed by blue barriers with a sign that read, “Come to work happy, go home safe.” He thought it aptly described his day—
Went to work with joy, went home sighing.
After fussing all morning, the sun had now risen to its highest point, starting to show its might, making everywhere too glaring to open one’s eyes. It was dry and hot and even the leaves on the roadside trees were drooping down, as if by hanging listlessly they could avoid some of the scorching sun.
Thinking back on Han Ze’s unusual behavior, it didn’t seem strange now—rather, it seemed perfectly normal. The place where he encountered Han Ze was precisely on the way to and from Wang Xi’s office. Probably, after leaving the boss’ office, they returned to Wang Xi’s, where she received the mediator’s call, prompting Han Ze to leave first. And Han Ze, having likely heard the beginning of the call, could easily guess its content.
“Good luck with the signing.”
Reflecting on those words now, they seemed to carry a schadenfreude tone.
Back home, Ran Lin washed off his makeup, switched to a T-shirt and shorts, and settled comfortably on the couch with half a watermelon, spooning out the sweet center.
With the TV droning in the background, he pondered Zhang Beichen and Ding Kai’s situation.
If these two get together, who will dominate who?
Physically, Zhang Beichen was taller, but Ding Kai was more robust. Personality-wise, both were assertive, though the former was more extroverted and the latter more profound…
Ran Lin entertained countless imaginary bouts between the two unrelated individuals in his head until a shopping ad on TV snapped him back to reality, realizing the absurdity of his boredom.
The gossip was like an addictive poison; once started, it was hard to stop, providing a vengeful pleasure against the backdrop of his ruined morning.
Ding-dong.
The WeChat notification broke through the ad’s chatter.
It was from Xia Xinran: [Congratulations!]
Confused, Ran Lin replied: [Congratulations for what?]
The other end must have been displeased, as a voice message quickly followed. “Don’t play dumb. You’re signing the male lead for <Mint Green> today, right?”
The sour feelings Ran Lin had suppressed with his gossiping resurfaced. But he couldn’t be angry with Xia Xinran, as his tone indicated genuine happiness for him.
[Blown it.]—Typing those two words felt like bleeding from the heart.
He didn’t have the vastness of the ocean; he was just an ordinary actor and losing such an opportunity in <Mint Green> made him want to rage and despair.
He didn’t want to add to Wang Xi’s burden, bring down Liu Wanwan further, or appear more pitiful to himself. But to Xia Xinran…
[Someone cut in line!!!!!!]—Sending that message felt like a release, sweeter than any watermelon.
Almost immediately, a voice call invitation popped up.
As soon as Ran Lin answered, Xia Xinran exclaimed, “Who’s the bastard?!”
The mass of gloomy air in Ran Lin’s heart suddenly exploded, turning into white smoke, hissing out of his every orifice, so much so that Ran Lin could even hear it. But miraculously, the more it released, the lighter and brighter his heart felt, as if he was a stalled steam train that had just fixed its problems, and now, with the whistle blowing “toot toot”, it was ready to “munch and stroll” forward again.
“Aren’t you at the film set?” Wary of further agitating Xia Xinran, knowing his beautiful friend could easily erupt, Ran Lin started off gently, asking someone beside him.
“I am, but it’s lunchtime now. I just happened to hear someone mention that <Mint Green> signed you, so I came right over to congratulate you. I was planning to scold you for such a big piece of news I had to hear from someone else, but you preempted me.”
Ran Lin could imagine Xia Xinran furiously typing the words “congratulations”, “You can still scold me now, regardless of whether the news is blown out of proportion, I haven’t told you either way.”
“Stop joking, let’s talk serious.” Xia Xinran seemed to have moved to a quieter place, the background noise much reduced. “Who took your role?”
Ran Lin hesitated for a moment and said, “I can tell you, but you must keep it a secret.”
Xia Xinran was puzzled. “Brother, once the production company announces it, the whole world will know. What’s there to keep secret?”
“It’s not about keeping the actor secret.” Ran Lin paused for a few seconds before continuing, “It’s about keeping the gossip secret.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
After a while, Ran Lin heard Xia Xinran say, “Swallowing the gossip without spreading it a second time is really hard…”
Ran Lin rolled his eyes, regretting he let this slip to his friend.
“Alright, alright.” It seemed like a major decision was made on the other end, and with gritted teeth. “I’ll keep it secret!”
Ran Lin smirked.
From the incident with Zhang Beichen and his friend, Ran Lin realized that although Xia Xinran usually can’t keep things to himself, if he’s determined to hide something, unless he wants to tell, you couldn’t dig it out even if you tried.
“The lead male role is confirmed for Zhang Beichen.” Relieved, Ran Lin didn’t keep it a mystery and told the truth.
Ran Lin expected Xia Xinran to explode, but on the contrary, after a long silence, he asked in a deep voice, “What’s the inside story?”
Ran Lin was surprised but then thought it made sense for Xia Xinran to ask this. He had emphasized keeping it secret, which must mean there were some juicy details behind it. Xia Xinran was clever.
“One of the most important investors of this drama is Armor City Pictures. Before the audition, the boss of Armor City Pictures, Ding Kai, approached me, and I didn’t agree.”
“So you suspect he agreed?”
“I have no evidence, and I can’t make unfounded claims, but initially, I was the one decided upon after the audition, until just before signing today, when things changed. They must have done something on their end. I’m telling you this not to discuss what methods Zhang Beichen might have used, but to warn you that if you encounter any projects invested by Ding Kai in the future, if you can avoid it, do so.”
Xia Xinran didn’t expect that Ran Lin wasn’t really looking to gossip but rather, through gossip, was providing him a protective layer. If it weren’t for the warning, Ran Lin probably wouldn’t have mentioned anything about Ding Kai. No, Xia Xinran was sure of it; Ran Lin never liked to speak ill of others and would rather keep things to himself.
“Don’t worry.” Xia Xinran felt warmed but still thought Ran Lin needn’t worry about him. “This is just one of the many solicitations I get daily. I’m well-seasoned by now.”
The unexpected response left Ran Lin both amused and reassured, but thinking about Xia Xinran, it made sense.
“Alright, as long as you’re not upset, don’t worry about me,” Xia Xinran said. “It’s normal to have roles snatched away. Many people start shooting only to be replaced. In front of investors, we’re always the weaker party and can only suffer in silence.”
“Understood.”
“Oh, and remember to remind your team, don’t post any vaguely accusatory Weibo posts or press releases,” Xia Xinran suddenly reminded. “You might lose this opportunity, but if the investors feel bad, they might consider you again. But if you make a scene, you’ll be labeled ‘difficult’, and then no investor will want you.”
Xia Xinran’s advice was identical to another friend’s, but Xia Xinran knew Ran Lin wouldn’t act rashly, so his reminder was more about ensuring his team remained calm, while the other friend’s advice was more personal.
The conversation added an interesting layer to the advice, rounding it out nicely.
“Can’t talk more. I haven’t finished my lunch,” Xia Xinran said, ready to hang up.
Ran Lin nodded. “Go eat. I’ve settled things with Lu Yiyao.”
Xia Xinran: “Alright, bye—wait, what?!”
Ran Lin moved the phone slightly away from his ear, smirking. “Nothing.”
“You, stop, now!” Now Xia Xinran could skip dinner too. “Come clean!”
Ran Lin had intended to inform since the call connected. After all, Xia Xinran was an informed party, patiently listening and advising at the party. It wouldn’t make sense to keep the outcome from him now.
And if Xia Xinran found out he was kept in the dark about <Mint Green>, he’d probably come after Ran Lin himself.
Once sure Xia Xinran was in a completely safe place, Ran Lin told him the truth. Given Xia Xinran’s limited lunch break, he didn’t go into too much detail, just the main points.
Only after listening did Xia Xinran hum. “You’re timely in reporting.”
Ran Lin breathed a sigh of relief, almost wanting to wipe sweat from his brow. “So, actually, this is what you really need to keep secret.”
“Don’t worry,” Xia Xinran said without hesitation. “Even if it means telling my girlfriend, I won’t betray a brother.”
Ran Lin: “You have a girlfriend now?!”
Xia Xinran: “Not yet.”
Ran Lin: “Then hurry up and find one, so I have an extra umbrella of protection.”
Xia Xinran: “Goodbye!”
Staring at the already hung-up chat, Ran Lin grinned for another two minutes. When he came back to reality and looked at the glaring sunlight outside. The summer sun didn’t seem so harsh anymore.
Exiting the chat with Xia Xinran and returning to the WeChat list, Ran Lin was about to message Lu Yiyao about the <Mint Green> change when he noticed a new message alert from a contact.
He clicked in and found it was a new number adding him.
The profile picture was of crystal-clear blue sea and sky, somewhere unknown. The image was frozen as the wind whipped up a wave, very high, seemingly with someone surfing in it, but too small to make out, just a dark figure against the high wall-like wave, seemingly translucent in the sunlight, casting an enchanting glow.
The ID of the profile was 1111.
Ran Lin felt something was off. It seemed like a scam number, but oddly enough, the person sent a friend request with the message, “Hello Ran Lin.”
Ran Lin’s WeChat ID and nickname weren’t his real name. Obviously, this was someone who knew him, or at least they had mutual friends. Lately, he’s been getting many such requests, especially after the success of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>; some for work, others from colleagues just wanting to make friends.
In the entertainment industry, it’s not about having too many acquaintances, but rather not having enough, so Ran Lin accepted all friend requests, even though some added never exchanged more than a few words with him.
He clicked to accept the request and then exited his contacts, ready to continue his conversation with Lu Yiyao about the “sniped tragedy”, only to receive a message from “1111”—
[I’m Ding.]
Looking at these words, Ran Lin felt a toothache coming on. It was a kind of nervous pain, often experienced in moments of “extreme regret” or “extreme annoyance”, and right now, he had both.
He knew he should’ve been cautious with such IDs!
The only Ding he knew was directly related to the day’s events, and it was hard to believe that this add was just a coincidence.
Taking advantage of the situation?
These words came to mind first, but Ran Lin quickly dismissed them. If Ding Kai hadn’t given up after being rejected, he could have used other means much earlier; there was no need to go through a fair competition and then suddenly break the contract, making things so complicated.
Explaining the last-minute contract break?
Even less likely. Even Wang Xi could only get a barely plausible “official statement” from intermediaries. Would Ding Kai add him on WeChat just to explain?
[Zhang Beichen was recommended by a very important friend of mine. There were no signs before, and it was only last night that they suddenly insisted on him, sorry.]
He actually… explained.
Ran Lin looked at the message, somewhat stunned. Both the content of the explanation and the final “sorry” made him feel like he was talking to an imposter Ding Kai.
Unable to contain his doubt, Ran Lin still tapped out two words to confirm—[Mr. Ding?]
The response was an “eye-rolling sweating” emoji, oozing disdain and speechlessness, clearly affirmative.
But Ran Lin couldn’t reconcile this down-to-earth emoji with the aloof Ding Kai he had met at the dinner.
However, since the other party had already started talking, Ran Lin felt that if he didn’t ask now, he might never get the chance to know the truth. After all, it’s just WeChat—
[Can you tell me which friend of yours it is?]
1111—[Inconvenient.]
Ran Lin was exasperated, but before he could continue his internal rant, another message came—[Both you and Zhang Beichen auditioned well. The director felt either of you could fit, but in the end, I recommended you. However, now that my friend has spoken, you’re not important enough for me to snub my friend’s face for your sake.]
Ran Lin frowned slightly, starting to get the gist of it. Ding Kai’s message seemed like an “explanation”, but it was more like a “hint” to him. And he was unusually humble about it.
Ran Lin didn’t know whether to praise him for his persistence or scold him for being shameless.
[Mr. Ding, I understand. Regardless, thank you for giving me this opportunity. Even if I can’t play the part in the end, I’ve learned a lot.]— Politeness was easy for Ran Lin to muster. He could serve eight sentences for a penny.
1111—[Do you really understand?]
Ran Lin—[I do. If I can’t play the part, it’s just that I’m not destined for the role as Li Yi.]
The phone went quiet, and 1111 didn’t reply for a while.
Ran Lin knew that the other side probably understood. Understood that he got the hint and understood that he was politely declining.
About two minutes later, the other side sent a seemingly unrelated question.
1111—[I remember you said that acting, and acting well, is your ideal?]
This was something Ran Lin had said at the dinner, and he hadn’t expected Ding Kai to remember it, so naturally, he couldn’t deny it—[Yes.]
1111—[It seems you’re not persistent enough about your ideal.]
Ran Lin—[If all ideals are realized, what’s left to strive for in life?]
1111—[Isn’t it painful always seeing but never reaching?]
Ran Lin looked at this sentence for a long time, and then finally, his lips curled up.
Ran Lin—[The beauty of ideals lies in their perpetual shine, no matter when you look up at them.]
The celebration party for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> started in the afternoon and concluded successfully by evening.
These promotional events primarily revolve around the production team’s agenda, such as announcing viewership ratings and other metrics. Network representatives give speeches and set expectations, while the actors stand on stage primarily to support the event, participating in activities to liven up the atmosphere.
Lu Yiyao was well-acquainted with such events and remained calm throughout, cooperating when needed, speaking when it was his turn, and lightening the mood with jokes to elicit laughter from both the audience and other guests.
In contrast, Ran Lin was more invested, possibly experiencing for the first time the adulation for a project he participated in. He listened intently to every segment and every speaker, taking his turns to speak or participate very seriously.
Despite the heat from the stage lights, which caused even the composed Lu Yiyao to sweat, he noticed Ran Lin was faring much worse. Overwhelmed by his involvement, sweat trickled down Ran Lin’s temples, silently sliding into his shirt collar.
Ran Lin didn’t wear a tie today, opting for an elegant casual style. Under his blazer, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a small patch of skin under the light, which glowed with a beautiful sheen. Lu Yiyao felt hopeless as he found himself wanting to bite into that skin, gently or hard, making Ran Lin gasp, cry out, or beg for mercy.
Daydreaming during work hours was something that had to be taken seriously for Lu Yiyao.
He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, but he couldn’t control himself. The person he thought about day and night was right beside him. Wanting to touch, to move, to be intimate was instinctual. And instinct was something that became more soothing the more it was indulged and more vigorous the more it was suppressed.
If he and Ran Lin weren’t celebrities, Lu Yiyao thought, things would be much more comfortable. However, if they weren’t celebrities, they might never have had the chance to meet, understand each other, and get to where they are today.
Amid these chaotic thoughts, the celebration came to an end.
As Lu Yiyao was heading back to the backstage rest area, he bumped into Huo Yuntao, who somehow had sneaked in. He was holding a brand-new handkerchief, asking Xi Ruohan, who had come down first, to sign it.
As Lu Yiyao approached, Xi Ruohan had just finished signing and left. Huo Yuntao stood there alone, admiring the handkerchief with satisfaction, not even noticing his old friend’s approach.
“If you had told me you were her fan, I would have gotten the autograph for you,” Lu Yiyao teased, only then noticing that the handkerchief Huo Yuntao held didn’t seem like a man’s. With its clean and elegant print, it was more like something for a young lady.
“I’m getting it for Panxi.” Huo Yuntao wasn’t surprised at being caught by Lu Yiyao; in fact, he was waiting for his brother. After putting the handkerchief away carefully, he looked up and seriously patted his old friend on the shoulder. “I’m only your fan.”
Lu Yiyao looked at his old friend’s eyes filled with a mischievous glint and suddenly remembered the saying—”Fan into the depths, naturally black*.”
*It’s a slang term that describes a situation where someone is a devoted fan of a celebrity or something that their obsession turns into nitpicking or overly critical behavior. The fandom becomes so intense that it paradoxically leads to negative or cynical attitudes towards the object of their adoration. In this case, the fan basically turns into a black fan (anti-fan).
“My car is downstairs. Tell your agent, and just come with me.” Huo Yuntao got straight to the point without any chit-chat.
Lu Yiyao was stunned for a moment. He had planned to meet at the restaurant and thought Huo Yuntao came over for something else, just happening to see him while getting an autograph and stopping to chat.
“Are you here to pick me up?”
“Otherwise?” Huo Yuntao rolled his eyes, looking around to ensure there was no danger, before whispering, “I’m not trying to shoot you down, but your wrap party is really boring. I wouldn’t come even if I was invited.”
Lu Yiyao had never enjoyed such considerate treatment, and his first reaction was suspicion, reflexively stepping back. “I have my own car.”
Huo Yuntao wanted to say more, but suddenly, he looked over Lu Yiyao’s shoulder and saw the main cast coming down from the stage. He closed his mouth, smiled, and nodded to the group, regardless of whether he knew them or not.
Lu Yiyao followed his gaze, saw it was the drama crew, and also nodded in greeting.
The crew recognized Lu Yiyao but not Huo Yuntao. Still, since he could get in here, they assumed he must be a staff member or related person, so no one paid special attention. Soon, they brushed past the two and continued down the corridor.
Once the surroundings quieted down again, Huo Yuntao lowered his voice. “I know you have a car, but when have you ever driven alone? You always need at least one person with you. Times have changed; you’re not alone anymore. You need to double the safety, understand?”
Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected this from Huo Yuntao. He was shocked but felt a warm complexity. It’s a friend worth having who thinks about these things for you, touching anyone. As for the complexity…
Lu Yiyao glanced at the excitement on Huo Yuntao’s face, feeling that the other seemed to enjoy this cat-and-mouse game with the paparazzi.
In fact, Huo Yuntao didn’t know that today Yao Hong didn’t come. Only Li Tong accompanied Lu Yiyao. So Lu Yiyao called Li Tong, telling him to follow the driver back first without waiting.
Then, Lu Yiyao followed Huo Yuntao to the elevator and into the underground parking lot. As they stepped out, Huo Yuntao’s car was parked in the nearest spot, just a few steps away from the elevator. Unless the paparazzi had cameras right at the elevator door, they wouldn’t catch anything.
As he settled into the back seat and closed the door, he heard Huo Yuntao’s sigh from the driver’s seat. “I wish I was a celebrity…”
Lu Yiyao thought to himself that his playful friend was indeed enjoying the thrill of outsmarting the paparazzi.
But he didn’t respond, instead greeting the girl in the passenger seat. “Panxi, you’ve been waiting long?”
“No, we just got here.” The girl in the passenger seat was petite and delicate, dressed in a soft, plain-colored dress that wasn’t flashy but very comfortable and homely. Her bobbed hair wasn’t overly styled, just naturally refreshing, and her voice was as gentle and cute as her appearance.
“You don’t have to be polite with him; we’ve been waiting for ages.” Huo Yuntao always felt irked seeing his wife being so tender towards Lu Yiyao.
Lin Panxi glanced at him with a hint of complaint, about to speak, but Huo Yuntao quickly pulled out the handkerchief signed by Xi Ruohan and handed it to her with a grin.
Lin Panxi seemed genuinely fond of Xi Ruohan, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the autograph, forgetting all about coaching her future husband on social etiquette.
Lu Yiyao felt a bit peculiar. After all, he was a drama actor himself. The fact that “female viewers prefer the female lead” was a bit shocking.
……
Yao Hong wasn’t accompanying Lu Yiyao, but Wang Xi was there with Ran Lin. When Ran Lin received a message from Lu Yiyao, he was with Wang Xi and Liu Wanwan, preparing to take the elevator down to the underground parking lot where the company car was parked.
Ran Lin had already briefed Wang Xi about the gathering, mentioning it was with Lu Yiyao and a few other friends, but he hadn’t mentioned leaving together after the celebration. Thus, Wang Xi had intended to have the company car drive him.
As the elevator descended, with the red floor numbers changing rapidly towards B1, Ran Lin had to gather his courage, trying to sound casual. “Xi Jie, Lu Yiyao just messaged me that his friends have all arrived, and we’re leaving together, so we won’t need the company car. You and Wanwan can head back directly.”
Wang Xi was preoccupied with work matters, but she paused, digesting the information. Once she understood, she was a bit puzzled. “Your relationship with Lu Yiyao is that good?”
She had thought the dinner Ran Lin mentioned was just a symbolic gathering with fellow cast members to maintain good relations. So, when Ran Lin briefed her, she hadn’t thought much of it. But now it seemed more like a private friends’ gathering, indicating Ran Lin had made it into Lu Yiyao’s inner circle, which was a good thing.
“Uh, well, after almost half a year in the same crew, we get along quite well.” Ran Lin thought about his and Lu Yiyao’s relationship, realizing he had to be somewhat truthful yet cautious with Wang Xi, who was well aware of his schedule.
Wang Xi was satisfied with the answer, nodding thoughtfully.
Suddenly, Ran Lin had a realization and hurriedly said, “Xi Jie, please don’t hype this up.”
His abrupt statement made sense to Wang Xi immediately. “Understood. Even though you’re rising, your status isn’t high enough yet; showing off would only bring criticism.”
“It’s not that,” Ran Lin replied without hesitation. “Even when my status does rise, I don’t want to show off. I don’t need people to know how close I am with Lu Yiyao. I’d rather have them focus on my work, not my personal life.”
Wang Xi looked at her artist, half amused, half admiring, and finally nodded in agreement. “Alright, you’re not even a big star yet, but you already have the demeanor of one.”
Ran Lin felt he might be speaking too boldly, though it was his genuine desire. But whether he could truly rise to fame was still uncertain. To Wang Xi, he probably seemed overconfident.
“Not bad,” Wang Xi suddenly patted his shoulder firmly, approvingly. “You have much more presence than when I first started managing you. I like it.”
Ran Lin didn’t know what to say to his manager’s unpredictable taste.
With a ding, the elevator reached B1.
Ran Lin let Wang Xi and Liu Wanwan exit first, then followed, choosing the opposite direction before circling back near the elevator to approach the black Porsche.
The tint on the car windows was dark, obscuring the view inside, but from two meters away, Ran Lin heard a click as the rear car door opened a crack.
Without a word, Ran Lin quickly stepped forward, opened the door, and got in.
Even after he settled into the car and closed the door, his heart was still pounding, praising his own cleverness while feeling the bittersweet nature of his love affair.
Unable to help himself, Lu Yiyao reached out and ruffled Ran Lin’s hair, praising, “Brilliant acting. When you brushed past the car window, I almost thought you didn’t see the car.”
Ran Lin laughed. “You sent the photo, and such an understated luxury car parked right by the elevator—how could I not see it?”
“Good eye.” Huo Yuntao, pleased with the praise for his car, didn’t forget the introductions. “This is my fiancée, Lin Panxi. Panxi, this is Ran Lin I told you about.”
Ran Lin wasn’t sure how much Huo Yuntao had shared about him, leading to a moment of hesitation.
Lin Panxi reached out first with a gentle smile. “Hello.”
Her smile was soothing, and Ran Lin naturally reached out, gently shaking her hand. “Hello.”
He expected a brief handshake, but when he tried to withdraw, she didn’t let go. Her grip was light but firm, and before he could wonder why, Lin Panxi softly asked, “Could you… sign something for me?”
Ran Lin couldn’t help but feel amused and flattered, this being the first time a friend asked for his autograph. “Of course.”
Lin Panxi immediately let go and carefully took out a neatly folded handkerchief and a pen from her bag, handing them to Ran Lin.
The handkerchief was a plain color, making the autograph stand out. Ran Lin took it, recognizing the familiar handwriting already on it, and looked at Lin Panxi, momentarily perplexed.
She quickly flipped the handkerchief to its clean side. “That’s Xi Ruohan’s autograph. Could you sign here? I really like <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.”
Ran Lin understood now, having all the actors from the same drama sign the same handkerchief was indeed more meaningful.
Without hesitation, Ran Lin signed his name, admiring his work for a second before unfolding the handkerchief a bit, curious if Lu Yiyao’s signature might be hidden inside.
As soon as Lin Panxi mentioned wanting an autograph, Lu Yiyao felt like he’d been shot in the knee. Seeing Ran Lin’s “in-depth observation”, he knew he was looking for his signature, feeling a mix of emotions.
“Don’t bother looking. Lao Lu isn’t there.” Huo Yuntao took the handkerchief from Ran Lin’s hands, handing it back to his wife, explaining, “She’s an ‘Immortal Elixir Party’ member.”
Ran Lin was embarrassed, while Lu Yiyao finally understood.
The “Immortal Elixir Party*” meant fans of the Fang Xian and Zhao Buyao CP. In Lu Yiyao’s view, it was practically a cult within a cult!
*Clarity: Immortal Elixir is [Xian Yao] (仙药). It sounds similar to Xian (闲) Yao (摇) from Fang Xian and Zhao Buyao, thus the CP name.
With her preference revealed, Lin Panxi glanced apologetically at Lu Yiyao.
Lu Yiyao didn’t blame Lin Panxi but glanced at Ran Lin instead.
The latter innocently spread his hands. “It’s not my fault I’m too charming.”
Lu Yiyao gave him a look before suddenly leaning in for a firm kiss.
Ran Lin was caught off guard. He was pressed against the seatback, unable to move. For a moment, it felt like Lu Yiyao wasn’t just kissing him but was about to devour his lips entirely.
Fortunately, the other party retreated after getting his fill, fierce and swift.
Still dazed, Ran Lin heard Lu Yiyao whisper in his ear, “It’s unhygienic to keep kissing the phone screen. Consider this disinfection.”
It wasn’t until the car was on the elevated road that Ran Lin’s brain, which had been blank, slowly started to recover.
He felt warmth from his hand and looked down to find that Lu Yiyao had taken it, interlocking their fingers without asking for permission.
Ran Lin gently leaned against his shoulder, feeling calm and secure, as if all the day’s fatigue had dissipated.
……
The dinner location was chosen by Huo Yuntao, a top-floor restaurant in a hotel. The spacious terrace was divided into separate spaces where diners could enjoy a quiet and private meal, feel the night breeze, and gaze upon Beijing’s nightscape.
By the time the four arrived at the restaurant, it was already dark. Ran Lin had taken off his suit jacket and was now in his shirt. As he stepped onto the terrace, he felt the cool breeze through his shirt, refreshing and pleasant.
The lights just began to illuminate the cityscape, offering a view of countless homes lit up at night.
“This place isn’t bad, right?” Huo Yuntao couldn’t wait for praise and had to ask himself.
Lu Yiyao stopped gazing into the distance and turned to affirm his old friend, “You always find the best places for food and fun in any city the fastest.”
Huo Yuntao had returned less than three months ago but already lived up to that reputation.
However, Young Master Huo didn’t want to take the responsibility because he immediately turned to explain to his wife, “Don’t listen to him. I wasn’t all fun and games abroad. I was studying hard!”
Lin Panxi was much smaller in stature. When she sat in her chair, she was dwarfed by Huo Yuntao, who seemed to lose all his imposing presence in front of her.
As they settled down, Huo Yuntao first asked, “What would you like to drink?”
Ran Lin wasn’t picky, so he replied, “Anything’s fine.”
“Anything’s fine” is often the most challenging request, but Huo Yuntao liked it. “Then I’ll recommend something. This restaurant has a special cocktail that’s really great and worth trying.”
Lu Yiyao could tell from the way Huo Yuntao looked at Ran Lin that he already had a recommendation in mind. One of Huo Yuntao’s hobbies was sharing his discoveries with friends, including but not limited to food and drink.
The special cocktail was just the beginning; the dishes that followed were also recommended by his friend, and they were just responsible for nodding in agreement.
Fortunately, his friend rarely made a mistake in his recommendations, so soon a joyful dinner commenced.
Lu Yiyao wasn’t a fan of drinking, indifferent to red, white, or yellow liquors, but he tolerated cocktails. Surprisingly, the recommended cocktail tasted great—almost like a soft drink. Unknowingly, Lu Yiyao had finished one glass and then asked the waiter for a second.
Huo Yuntao initially wanted to stop him, but thinking of his plans for the evening, he held back and continued telling Ran Lin about their glorious past—
“I knew him when he wasn’t as tall and mighty as he is now. He was quite short and was bullied by his classmates every day. I was ostracized in our class too, not just by the white kids but also by local Chinese, but unlike him, I didn’t back down. I always fought back. Still, I was outnumbered, so I thought I’d find an ally. In our whole grade, we were the only two Chinese, so I had to choose him. The first time I went to his dorm, he was being bullied by some bastards. I immediately stepped in, and from then on, we became best buddies…”
Huo Yuntao was animated in his storytelling, and Ran Lin listened intently.
This was a version of Lu Yiyao he didn’t know—smaller, quieter, studying abroad—and the stories, just like Huo Yuntao’s narration, were tinged with nostalgia.
Lu Yiyao put down his half-finished glass and looked at Huo Yuntao. “What do you mean we became best buddies right away? You helped me out, and then what, skipped the rest? You painted yourself as a hero.”
Huo Yuntao frowned, slightly irritated at being interrupted. “I’m trying to fill in Ran Lin on your background, so the focus is on you. My part isn’t important.”
“It’s not important, yet you make yourself out to be a savior.” If it was just the two of them, Huo Yuntao could exaggerate, but with Ran Lin there, Lu Yiyao felt the need to set the record straight. He turned Ran Lin’s shoulder to face him directly and narrated the actual events. “The first time he came to my dorm, I was indeed being bullied. When he arrived, it turned into both of us getting beaten up. Midway through, he ran off in the chaos. That’s when I learned I had such a fellow countryman.”
“What happened after that?” Ran Lin asked, touched by the lightness of Lu Yiyao’s story but sensing that those days were much harder than they were letting on. “Were you always bullied?”
“For the first few years, yes,” Lu Yiyao said, “but then we started growing and eventually settled all the old scores.”
“We were late bloomers!” Huo Yuntao interjected, clearly still bothered by it to this day.
Ran Lin was more interested in the aftermath. “How did you settle it?”
Lu Yiyao suddenly fell silent, a trace of embarrassment crossing his face.
Ran Lin was intrigued and about to probe further when he heard Huo Yuntao say, “Don’t ask. It’s all underhanded tactics. If you hear it, you might break up with him.”
“Let’s drink instead.” Clearly, the “revenge years” were indeed quite a story, so Lu Yiyao, feeling a bit flustered, raised his glass and clinked with Huo Yuntao.
Huo Yuntao reflexively raised his glass, clinking it before realizing, resulting in Lu Yiyao drinking while he didn’t. He then added to Ran Lin, “He only pretends to act properly in front of you.”
Lu Yiyao downed the rest of his drink and realized Huo Yuntao hadn’t even sipped his, still needling him. “Don’t listen to him; he’s never complimented me.”
Huo Yuntao sighed as he looked at his silly friend. “Lao Lu, do you understand what ‘psychological expectation effect’ means? If you make yourself out to be perfect from the start, your image can only go downhill later. So, you need to expose your flaws early on, so that Ran Lin will feel you are getting better later.”
Lu Yiyao was stunned, then suddenly felt that… maybe there was some sense to it?
Ran Lin watched them both with a smile, feeling that no entertainment was needed for the evening; just listening to their banter was joy enough.
Lu Yiyao turned to face Ran Lin’s smiling eyes and couldn’t help smiling back. “What are you smiling at?”
“I envy your friendship,” Ran Lin admitted honestly. The Lu Yiyao arguing with Huo Yuntao was so real and lively, and he found it very attractive.
“It’s all karma.” Lu Yiyao sighed. “Back then, he was the only fellow countryman in our grade. If there had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have bothered with him.”
Thinking of Lu Yiyao, only twelve years old and alone in a boarding school in a foreign land with a foreign language, Ran Lin felt sorry for him.
“Why did you have to go abroad so early?” Ran Lin couldn’t understand. “Couldn’t you have gone for high school or university instead?”
The table suddenly fell quiet.
Ran Lin sensed a momentary freeze in the atmosphere.
The lighting on the terrace wasn’t very bright, the kind of ambient lighting from chandeliers and floor lamps creating soft shadows, enough to see the table and companions but not too clear.
For instance, Lu Yiyao’s profile was obscured in the light and shadow, and Ran Lin struggled to see his eyes clearly.
The expressions on Huo Yuntao and Lin Panxi’s faces were also subtly altered.
When Ran Lin inadvertently met Lin Panxi’s gaze, she shook her head slightly, a small movement but clear to him, indicating his casual question was a sensitive topic for Lu Yiyao.
Thinking back, Ran Lin realized that there had been a similar situation when they first met, involving family, which Lu Yiyao was reluctant to discuss, clearly resisting the topic.
Ran Lin suddenly regretted it.
The atmosphere was so good tonight that he had let his guard down, or maybe the recent good times with Lu Yiyao made him feel they could share anything. He thought they no longer needed the caution and consideration he’d always exercised, but evidently, it wasn’t so simple.
The conversation then shifted to Lin Panxi, a violinist in a symphony orchestra about to go abroad for a performance. Huo Yuntao insisted on accompanying her, but she thought it wasn’t convenient for her boyfriend to follow her work trips, so Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin were pulled into the discussion for advice and suggestions.
The awkward question wasn’t raised again.
Ran Lin wasn’t sure what to feel, not really remembering what was discussed afterwards, only recalling Lu Yiyao loosening his tie and asking for more drinks, which Huo Yuntao eventually stopped.
“You can’t drink anymore,” Huo Yuntao said with an unusual sternness. “Any more will cause trouble.”
Lu Yiyao, slightly tipsy, looked at his friend, not understanding, “What trouble…”
Huo Yuntao rolled his eyes inwardly, not wanting to say more.
Ran Lin was surprised at Lu Yiyao’s low tolerance for alcohol; had he known, he would have stopped him sooner. Now it was too late, so he joined Huo Yuntao in a united front to prevent Lu Yiyao from drinking more.
When the meal was nearly finished, Huo Yuntao suddenly said to Ran Lin and Lin Panxi, “You sit here for a bit. I’ll take him to rest.”
After saying so, he helped Lu Yiyao up.
Although Lu Yiyao was a bit unsteady, his mind was still clear, and he asked confusedly, “Where are you taking me…”
Huo Yuntao, too exasperated to respond, just carried him off.
Ran Lin watched, baffled, as the two disappeared through the terrace door, then turned to Lin Panxi with a look full of questions—what is going on?
Lin Panxi didn’t speak, but a hint of shyness flashed in her eyes.
Ran Lin thought he might have misread her expression, but before he could ask, she gently said, “You and Lu Ge… Do you plan to continue like this?”
It didn’t take long for Ran Lin to realize Lin Panxi was fully aware of their situation, so there were no reservations in their conversations or jokes.
However, most of the conversation was dominated by Huo Yuntao, with Lin Panxi mostly listening and yielding to him, so Ran Lin hadn’t really spoken much to her directly.
Now suddenly asked, Ran Lin wasn’t quite sure what she meant. “Continue how?”
“Continue being so…” Lin Panxi tilted her head, thinking, then cautiously chose a word. “Hard.”
Ran Lin saw the concern in her eyes, similar to how Huo Yuntao treated Lu Yiyao, and realized that from the moment of the handshake, she had accepted him as one of her own.
“I don’t know.” Ran Lin smiled wryly. “At this stage, it seems there’s no better way. As for the future… who knows?”
Lin Panxi looked down before raising her eyes to say, “Don’t listen to Yuntao’s nonsense. Lu Ge is a really good person. When he’s committed to something, he’ll stick to it, so I believe he truly hopes to be with you forever.”
Ran Lin suddenly understood what Lin Panxi meant.
With a soft smile, he affirmed, “I will work hard with him, not letting him bear the hardships alone.”
Lin Panxi smiled back, her one-sided dimple making her look particularly interesting and adorable.
“If I were Lu Ge, I’d like you too,” she said.
Ran Lin chuckled, then thought about Lin Panxi, who had been in a long-distance relationship with her boyfriend for years, wondering how she seemed to understand Lu Yiyao so well.
When he voiced his curiosity, Lin Panxi let out a slightly annoyed laugh. “If you’ve been in a long-distance relationship for ten years, you’ve probably talked about every person and thing around a hundred times.”
The frustration was palpable.
It turned out this girl also had a bit of a temper.
Ran Lin raised his glass, lightly touching it to Lin Panxi’s. “To hardship.”
Lin Panxi tapped his glass back. “To the sweetness in hardship.”
When Huo Yuntao returned with a room card, Ran Lin finally understood what he meant by “trouble”.
“You take the elevator on the left. Go straight to the seventeenth floor. The room is on your left as you exit the elevator, and this entrance is a blind spot for the surveillance camera,” Huo Yuntao said with a conspiratorial expression like a successful villain in a drama. “The room was booked under Panxi and my name. Absolutely safe and perfect.”
Ran Lin’s heart skipped erratically.
But he calmly took the room key, which seemed to pulse with electricity in his hand.
After saying goodbye to Huo Yuntao and Lin Panxi, he felt like a thief going down to the seventeenth floor. He swiped the card to enter the room, and indeed, everything went smoothly. He was, of course, grateful for Huo Yuntao’s thoughtfulness, but the glint in Huo Yuntao’s eyes when he spoke made him feel like the other man was getting more than just the joy of helping a friend from this clever arrangement.
Lu Yiyao was lying on the bed, his suit off, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and his tie loosely hanging around his neck.
The room was quiet except for the faint sound of air from the central air conditioning vent.
Ran Lin swallowed hard, suddenly feeling nervous.
Lu Yiyao’s eyes were closed, and it was unclear if he was squinting or sleeping. His brows were furrowed as if struggling with someone in his dreams.
Ran Lin held his breath, walking softly to the bed. The carpet was so plush it made no sound.
Finally, Ran Lin gently sat on the bed’s edge, lying beside him, propping his head up with one hand to closely observe his idol.
Lu Yiyao was also lying on his side, so now they were face to face.
Despite having drunk, Lu Yiyao’s breath carried only a faint smell of alcohol and more of the refreshing scent of his cologne.
Ran Lin moved his face closer, inch by inch, until his lips touched Lu Yiyao’s nose.
Suddenly, the man moved, startling Ran Lin, who reflexively thought to pull back but was then enveloped by an arm and saw Lu Yiyao slowly open his eyes, still slightly tipsy but somewhat clear.
“Flirt and run, is that your style?” Lu Yiyao murmured with a hint of drowsy nasal tone.
Ran Lin, pressed against him, felt the heat through the shirt, sending shivers down his spine.
“So you were pretending to sleep?” Ran Lin’s voice trembled.
Lu Yiyao suddenly turned over to pin him down, pressing his hands above his head and biting down on his neck.
Ran Lin shivered, forgetting to struggle, letting him nibble and bite.
Eventually, Lu Yiyao didn’t bear to use too much force, satisfying his craving with a mix of bites and licks before reluctantly moving away, his breath erratic from the intense restraint.
“You’ll have to wear a scarf tomorrow with that mark.”
Ran Lin heard Lu Yiyao mutter, seemingly considerate but sounding more like a complaint.
“Will it be winter the next time I see you?” Ran Lin knew it was a mood killer to say this now, but he couldn’t help it, thinking of Lu Yiyao soon starting a new project.
Lu Yiyao nuzzled Ran Lin’s face, almost coquettishly. “You could visit me on set.”
“As what?” Ran Lin, tickled by the rubbing, tried to push his face away.
“Stop moving.” Lu Yiyao grabbed his wrist, pressed it down, and rubbed his face against him a few more times before he was satisfied. “A bad influence.”
Ran Lin struggled, realizing he couldn’t free his wrist from Lu Yiyao’s grip. Being overpowered by another man dented his pride, his voice growing muffled. “That’s Huo Yuntao’s role, not mine.”
Lu Yiyao leaned in to nibble on his chin before getting an idea. “Then ‘close friend’.”
Ran Lin liked the title but didn’t intend to tell Lu Yiyao.
He always thought Lu Yiyao had eyes like peach blossoms, but actually, Lu Yiyao felt Ran Lin did. Especially now, pressed down, Ran Lin’s eyes shone with unwillingness, like rain-drenched peach petals, subtly fragrant and enticing.
“Why didn’t you keep asking?” Lu Yiyao suddenly asked.
Ran Lin, rendered weak by the gaze and thinking he was about to be devoured like sweet water, was momentarily dazed when he suddenly heard Lu Yiyao’s question.
Lu Yiyao repeated it for a second time, “Earlier at dinner, you asked why I went abroad so early for school. Why didn’t you continue asking?”
Ran Lin’s memory slowly revived. He had just buried this knot in his heart, thinking it might unravel at the right time or perhaps never, which he’d try to gradually forget, albeit difficultly.
Yet Lu Yiyao brought it up so quickly, not even letting it last the night.
Looking at the person on top of him, Ran Lin blinked and admitted, “It seemed like none of you wanted to talk about it. We don’t get to meet often, and I’m not dumb enough to ruin the mood.”
“How are you not dumb? You’re completely foolish.” Lu Yiyao sighed softly, moving off him to lie beside him, then pulling him close so Ran Lin’s back was against his chest and his chin rested in the crook of Ran Lin’s neck and shoulder, lightly rubbing. “Remember, anything related to me, if you want to know, just ask. Don’t worry about whether I want to answer.”
Ran Lin wanted to turn and see Lu Yiyao’s expression, but he was held too tightly, almost immobile. Lu Yiyao’s force contradicted his tender voice; the gentler he spoke, the firmer he held, and Ran Lin felt like he was being pulled into the other’s body.
“I didn’t choose to go abroad myself…”
Without warning, Lu Yiyao began, his warm breath spraying on Ran Lin’s nape, heating his earlobes, neck, shoulders, everywhere.
“My dad forced me out… When he and my mom divorced, custody of me went to him, and my sister’s to my mom. My mom disagreed and wanted to keep fighting, so he just sent me abroad. I was only twelve then, skinny as a bean sprout, and the white kids in class were two or three heads taller, bullying me every day. I called my dad, saying I didn’t want to study anymore, I wanted to come back…”
Ran Lin listened, his heart clenching involuntarily.
Lu Yiyao took several deep breaths to calm down, his voice low and bitter. “After that, every time I called, it was his assistant who picked up. He would buy me anything I needed or send money, but he would never put my dad on the phone. So every time I came back for the holidays, I would obediently listen to him talk about Chinese studies and traditional culture. Then, as soon as he let his guard down, I’d try to run away and stay in the country. But he always managed to send me back out again…”
“Later, as I grew older and could meet my mom whenever, he couldn’t control me anymore, and I didn’t insist on coming back as much. Do you understand that feeling? It’s like when you realize the thing you’ve been yearning for isn’t that hard to get, you suddenly don’t want it anymore. When he thought I could come back, I insisted on studying abroad, and when he wanted me to go to business school, I chose drama instead, always contrary…”
“Brat.” Ran Lin wanted to turn around and hug him, but he was the one being hugged instead. He felt distressed for him, yet his words came out teasing.
Lu Yiyao, however, seemed to enjoy his teasing, taking it as sweet nothings. “The bear was forced out of me.”
“So, have you still not forgiven your dad?”
“It’s not about forgiving or not forgiving. I used to hate him as a child, but now I don’t feel that way anymore. I still have resentments, but thinking about it, even though he did it out of spite against my mom, he still provided me with good educational opportunities and a comfortable life. Compared to many kids who have suffered, I’ve had much more fortune…”
“It’s just…” Lu Yiyao yawned softly, finding that sharing his feelings wasn’t as painful as he’d thought, rather a kind of liberating stretch. “My dad has a bad temper, and I hold grudges, so we still don’t get along…”
Ran Lin felt a softness in his heart.
He’d fallen for someone who was like a husky, intimidating and stoic at times but always showing his belly to loved ones. Even when bullied, he’d only howl foolishly, ultimately not willing to bite.
“Still calling me foolish.” Ran Lin sighed lightly. “You’re the silly one…”
……
No response came, just even breaths against his neck and ear.
Ran Lin widened his eyes in disbelief and turned to look. Indeed, the person holding him had fallen asleep.
Ran Lin looked up at the ceiling, internally debating but ultimately not having the heart to wake Lu Yiyao.
But he was inwardly annoyed—with that kind of tolerance for alcohol, better stick to lemonade!
He had promised Wang Xi to sign the contract for <Mint Green> early the next morning at the office, and he certainly couldn’t go in the previous night’s clothes. He had planned to return home in the middle of the night after their time together.
Now, well, there was plenty of time.
Quietly accompanying Lu Yiyao, or more accurately, Lu Yiyao sleeping while he stayed awake, Ran Lin finally got up when he had to leave, gently removing Lu Yiyao’s hand from himself.
Lu Yiyao seemed to sense something, his eyebrows furrowing and his hand groping around where Ran Lin had been lying before finally grabbing the blanket and pulling it into his embrace, then continuing to sleep contentedly.
Ran Lin stood by the bed, observing his face in the dim night light, and sighed softly. “Your driver’s license was definitely bought.”
With that, he gently kissed Lu Yiyao’s forehead, tidied himself up, slipped out of the hotel, and became a swift shadow in the night.
[Owl: Congratulations on finding the 6/23 Castle Medal!]
Zheng Luozhu breathed a sigh of relief amidst the congratulations and opened the hidden compartment of his [Stationery Box]. The last empty slot now held a [Castle Medal].
At this point, all 13 slots in the hidden compartment of the [Stationery Box] had been filled.
He was delighted, having worked hard for so many days, feeling both relieved and accomplished.
But he couldn’t show it, as Fan Peiyang’s face showed no trace of joy.
“Boss,” Zheng Luozhu had decided to remind him. “We’ve collected all the badges from 1 to 13.”
“Yeah.” Fan Peiyang responded nonchalantly, clearly aware.
But his eyes remained cold, like a desolate early winter wilderness, where all that’s lively and vibrant had been suppressed under ice and snow, leaving only endless bleakness and indifference.
Zheng Luozhu fell silent, no longer saying anything else.
“How many days till the rankings are released?” Fan Peiyang suddenly asked, his voice becoming a bit heavier.
When it came to business matters, Zheng Luozhu didn’t dare stall and promptly replied with respect, “Three days.”
Fan Peiyang slightly tilted his head, looking at a wall painting as if admiring it or pondering something.
“In three days, our score will be 9/23.” Zheng Luozhu guessed what his boss was concerned about. “We’ll easily make it into the top five on the leaderboard. Although the reward will be less than first place…”
“Get ready,” Fan Peiyang interrupted indifferently. “Refresh the records the day after tomorrow and the day after that.” His gaze was still fixed on the painting, yet his voice remained calm, as if he were discussing something ordinary.
Zheng Luozhu hesitated, unsure if he had understood correctly. “You mean…”
Fan Peiyang had turned his gaze back, looking directly at Zheng Luozhu and the three people behind him. “Before the rankings are released, I want to return to the top of the leaderboard.”
His words were clear and undeniable.
Zheng Luozhu wouldn’t have disagreed. After all, they were paid for this job. “Understood.”
But while money can buy his fighting ability, it can’t corrode his soul…
Fan Peiyang: “The person collecting the papers…”
Zheng Luozhu: “Already locked on. If you find it troublesome, we can clear the area first to ensure you can submit your paper in peace.”
Yes, not a bit of his soul had been corroded!
Beijing Time.
[Owl: Congratulations on passing the 6/23 test and handing in your papers! See you tomorrow~~]
For the first time in many days, Zheng Luozhu felt genuine joy at this congratulations. They no longer needed to repeatedly advance and retreat, manipulate levels, and could now focus on moving forward.
What lies beyond 13/23? Nobody knew.
That’s exactly why it was so exciting.
Fan Peiyang made a phone call, and within five minutes, a car arrived to pick them up at the location they popped out of.
Two black Bentleys smoothly stopped in front of them, looking low-key, yet elegant.
From the second Bentley, a well-groomed, gentle-looking man wearing glasses stepped out. His hair was meticulously combed, and his suit was immaculately wrinkle-free. Without saying anything, he first handed the car keys to Zheng Luozhu, then opened the rear door of the first car for Fan Peiyang.
Fan Peiyang had gotten in. The bespectacled man didn’t return to the second car but instead took the passenger seat in the first.
As the car window rose, Zheng Luozhu heard him report to Fan Peiyang. “President Tang’s health is stable.”
Fan Peiyang nodded as the window closed completely.
But Zheng Luozhu caught a fleeting warmth in Fan Peiyang’s eyes at the mention of “President Tang”.
Zheng Luozhu and the other three got into the second Bentley, knowing well that their luggage was properly placed in the trunk.
As the lead car drove off, Zheng Luozhu started the engine and followed steadily.
The three subordinates, having restrained themselves all night, finally relaxed. One in the passenger seat, two in the back—they were slumped like three limp noodles.
“Earning money these days is too hard…”
“Who exactly is this President Tang? Always the first to be reported…”
“Zheng Ge, do you know the inside story?”
“With the night shift’s pay, don’t worry about the day shift’s business.” Zheng Luozhu glanced at the time in the car. “It’s a six-hour drive to Beijing. We’ll arrive around eleven. What do you want for lunch? My treat.”
His subordinates were usually food-focused, yet this time they didn’t bother placing their order. They were surprised when they heard what he had said.
“So we’re going back to Beijing? No wonder he said we’d start refreshing records the day after tomorrow…”
“Looks like we’re spending another night at the first level…”
“Why does every level close to Beijing require a day’s return? Does he not have any parents, wife, or kids?”
Zheng Luozhu was tired and instinctively corrected, “His parents passed away early, and he’s still single.”
“It’s all the same anyway.”
“But think about it. If I had such a big company in Beijing, I also wouldn’t trust it to others. I’d have to check on it now and then.”
“Right, otherwise where would the money come from to pay our salaries?”
“……” Zheng Luozhu still couldn’t figure out how he ended up with these three subordinates, whose talents seemed to be entirely in physical strength, with brains like overgrown weed gardens.
However, he let them interpret things their way; after all, it was an unclear matter.
Besides, whether Fan Peiyang returned to Beijing for someone or for his company didn’t concern them. As he had just said, they were paid for the night shift, handling the “Owl” related tasks. He might be Fan Peiyang’s night secretary, but Fan Peiyang’s real life was the responsibility of the daytime secretary, who had just come to pick them up.
What was that elegant, bespectacled secretary’s name again?
Oh right, Shan Yunsong.
……
“Go straight to the hospital.”
As soon as the car entered Beijing, Fan Peiyang issued a straightforward instruction. Shan Yunsong didn’t say any unnecessary words and just responded with, “Okay, President Fan.”
Fan Peiyang continued to rest with his eyes closed.
Shan Yunsong gave the driver a look, and the driver, now reassured, changed the route from returning to the company to going to the hospital.
It was approaching noon in Beijing, so the traffic wasn’t too bad. The car could move along, though not very fast.
Shan Yunsong, looking out the window, was calm inside. Even when his mind was busy, he rarely felt restless or impatient.
This was a habit formed over many years as a secretary.
Shan Yunsong had two bosses, one named Tang Lin, the other Fan Peiyang. He had been with them since they started their business. Initially, he found it odd that the one with a cold-sounding name was warm like the sun, while the one with a gentle-sounding name could freeze someone with a glance*.
*Clarity: The [Lin] (凛) in Tang Lin means cold, while the [Yang] (阳) in Peiyang refers to the sun.
This question remained unresolved to this day.
Over a decade, the company had grown from a handful of people to being listed on the A-share market. Yet, Shan Yunsong found himself missing the old days.
Back then, Tang Lin was healthy—not like now, sneaking out of the hospital to catch a midnight movie.
Back then, Fan Peiyang was diligently working, unlike now, often missing for days on end.
Shan Yunsong didn’t know who those four people were or what Fan Peiyang was doing with them out of town. He thought about it but never asked; his salary included silence.
When the car arrived at the hospital, Fan Peiyang got out and noticeably quickened his pace. Shan Yunsong followed, and they soon reached the hospital room.
In the single room, Tang Lin was reading a book. The sunshine was good, casting a soft glow on him.
Every time Shan Yunsong saw Tang Lin, even in a wheelchair, it was hard to believe he only had three years left to live.
This was the most optimistic conclusion after Fan Peiyang sought the best doctors worldwide.
Tang Lin had a brain tumor in a tricky location that couldn’t be operated on. It was pressing on his nerves daily.
Initially, Tang Lin just had regular numbness in his legs, but now he couldn’t walk.
The tumor could rupture at any time. Even with conservative treatment, considering its current growth rate, he had at most three years left—this was the verdict fate had handed to Tang Lin.
Through the glass, Fan Peiyang watched silently for a minute before entering. Shan Yunsong stayed outside.
He didn’t eavesdrop intentionally, but the hospital doors weren’t soundproof, and bits of conversation drifted out occasionally.
“The company is so busy. Why do you keep coming to the hospital? I’m still lively.”
That was Tang Lin, full of life.
“Jump and show me.”
A light retort from Fan Peiyang was enough to silence someone.
Sometimes Shan Yunsong thought Fan Peiyang wasn’t visiting the hospital to care for Tang Lin, but almost as if it were a form of revenge.
Shan Yunsong actually wanted to tell Tang Lin that the company was indeed busy, but it had nothing to do with President Fan. As for what President Fan was busy with, nobody knew.
The room fell silent for a while, likely because President Fan was peeling an apple.
Tang Lin loved apples and always meticulously peeled them, taking pride in his skill at keeping the peel unbroken.
Shan Yunsong remembered clearly how Fan Peiyang used to scoff at this, seeing it as a waste of time on trivial matters. After all, no matter how skillfully one peeled an apple, it wouldn’t profit the company.
Tang Lin, rendered speechless by this logic, grew even more fond of eating apples, especially deliberately peeling them in front of Fan Peiyang.
Fan Peiyang had no choice but to pretend he didn’t see.
Back then, if someone had told Shan Yunsong that one day President Fan would personally peel apples and even practice diligently in his office to keep the peel unbroken, he would have thought they were crazy.
Yet, nothing is impossible in this world.
“You just went last week, and you’re going again tonight?” Fan Peiyang’s slightly rising tone indicated his displeasure.
This might intimidate the company staff, but it was like a gentle breeze to Tang Lin.
“This month has many big releases. What can I do? If you eat a red apple today, does that mean you give up on the yellow apple tomorrow?”
“……”
Fan Peiyang was helpless inside the room.
Shan Yunsong outside didn’t know what to say either.
He, like President Fan, couldn’t understand Tang Lin’s obsession with midnight movies and apples. Apples were harmless enough, but midnight movies weren’t a good habit for a patient needing regular rest.
Yet Tang Lin loved them. If he wanted to see a film, he had to catch the first midnight showing, even if it meant sacrificing sleep. It had always been like this, even when the company was extremely busy, and it remained the same now.
Tang Lin: “I know my condition. Yes, going to the cinema in a wheelchair may look sad, but this is my only hobby. I’ve cut down on it, filtering out the ones I can miss. But you have to let me keep this hobby. I don’t have many days left…”
Fan Peiyang: “Go.”
Tang Lin: “You could’ve agreed earlier instead of making me plead.”
Fan Peiyang: “I’ll go with you.”
Tang Lin: “Huh?”
Fan Peiyang: “I’ll accompany you to watch.”
Tang Lin: “Is it raining red outside…”
Fan Peiyang: “I take it back.”
Tang Lin: “Don’t. We’ve known each other for so long, and this is the first time you’ve agreed to join me for a midnight showing. If you back out, we’re no longer friends!”
……
Beijing Time, Cinema.
Fan Peiyang had booked the entire theater, so in the vast screening room, it was just him and Tang Lin.
The lights were out, and the film’s opening credits had already started on the big screen.
“Hoot, hoot—”
Fan Peiyang gently withdrew his hand while resting on the wheelchair, quietly waiting for the two minutes to pass and the feeling of weightlessness to come.
Tang Lin continued to stare intently ahead; his eyes fixed on the screen. The light from the screen cast a soft, beautiful glow on his face.
……
Beijing Time, Hospital.
Shan Yunsong was dozing on a bench in the hallway when he heard footsteps and reflexively opened his eyes.
As expected, it was the boss.
“Good morning, President Fan.” Shan Yunsong immediately got up.
Fan Peiyang walked to the door of the hospital room, observing Tang Lin inside, who was intently peeling a large apple for himself. He frowned slightly. “Didn’t he sleep?”
“He slept for over two hours after coming back,” Shan Yunsong reported truthfully. “President Tang always sleeps less after watching a midnight movie.”
Fan Peiyang nodded. “Go wait for me in the car.”
Shan Yunsong immediately recognized his boss didn’t want him to eavesdrop and smartly left to find his boss’ car downstairs.
After accompanying Tang Lin to a midnight movie and then bringing him back, staying up till now was essentially like working a night shift—Shan Yunsong also urgently needed to catch up on sleep.
As Shan Yunsong went downstairs, Fan Peiyang entered the hospital room.
“Why are you here again?” Tang Lin was more surprised than yesterday. “Aren’t you supposed to go out of town today?”
Fan Peiyang sat down, took the apple from his hand, and continued peeling it as if it were his mission in this hospital room. “I have a flight this afternoon.”
“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard,” Tang Lin said sincerely. Now it was only Fan Peiyang who was holding things together in the company, and he looked even thinner than Tang Lin, who was terminally ill.
“By the way,” Fan Peiyang, still lowering his head as if mentioning it casually, said, “Next time I come back, I’ll accompany you to a midnight showing.”
“Really?” Tang Lin was both surprised and regretful. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked Xiao Shan to go with me yesterday. He had a face of utter boredom throughout the movie.”
Fan Peiyang replied indifferently, “I just thought of it.”
“This will be your first time agreeing to join me for a midnight showing.” Tang Lin planned the prospect seriously. “I have to pick a really good movie worth the ticket price. I can’t choose a bad one; it might leave you with a psychological scar…”
Fan Peiyang nodded in agreement. “Yes, make sure to choose carefully.”
……
At nine in the morning, Fan Peiyang returned to the company. After holding a brief meeting with the senior executives and listening to their reports, he closed the door of his office and sat down quietly in his chair.
Why had he never thought of accompanying Tang Lin to a midnight showing before entering the “Owl”?
Fan Peiyang thought that perhaps back then he always felt there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.
Many things, just like that, in the ‘future’, turned into regrets.
Fan Peiyang took out the movie ticket stub from last night from his pocket, opened the only drawer with a fingerprint lock, and gently placed the ticket stub inside.
The drawer wasn’t large, but the bottom was already covered with ticket stubs, all from midnight showings.
The author has something to say:
Actually, I don’t like watching midnight showings, as I always feel they disrupt my sleep schedule. So, every time I get dragged to one, I complain a lot. But writing this chapter, I suddenly feel grateful. Even though I complained, I didn’t miss out. We should cherish the friends who invite us to midnight showings~~
On the Endless Sea, the scenery varied in different places. There was sunshine illuminating the waves and gentle breezes caressing the deck, but also terrifying waves engulfing warships and continuous cannon fire shaking the heavens.
The same vast ocean carried all kinds of people, but their sailing dreams generally fell into three categories: one, to pass the night safely; two, to make money; and three, to climb the tower.
There was a little overlap between the second and third goals. Those focused solely on making money found that climbing the tower was one of the many ways to get rich; those who were intent on climbing the tower would occasionally find some money in treasure chests.
At this moment, on the Endless Sea within the Hebei region, on the route to the “South Flying Island”, two such ships met.
“A cute overview of the Endless Sea… Planning the most cost-effective route for you… How to defeat the tower guardians…” Xu Wang read down the list handed over from the neighboring ship, barely getting through three items before feeling exhausted. He sighed, handed the list back, and apologized. “Sorry, it really doesn’t have what we want.”
In the past month, they had been approached by “businesspeople” more than a dozen times. Some were lone wolves on floating spheres, and others, like the group they just encountered, were four people on a large ship.
Each time, Xu Wang and his team would receive the list with great expectations, only to be doused with the cold reality.
All the lists combined from these teams weren’t as comprehensive as the ones they had previously received from Mao Qiping.
Today’s list was even worse. It was printed fancily, with few serious items, looking more like a brochure from a small travel agency—the kind that forces you to shop once you’re there.
“Not a single useful item?” The one in charge of the liaison was disappointed. He stood behind his ship’s railing, blowing a green strand of dyed hair out of his face. “Really not going to take another look?”
“No, thanks.” Xu Wang sighed and gave the other party an apologetic look.
His three teammates, who stood behind the captain to assist, were already familiar with the routine and immediately returned to their posts—Wu Sheng at the ship’s wheel, Kuang Jinxin with the spyglass on lookout, and Qian Ai on deck watch.
Within two minutes, the sailboat was underway again.
Xu Wang left the railing and returned to the center of the deck, facing Qian Ai’s worried expression.
“Hm?” Captain Xu asked with concern.
Qian Ai looked to the sky and sighed heavily. “It’s so hard to buy anything about the fourth level!”
“It’s normal.” Xu Wang was more accepting of the situation. “We’re close to Beijing here. Most are just those who have only passed the first level and come to try their luck.”
Forget about finding the fourth level on the list; it was rare to even see content for the third level. Most were basic rules about the Owl and various aspects of the Endless Sea, and not all were accurate.
“If I had known, I would have bitten the bullet and gone to Shaanxi,” Qian Ai regretted. “Even if it means spending more on transportation, at least Mao Qiping there has some substantial information.”
“Shaanxi’s vast Endless Sea isn’t a place where you can just find Mao Qiping by going there.” Xu Wang had already thought this through. “Besides, is it just a ‘little’ transportation fee? Four people, including train fares and a month’s accommodation—calculate how much that is.”
They were currently entering the Endless Sea of Hebei Province but still lived in Beijing, only needing to carpool to the border of the two regions each night. It was essentially a daily commute, arguably the most cost-effective option.
Qian Ai hadn’t thought that far, but with Xu Wang’s analysis, he quickly dismissed the idea. “Saving money is more important. Anyway, we’ve collected so much stationery. Whatever demons or monsters come at the fourth level, bring it on!”
His words “bring it on” were swallowed by a huge wave.
Dozens of cannonballs rained down from the sky, all landing around the sailboat. The sea nearby churned violently, causing the sailboat to bob and weave dramatically!
Qian Ai was speechless. He meant for the fourth level, not this!
Despite the complaints, their days of continuous battles had honed their quick reactions. Wu Sheng immediately stabilized the boat, and at the same time, Kuang Jinxin reported the situation. “Captain, it’s the same team that was selling information just now—”
Xu Wang and Qian Ai exchanged glances. So, they switched from selling information to robbery? This was a fresh tactic.
The two ran to the stern of the boat. Without using the spyglass, they could see the familiar ship amidst the waves that they had parted ways with not long ago.
Wu Sheng stabilized the steering wheel and came out of the cabin, glancing at the attackers nearby and asked their captain directly, “Shall we fight back?”
“Wait a moment.” Xu Wang frowned. “We need to know the reason for this attack first.”
Wu Sheng shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Thirty days in the Endless Sea had convinced Wu Sheng of one belief: any problem that could be solved with intelligence and stationery wasn’t a problem.
But their captain always liked to make external connections, chatting with this one and that one, only resorting to fighting when all talks failed.
“Little Green… Handsome guy—” As the waves calmed down and the bombardment ceased, Xu Wang initiated a “social call”. “You do your business, and we go to the Flying Island. Why are you attacking us—”
Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin exchanged glances. What the captain almost blurted out just now was definitely “Little Green Hair.”
“We are also going to climb the tower,” came the reply from the other side. “Fair and high competition—”
Qian Ai was exasperated. “This is the route to the Flying Island. What use do you, a trader, have for going to the Flying Island—”
“That’s none of your concern—” The other side was indifferent, evidently determined to persist.
Xu Wang probably understood what was happening and asked straightforwardly, “If we give you money, will you stop causing trouble—”
There was silence for about ten seconds on the other side, maintaining a semblance of dignity, before a reply came. “Well, in that case, we might be open to negotiation—”
Sure enough.
Xu Wang had no further issues and immediately turned to Wu Sheng and said, “Let’s fight.”
In the past thirty days, Wu Sheng had accumulated the most weapons, so he always took the lead in battles.
But the situation changed so quickly that Wu Sheng was caught off guard. “Are we done talking?”
Qian Ai, who was about to persuade their captain not to easily spend money, was also stunned. “Are we still fighting?”
Qian Ai was confused. “Then what was the point of asking if paying them would work?”
Wu Sheng said, “He was just curious.”
Xu Wang agreed. “I was just curious.”
Both spoke simultaneously, then stopped and looked at each other.
Qian Ai covered his aching chest, feeling like a redundant person!
“Splash—”
Suddenly, a gigantic whale tail emerged from the water, striking directly at Green Hair’s group’s boat!
The decent-sized sailboat was no match for the massive whale tail and capsized, overturning on the sea surface.
All four members of Green Hair’s team were on deck, and with the boat capsized, they couldn’t even swim out.
The whale seemed satisfied and dove deep into the sea, disappearing without a trace. Soon, the overturned sailboat turned into a misty sea fog and gradually dispersed in the sea breeze—if the entire team returned home, their mode of transport would vanish as well.
The sea returned to calm. The four friends looked at each other, with Wu Sheng being the most confused. “I haven’t even used a single stationery.”
“I used it!” From below the boat, a familiar voice came.
The four friends looked over the railing down at the sea, where an inconspicuous floating sphere gently bumped against the side of the ship with the waves. Sitting inside the half-open sphere was none other than Captain Yue Shuai.
“There’s no need to thank me too much,” Yue Shuai said, straining to look up from his low position. “But if you insist on thanking me, I wouldn’t refuse too strongly…”
“Since you put it that way, how can we not thank you?” Xu Wang leaned halfway out, bowing respectfully. “Thank you.”
Yue Shuai was taken aback. “…Just a verbal thanks?!!!”
Xu Wang chuckled, about to tease some more, when suddenly he sensed something amiss. “Why are you on a floating sphere?”
“When a five-person team becomes a four-person team, someone has to leave,” Yue Shuai said with a gesture of nobility. “So the captain had to wander.”
From the sixth level onwards, teams needed five members. If they regressed to a four-person team, some would vote someone off, while others with better relationships would have one member voluntarily leave. They would reunite once both sides reached the five-person level again—this was the only useful information Xu Wang and his team had gained in the Endless Sea.
A month had passed since their last encounter at the third level. If Yue Shuai’s team had charged through the levels with full force, they might have even progressed past the sixth level. But now they were back to being a four-person team…
“Did your team fail to submit your papers again?” Xu Wang felt sympathetic for their fellow voyager.
Yue Shuai narrowed his eyes at him. “What do you mean ‘again’…”
Xu Wang hesitated, not wanting to rub salt in the wound.
His teammates, unaware of the subtleties, honestly revealed—
Kuang Jinxin: “Actually, when we first entered the Owl, we received your submission information. Back then, you submitted 3/23. The last time we met at 3/23, we didn’t say it, but we knew you had regressed…”
Qian Ai: “This time you said your team went from five to four members. It’s obvious you failed at the five-person level again…”
Wu Sheng bluntly remarked, “This is the Hebei Endless Sea… You didn’t regress all the way to the first level, did you?”
One cut draws blood, two can kill, and three will lead to hell*.
*Clarity: It’s illustrating the fact that as each of the teammates spoke, what they said became more and more severe, with what Wu Sheng was saying being the most impactful and harsh.
Yue Shuai: “Captain Xu, it was nice seeing you. Goodbye!”
“Hey, how fast can a sphere float?” Xu Wang quickly interjected. “Come up. Let’s go together.”
This sudden invitation caught Yue Shuai off guard, and he instinctively reminded them, “Just so you know, I’m also heading to the Flying Island. I’ve passed the first level and am planning to head to Shaanxi from here!”
“This is the route to the Flying Island.” Xu Wang rolled his eyes. “If you were thinking of going to Treasure Beach, we wouldn’t even consider taking you.”
Yue Shuai was even more confused. “But that makes us competitors. There are already two teams climbing the tower, leaving only one spot. How can you take me?”
Xu Wang sighed, emphasizing the lack of understanding between them. “We’re not taking you. We’re sending you. We’re not going to the Flying Island today!”
Yue Shuai stood there in the sea breeze, completely dumbfounded, feeling an unexpected warmth in his heart, as if someone had placed a warm patch on it.
Seizing the moment of Yue Shuai’s distraction, Xu Wang turned to consult his teammates. “We’ll delay our departure by a day. Is that okay?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ve been drifting for a month; one more day won’t make a difference. Besides…” Qian Ai glanced below the ship and sighed. “It’s kind of sad to see him like this. If we can help, we should.”
Kuang Jinxin readily agreed. “They kicked him out of their team; we shouldn’t kick a man when he’s down. We should offer help in his time of need!”
Wu Sheng shrugged. “I have no objections. Their team isn’t a threat to us anyway.”
Xu Wang felt a deep sense of pride in his teammates. He knew they were all good-hearted!
He looked down at Yue Shuai again. “Hurry up and come aboard—”
Yue Shuai: “……”
Suddenly, he didn’t want to board anymore. He feared that if he got on the ship, he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from beating these guys up!
Ten minutes later.
“I can tolerate failing levels 1 to 5, because every time we face different teams, the situations and luck vary. But this 6/23 level, we’ve attacked it twice and failed twice, both times brutally beaten by the same team. It’s so humiliating—”
Captain Yue Shuai not only boarded the ship but also finally found an opportunity to pour out his grievances.
Thus, the rest of the journey was spent with the four teammates, reluctantly listening to the tragic cycle of the Yue Team…
……
Seven days ago, 6/23, Castle Hotel, Beijing time, 00:03.
In an endlessly long corridor laid with dark patterned carpet, candlesticks were lit at intervals along both walls, illuminating one wooden door after another. The doors all looked the same, distinguishable only by their number plates. At a glance, they seemed like countless identical doors stretching endlessly into the distance.
In the silence, the door of room 1009 silently opened a crack, and behind it, five pairs of eyes peered out into the hallway.
Yue Shuai: “First priority?”
Ji Yiming: “Find a secret passage.”
Tao Anan: “Or a save point.”
Wei Tianhang: “Safety first at critical moments.”
Su Mingzhan: “Then I’m reassured.”
Yue Shuai: “…Don’t steal the captain’s lines.”
Ensuring safety, the five slipped out of the door, leaving their starting point to begin their challenge.
The first stop was next door, room 1008, because last time they found a secret passage there. If they hadn’t met that team later… Well, forget it. They couldn’t bear to look back at what happened afterward.
In any case, even though the content of the levels might change, being so close, it was worth trying again for any potential surprises.
Room 1008 was unlocked, but opening it revealed only darkness.
Using the light from their phones, they thoroughly searched the room but found nothing, so they reluctantly moved on to 1007—without any clues, they had no choice but to search systematically.
Room 1007 was also unlocked.
But as Yue Shuai cautiously pushed the door open, a flood of golden light poured out!
Inside, the room was decorated like a church. The painting of the Virgin Mary floated in the air, her every frown and smile seemingly alive, lovingly watching over the empty rows of pews as if waiting for people to sit and bask in the holy light.
Only a save point would emit such warm light!
Yue Shuai couldn’t believe his luck. He immediately led his teammates inside, carefully locked the door, and eagerly sat in the pews, reverently.
The Virgin Mary in the painting slowly looked up, seeming to meet their gaze…
“Knock, knock.”
There were two knocks at the door. It was sudden, but unhurried, and was gentle, carrying the politeness of a visit.
The Virgin Mary lowered her head again, and the golden light in the room gradually faded—saving required absolute silence. Any disturbance would immediately interrupt it unless it became quiet again.
The five held their breath, pretending to be air, hoping to deceive their competitors outside.
However, the person knocking seemed certain there were people inside and knocked again.
“Knock, knock.”
In the midst of holding his breath, Wei Tianhang suddenly had a realization and whispered very softly, “Could it be an NPC?”
Yue Shuai was reminded by this sentence. He sought his companions’ opinions with his eyes, and after receiving affirmative responses, he stood up, cautiously opened the door a crack.
Outside the door were five people, all dressed in black. The one who knocked on the door seemed the most amiable among them, with gentle eyes and brows. Seeing Yue Shuai, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, but he quickly smiled amiably. “This save point can only accommodate one team. Can you give us the opportunity?”
Yue Shuai also responded with a smile. “I’ll consider it.”
Then he slammed the door shut with a “bang”, turned back quickly, and shouted three words. “Five Black Party!”
His four companions’ expressions changed instantly.
Wei Tianhang: “…Fuck!”
Tao Anan: “Why is it them again?”
Ji Yiming: “I finally got back to this level with the wild team. I don’t want to back out now…”
Su Mingzhan: “Tsk, more bad than good.”
Although their moods varied, their actions were incredibly unified—they all sprung up at top speed and ran towards the door to support their captain!
In just a few seconds, all five gathered at the door. Yue Shuai forcefully pulled it open, and each of his four companions hurled a weapon into the corridor!
The five in black didn’t dodge or avoid. They just stood there calmly, and all the weapons turned into droplets of rain the moment they approached them.
The Yue Family Army was shocked. However, before they could figure out what defense the other party used, a voice of an owl rang in their ears—
[Owl: Someone has used [(Illusory) Death Choir] on you~~]
The world suddenly became quiet.
The five were immobilized. It was as if their ears were covered by a soundproof membrane, unable to hear anything. Then, a very fine ringing passed through their nerves, followed by the sound of a heavenly choir of children’s voices…
The scenery in their eyes, whether the corridor, the Five Black Party, or the candlelight, slowly faded, turning completely white.
[Owl: Dear~ I’m giving you an early holiday. Sending you home.]
The five inside the room disappeared, and the gentle man who knocked on the door was the first to enter, followed by the other four.
The last one to enter was a man with profound features. His expression was indifferent, exuding a cold aura and an inherent “keep out” oppressiveness.
He was the last to enter, but the four in front of him naturally parted to the left and right, clearing a path to the painting of the Virgin Mary.
The man in front of the painting seemed uninterested in admiring it and sat down in the center of a bench.
The gentle man and the other three followed, taking seats behind him.
Suddenly recalling something, the man turned to the gentle man who knocked and asked, “The Five Black Party… What is that?”
After thinking for a moment, the gentle man grinned. “Maybe it’s a compliment to our uniforms.”
The man frowned slightly, seemingly unsatisfied with the answer.
The gentle man became serious, no longer joking. “We encountered them at this level last time. It must have been after that encounter that they gave us this nickname.”
The man had no recollection of this but still gave instructions. “Next time we meet them, tell them your name first, then proceed with the rest.”
“Understood.” The gentle man realized that the boss didn’t like the nickname given by the other party and insisted on replacing it with his own name.
But, the Five Black Party sounded so imposing. What exactly was the boss dissatisfied with?!
No, Meng Zhang thought this description wasn’t accurate. It was more like Xiao Ding had always been living in a “single-day loop”. He would go to work, leave work, lend his car to anyone who asked on his way home, or just go straight home if no one asked. Then everything would reset the next day, and it would start over again.
Sleep was the dividing line of the loop. Once he woke up, he would forget everything about the previous day—the things he did, the people he met, the words he said.
Meng Zhang had tried using magical methods and even tried to prevent the other person from falling asleep, but it was all in vain.
This had been going on for a year now.
A year ago, Meng Zhang would become angry and irritable, even losing his temper at the oblivious Xiao Ding. But later, he accepted the reality.
So what if Xiao Ding forgot him?
It wasn’t a big deal to meet him anew every day.
Inside the Temple of Three Religions, no one noticed that the newly discovered “Hidden God” was lost in thought. While three were devoutly worshiping, another was carefully examining the statue with the focus of an archaeologist.
“Meng… Zhang?” Persistence paid off. The archaeologist finally noticed two barely noticeable characters on the sleeve of the statue and had an epiphany. “This is the Azure Dragon* God.”
Meng Zhang was jolted back to reality. At first glance, he looked at his own sleeve. Amidst the plain fabric, there indeed were the faint patterns of the characters “Meng Zhang”. He had been out of his body for two years and had never noticed this.
“The Azure Dragon God?” one of the worshippers asked curiously.
The archaeologist, reinvigorated, elaborated, “The Azure Dragon God is one of the Four Directional Lords. The Eastern Azure Dragon Meng Zhang, the Southern Vermilion Bird Ling Guang, the Western White Tiger Jian Bing, and the Northern Black Tortoise Zhi Ming. These are the legendary Four Directional Lords…”
“Hey, did you come here to take challenges or to study traditional culture?” Another worshiper, who had just finished offering incense, stood up and spoke impatiently.
As the two became involved in a heated discussion, the archaeologist hurriedly offered his incense.
Meng Zhang casually handed out two weapons to them. As they left, he remained immersed in the newly acquired information.
He knew he was Lord Meng Zhang, an immortal. That was all he knew. He never thought about his own background or origins.
The moon set, and the sun rose.
All the outsiders left, and the zombies went into hiding, returning the city to order.
Lord Meng Zhang’s spirit floated out of the Temple of Three Religion and headed to the north of the city.
At 9 a.m., in an office in the northern part of the city, where the sunlight was bright, the white-collar youth Xiao Ding was slacking off at his desk, surfing the internet, when a call suddenly drifted into his ears.
“Xiao Ding…”
He thought a colleague was calling him and immediately looked around.
But everyone was busy with their work, paying him no attention.
“Xiao Ding…”
Xiao Ding swallowed nervously, feeling a chill down his spine. He returned his gaze to the computer screen, pretending he hadn’t heard anything.
Meng Zhang enjoyed watching him like this, pretending to be brave despite being clearly scared. It was incredibly adorable.
“Alright, I won’t tease you anymore,” Meng Zhang said softly. His spirit settled on the partition of Xiao Ding’s cubicle and began to materialize in a form only Xiao Ding could see.
Xiao Ding watched in shock as a person appeared on the flimsy partition of his workstation. A full-grown person sitting there without the partition collapsing or even making a sound, as if the person had no weight at all…
Meng Zhang covered his ears, watching the gradually narrowing eyes of the other, and mentally counted, ‘One, two, three.’
“Ghost ah ah ah ah ah—”
Meng Zhang’s eyes softened. It was the familiar Xiao Ding, which was good.
As for the scream, after hearing it over three hundred times, it had been automatically translated in his mind to “God, hope all is well with you”.
“Xiao Ding! What are you yelling about?”
“Ah, this page is ruined now. Xiao Ding, I hate you—”
His colleagues were confused as they complained and grumbled.
Xiao Ding froze, his mouth agape. He glanced at his colleagues and then at Meng Zhang, his voice faltering. “They can’t see you?”
“That’s right.” Meng Zhang looked at him. “Only you are special.”
Xiao Ding blinked in confusion. “Why?”
Meng Zhang didn’t answer directly but instead took out a handwritten letter from his chest.
Xiao Ding took the letter and unfolded it. His eyes widened in shock after just a few seconds.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a letter, but a handwritten note.
But the important part was that it was all in his own handwriting!
[Note: My name is Xiao Ding. I have an immortal friend named Meng Zhang. He is a long-haired handsome man with boundless magical powers. He’s very kind to me, but I always forget him, so I especially made this note to remind myself!!!]
Apart from the handwritten note and three exclamation marks, there was also his own signature and thumbprint.
From beginning to end, the entire note radiated an intense pressure of “you must believe me”.
Overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information, Xiao Ding was completely stunned.
Meng Zhang stayed and chatted with him all day. By the time it was almost evening and time to leave work, Xiao Ding had finally fully accepted this “immortal friend”.
Meanwhile, doubts and a sense of crisis followed.
He was puzzled. “You said you only remember the past two years too. What about before that?”
Meng Zhang had also thought about this. “I don’t remember. Maybe like you, I was also looping.”
Xiao Ding found this answer sincere, even though the other party couldn’t clarify why he suddenly stopped forgetting two years ago.
But as the doubts cleared, a sense of crisis emerged. “I forget everything every day, but you remember it all. Doesn’t that put you at a huge advantage? Plus, you can say anything the next day. Even if you lie to me, I wouldn’t know.”
“I will never lie to you.” This was Meng Zhang’s answer.
When he said this, his gaze was clear and firm, as if there was a starry sky within, which made Xiao Ding’s heart beat wildly.
On the way home, Xiao Ding was driving with Meng Zhang sitting in the passenger seat, as naturally as if it were his designated spot.
“Have you heard of the Four Directional Lords?” Meng Zhang suddenly asked while waiting for the traffic light. “Or the Azure Dragon God?”
“No,” Xiao Ding replied. “What about it?”
“Some say I am the Azure Dragon God,” Meng Zhang said. “I want to know the background and origins of the Azure Dragon God.”
Xiao Ding thought for a moment and said, “You can go to the library to check.”
“The library?” Meng Zhang, who often passed by there as a spirit, had never been inside and wasn’t sure what it was for.
“The central city library.” Xiao Ding thought he didn’t know the place. “It’s just across the river in the north of the city, near the Sunshine Theatre.”
Instead of asking around, it’s better to see for himself. “Let’s go now.”
Xiao Ding: “Ah? This isn’t in my plan.”
Meng Zhang: “Do it for me.”
Xiao Ding: “It’s your business anyway…”
Meng Zhang: “Thank you.”
Xiao Ding: “I haven’t agreed yet!”
Meng Zhang: “Have you ever thought about giving yourself a name?”
Xiao Ding: “Don’t change the subject… Besides, I have a name, Xiao Ding.”
Meng Zhang: “That’s too perfunctory.”
Xiao Ding: “Do you have a better suggestion?”
Meng Zhang: “How about Ding Xiaoche?”
Xiao Ding: “…That’s even more perfunctory!!!”
Meng Zhang: “Hmm, let’s settle on that. Ding Xiaoche. I like it.”
Xiao Ding: “……”
The white car silently changed direction, heading towards the city library.
Holding the steering wheel, Driver Ding muttered complaints while silently repeating to himself, “Xiaoche, Ding Xiaoche.”
A name is a strange thing. Without it, there’s a void, but once it exists, the heart suddenly feels fulfilled.
It’s as if something that had been drifting for a long time finally landed and found peace.
Suddenly, a roadblock appeared in front of the car, and Xiao Ding braked sharply!
Meng Zhang was still thinking about the library and didn’t react immediately. By the time he saw the four people running towards them, he instinctively turned invisible, reverting to his spirit form.
The car door was opened, and without a word, the four men threw Xiao Ding into the back seat, hijacked the car, and changed course towards the Central Hospital!
The sun had just set, and the streetlights hadn’t yet come on. These outsiders acted quickly.
But Meng Zhang was displeased that his plans were disturbed.
Especially since they were very rough with Xiao Ding, pushing and shoving him around.
In the small car, crammed with five people plus a spirit, although the spirit didn’t take up space, it was midsummer, and the weather was hot and stuffy. Opening the windows brought in only hot wind and closing them made it unbearable.
“Wang Ge, turn on the air conditioning.” A man in the back seat reminded the driver for the second time.
“It’s already on, but it’s not working. What kind of piece of junk is this car—” the driver grumbled and slapped the steering wheel.
Xiao Ding frowned, about to say his air conditioning was fine, when he saw Meng Zhang slightly raise an eyebrow, looking amused.
Indeed, the god was displeased and decided to punish the reckless outsiders.
He, a small fish, could only follow along, turning into a dried fish from the heat.
A cool breeze.
Without warning, it blew across his face and neck, bringing relief.
Xiao Ding looked up to see Meng Zhang floating between the driver and passenger seat, fanning him gently.
While everyone else in the car was sweating profusely, only Xiao Ding enjoyed the cool breeze.
There was also a hint of sandalwood in the wind, which was refreshing and invigorating.
Xiao Ding gave Meng Zhang a grateful look.
The god smiled back at him with a particularly charming smile.
Xiao Ding bowed his head, no longer wanting to go home. Going home meant going to sleep, and waking up would mean forgetting everything about today.
He didn’t want to forget Meng Zhang.
When the car reached the dock, the boat had already been taken by faster people, so the group had to change their route and take the bridge. Xiao Ding then asked to get off and walk home.
Although the group was rough, they weren’t completely heartless. They asked him one more time, “Are you sure? Don’t think you’re close to home and can just walk a few steps to safety. Zombies are faster than you.”
“It’s fine.” Xiao Ding quickly glanced at Meng Zhang and proudly said, “I have a talisman for safety.”
Meng Zhang couldn’t help but reach out to pat his head, but forgot he was still in his spirit form and missed.
After safely escorting Xiao Ding home and materializing, Meng Zhang patted him again, this time messing up his hair in satisfaction.
Xiao Ding stood there, letting him do it. “Are all gods like you?”
Meng Zhang: “Like what?”
Xiao Ding: “Gentle.”
Meng Zhang paused, then firmly shook his head after a while. “No, only I am this good.”
Xiao Ding nodded. “I thought so.”
Meng Zhang withdrew his hand without a trace of guilt.
Although he hadn’t met other gods and didn’t even know where they were, he was sure that there couldn’t be any god better than himself, Meng Zhang, in this world.
“Sorry,” Xiao Ding suddenly apologized. “I didn’t accompany you to the library.”
“It’s okay.” Meng Zhang genuinely didn’t mind. “We can go tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow…” Xiao Ding looked down, disheartened, and muttered softly. “Tomorrow, I will forget you…”
Meng Zhang smiled, lifted his face, and kissed his forehead lightly, a kiss that was very light but incredibly solemn. “You just need to be happy. I’ll take care of remembering.”
The next evening, in Xiao Ding’s car.
“Ghost ah ah ah ah ah—”
Meng Zhang covered his ears, then showed the handwritten note.
Two minutes later.
“Indeed, it is my handwriting, but… you’re still very suspicious!”
Occasionally, Xiao Ding would have such multiple doubts, but Meng Zhang wasn’t a god in vain.
The mobile phone recorder was turned on, and Xiao Ding’s original voice played back—
“My name is Xiao Ding. Meng Zhang is my best friend. I lose my memory every day, so I need to record this message. Xiao Ding, listen carefully. Don’t deny Meng Zhang, don’t disrespect the god, or else you’ll be single for life!”
Listening to oneself lecturing oneself is a very bizarre experience. It was only because the person holding this evidence had an acceptable… Well, despite how much this hurts his conscience to admit… He had a very pleasing appearance, so he could somewhat believe it.
But—
This curse is too malicious! How can one curse oneself like this for a stranger!
“Fine, I believe we’re friends.” Xiao Ding reluctantly looked at the elegantly floating god before him and asked grumpily, “So what do you want to do?”
Meng Zhang leaned over from the passenger seat and fastened Xiao Ding’s seatbelt. “Go to the city library.”
The journey was very calm. Xiao Ding always felt that something should happen, like someone asking for a ride, but nothing did, and they arrived at the library without incident.
The library was already closed, and it was pitch dark inside. Meng Zhang waved his sleeve, and the door opened, the lights turned on, and the security guards all fell asleep, as if by magic.
Before them lay a sea of books.
Just as Xiao Ding was about to ask what he was looking for and eagerly join the search, he saw Meng Zhang close his eyes and mutter under his breath.
Soon, from deep within the shelves, came the sound of books being pulled out, and then a thin, yellowed booklet floated towards Meng Zhang.
Soon after, another book flew over.
Eventually, a dozen or so books, neatly lined up in mid-air, appeared before them. Most of them had titles related to “mythology”, “Taoism”, or “ancient times”.
The god nodded, ending his magical sensing. “All books about the Azure Dragon God are here.”
Xiao Ding’s slight eagerness to help a friend shattered: “…Then why did you bring me here?!”
“I wanted to read them with you.” Meng Zhang raised his hand, and the first booklet opened, quickly reaching the page with “Azure Dragon God” written on it.
“This is your background and origins, not mine!” Xiao Ding complained, but still curiously leaned in.
In the book, a mighty Azure Dragon was depicted soaring in the sky. The dense text below explained that it was one of the four celestial spirits, the Azure Dragon God, which was later anthropomorphized and given the title of Lord Meng Zhang.
“I want to know who I am.” Meng Zhang intently read every word. “And I want you to understand me better.”
Xiao Ding calmed down.
He probably understood Meng Zhang’s intention, but precisely because of this understanding, he felt a strange sympathy for this god he had only met that evening.
What’s the use of understanding if, as the handwritten note and recording said, he would forget everything tomorrow? Would Meng Zhang have to take him to the library every day?
Meng Zhang meticulously read through the dozen books from start to finish.
Most of them discussed the origins of the Azure Dragon God, and a few were about Taoist magic, explaining how to summon the Azure Dragon God for personal use to exorcize demons and dispel evil.
Almost every book contained illustrations, some of which were majestic, depicting the Azure Dragon emerging from clouds, breathing thunder and controlling the weather; but some were perfunctory, with the dragon looking more like a small snake, which made Meng Zhang secretly criticize them.
Although the books were about him, Meng Zhang felt no connection while reading. But as he absorbed the words and images into his mind and reflected on them, he felt a strong resonance and gradually felt as if he could soar into the clouds and travel through the four corners of the world.
On the way back to Xiao Ding’s home from the library, their car was hijacked again.
They had avoided it on the way there, but not on the way back. Meng Zhang was resigned to his fate.
As usual, he transformed into his spirit form and accompanied them.
Xiao Ding, as always, was thrown into the back seat, looking pitiful.
But this time, the carjackers encountered opponents halfway.
Another group of outsiders, also in a car, should have had nothing to do with each other. But both wanted the boat at the dock, so one car, acting first, threw stationery.
Stationery was the weapon used by outsiders for fighting, somewhat similar to immortal magic but more diverse, as Meng Zhang summarized.
The battle continued to the dock, where one group was literally sent flying.
But the winning group didn’t fare much better, as their car went out of control.
Seeing the car about to plunge into the river, the four outsiders immediately jumped out.
Xiao Ding couldn’t react in time, but Meng Zhang wouldn’t let him drown. A gust of wind swept him out of the car, safely onto the ground.
As the car plunged into the water, the four men hit the ground, but only Xiao Ding stood unharmed.
“Shit, did you see that? He can fly!” one of the four shouted.
“I saw.” Another got up, brushing off dirt nonchalantly. “With zombies around, is flying strange?”
“This is our third time on this level, right? Have you seen any other NPCs fly?”
“……”
A hint of curiosity quickly turned into eagerness to try something new.
Maybe it’s an Easter egg. Anyway, there’s no harm in trying.
The four men steadied themselves, their gazes all falling on Xiao Ding. “Hey, if you have anything good, better hand it over.”
Xiao Ding was confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just had a car, and you guys dumped it in the river.”
The four exchanged looks, still somewhat reluctant.
“Do we need to trigger something…?”
As someone muttered, Xiao Ding was bewildered when suddenly someone lunged at him and pushed him hard!
Xiao Ding instantly lost his balance and fell backward, right towards the raging river!
They wanted to kill him!
This realization and fear surged together, nearly suffocating Xiao Ding!
Xiao Ding’s body, which had completely fallen backward, suddenly landed on something soft. Instead of hitting the water as expected, his body slowly levitated and began to float.
Xiao Ding was confused.
The four who pushed him saw it clearly: a cloud magically appeared out of nowhere and lifted him up!
“What the hell is this magic trick…”
Among the four, three were stunned, while the fourth, sensing something, looked around warily.
Meng Zhang sighed in relief, suppressing the urge to feed those four to the fishes. First, he sent the cloud carrying Xiao Ding to a safe height, then slowly drifted towards the opposite bank, away from the four men.
However, just as the cloud reached the middle of the river, Meng Zhang heard a voice in his ear—
[Owl: Someone has used [(Illusory) Nowhere to Hide] on you~~]
Meng Zhang was startled to find his spirit form was slowly turning solid!
Outsiders could use stationery on people in this city, but he had never considered that he would be affected by stationery!
Concentrating hard, he tried to stop the transformation, but it was in vain. Eventually, he appeared in front of the four men, just like the name of the stationery—nowhere to hide.
The four men watched him slowly materialize, first shocked, then overjoyed.
“I told you there was a side quest!”
“This is the hidden boss!”
“Will we get a reward if we defeat him?”
“Definitely—”
Without hesitation, they charged at him!
Meng Zhang waved his sleeve, and the four were swept up by the wind, flying horizontally into the river!
However, they somehow used a piece of stationery and were caught by a cooling mat mid-fall, landing back on shore.
This time, the four didn’t underestimate their opponent and started a stationery war!
[Owl: Someone has used [(Illusory) Peace is Precious] on you~~]
[Owl: Someone has used [(Offense) Meteor Shower] on you~~]
[Owl: Someone has used [(Offense) A Palm that Can Conquer the Universe] on you~~]
When the first piece of stationery was used, Meng Zhang felt his immortal powers being locked away, as if iron chains were entangling all his magical abilities, preventing even a trace of magic from being released!
Then came the fiery stones and heavy palm strikes, which he couldn’t avoid and had to endure!
“Meng Zhang—” Xiao Ding, floating on the cloud in the middle of the river, became anxious. “Let me go back to help you!”
“Don’t move!” Meng Zhang shouted, clutching his chest.
He was in severe pain, his clothes burnt and torn by the fiery stones. Meng Zhang had never been so disheveled.
“Okay, I won’t move. Don’t be angry.” Xiao Ding immediately complied.
But Meng Zhang suddenly realized something was wrong. He looked up sharply at Xiao Ding, and sure enough, the cloud’s height was getting lower, almost reaching the water surface!
His magical powers were completely sealed, and the cloud, which depended on his magic, naturally couldn’t stay aloft.
Meng Zhang panicked, a feeling he had never experienced before. He almost pleaded with the four men. “Cancel the stationery. Let me save him. I swear, I won’t fight back after saving him, and you can do whatever you want with me!”
The four men were taken aback, clearly not expecting such a line.
“You’re already at our mercy, you know. We just haven’t decided whether to beat you up or kill you!”
“Don’t you think there’s something weird about him and that kid…”
“Do you have to say it? I’m really fed up with these NPC side quests. Can’t there be a normal one for once!”
“His look is kind of scary…”
“Scary my ass! We used [Peace is Precious]. If he can still fight, then that’s a bug…”
Meng Zhang calmed down and stopped talking.
From the moment he left his body, he had truly believed he was a god, thinking he could do whatever he wanted, that he was omnipotent. He looked down on the worshippers and felt pity for those living in the city.
The only one he felt special about was Xiao Ding, but now, it seemed he couldn’t even protect this one person.
Azure Dragon God?
Ha, just because someone mentioned it, he went to check it out. What did it matter if he had a background and origins? In the end, he still had to abide by the rules of this world.
Xiao Ding’s rule was to live in a loop.
And his rule?
He couldn’t break through the sky.
[Don’t eat me…]
Suddenly, Xiao Ding’s voice echoed in his heart.
Meng Zhang looked up quickly. Xiao Ding was sitting on the cloud, hugging his knees tightly, his head buried deep, trembling uncontrollably.
The cloud was half-submerged in the river, with only a three-inch gap between Xiao Ding and the water. Zombie fish were circling the cloud, biting at it, a few nearly leaping onto it!
[Don’t eat me… I don’t taste good…]
This wasn’t Xiao Ding speaking to him.
This was Xiao Ding’s heart. He was hearing Xiao Ding’s heart!
Meng Zhang’s heart clenched tightly, almost unable to breathe.
He had seen people die in the city; some simply vanished, others reappeared the next day. But whether they disappeared or reappeared, the agony of death at that moment was real.
He would never let Xiao Ding experience such pain.
No, not even a moment of pain.
A storm arose, lightning streaked across the sky, and thunder exploded in an instant!
Meng Zhang stood firm, chanting to himself. “The essence of the horned Eastern Dragon, exhaling clouds and brooding mists, shouting thunder, soaring through the eight extremes, roaming the four dark realms…”
This was the incantation from the book to summon the Azure Dragon God to descend and subdue demons.
Now, he was summoning himself.
As the storm raged and the river overflowed, Meng Zhang disappeared, and the Azure Dragon emerged!
With a sudden surge of immense immortal power, he easily broke free from his shackles. In fact, he didn’t even need to break free. The moment his immortal power exploded, the trivial stationery turned to dust.
The dragon’s eyes were majestic, its horns proud, its scales shimmering, and its claws sharp. The enormous Azure Dragon coiled, almost covering the entire riverbank in a blue shadow.
A dragon roar that shook heaven and earth!
The four people who witnessed this were dumbstruck, paralyzed with fear.
Xiao Ding, who had just sunk into the water with clouds, was also startled by the dragon’s roar. His mind was in disarray, his body numb, and everything before him seemed hazy and flashing. For a moment, he even forgot his fear of the zombie fish.
The Azure Dragon God glanced at Xiao Ding, who then rose into the air and landed safely on the opposite bank.
Withdrawing his gaze, the Azure Dragon God casually flicked its tail, sweeping all four into the river without exception.
That night, Xiao Ding rode the dragon home. If not for the heavy rain, he would have had the Azure Dragon God fly him around the city.
That night, as soon as Lord Meng Zhang entered the temple, he exhaustedly transformed back into his spirit form and returned to the statue behind the wall.
The next day, Meng Zhang’s first task upon waking was to buy a car—a mesmerizing red, luxurious, top-of-the-line model with an extremely high safety rating. It was like a blazing fire when it sped on the overpass—a red flame under the night sky.
Two significant events had occurred the previous night. First, he unlocked his true Azure Dragon form, greatly increasing his immortal power. Second, Xiao Ding’s car had fallen into the river.
For Meng Zhang, the latter was more important.
He no longer had to search for Driver Ding in the vast sea of cars, always struggling to find a black car in the dark, almost wanting to flip every vehicle on the road.
In front of an office building in the north of the city.
“My name is Xiao Ding. Meng Zhang is my best friend. I lose my memory every day, so I need to record this message. Xiao Ding, listen carefully. Don’t deny Meng Zhang, don’t disrespect the god, or else you’ll be single for life!”
After turning off the recorder, Meng Zhang leaned against his fiery red car and casually asked, “Any questions?”
“It’s working hours…” Xiao Ding looked at him, perplexed. “You called me down here just to listen to this?”
“No.” Meng Zhang stepped away from the car, standing upright. “The recording is a prerequisite. You need to acknowledge our relationship before we can proceed to the next step.”
“Fine, I acknowledge it. What do you want to do?”
“Give you a car.”
“……”
Xiao Ding circled the mesmerizing red luxury car with mixed feelings and finally asked, “Where did you get so much money?”
Meng Zhang stuffed the car keys into his hand. “Temple offerings.”
Xiao Ding looked at the car keys, then at the car, and finally at him, hesitating before blurting out, “Are you trying to pursue me?”
Meng Zhang: “……”
The question caught him off guard—even a god would struggle to respond.
Xiao Ding looked at him earnestly. “If I accept this, does it mean I agree?”
In all honesty, Meng Zhang had only intended to give a car today, without any other complicated thoughts.
“Yes.” But an opportunity presented itself, and who would be foolish enough to reject it?
Xiao Ding lowered his eyes, took a moment to gather courage, and then looked up abruptly. “I have one condition. If you agree, I’ll accept the car keys!”
Meng Zhang smiled. “Just one?”
Xiao Ding nodded vigorously. “Just one.”
Meng Zhang was genuinely curious. “What’s the condition?”
Xiao Ding cautiously asked, “Can you transform into a dragon again and take me flying?”
……
Before Xiao Ding could get an answer, he was suddenly kissed passionately.
Meng Zhang kissed him domineeringly, leaving no room for breath or escape.
When Xiao Ding almost couldn’t stand anymore, Meng Zhang finally ended the kiss, still close, forehead to forehead. “Do you… remember yesterday?”
His voice trembled slightly, as if he was overjoyed but also fearful.
Fearful of being happy for the wrong reasons, fearful of a hollow heart.
“Of course, I remember,” Xiao Ding murmured, not daring to meet his eyes, focusing on the ground. “A transformation of a god—that’s hard to forget…”
Meng Zhang’s eyes warmed. He hugged Xiao Ding tightly, as if wanting to merge him into his own body.
After a moment, Xiao Ding slowly raised his arms and embraced him.
He had a boyfriend now, and his boyfriend was the Azure Dragon God, Meng Zhang. His boyfriend was handsome, but even handsomer in dragon form.
With that aesthetic…
“Can the car be returned? Or maybe change the color?”
“It can’t be returned, but we can buy another.”
“Then never mind…”
“Don’t worry about money. From today, my temple offerings are yours, and you, are mine.”
“……”
“Oh, and you have a name now.”
“Huh?”
“You’re called Ding Xiaoche.”
The author has something to say:
Congratulations Ding Xiaoche for his awakening. The two of you can walk together in the future~~
As the sun rose, the 4S store just opened its doors. Customers poured in, almost breaking the threshold.
The security guards were armed and vigilant, not only to check the customers entering the store for any signs of infection but also to guard against zombies that might suddenly appear from the roadside.
With zombies rampant, the lifespan of vehicles drastically reduced, creating a sudden surge in car demand. Fortunately, the 4S store had ample inventory. As long as citizens could safely enter the store, they could purchase cars with confidence.
The showroom was packed, with almost every car model surrounded by eager buyers, making it hard to even sit in a car for a trial without waiting in line. Only in the northeast corner of the hall was it slightly quieter.
There, a purple Volkswagen Beetle was on display.
Beside it stood only two male customers. One was taller with a slim figure, extraordinarily handsome, and had long hair that few men would keep. It didn’t seem out of place on him but rather added to his refined demeanor. The other, slightly shorter but also young and handsome, exuded youthful vitality.
The extraordinarily handsome one gazed at the purple Beetle, mesmerized, while the younger handsome one rolled his eyes skyward.
“It’s beautiful.” Meng Zhang thought for a long time and could only come up with this.
Ding Xiaoche despaired. “Your aesthetics are too distorted.”
Meng Zhang turned to look at him.
Ding Xiaoche swallowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Meng Zhang’s lips were slightly raised in a faint smile, as gentle as a breeze and as bright as the moon. “It’s beautiful, but not as much as you.”
Ding Xiaoche: “……”
“Salesperson—” In the end, Ding Xiaoche surrendered to the sweet talk.
He wasn’t afraid of the god having no aesthetics, but rather his words.
The two paid on the spot, picked up the car, and soon drove the purple Beetle back to Ding Xiaoche’s house.
Although it was a done deal, Ding Xiaoche still complained all the way, and even after entering the house, he kept mumbling. “Enchantment Red, Mint Green, Ice Blue, Macaron Pink, Lavender Purple… the colors of the cars you’ve bought could make up a tropical fruit basket!”
Meng Zhang was changing shoes when he heard this and paused. “Tropical… fruit basket?”
“It’s a bunch of colorful tropical fruits in a basket,” Ding Xiaoche explained while gesturing, “piled up like a little mountain, brimming with enthusiasm…”
Meng Zhang was still confused. “How is tropical fruit different from the fruit in the store downstairs?”
Ding Xiaoche couldn’t describe it, so he simply started to draw. “This is a mango. It’s orange-yellow and not available in the fruit store downstairs!”
Meng Zhang looked at the drawing, which seemed more like a pebble, still unable to envision this tropical fruit.
Ding Xiaoche looked at his own work, also somewhat at a loss for words, and finally sighed. “I should have taken a picture with my phone.” He looked at Meng Zhang somewhat apologetically. “Those foreigners didn’t bring the actual thing. They were just looking at photos on their phones and chatting. I just caught a glimpse.”
Foreigners, referring to people who appear in the city at a certain time every day.
Meng Zhang and Ding Xiaoche had agreed, if they encountered anything novel or heard unfamiliar words from these foreigners, to try to remember them. It might be useful, or it might not, but in any case, they had plenty of leisure time to ponder and decipher together, adding some fun.
Although that’s what they said, they didn’t need to take every word seriously or remember everything. But clearly, Ding Xiaoche was concerned and felt apologetic for not doing his best.
His earnestness, bordering on silliness, was the most worrisome yet adorable trait of Ding Xiaoche.
Meng Zhang pulled him over and skillfully stole a kiss. Ding Xiaoche was stunned and took a while to react.
Meng Zhang thought for a moment and kissed him a second time. Ding Xiaoche’s face turned red, but as usual, he was stubborn. “Why… Why did you kiss me?”
Meng Zhang embraced him, forehead to forehead, their bodies subtly emitting a fragrance of sandalwood, bringing an involuntary sense of peace and tranquility. “Thank you for letting me choose the car.”
Ding Xiaoche muttered. “It was your money anyway…”
“Not so,” Meng Zhang corrected him. “Every penny I spend now is your money.”
Ding Xiaoche: “……”
“That day I already said, from now on—” Meng Zhang pulled them apart slightly, eyes meeting eyes, earnestly gazing into the depths of Ding Xiaoche’s eyes, declaring his sovereignty. “My incense money is yours, and you, belong to me.”
……
Lord Meng Zhang didn’t remember anything before his spirit left his body.
It was on a certain day five years ago that he suddenly broke free from the shackles of his idol, and his spirit gained freedom. That’s when he began to have memories. In the following year, although he remained within the Temple of Three Religions and never left, he pieced together an understanding of the world from the casual conversations of the “visitors”.
This is a city overrun by zombies. Zombies bite people, and those bitten may become infected or even die. The visitors’ task is to escort vaccines to the central hospital.
His duty was to bless these visitors.
As soon as someone discovered his statue and offered incense, countless weapons and objects would appear in his mind, as if they had been rooted there for centuries. He only needed to choose two of them and bestow them on the person.
This was how he spent over three hundred days in an orderly fashion. Then, Ding Xiaoche arrived.
It was a rainy night. A person, tied up like a rice dumpling, “thumped” into the Temple of Three Religions.
Four visitors kicked him into the temple and continued to beat him.
The person on the ground had no strength to fight back, but he could talk back. “I lent you my car, and you beat me. Repaying kindness with ingratitude, you’ll go to the eighteenth level of hell—”
Meng Zhang, floating in mid-air, was speechless for him. At this moment, he was shouting curses. There was no other word to describe him except stupidity.
As expected, the four became even angrier and kicked him harder. “You damn blew the horn and attracted the zombies, didn’t you? Ah? I almost died on the riverbank—”
The man who was kicked groaned in pain but refused to give in. “I told you the car was yours. I want to go home. I don’t want to go to the north of the city. Why don’t you let me go!”
Conflicts among visitors were common. Sometimes several groups would fight together, which was quite a sight. So, Meng Zhang wasn’t surprised by such scenes.
He turned around, preparing to float back behind the statue to wait to be found, when a cold snort made him stop.
“Lao Si, arguing with an NPC. Are you fed up or something?”
NPC. This was a term many visitors used when worshiping him. He didn’t understand what it meant, but knew that if everyone was called NPC, they must be of the same kind.
Meng Zhang had never seen his own kind in the Temple of Three Religions. He had only seen visitors and the zombies that followed them.
“Ah—” The kicked man suddenly let out a piercing scream.
Meng Zhang felt a sudden jolt in his heart. He turned stiffly to see one of the four, the one with the coldest eye, stabbing the kicked man’s forearm with a dagger.
The attacker was emotionless as he pulled out the dagger, shook off the blood, and sheathed it.
The kicked man was in so much pain that he could no longer scream. His face paled, and his forehead was covered in sweat.
The other three visitors were also shocked. The one who had kicked the hardest showed some pity. “Isn’t this too cruel…?”
The cold-eyed man sighed impatiently and looked at them. “How many times do I have to say it? Don’t get emotionally involved. These are just NPCs. Whether they live or die, they’ll reset to factory settings tomorrow, okay?”
After saying this, he looked at the curled-up, kicked man and asked lightly, “Now, will you take us to the north of the city?”
The kicked man clenched his teeth and remained silent.
The cold-eyed man squatted down, slowly saying, “Looks like I need to stab you again.”
The kicked man panicked. His eyes were unable to hide his terror. Meng Zhang could feel the extreme fear trembling in those eyes.
Yet he stubbornly remained silent, nearly biting through his lips.
As the cold-eyed man nonchalantly took out the dagger again, Meng Zhang suddenly became angry. His rage was so intense that before he even knew what to do, the entire Temple of Three Religions started shaking violently!
“Fuck, an earthquake?!”
The three visitors panicked, their faces changing.
But the shaking of the Temple of Three Religions didn’t stop. Instead, it intensified. Dust fell from the beams, and tiles slid off the roof outside, shattering!
“What are you waiting for? Run—”
“A hidden Easter egg…”
“Fuck the Easter egg when your life is at stake!”
The four ran away in a panic. The last one didn’t forget to grab the rope and drag the kicked man out of the door.
Meng Zhang didn’t give them a chance, timing it perfectly to close the temple doors the moment they left!
The doors closed like steel blades, cutting off the rope. The kicked man, who hadn’t been dragged out yet, fell to the ground.
Meng Zhang approached to check on him, but the man only sat there for a few seconds before realizing the ropes were loose. He suddenly sprang up and ran under the offering table, hiding expertly.
Meng Zhang was puzzled. He listened to the car noises, assuming the others had run off, so he stopped the shaking.
The temple returned to silence. Meng Zhang waved his hand, and the fallen incense burner and candles returned to their original state, erasing all traces of the chaos.
“Why are you hiding there?” Meng Zhang landed and manifested himself.
“Who’s talking?” A trembling voice came from under the table.
Meng Zhang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Come out, and you’ll see.”
“No.” The person under the table insisted. “What if there’s an aftershock? It’s safest here!”
Aftershocks?
Meng Zhang noted this new word to research later. He then took two steps forward and squatted in front of the table.
The person under the table was pale, shaking violently, his arm covered in blood.
In this state, when he made eye contact, he suddenly paused and said, “Your hair is so long.”
Meng Zhang was taken aback, not knowing what to say.
After a while, he found his voice. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
The person under the table was startled. Seemingly regaining his senses, he took a sharp inhale and howled, “It hurts—”
“It hurts like hell—”
“They are inhuman—”
“Bastards—”
Meng Zhang resisted the urge to cover his ears and gently blew on the NPC’s wounded arm.
The wound and pain disappeared, leaving only bloodstains as proof of the evildoers’ presence.
The person under the table was incredulous, first tentatively poking his arm, finding no pain. Then he hit it harder and still found no pain. He was immediately revitalized and asked in amazement, “Are you an immortal?”
Their eyes met, and the air suddenly became quiet.
Meng Zhang pondered for a long time and found only one word to answer. “…Yes.”
All his composure and godlike aura were lost in this rhythmless and unpredictable conversation.
“Was the earthquake just now also your doing?”
“……”
“It’s like the earth shaking and mountains moving.” Seeing that he didn’t quite understand, the young man in the cramped space under the table still insisted on making hand gestures and mimicking sounds. “Just now, it was like ‘bang bang’ and ‘whoosh whoosh’ and ‘ahhh’—”
Meng Zhang swallowed hard. “…Yeah.”
The young man’s expression brightened, giving him an unreservedly radiant smile. “So there really are gods in this world, and you’re so handsome too.”
For some reason, seeing him smile, Meng Zhang couldn’t help but smile as well.
“I’m Xiao Ding.” The young man put his hands together in prayer and bowed as if offering incense. “Thank you, god, for saving me.”
“I’m Meng Zhang.” Without thinking, he also gave his name.
Xiao Ding was surprised. “Gods have names too?”
Meng Zhang: “…Yeah.”
Xiao Ding frowned at him. “Why do you always just say, ‘Yeah’?”
Meng Zhang: “……”
Xiao Ding: “Now you’re not even saying ‘yeah’.”
Lord Meng Zhang had never been so passive in conversation before. He decided to take back control of the conversation. “Are you also a blessed one?”
Xiao Ding looked at him blankly for a while, then suddenly asked, “Can I come out?”
“Aren’t you worried about ‘aftershocks’?” Meng Zhang may not understand the word, but he clearly remembers the conversation.
Xiao Ding, who had been tilting his head in the low table for a long time, wrinkled his face pitifully. “I’m worried, but my neck is so sore…”
Meng Zhang pulled him out irritably. Xiao Ding cracked his neck for a while, finally feeling comfortable. “What did you ask just now?”
“Are you a Blesser?” Meng Zhang sighed and repeated, feeling tired for the first time in his immortal path.
“No.” Xiao Ding shook his head firmly, then asked, “What’s a Blesser?”
Meng Zhang: “……”
It rained all night. The god spent the whole night in conversation with Xiao Ding, finally understanding that although Xiao Ding wasn’t a visitor, he was also not a Blesser like him. If anything, Xiao Ding was a “car giver”, struggling every time he encountered visitors before eventually letting them take his car.
Meng Zhang also learned that many people in the city, like Xiao Ding, were trying hard to survive amidst the siege from the zombies.
Night was the most dangerous time in the city, with shops being smashed, stalls robbed, hordes of zombies roaming, and blood flowing like rivers. But by day, these traces all faded away—these shops would reopen, most zombies would go into hiding, and the city’s armed forces would take their posts, so life continued as usual.
“Going back to the north of the city for work?” Hearing Xiao Ding was about to leave, Meng Zhang suddenly felt reluctant. “I thought you’d rather die than go to the north of the city?”
“That’s at night. It’s fine during the day.” Xiao Ding worriedly looked at the blood on his sleeve. “I just won’t have time to change clothes. My boss is definitely going to scold me.”
Meng Zhang recalled the visitors he had seen, picked one that he found most appealing, raised his hand, and Xiao Ding was instantly dressed in clean clothes just like that visitor.
“You’re so useful!” Xiao Ding was thrilled with his new outfit, praising sincerely.
“……” Meng Zhang had given up. Xiao Ding could say whatever he wanted, and he would just smile.
The spirited young man walked to the temple gate. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he quickly turned back. “Can I come to see you again in the future?”
“Of course.” Meng Zhang hadn’t thought much before replying.
Xiao Ding grinned, satisfied.
“Hold on.” Meng Zhang suddenly remembered something he’d been thinking about all night. “What’s your full name?”
A name should have both a first and last name*.
*Clarity: His name is just Ding, with Xiao (小) being a form of an address (like Little Ding), usually used to address someone (younger or lower rank) that you’re familiar with as a sign of closeness or affection. Note that the Xiao is not his surname.
Xiao Ding looked at him blankly, not understanding. “Just Xiao Ding.”
Meng Zhang frowned. “Don’t you have a full name?”
Xiao Ding seemed puzzled by the question. He thought seriously for a moment, and then shook his head regretfully. “No, I don’t. My surname is Ding, and everyone just calls me Xiao Ding.”
Watching him leave, Meng Zhang replayed the phrase “Can I come see you again in the future?” in his mind, unexpectedly feeling a sense of anticipation.
Ten days passed quietly.
For Meng Zhang, ten days used to be like fleeting water, but this time, they felt like an eternity.
He suspected there was a discrepancy in their understanding of “future”. His “future” meant a few days, but what about Xiao Ding’s “future”?
Meng Zhang didn’t know, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
For the first time, he felt an urge to leave the Temple of Three Religions. And without hesitation, he acted on it.
Xiao Ding worked in the north of the city and returned to the south after work. Meng Zhang set out in the early morning and floated above the north of the city all day.
This was his first time seeing the apocalyptic city described by the visitors, but he was in no mood to admire the scenery. He only wanted to find Xiao Ding, and upon finding him, he wanted to ask, “Do you know the consequences of deceiving a god?”
However, in this bustling city with its myriad buildings, shops, and traffic, finding one person was like looking for a needle in a haystack, even for a god.
As night fell and chaos and screams reigned in the north of the city before it sank into a deathly silence, and as the south of the city lost its daytime bustle and people hid in safe places to survive the long night, the cars still driving in the south became conspicuous.
Meng Zhang would float down to each car he saw. His spirit was invisible and intangible, undetectable to visitors and the city’s inhabitants alike.
In the end, Meng Zhang finally saw Xiao Ding in the ninth car.
This time, the four people who borrowed the car were very polite, treating the car owner with good food and drink. When Meng Zhang’s spirit floated into the back seat, the young man was happily munching on chips.
Meng Zhang blew air at him.
Xiao Ding felt a breeze tickling his face, wiped it off with his hand, and continued munching, completely unaware of being watched by a god.
Meng Zhang held back his irritation until the car reached the dock, and the group abandoned the car to board a boat. Xiao Ding then returned to the driver’s seat, preparing to drive home. It was only then that Meng Zhang appeared in the passenger seat.
Full of dissatisfaction, and before he could complain, the sight of him made Driver Ding scream so loudly it could break through the car roof.
“Ahhh, a ghost!”
Meng Zhang collapsed with frustration and, losing his temper, flicked Xiao Ding’s forehead hard.
The scream stopped abruptly. Driver Ding held his forehead and looked at him pitifully. “Why did you flick me?”
Meng Zhang sighed internally, suddenly regretting that he should have been gentler, but his tone remained stern. “Those who break promises are abandoned by both humans and gods.”
Xiao Ding frowned, confused. “Break what promise? What promise did I break?”
“You said you would come to the Temple of Three Teachings in the future. Not coming for ten days is breaking the promise.” Meng Zhang didn’t care. For him, “future” meant a maximum of ten days!
Xiao Ding didn’t seem guilty, but more confused. “Temple… of Three Religions?”
His face showed no sign of joking, just pure bewilderment. Meng Zhang felt a chill in his heart and suddenly panicked. “Xiao Ding?”
“You know my name?” Xiao Ding raised an eyebrow, completely surprised. “Do we know each other?”
The author has something to say:
Don’t fear the awakening of a god’s consciousness, but fear when a god’s little heart is moved~~ (～￣▽￣)～
Lu Yiyao’s pride lasted only until Yao Hong left. As the door closed, his smile gradually faded into a sorrowful and aggrieved expression.
Ran Lin couldn’t possibly have agreed to that bastard Ding something, but why hadn’t he mentioned anything about this message delivery? And even later, about the audition, Ran Lin didn’t mention a word.
Thinking it over, Lu Yiyao could only come up with a pessimistic answer that he was “worried about overthinking, being suspicious, or even making a jealous scene without reason.” And for Ran Lin to have such worries only meant one thing—that he, as a boyfriend, hadn’t managed to fully earn Ran Lin’s trust and peace of mind.
This realization made Lu Yiyao gloomy.
In his first relationship, he wasn’t quite clear on how lovers should interact. His most familiar couple, Huo Yuntao and Lin Panxi, who were long-distance most of the time, hardly provided a reference. Moreover, Ran Lin was a man.
He could only try his best based on instinct, but it was evidently not enough.
If only they could be together every day, Lu Yiyao thought while showering. Even if not every day, at least not like now, where seeing each other once a month was considered fortunate. The rest of their communication had to rely on messaging apps.
Many things were better said face-to-face, and many things were better done face-to-face. Probably only celebrities experience love like a mobile nurturing game.
Continuing his inner monologue until he finished showering, Lu Yiyao didn’t feel a bit sleepy and ended up clutching the corner of his blanket, pitifully, until dawn.
Finally, as the early summer sun rose, Lu Yiyao couldn’t wait to send a WeChat message—[Are you awake?]
……
Ran Lin got up early today as it was going to be a very busy day. With the explosive viewership of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> and Fang Xian’s rapidly rising popularity, the company immediately seized the opportunity to organize a fan meeting for him. Today was the first one in Beijing, and if it went well, they planned to visit other cities. However, the fan meeting was at 7 p.m., and in the morning, he had to visit the company first, as the higher-ups wanted to personally send their condolences to him. Then in the afternoon, there was a live broadcast, previously promised to fans on Weibo, and only after all this would be the evening’s main event.
When he received Lu Yiyao’s WeChat, he was already in the company’s dressing room getting styled.
Since they started dating, Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin both changed their WeChat profile pictures to landscapes, changing them every few days like a calendar. They even renamed each other’s contact names to “Teacher from Sanya” and “Iron Fan from the Airport” to have a cover story just in case their chats were seen by others.
So, Ran Lin glanced at the stylist in the mirror, switched his phone to silent mode, and carefully replied—[Started working.]
Lu Yiyao—[So early?]
Ran Lin—[Now you know I wasn’t bragging. I’m really famous now, back-to-back schedules, super busy!]
Lu Yiyao—[Please write ‘modesty’ a hundred times.]
Ran Lin—[Modesty is for others, for you I only have swagger. There’s a saying you’ve probably never heard, “Like an old lady stepping on the accelerator, shaking things up*!” That’s me right now 🦚 🦚 🦚.]
*It’s a colloquialism used to describe a situation where someone or something suddenly becomes active or agitated, much like an old lady who accidentally steps on the gas, causing the car to lurch forward unexpectedly and everyone inside shakes or jolts. In this context, Ran Lin is basically saying he’s the old lady suddenly stepping on the gas (rising to stardom) and shaking everyone up (getting more exciting fans).
Lu Yiyao stared at his phone, grinning foolishly.
Ran Lin never hesitated to tell him that he was different from others, so everything he received from Ran Lin felt uniquely special.
Lu Yiyao—[When are you free? I want to call you.]
Ran Lin—[Not now. Maybe after I’m done with styling, if the boss hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll find a place to call you. Are you always available?]
Lu Yiyao—[In another hour and a half, I have to start working too.]
Ran Lin—[Okay, I’ll message you before that.]
Lu Yiyao—[Feels like a spy rendezvous 💦.]
Ran Lin—[No, it’s like comrades who have formed a deep bond in the revolution.]
Ran Lin—[I love you ❤️.]
Ran Lin—[“Ran Lin has withdrawn a message”]
Lu Yiyao—[…Couldn’t you have waited two seconds longer before retracting?!]
Ran Lin—[Safety.]
Lu Yiyao—[Tigger smashing a honey jar.gif]]
Ran Lin smiled, feeling like the jar of honey had shattered in his heart, sweetening everything.
On the other end of the phone, the gloominess that hadn’t subsided the entire night suddenly disappeared without Li Yiyao noticing. As the chat ended, he felt clear and bright.
He decided to take another shower, feeling refreshed, ordered hotel breakfast, and while eating a sandwich with soy milk, watched the morning news.
Less than an hour and a half later, just an hour after their chat, Ran Lin’s call came through.
Li Tong was helping him pack in the room and knew from his boss’ expression that they were about to witness some more lovey-dovey moments. He discreetly left to his own room, giving his boss some privacy.
“What’s up?” Ran Lin asked as soon as the call connected. Although Lu Yiyao had only mentioned wanting to call, Ran Lin always felt Lu Yiyao had something to say, so as soon as he found a break, he sneaked off to a secluded spot and made the call.
Lu Yiyao hesitated for a moment but decided to start with the good news. “It looks like you’re confirmed for the lead in <Mint Green>.”
Ran Lin had made many guesses and assumptions while waiting for the call but never expected this. “Really?!”
Lu Yiyao could hear the disbelief and delight in the other’s voice, his gaze softening unconsciously. “Really. Do you still doubt my sources?”
“Not at all.” The voice on the other end suppressed a laugh with a bit of smugness. “My harbinger of good news is always accurate.”
Lu Yiyao smirked and, after a while, asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about the audition?”
There was no hesitation on the other end. The reply came naturally. “I thought the chances were slim, so I planned to wait until there was definite news to tell you. Even if it didn’t work out, it would just be a disappointment. I didn’t want you to be kept in suspense with me.”
Lu Yiyao always felt Ran Lin worried too much. “It’s you who is fighting for the role, not me. Why are you always worried about me?”
After a long silence, a soft sigh came through. “I always thought the fight was on me, but the suspense was in your heart. It seems I overestimated my charm.”
Lu Yiyao suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
He felt like his heart was a bucket tied to a well rope, which, despite his contemplations on life, had only been moving up and down vertically with the rope. But a single sentence from Ran Lin stirred up a wild wind, causing the rope to sway chaotically and the bucket to clatter against the wall of the well.
“Why did you stop talking all of a sudden?” Ran Lin felt a bit embarrassed. “I was just joking. If you don’t play along, it’ll be awkward for me.”
“You haven’t overestimated your charm,” Lu Yiyao said with a deepened voice, earnestly. “I think about you every day, worrying if you’ll miss good opportunities, if you’ll be bullied, or if you’ll meet bad people.”
Ran Lin blinked, feeling a flush of warmth on his face but still teasing, “Can’t you give a buffer before switching to deep emotional mode?”
Lu Yiyao confidently retorted, “I’ve always been in this mode. There’s no switching.”
Ran Lin loved his outpour of sweet nothings. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. We live in a society ruled by law; there aren’t that many bad people around.”
Lu Yiyao’s eyes dropped, murmuring softly, “Aren’t there…”
On the other end of the phone, Ran Lin’s brows furrowed, and the joking mood faded as he pondered and then cautiously asked, “Do those trying to take advantage of me… count?”
Lu Yiyao was caught off guard, not expecting the topic to be brought up before he even started. The already clear mood immediately returned to the primeval, expansive, full of birdsong and wildlife, lush greenery. “You tell me!”
After an anxious wait, Ran Lin was comforted by such a seemingly ferocious but paper tiger-like roar. “I think they should count.”
“Of course, they count!” Lu Yiyao wished he could rush over and do this and that and then this and that in an infinite loop!
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lu Yiyao’s tone softened, carrying a tinge of sullenness. Actually, this was what he most wanted to ask.
But Ran Lin sensed something unusual in his lover’s reaction. Lu Yiyao’s tone didn’t sound like he had just found out. Wouldn’t the first reaction be to ask, “Who is that bastard?”
“You already know?” Though it was phrased as a question, the certainty was apparent.
Lu Yiyao didn’t hide it and straightforwardly affirmed, “Yeah.”
The phone fell silent for a moment, then came a sigh. “Hong Jie not becoming a gossip reporter is truly a blessing for celebrities.”
Lu Yiyao, amused, was about to agree when he heard Ran Lin continue, “Guilty by association. I was worried you’d overthink, always feeling it’s better to say less than more.”
“So it was about exchanging the lead role for your favor.” Lu Yiyao’s eyes narrowed, as if his dangerous gaze could pierce through space and incinerate that bastard to ashes.
Ran Lin frowned slightly, realizing something was off. Lu Yiyao knew all along, so why did it sound like he was just making sense of it?
“What exactly did Yao Hong tell you?” Ran Lin asked cautiously. They couldn’t see each other in person anymore, so at least over the phone, everything had to be thoroughly discussed to avoid any misunderstanding.
Lu Yiyao thought for a bit. “Just said that Ding… Kai, right, conveyed some message to you, but what he conveyed, and your response are unclear. However, it was he who recommended you for the audition, and then you indeed secured the lead role. The contract should be sent to your company in the next couple of days.”
Ran Lin leaned against the wall, feeling a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
With such a description, anyone would think the worst!
“Hello?” Lu Yiyao noticed the silence on the other end after he finished speaking. “Can you still hear me?”
“Yes…” Ran Lin swallowed hard, not daring to imagine what Lu Yiyao might have thought if he hadn’t been honest.
“Why the silence?” Lu Yiyao started to worry.
Ran Lin lowered his voice. “I was thinking… What were you feeling when you heard all this from Hong Jie…”
Lu Yiyao fell silent for a while, then admitted, “Actually quite upset. I knew you were just worried about me overthinking; hence, you didn’t say anything, but not being able to reassure you is my fault.”
Ran Lin blinked, feeling the plot twist wasn’t quite what he expected.
“Don’t you doubt me? You know I got the lead role…” As Ran Lin spoke, he felt increasingly trapped.
“It has nothing to do with the outcome,” Lu Yiyao stated plainly. “I like you, and I know what kind of person you are.”
Ran Lin felt a whirl of emotions, unable to speak.
He looked up at the ceiling as if his lover was standing right in front of him, his image so grand it could break through the roof.
After mentally slapping himself a few times, he felt a bit better and spoke again. “Listen, I’m going to tell you everything…”
For the next few minutes, Ran Lin recounted the entire incident, from the conversation at the dinner, meeting Zhang Beichen, to the end of the audition, not missing any detail.
After listening, Lu Yiyao finally understood the whole story.
Regarding that bastard Ding Kai, he reserved his judgment, but one thing he grudgingly admitted—the guy had good taste.
“Lu Yiyao,” Ran Lin suddenly said, out of the blue. “I’m sorry.”
Lu Yiyao’s heart skipped a beat, and then his breathing became erratic.
Over the phone, Ran Lin’s voice was clear and resolute. “From now on, anything related to me, I absolutely won’t let you hear from someone else.”
……
On the way to the airport, Lu Yiyao reluctantly crawled out of his honey pot and then remembered he forgot to ask for a concession, quickly adding—[A promise with a penalty clause is a real promise 😊.]
Ran Lin must have been busy, as at 12:30 p.m., when Lu Yiyao landed, he finally received a reply—
[If you hear anything related to me from someone else that I haven’t told you, I’ll lie down and let you do whatever you want.]
Lu Yiyao unconsciously swallowed, suddenly contemplating whether to have Hong Jie dig up some more news.
Meanwhile, Ran Lin put his phone back in his pocket, his mood as clear as a blue lake.
Liu Wanwan thought his good mood was due to a recent chat with the company’s executives, as they were preparing to focus on promoting him. Anyone would be happy in his place.
But there was an extra sweetness in Ran Lin’s happiness, which Liu Wanwan couldn’t fathom, feeling like just being near Ran Lin could lift her spirits.
Wang Xi also noticed something unusual and asked during lunch, “What’s got you so happy?”
Ran Lin didn’t expect his mood to be so apparent. He snapped back to reality and replied, “I have a live broadcast this afternoon. A little excited.”
Wang Xi eyed him skeptically but couldn’t figure out the reason, so she let it go.
Ran Lin reined in his thoughts, no longer daring to be too boastful. Although he trusted Lu Yiyao’s information about the lead role in <Mint Green>, the contract hadn’t reached the company yet. Moreover, the source of the information wasn’t easy to explain, so he acted as if he didn’t know anything, waiting for any movement from the company.
His thoughts then drifted back to the earlier “heart-to-heart” with the company’s executives.
It wasn’t his first time having such talks, but all the previous ones felt superficially courteous, seemingly to reassure him of the company’s high regard so he wouldn’t overthink and just focus on developing with the company. But they were mostly vague and idealistic rather than concrete.
Today was different.
He could sense their “expectation and optimism” about his future. During the talk, they even discussed near- and far-reaching plans—not vague ideas, but actual, feasible strategies the company had seriously considered. For the first time, Ran Lin truly felt “valued”.
He knew he had <Sword of Fallen Flowers> to thank.
Since the betrayal of Tang and Fang, the viewership had exploded. Although the upward momentum slowed due to some criticisms of clichés and melodrama, it still stabilized at the forefront of domestic dramas. The dedicated setting, the elegantly poetic world of martial arts, and the actors’ dedicated, even stunning performances made it the undisputed king of dramas for the June slot.
Many viewers started watching mid-series, expressing that their battered souls found healing in this drama. The aesthetic yet not vulgar, whimsical yet free-spirited world of martial arts was indeed a rare sight in recent years.
Ran Lin had never imagined that becoming famous overnight would happen to him.
When it did, along with the happiness, there was also a bit of trepidation.
It felt like it happened overnight. By the time he noticed, his Weibo followers had already surpassed 8 million.
The popularity came so quickly that it always felt unreal, as if at any moment, it could just as quickly slip away.
All Ran Lin could do was constantly pull his drifting heart back down, reminding himself constantly that the path is still to be walked on the ground, step by step, moving forward.
At 2 p.m., the live broadcast began in the Dream Without Limits conference room.
The Weibo announcement had been made well in advance, so before it even started, the live room was packed.
Wang Xi said it was just chatting with fans, answering questions—anyway, an hour would pass quickly.
When Liu Wanwan handed over the phone, all set up, Ran Lin suddenly felt like escaping.
“Hello everyone, I’m Ran Lin.” Speaking to the phone felt odd, so Ran Lin tried to smile naturally.
To his relief, as soon as he spoke, the comments exploded, scrolling at double speed, all saying—
[Ahhhhhhhhh!]
[Fang Xian!!!]
[Your voice is so nice!]
[Sending flowers, hearts, stars, everything for you ahhhh—]
The comments came too fast for Ran Lin to keep up, so he just spoke freely. “Thank you everyone for supporting <Sword of Fallen Flowers>, and for liking Fang Xian… Uh, feel free to ask anything. I’ll answer what I can…”
“What do you mean by ‘what you can answer’?” Ran Lin looked at the questions popping up, his expression playful. “It means whatever won’t get me scolded by the company or beaten up by other artists, so please be mindful of your questions… Ah, this is… thanks to ‘Burning Elf’ for the roses, thanks to ‘I Want to Send the Scriptwriter Blades’ for the yacht…”
After reading the comments, Ran Lin laughed first.
Immediately, the comments section erupted into wails. Blades were no longer enough; they were planning to gang up and beat the scriptwriter.
“Count me in. Acting that part was so distressing, thinking every day why I’m so miserable…”
Ran Lin joined in the fans’ banter. As he was speaking, he suddenly saw a question—[What’s your private relationship with Lu Yiyao?]
The comments scrolled too quickly, and in a blink, they were gone. Ran Lin pretended not to see it, picking out some innocuous questions to answer.
Unknowingly, fifty minutes passed, and the substantial questions were mostly covered. Some sensitive questions kept scrolling, including about his relationship with Lu Yiyao and other various issues. Compared to those, this question was quite normal, but he instinctively avoided it due to his guilty conscience.
But on second thought, he and Lu Yiyao had worked together, and their Weibo interactions were still ongoing. Disassociating would actually be strange.
But with so many questions, overlooking a few wouldn’t matter to anyone.
Seeing it was almost time, Ran Lin offered, “Ten minutes left. Let me sing a song for you.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Liu Wanwan came over with his phone, playing the accompaniment.
Ran Lin sang his debut song.
The young man under the sun, has your dream come true? In this cold world, have you changed?
The first time he sang this song, he always felt the lyrics were a bit pessimistic.
But gradually, he understood that it’s not about whether dreams are realized, but if you’re still the same person.
This was what the song was really about—fortunately, he still was.
……
The fan meeting was bigger than Ran Lin had anticipated, but thankfully there was a host guiding the flow. He followed through the event almost in a daze, thanks also to the fans selected for interaction on stage, who were even more excited and nervous than him. When two nervous souls met, it ended up being quite harmonious.
By the time he returned to his apartment late at night, he could still hear fans calling his name.
[Finished work?]—In WeChat, it was a message from Lu Yiyao sent an hour ago.
Ran Lin just saw it, not even bothering to change his clothes, and replied—[Just finished. Just got back. How about you?]
Lu Yiyao obviously hadn’t gone to bed yet, as a video call came through immediately.
Ran Lin hurriedly answered, and Lu Yiyao’s handsome face soon appeared on the screen.
Ran Lin liked what he saw and deeply felt the person who coined the term “licking the screen” was a genius.
“Haven’t removed your makeup yet?” Lu Yiyao, oblivious to Ran Lin’s smitten gaze, instead noticed his face.
Ran Lin yawned wearily. “I just got back and saw your message.”
Lu Yiyao felt a pang of sympathy. “Then you should rest. Why bother replying?”
“By the time I’m done resting, who knows when we’ll be able to contact each other again,” Ran Lin said with a forlorn expression. “Of course, I have to seize the moment.”
Lu Yiyao felt a bittersweet sentiment. “It feels like we are racing against time in our relationship.”
“No.” Ran Lin thought for a moment. “It’s more like an online relationship.”
Lu Yiyao felt reassured, “No worries, online relationships can also end happily. Huo Yuntao and his wife are proof.”
Ran Lin: “……”
The word “wife” sent a small, non-fatal, tingling current through Ran Lin, buzzing through him.
Lu Yiyao, intently gazing into Ran Lin’s eyes, suddenly seemed to understand something and murmured softly again, “Wife?”
The current turned into a high voltage shock. Ran Lin heard a “boom”, and then his mind went blank.
Lu Yiyao was delighted by the dazed Ran Lin on the screen and kept calling out to him a dozen times. Finally, Ran Lin was jolted back to reality.
“Why am I the wife?” Ran Lin realized how hoarse his voice sounded after speaking.
“Either is fine, whatever you prefer.” Lu Yiyao leaned closer to the screen, filling up their communication world with his face, smiling softly.
“You really aren’t fussy…” Ran Lin covered his forehead, shielding his eyes, to avoid being seen blushing with sweet embarrassment.
After enough teasing, Lu Yiyao remembered the main topic. “By the way, there’s a celebration party the day after tomorrow. Huo Yuntao and Lin Panxi will also be there. If you’re free, we can get together after the party.”
The celebration party for the explosive success of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> was inevitable for a second wave of promotion and to boost the finale. It was also the only chance in June for him and Lu Yiyao to intersect openly.
Ran Lin knew Lin Panxi was Huo Yuntao’s fiancée. According to Lu Yiyao, Huo Yuntao’s return was for marriage, but as the date approached, the woman hesitated, probably due to the long distance. They decided to get engaged first and postpone the official wedding.
A gathering of four, including female company, wouldn’t raise any suspicions even if photographed, especially after a celebration party, which is considered normal socializing. So as soon as Lu Yiyao suggested it, Ran Lin immediately agreed. “I’m very free.”
Lu Yiyao smirked. “Then it’s a plan.”
Ran Lin nodded vigorously, then said, “Move your head up a bit.”
Lu Yiyao was confused. “What?”
Ran Lin instructed, “Just tilt your head up a little.”
Lu Yiyao, not understanding why, complied.
“Good.” Ran Lin was satisfied with the angle. “Stay like that.”
Lu Yiyao stayed still, then watched as Ran Lin’s mouth approached the screen. After the kiss, Ran Lin leaned back, looking refreshed. “You didn’t hang up this time.”
Despite the childish act, Lu Yiyao nodded earnestly, wholeheartedly praising, “Yeah, you’re the best.”
……
The day of the celebration party arrived quickly.
Wang Xi arrived at Ran Lin’s apartment two hours earlier than scheduled, not waiting downstairs but coming up to knock on the door directly.
Ran Lin was puzzled by the call, so as soon as he opened the door, he asked, “Xi Jie, why are you here so early?”
Wang Xi, without bothering to remove her shoes, just stood in the foyer, looking at him, her eyes filled with faint excitement.
Ran Lin felt a chill down his spine and swallowed, asking again, “Xi Jie, what’s the matter?”
Finally, after enough buildup, Wang Xi pulled out the printed contract from her bag, revealing the answer, “<Mint Green>, it’s secured.”
“Really? That’s great.” Ran Lin took the contract naturally.
But his casual demeanor made Wang Xi feel something was off. “Why aren’t you more excited?”
Ran Lin felt a bit guilty; he couldn’t exactly say he had inside information.
Thinking quickly, he resorted to “confidence.”
“I felt pretty good about my audition that day.” Ran Lin nodded wisely. “Yeah, I had a good feeling.”
Wang Xi rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be too full of yourself; you were just lucky this time.”
Ran Lin believed that. As he told Lu Yiyao, he hadn’t held much hope during the audition. Even though Ding Kai mentioned fair competition, it was hard to imagine they’d still want to give him a fair chance after all that had happened. He initially thought it was just a formality.
Wang Xi’s excitement today was also for that reason.
Securing a significant role for an artist wouldn’t normally excite her this much, but refusing the investor’s conditions and still getting the role was rare, not only for artists she managed but also in the entertainment industry. The joy from this kind of success was a very special feeling.
“I’ve contacted Ding Kai to express our thanks, and surprisingly, it wasn’t an assistant but him personally on the phone,” Wang Xi said. “Guess what he said?”
Ran Lin couldn’t guess and just curiously awaited the revelation.
Wang Xi didn’t keep him in suspense, simply shrugging. “He said it was all the director’s decision; there was no need to thank him, and he was busy with other things. If there’s nothing else, I should get busy too.”
Ran Lin imagined several ways Ding Kai might have said this, none endearing, and half-seriously, half-jokingly asked, “Xi Jie, didn’t you feel like punching him then?”
Wang Xi thought about it seriously, then pointed at the contract in Ran Lin’s hand, tapping on the A4 paper to make a rustling noise—
“<Mint Green> saved him.”
……
On the way to the celebration party, Ran Lin secretly messaged Lu Yiyao—[Contract received.]
He didn’t need to be too explicit; he believed Lu Yiyao would understand.
But there was no reply from the other end.
It wasn’t until backstage at the celebration party that Ran Lin finally saw Lu Yiyao, who was chatting amiably with the director and the screenwriter.
There he was, sitting on a sofa, dressed in a black suit, exuding an elite aura. His fringe was swept back, revealing a handsome forehead; the hairstyle was neat and mature, enhancing his facial features’ charm, especially his eyes, brimming with ease and confidence amidst laughter and conversation. He no longer seemed like a popular young actor but rather had the taste of a superstar.
Of course, Ran Lin thought it might also be because he was viewing him through rose-colored glasses. After all, he had rarely seen this side of Lu Yiyao lately—professional, dignified, and dashing.
“Ran Lin.” Song Mang was the first to see him and immediately stood up to greet him. “Come here. We were just talking about you.”
Lu Yiyao and Chen Qizheng turned to look at him, and Ran Lin, after a moment of thought, politely said, “Director Chen, Lu Ge1.”
Cheng Qizheng nodded, noticing nothing amiss.
Lu Yiyao almost burst a blood vessel1, but luckily he caught the warning in Ran Lin’s eyes—so deep that only he could see through the facade to the essence.
1Calling someone [Ge] (哥) is reserved, usually for close relationships. This is significant considering the kind of relationship Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao have, which is why Lu Yiyao reacted like this.
But as Ran Lin sat down, Lu Yiyao belatedly savored the address.
Lu Ge…
If it weren’t for the public setting, in a place where curtains needed to be drawn, calling out like that might indeed be quite interesting…
Ran Lin always felt Lu Yiyao’s gaze wandering, and not in a very proper manner, but given the public setting, he couldn’t well execute a private punishment. He could only ignore him and turn to Song Mang, casually asking, “Screenwriter Song, you were talking about me?”
“Yes,” Song Mang confirmed. “We were just discussing crying scenes, saying yours are different from others.”
Ran Lin was curious. “How so?”
Song Mang explained, “They’re contagious. Some people cry, and neither the co-actors nor the audience feel it, but when some cry, everyone wants to cry. You’re the latter.”
It was still early, and only the four of them were in the lounge, so this kind of actor evaluation was part of a casual private conversation, not worrying about others overthinking.
But with Lu Yiyao there, praising the second male lead in front of the primary one, even if just for appearances, Ran Lin felt the need to be courteous. “Don’t say that, Screenwriter Song. If I can cry well, it’s all thanks to Lu Ge. Most of my crying scenes were because of him.”
Chen Qizheng coughed twice, then, as if to cover it up, picked up his tea and leisurely started to sip.
But Ran Lin swore he saw a smile in the director’s eyes.
Alright, he also felt that his recent flattering comment was a bit cheesy, but under normal circumstances, if he and Lu Yiyao weren’t in an abnormal relationship, hearing the screenwriter praise him, he would definitely praise the lead first to prevent any misunderstandings.
“You don’t need to be modest.” Lu Yiyao spoke up lightly, his tone clearly holding back laughter. “Just now, Director Chen, Screenwriter Song, and I have reached a consensus. For setting the mood, it must be you who cries. My crying is mainly responsible for attracting the camera.”
Ran Lin stared at him blankly. “What do you mean by attracting the camera?”
Lu Yiyao explained seriously, “It means making the scene in the camera look better.”
Ran Lin blinked, seeming to understand. “So you’re saying you look better when you cry than I do?”
Lu Yiyao spread his hands, deliberately asking, “Any doubts?”
Ran Lin looked at him, then at the director and the screenwriter, puzzled. “Why are we discussing this? Isn’t it a fact?”
Lu Yiyao was taken aback.
Song Mang laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “See? He’s devoted to you.”
Lu Yiyao knew Song Mang was teasing, but he almost wanted him to repeat it.
Most of the time, Ran Lin was watching Lu Yiyao with peripheral vision, as if missing a glance was a loss.
Neither had delved deep into what a secret relationship in the entertainment industry was like; they were just going by instinct. With a bit of trepidation, sweetness, thrill, and joy, sometimes it felt hard, but sometimes it felt incredibly happy.
As the time for the celebration party drew near and the actors started arriving, Tang Xiaoyu, Xi Ruohan… nearly all the key characters were there. The place became lively, but similarly, it was no longer convenient to chat about everything, mostly sticking to pleasantries.
Tang Xiaoyu did pull Ran Lin aside for a chat, which lasted until the staff informed them it was time for the red carpet, and they reluctantly parted.
The red carpet ceremony was an important prelude to the celebration party—the main creators and actors had to walk down the red carpet, sign their names on the signing board, and take a group photo. It wasn’t only about making an appearance but also about bringing good luck.
The love triangle between Tang Jingyu, Zhao Buyao, and Fang Xian in the drama was one of the most discussed topics. The organizers arranged for them to walk the red carpet together. Otherwise, Tang Jingyu and Zhao Buyao would pair up, and Xu Chongfei and Li’er would pair up, leaving Fang Xian alone, which would look quite pitiful.
The last time during the premiere celebration, Ran Lin walked the red carpet paired with another female actress, and during “Drifting Stories”, the five guests all walked the red carpet separately.
So this was the first time Ran Lin would share the red carpet frame with Lu Yiyao.
Ran Lin was also in a suit today, like Lu Yiyao, suitable for summer with its light, breathable linen material. Unlike Lu Yiyao’s meticulous look, he didn’t wear a tie but only buttoned one button of the suit, allowing the light-colored shirt underneath to be a focal point of color—casual yet formal.
Looking over Xi Ruohan’s head, Ran Lin tried to catch a glimpse of Lu Yiyao’s profile.
But before he could get a clear view, Lu Yiyao turned to look at him.
Their eyes met, and both saw what they needed in each other’s gaze.
Perhaps it was anticipation, courage, trust, love, or everything that makes you fearless about the future.
Xi Ruohan was accustomed to being ignored. During filming, these two only had eyes for each other. But now she still had to play the spoiler because—
“It’s time to go, gentlemen.”
As the cameras clicked incessantly, the trio elegantly stepped onto the red carpet. The lead actress walked in the middle, flanked by the handsome lead and second lead.
The red carpet wasn’t long and didn’t take much time to walk, but they tread each step firmly as if they weren’t walking on a red carpet but on the path of life itself.
At the signing board, Xi Ruohan stood in the middle, with Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao on either side. The three of them signed their names together.
Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, positioned at opposite ends of the board, managed to sign at approximately the same height and position, creating a sense of remote connection.
Ran Lin had never signed with such focus before; every stroke was deliberate.
Actually, there was no need for it. Ran Lin understood and immediately stood up, took the decanter, and began to pour wine for Ding Kai.
The richly colored red wine slowly filled the glass, emitting an enticing luster under the crystal glass, and as the wine reached the right amount, Ran Lin skillfully rotated the bottom of the bottle, drawing it back just in time to prevent any spillage from the mouth of the bottle.
Ding Kai raised his eyebrows slightly and spoke with a hint of surprise in his tone. “Have you trained especially for this?”
This was the first serious conversation Ding Kai had initiated with him since he arrived, though the content was rather trivial.
Pretending not to notice the slight mockery, Ran Lin responded with a natural smile, “It’s a personal hobby. I like to enjoy a bit of wine in my spare time.”
Ran Lin’s voice was gentle and casual, sounding very sincere.
Wang Xi thought to herself, ‘Keep making up your tall tales.’
Aside from socializing, Ran Lin never touched alcohol, but truth be told, when it came to drinking, Ran Lin did know his stuff and was quite professional.
After pouring for Wang Xi and himself, Ran Lin put down the bottle but didn’t sit.
This dinner was different from the last one Wang Xi attended. Last time, Wang Xi was riding on someone else’s coattails to get acquainted with Ding Kai. This time, Wang Xi was the host, introducing her artist to a potential investor. Therefore, the first toast was naturally Wang Xi’s to make, but Ran Lin also had to be involved.
Sure enough, once the wine was poured, Wang Xi stood up. “Mr. Ding, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to grace us with your presence. This first toast, Ran Lin and I would like to offer it to you.”
After finishing his sentence, Wang Xi raised her glass, and Ran Lin followed suit in a timely manner.
Ding Kai suddenly smiled, picked up his glass, but said, “Everyone sit down. I don’t like all these formalities at the dining table. Let’s just have dinner, enjoy the wine, and chat.”
Ding Kai’s voice was light and warm, at first sounding like he genuinely wanted a good conversation. But if you listened carefully, you could discern the underlying control in his tone. It wasn’t “you can have a good chat with others,” it was “I expect you to have a good chat.”
Perhaps Ding Kai truly disliked the formalities of dining tables. Ran Lin thought that in such a small gathering, without the need for pretenses, everyone could relax and enjoy as they pleased.
But of course, Wang Xi and he couldn’t just sit back down. Having already stood up, they had to finish the first toast.
Fortunately, Ding Kai didn’t stop them but only symbolically sipped a bit himself, a clear case of “you drink a full glass, I drink as I wish.”
Regardless, the meal started, and after a couple of bites, Ding Kai finally looked over. As their eyes met, Ran Lin quickly initiated a conversation. “President Ding, I heard you enjoy playing golf…”
“You need to update your sources,” Ding Kai interrupted him calmly. “I prefer basketball.”
Wang Xi internally flinched. Basketball? None of the information they had gathered mentioned this.
Ran Lin had only intended to lay the groundwork for the “real business” to follow, only to be countered immediately. But there was no time to discuss the accuracy of the information with Wang Xi, so he simply followed along, “What a coincidence. I also like basketball.”
Ding Kai had never seen such transparent flattery and deliberately asked, “What if I had just said I liked golf?”
Ran Lin, with all sincerity, replied, “Then I would have asked for your guidance, as I know nothing about golf.”
Ding Kai paused and then laughed.
He was sure that if he had just said he liked golf, Ran Lin would discuss golf as professionally as he poured wine. But now, since he preferred basketball, Ran Lin claimed to know nothing about golf. It was clear he was hedging his bets, yet doing so in a way that was amusing and hard to get angry at.
Ding Kai decided to revise his opinion—not only was this little star not stupid, but he was also quite clever.
In this circle, cleverness is common, but some turn cleverness into cunningness, while others make it endearing.
“Let’s not talk about sports. We all know why we’re here today,” Ding Kai said, gently swirling his wine as if admiring it. “Many people are vying for the lead role in <Mint Green>. You think you’re better than all of them. Give me a compelling reason.”
As his words faded, Ding Kai put down his wine glass and quietly looked at him.
Ran Lin suddenly realized the “pragmatic” label Wang Xi had was spot on; he had never encountered a financier who spoke so directly.
Wang Xi was also stunned; she thought Ding Kai would beat around the bush like last time. How did it suddenly become a straight punch?
However, opportunities don’t come twice. Without missing a beat, Wang Xi immediately chimed in, “Mr. Ding, the thing is, our Ran Lin…”
“Ms. Wang.” Ding Kai addressed her with a particularly polite title and a faint smile. “Let him speak. After all, he is the one who’s going to play the role.”
Wang Xi, hitting a soft spot, smiled awkwardly and fell silent.
Ding Kai then turned his gaze back to Ran Lin, composed and patient for an answer.
Ran Lin didn’t make him wait too long. “I don’t consider myself superior to all of them.”
Wang Xi frowned subtly.
Ding Kai smiled. It was hard to tell if he was joking or serious. “So you’re saying there’s no need to specifically choose you then?”
Ran Lin didn’t hesitate at all and sincerely said, “There are many excellent actors, and no role is absolutely meant for a specific actor, especially since I’m a newcomer. Even if I were to tell you, President Ding, that I’m the most suitable for this role and list reasons one, two, and three, at most, you would just smile.”
Ran Lin never considered himself foolish, but he also never thought he was so shrewd as to be invincible. He was still too green, and there were plenty of inscrutable people out there. When facing such unpredictable people, the only thing to do is to be honest and not try to outsmart them because they can see right through those little tricks.
So, what he told Ding Kai was the whole truth.
At most, he just made the truth sound a bit nicer, with a bit of flattery mixed in.
Wang Xi pursed her lips anxiously, unable to make any outward show of it. Ran Lin hadn’t said any of the things she had advised beforehand; instead, he was improvising. But if she were in his shoes, she’d probably improvise too—Ding Kai’s approach this time was completely different from the last and utterly unpredictable.
“You’re quite humble.” Ding Kai nodded, but then his tone shifted. “However, humility is a virtue elsewhere, but not in the entertainment industry. If you don’t have confidence in yourself, how can you expect investors to have confidence in you?”
Ran Lin was taken aback.
Wang Xi took a sip of her wine, her mind racing with thoughts of how to smooth things over.
Talking to someone like Ding Kai required full attention; the slightest distraction could lead you into a trap. Ran Lin had underestimated his opponent…
“I do have confidence in myself.” Ran Lin’s tone slightly rose.
Ding Kai narrowed his eyes, as if sizing him up, or perhaps mocking. “You just said that you’re a newcomer—that you’re not better than the others.”
“My confidence is in my ability to deliver my best performance and embrace the character. But I can’t and don’t have the right to deny other excellent actors. Saying no one but me could play the lead in <Mint Green> isn’t confidence; it’s ignorance.”
Ding Kai’s playful demeanor faded, and he became serious. “So, the question comes back: why should you be the one chosen?”
“It’s not that I must be chosen, but among the actors who could play this role well…” Ran Lin smirked slightly, a hint of pride in his voice. “I’m cheaper.”
“There’s nothing to be proud of being cheap…” Ding Kai was taken aback, never having seen someone so inexplicably proud of their lower value.
“It’s indeed a bit embarrassing most of the time, but at times like this, it becomes useful,” Ran Lin admitted openly, still unabashedly proud.
Ding Kai picked up his glass, took a gentle sip, and then sighed. “You’re not like Li Yi, you’re like Li Yan.”
Ran Lin shook his head without hesitation. “I’m not nearly as perceptive as Li Yan. He’s almost transcendent.”
Ding Kai’s wrist, still holding the wine glass, froze, and he looked up in surprise. “You’ve read the original novel?”
Ran Lin then realized, Li Yan, as the protagonist’s cousin, wasn’t given much attention in the original work, although the few details depicted him as an exceptionally wise and precocious young man. However, this character was omitted from the script.
In the midst of their conversation, Ran Lin hadn’t thought much about it, but now he realized it was another trap.
Ding Kai was wasting his talents in the film industry, Ran Lin thought. The man should be out there with a shovel, loosening soil, contributing to urban greenery.
Despite his internal criticism, he replied honestly, “Yes, I’ve read it. It’s quite good.”
“And how does it compare to the script?” Ding Kai asked.
Ran Lin replied, “The novel is richer in content but not as tightly paced as the script, and the script has more humor.”
Ding Kai inquired, “How many times have you read the script?”
Ran Lin: “Huh?”
Ding Kai slowed his speech and repeated more emphatically. “I asked how many times you have read the script.”
Ran Lin, still a bit dazed, spoke the truth. “I’ve been reading it continuously…”
Ding Kai stared at him motionlessly.
Ran Lin let him look, not moving a muscle.
At this point in the meal, the other party gave off a sense of oppression for the first time, and in the long and quiet stare, Ran Lin unconsciously held his breath.
Without warning, Ding Kai suddenly softly uttered his name. “Ran Lin…”
Ran Lin was almost startled, and after a few seconds, he responded, “Hm?”
Ding Kai nodded slightly, as if affirmatively. “Quite good.”
By the end of the meal, Ran Lin still couldn’t fathom the true meaning behind those two words.
The only certainty was that, on the way back, Wang Xi’s complexion wasn’t very good. Ran Lin carefully reviewed his own performance, feeling that if not one hundred percent, at least seventy percent was achieved. He avoided all the pitfalls he could and even outperformed occasionally. He couldn’t understand why the agent was dissatisfied or from what aspect she saw a bleak future.
[I’m home.]—By the time he returned to the apartment, it was already eleven at night. The first thing Ran Lin did was send a WeChat message to Lu Yiyao, who knew he had a dinner with investors that day and was also waiting for the progress.
But the response was a video call invitation.
Ran Lin hesitated for half a second before accepting, not wanting to seem too eager.
“How did it go?” Lu Yiyao appeared to be on a hotel sofa, his background a window with tightly drawn curtains, the deep color of the curtains making the bathrobe he wore seem whiter.
“Huh?” As the answer was delayed, Lu Yiyao voiced his confusion.
Ran Lin quickly pulled his thoughts back from wanting to dive into the phone and peel off the bathrobe, cleared his throat, and seriously said, “I think it went well. There should at least be hope, but Xi Jie’s expression wasn’t very good.”
“She’s probably just being cautious, afraid of being happy for nothing too early. But…” Lu Yiyao changed his tone and said, with a hint of indulgence, “I believe in you more.”
Ran Lin raised his chin, almost looking down his nose. “You should believe in me from the start.”
Lu Yiyao nodded unenthusiastically, saying, “Fine, keep jumping around while I’m not back.”
Ran Lin glanced at him sideways. “And what can you do when you’re back?”
Lu Yiyao suddenly leaned closer to the screen, whispering softly, “What do you think I can do to you?”
Ran Lin felt a shiver down his spine, almost losing grip on his phone, yet still pretended to be capable. “Then I need to think about it…”
Lu Yiyao nodded in agreement. “Hmm, try to think without limits.”
Ran Lin admitted defeat.
Holding the phone, he collapsed into bed, his face as red as a ripe tomato. “If you keep this up, I’m going to call the police…”
Lu Yiyao looked pitifully wronged. Being in a relationship where he could only look and not touch, at most only fantasizing, he was a ruffian, but a pitiful one.
“Hey, when are you coming back?” Ran Lin suddenly asked softly.
The pitiful ruffian instantly perked up. “Missing me?”
Ran Lin stared at him unblinkingly. “Very much.”
Lu Yiyao half-opened his mouth, then closed it again, swallowing back the words he had prepared, and said with a mixture of laughter and tears, “Why aren’t you teasing me anymore.”
Ran Lin smiled wryly. “Can’t always slap without soothing, right? What if you can’t take it and run away?”
Lu Yiyao’s eyes curved down. “Then you’ll have to chase after me.”
Ran Lin thought about it and very solemnly told him, “Then I’ll only chase you for three months. Not any longer.”
“Don’t worry.” Lu Yiyao confidently and shamelessly said, “I’d agree in three days.”
Ran Lin happily smiled, feeling deeply affectionate, and gave a gentle kiss towards the phone screen.
After the kiss, the video abruptly ended—Lu Yiyao’s lips were just near the red hang-up button.
Ran Lin felt maybe even the heavens were tired of their sweetness.
But then again, during the honeymoon phase, even if it turned to syrup, it could be forgiven.
……
Ding Kai’s response came a week later.
<Sword of Fallen Flowers> had already aired over ten episodes. The plot was getting better, and viewership was climbing steadily. Many viewers considered it the most authentic wuxia drama in recent years.
When Wang Xi called, Ran Lin had just finished watching the first episode of the evening and was browsing Weibo during the commercial break.
The plot had progressed to Tang Jingyu confirming that Fang Huanzhi was his family’s murderer, only to turn around and swear brotherhood with Fang Xian, starting an unskilled but increasingly firm disguise—marking the first minor climax of the story.
Online, fans were divided into three camps: those pro-Tang, those pro-Fang, and those only interested in “Fang Tang”. The “Tang supporters” believed Tang Jingyu was justified in his actions; a familial annihilation was an unforgivable offense, and not telling Fang Xian was actually considering the brotherhood and not knowing how to broach the subject; “Fang supporters” argued that Fang Xian was innocent from the beginning, not involved in the annihilation, genuinely caring about his brotherhood, ending up as a deceived sweet fool who still thought he and Tang Jingyu were best friends, a truly heart-wrenching sight; the “Fang Tang faction” didn’t care about right or wrong, only wanting to send razor blades to the scriptwriter.
In the midst of this online battle, Ran Lin’s ranking in the celebrity search heat quietly rose, most visibly with his fan count increasing rapidly every day. The volume of comments on his Weibo was so overwhelming that he couldn’t keep up with it.
Being noticed and appreciated for his work was Ran Lin’s happiest moment.
Finally, the commercial break ended. Ran Lin exited Weibo and sat upright on the sofa, ready to continue watching, but as soon as he set his phone aside, it rang.
It was Wang Xi.
It was almost nine in the evening. Ran Lin’s first thought was that there must be some last-minute change to the schedule for tomorrow, but as soon as he answered the call, Wang Xi got straight to the point. “Ding Kai wants to have dinner with you.”
It took Ran Lin half a minute to digest this.
It wasn’t unusual for financiers to invite artists through their agents, but the fact that “Ding Kai wanted to have dinner with him” was peculiar in itself.
“He… invited me?” Ran Lin couldn’t help but ask again.
There was a moment of silence on the other end before she said, “Yes, he invited you, and only you.”
“What do you mean, only me?” It was the first time Ran Lin felt his brain was insufficient.
Wang Xi sighed. “It means even I’m not needed. Just you and him, alone, for dinner.”
Ran Lin was stunned, seeming to understand something, his heart sinking slowly.
Wang Xi, certain he would understand, didn’t continue, only waiting patiently.
Ran Lin, belatedly realizing, asked, “Xi Jie, you’ve been upset since we got back from dinner that day. Is it because of this?”
Wang Xi no longer hid her feelings. “That day I just had a bad premonition, and today it was confirmed.”
Ran Lin suddenly felt angry, but he restrained himself, not lashing out. “So it doesn’t matter how good I am in the drama, or how deeply I understand the script; ‘this dinner’ is what’s important?”
“If you’re asking me, I don’t think so.” Wang Xi analyzed objectively, without any emotion. “Someone like Ding Kai, as a financier, primarily wants to make money. Only on the premise of ensuring profit will he consider extras.”
“You mean if my acting isn’t good, if my professional skills aren’t up to par, I don’t even qualify to be exploited?”
“That’s the reality. It’s not just you who can act; others with equivalent ability who are willing to go further naturally have more opportunities.”
The television had already started airing the second episode of the evening, but whatever the actors were saying, Ran Lin couldn’t hear a word.
The entire room seemed to be muted, with only Wang Xi’s voice on the phone, cold and clear.
“You’re not suggesting I agree to it, are you?”
Wang Xi was speechless. “I’m not a pimp.”
Ran Lin was flustered, just about to ask more, when Wang Xi continued, “If you are willing and can make the sacrifice, we’ll proceed accordingly. But if you’re not, I’ll decline the offer for you. Right now, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> has good reviews and viewership. There will always be more opportunities.”
Suddenly, Ran Lin wasn’t angry anymore, just left with a wry smile. “Based on your comparison, who would choose the first option?”
“Many people,” Wang Xi said without hesitation. “This isn’t just a chance at a leading role. Getting in with Ding Kai means you won’t worry about resources in the future. It’s just…”
Wang Xi hesitated, and Ran Lin curiously asked, “Just what?”
“Just that I’ve never heard of Ding Kai keeping anyone or being involved with anyone, let alone male artists. Either he’s very secretive, or… your charm is irresistible.”
Ran Lin felt a deep sense of resignation. “That kind of praise doesn’t make one happy at all…”
After finishing the call with his agent, Ran Lin zoned out for a while.
These days, as <Sword of Fallen Flowers> steadily rose in acclaim and viewership, he thought <Mint Green> was a sure thing. But just one call scattered months of effort like the wind.
It wasn’t until the second episode ended that Ran Lin finally snapped back to reality, looking at the hoverboard in the corner, feeling a bit sorry for all the times he fell.
Just then, Wang Xi’s call came through again.
Ran Lin was now somewhat fearful of Wang Xi’s calls, always feeling like countless demons and ghosts were waiting for his agent to relay their messages.
“Xi Jie?” Ran Lin called out softly.
“What’s with that tone? I’m not some midnight horror,” Wang Xi retorted, quickly getting to the point. “I’ve declined for you.”
Ran Lin was bewildered, checking the time; it was 9:30 p.m. “You could still contact them at this hour?”
Wang Xi chuckled. “Of course, shady dealings are best done at shady times.”
Ran Lin breathed a sigh of relief. Although the opportunity was gone, having it declined felt like a weight was lifted. And it was better to make such decisions early, the sooner the stance was clear, the better…
“Fair competition.” Suddenly, those words came through the phone.
Ran Lin didn’t catch it clearly. “What?”
Wang Xi decided to give the full version. “In response to your refusal, the other side expressed genuine regret. So now you’re on the same starting line as all the other candidates. It’s going to be a fair competition.”
“What does the same starting line mean?” Ran Lin suddenly realized Ding Kai, who was already hard to understand in person, became even more enigmatic through a go-between. “All the other actors have declined him too?”
Wang Xi thought if Ding Kai heard her artist’s naive comments, he might splash red wine in anger.
“As I said before, there’s no gossip about him in the industry. This time, he might really have just taken a liking to you.”
Ran Lin looked skyward, speechless, not knowing whether to critique or curse.
However, the fact that he could return to the same starting line was indeed surprising to him. “Normally, once I’ve refused, would I still have a chance for a fair competition? Shouldn’t I be suppressed out of anger to never rise again?”
“To be honest, I’m also a bit surprised,” Wang Xi said. “But if it’s Ding Kai, it seems understandable. His primary goal is always to make money. If you can give him profits, he’ll give you the opportunity. As for the extras, if it works, great; if not, he won’t insist. After all, I guess he’s not lacking people throwing themselves at him.”
Ran Lin still felt uneasy. “<Mint Green> wouldn’t be lacking just one alternative option like me, right?”
Unexpectedly, Wang Xi mentioned, “He did say that. He appreciates your acting and wants you not to feel pressured—to just perform well during the audition.”
Ran Lin was exasperated. He wasn’t feeling any pressure in the first place, thanks to whom!
“Wait, audition?” Ran Lin finally caught the keyword.
Wang Xi said, “All the candidates for the lead male role will be auditioned by the director one by one.”
Ran Lin asked, “Are you sure it’s the director who decides?”
Wang Xi confirmed, “There are five financiers for this drama, and so far, none have insisted on any particular actor. So, it’s up to the professional director to make the final call, ensuring a fair competition, and no party has objections.”
Ran Lin’s feelings suddenly became complex.
If he had agreed to Ding Kai’s “invitation”, the lead role would probably have been his. The other potential actors might not even know what happened before being deprived of a fair chance. Conversely, more often, he might be the one oblivious, suddenly deprived of opportunities.
In this industry, things are always changing rapidly, and no one knows what the next second might bring—an opportunity or a crisis. Ran Lin thought that to strive in the entertainment circle, one really needs equanimity.
……
Ran Lin didn’t expect to run into Zhang Beichen.
Their paths seemed to always cross at audition sites, last time for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> and this time for <Mint Green>.
The difference was that last time they were competing for the second and third male leads, but this time they were both vying for the lead role.
When he arrived at the audition site, Zhang Beichen had just finished his tryout. Seeing Ran Lin, he was quite surprised, pausing for a moment before saying, “Long time no see.”
Zhang Beichen was wearing a refreshing T-shirt and casual pants, looking like a university student on campus.
Ran Lin’s outfit was somewhat similar to his; the only difference being the lighter color of his pants.
Zhang Beichen noticed too, sized him up, and said with a smile, “Our tastes are quite similar.”
Ran Lin couldn’t think of what to say and awkwardly smiled. “Mm.”
Zhang Beichen frowned in confusion, sensing something off, and asked, “Are you okay? You seem off.”
Ran Lin quickly shook his head. “No, I’m just thinking about my lines.”
“It’s been so long since we’ve met, and I’m standing right in front of you. You could at least think of me a bit,” Zhang Beichen half-teased, half-complained.
Actually, Ran Lin could have been warmer to him. He could blatantly lie in front of financiers, but facing Zhang Beichen like this, he really didn’t know what to say.
Zhang Beichen tilted his head, looked at him for a while, then suddenly smiled. “I won’t disturb you anymore. Go ahead.”
Ran Lin entered the audition site somewhat awkwardly, clutching his hoverboard.
He didn’t know why he was the one feeling awkward. It was only once he was inside that he remembered he had intended to make a cool entrance on his hoverboard, but now he looked more like a Fuwa holding a carp in a New Year picture.
After watching Ran Lin go in, Zhang Beichen’s smile faded, and he turned to face Wang Xi.
Wang Xi smiled at him and then entered the site.
But Zhang Beichen was certain. At the moment their eyes met, there was no friendliness or smile in Wang Xi’s eyes, but vigilance and wariness.
Zhang Beichen’s smile completely disappeared, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
Agent Wu Xuefeng came out after him. After Zhang Beichen’s audition, Wu Xuefeng had lingered to chat with the director. Upon coming out, he saw his artist deep in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” Wu Xuefeng asked curiously.
Zhang Beichen didn’t immediately respond but said, “Let’s talk in the car.”
Sensing something was up, Wu Xuefeng didn’t say more, following his artist out until they got into the car. As the driver merged into the flow of traffic, he asked, “What’s going on?”
Zhang Beichen pondered for a few seconds, then said, “They might have found out.”
Wu Xuefeng, having seen Ran Lin and Wang Xi at the site, quickly understood but thought his artist’s reaction was somewhat amusing. “It’s been so long; what does it matter if they know? Are they going to dredge up old grievances?”
Sometimes Zhang Beichen really disliked Wu Xuefeng’s dismissive attitude, so he didn’t bother explaining further, just looked out the window with complex emotions, hard to define.
“I spoke to the director.” Wu Xuefeng still felt this matter was more important. “He said you did well.”
Zhang Beichen twitched the corners of his mouth and said lightly, “What, is he supposed to say in front of you that your artist was no good?”
“No, no, this time you really were good. I was quite engrossed when you were acting,” Wu Xuefeng complimented, then remembered something with a smile. “Mr. Qin really knows his stuff. A little guidance from him, and you’ve improved so much.”
Zhang Beichen found the comment irritating and retorted. “I’ve been devouring the script and the original work for two months. It wasn’t just a few casual suggestions that made me leap forward.”
Wu Xuefeng was taken aback by the retort, then laughed. “I was just saying; no need for the temper.”
Zhang Beichen hated this most about Wu Xuefeng—it was like punching cotton. No matter how angry you got, it didn’t land.
“But there’s something I don’t understand,” Wu Xuefeng continued, “If you had Mr. Qin vie for this audition slot for you, why not just have him secure the lead role directly?”
Zhang Beichen scoffed. “What? Do you think I’m his dad? If I want the lead role, he’ll just give it to me? Besides, he’s not a financier for this drama. Just having a fair chance to compete is good enough.”
Wu Xuefeng shrugged, making no further comment.
The relationship between Zhang Beichen and Mr. Qin had already surpassed him, so only his artist knew the extent of their association. Mr. Qin might not be a financier for this drama, but if he were willing to exert influence, the financiers would consider his opinion. However, to get Mr. Qin to put in even a little effort, his own artist would have to exert much more, and clearly, Zhang Beichen wasn’t inclined to do so.
……
Mountain Stream: [Damn, this is too cruel. Tang Jingyu is inhumane. 😭😭😭]
Heartless and Guiltless: [I’m taking Fang Xian away. Do whatever you want!! 😭😭😭]
*Refers to fans who only like one member of an idol group and hate all the other members. Nowadays, it generally refer to fanatics who only like their idol and harm other artists.
Love of Yao: [Am I the only one who feels sorry for Tang Jingyu? He didn’t know Haikong would poison them… 😭]
Shivering Official Pair Party: [Um, I feel sorry for Tang Jingyu, but I feel sorrier for Zhao Buyao… Why does the official pairing feel like a cult! 😭😭😭]
Daring to Steal Immortal Elixir from Yao Pond: [Ran Lin’s performance as Fang Xian is so good! It’s heartbreaking! From black fan to passerby fan to super fan to mom fan*!!]
*Clarity: There are many fan types among the fandom. A mom fan is someone who looks at their star as a mother. Generally these are much older ladies (aunties), thus they are considered “moms”.
Waiting for the Blossoming Flowers: [Fang Xian is really too good, too good. When he scolded Haikong saying, “You expect me to trust you over my brother?” my heart shattered into pieces… Haven’t cried watching TV in years, the scriptwriter and actors are all poisonous 💧💧💧]
In the dressing room, Lu Yiyao browsed Weibo while the stylist blow-dried his hair.
The noise of the hairdryer didn’t affect his good mood at all.
<Sword of Fallen Flowers> aired its 30th episode yesterday—the martial arts convention, Fang Huanzhi’s poisoning, Haikong’s framing, and Fang Tang’s split.
The steadily growing viewership exploded.
Online, many criticized the plot as clichéd but were still deeply moved, cursing the scriptwriter while clutching their chests, some even wiping away tears.
Many professional critics gave a similar analysis—the plot may not be particularly astonishing, but the actors’ performances and the quality of the episodes almost entirely made up for the script’s shortcomings. Moreover, the drama captured the long-lost essence of the martial arts world. The promotional phrase “Long-lost chivalrous tenderness, poetically depicted world of martial arts, deep conspiracies, all culminating in a sword amidst falling flowers” was indeed not an exaggeration.
Lu Yiyao had anticipated this response when he finished filming the drama, but now that the day had come, with the entire internet praising Ran Lin’s acting and empathizing with Fang Xian, he suddenly felt the happiness of his treasure being recognized.
An overwhelming happiness.
So happy that even when he saw comments cursing Tang Jingyu and criticizing his own acting, he wanted to reply with a “kiss kiss”.
Yao Hong watched her artist grinning while browsing Weibo and knew he must have seen more praise for Ran Lin. Ever since he successfully pursued his love interest and started a relationship, he hadn’t had a single day of coolness.
Thankfully, he still maintained his composure during appearances, whether on stage, recording shows, or attending various events. He remained as handsome as ever, eliciting screams, and continued to be professional and dedicated.
But in private, like now, Yao Hong could think of no other word than “silly” to describe him.
She understood that it was the honeymoon phase, where one’s head tends to be a bit heated, but she worried that this wasn’t just a phase and that her artist might continue to be this smitten. The thought alone made Yao Hong despair.
Her artist, done with styling, handed his phone to the assistant and cheerfully went to record.
It was already 11 p.m., and the brief rest was just for a touch-up. With the current pace, they were likely to record until the early hours. But Lu Yiyao’s spirits were as high as if he had just woken up.
“What’s up?” Seeing the assistant staring at Lu Yiyao’s now-dark phone screen, Yao Hong asked curiously.
The makeup artist had just left, and only the two of them remained in the room. Li Tong looked up, seemingly emotional. “Hong Jie, how come Lu Ge likes… you know, that person so much.”
Being cautious about eavesdroppers, he was careful with his words.
Yao Hong appreciated his vigilance but had no answer to his question.
Li Tong didn’t really expect an answer from Yao Hong. Leaning back in his chair, he sighed dramatically. “I wish I could fall in love too—”
Yao Hong gave him a look, unable to bear it.
Yet her mood didn’t lighten.
Turning on her phone, she re-entered the WeChat group, looking at the latest gossip coming out, her mind in turmoil.
……
Lu Yiyao’s recording session lasted until 2 a.m., and he almost slept the entire way back to the hotel, only to be woken up by Li Tong upon arrival.
He didn’t feel the fatigue while recording, but once he took a short nap and was woken up, all the exhaustion hit him at once, making his steps back to his room a bit unsteady.
He had planned to take a quick shower and continue sleeping, but instead of Li Tong, Yao Hong followed him into his room.
“Hong Jie?” Lu Yiyao, mustering energy, looked at his agent in confusion.
Yao Hong had been conflicted the entire way about whether to speak up or not. There was no solid proof, but concerning Lu Yiyao, even the slightest possibility warranted her not wanting him to remain unaware.
“Ran Lin is likely to play the lead male role in <Mint Green>.” Yao Hong didn’t beat around the bush and directly said, “The contract has already been drawn up, and it should be sent to Dream Without Limits in a couple of days.”
“Really?” Lu Yiyao was surprised. After a few incidents, he had come to deeply trust Yao Hong’s information network. Often, she would find out things before the parties involved did. Yao Hong was a significant force behind his “bearer of good news” persona. “If it’s confirmed, I need to tell him right away.”
Yao Hong nodded. “The investor was originally fond of him, and after the audition, the director was also very satisfied.”
Lu Yiyao felt something was off.
Yao Hong’s voice was steady and neutral, not necessarily excited because of Ran Lin’s news, but it didn’t seem like her usual calm either, more like she was holding back.
“Hong Jie, just say what you want to say. We don’t need to consider so much between us,” Lu Yiyao said earnestly.
After a long pause, Yao Hong looked up and said, “Investor Ding Kai and Ran Lin had dinner together. It was through him that Ran Lin got the chance to audition, and… he probably conveyed some messages to Ran Lin.”
Lu Yiyao frowned. “What do you mean?”
Yao Hong looked at him squarely. “What you’re thinking. Trading certain things for the lead role.”
Lu Yiyao asked, “You mean Ran Lin agreed to Ding Kai’s terms, and that’s why he got the contract?”
Yao Hong hesitated before saying, “All we can confirm is that Ding Kai conveyed some message. As for the content of the message and Ran Lin’s response, only the two of them know.” After a moment, Yao Hong added, “Or maybe Wang Xi knows too.”
Lu Yiyao’s voice was calm and steady. “So there’s no solid proof?”
“But it is true that Ding Kai, like you, also likes men,” Yao Hong said. “Although not many in the circle know, and he’s quite low-key with not much gossip, there are no secrets in this world.”
Lu Yiyao nodded. “Alright, I understand.”
Yao Hong suddenly regretted bringing it up. She didn’t want to slander anyone, but she also couldn’t stand by and watch Lu Yiyao be deceived. “Perhaps it’s not as bad as I think. There might be things I don’t know. I’m just deducing from the norm that Ding Kai conveyed a message, and Ran Lin got the lead role, which naturally leads one to connect the two. But on the other hand, if there’s really nothing between them, time will reveal the truth. I believe time reveals a person’s heart.”
“No need, Hong Jie.” Lu Yiyao looked at his agent calmly. “I knew about the dinner between Ran Lin and Ding Kai, but I didn’t know about the things you mentioned. However, I believe if Ding Kai conveyed any message, the only possible response he would have gotten is rejection.”
Yao Hong was prepared to face Lu Yiyao’s anger, as no one in love likes to hear bad things about their partner.
But Lu Yiyao wasn’t in a hurry to refute angrily. He was calm, composed, and confident. He might be puzzled by the facts, but his trust in his partner was unwavering.
For the first time, Yao Hong felt her artist had grown up and was no longer the naive young man she thought he was.
“Do you trust him that much?”
“In this world, there may be no secrets,” Lu Yiyao said with a hint of pride curving his lips. “But Ran Lin is impervious to all poisons.”
Kinky Translations 