Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 52

Lu Yiyao had never considered his fondness for Ran Lin to be anything beyond friendship.

This unwavering belief persisted until yesterday.

At the start of the wrap party, he was still agonizing over “finding a way of interaction comfortable for both.” Out of consideration for Ran Lin’s feelings, he thought he should actively avoid his gaze. However, distancing himself would likely lead to a fading relationship, which he clearly didn’t want.

Thus, whether to prioritize Ran Lin’s feelings or his own became an almost unsolvable problem.

Until Ran Lin said, “I like you.”

When Lu Yiyao first realized Ran Lin’s feelings, he worried countless times that Ran Lin would impulsively confess, because he couldn’t think of a way to respond. Once things were made explicit, even the nicest rejection is still a rejection, and friendship would truly become impossible.

Later, as both tacitly understood each other, the situation stabilized, and this “troubling what-if” slowly dissipated from Lu Yiyao’s mind.

But unexpectedly, his worst fears became reality.

After a brief moment of mental blankness, Lu Yiyao found his mind divided into two.

One part of him said, “The worst-case scenario has happened. What are you doing standing around? Think quickly about how to handle this without making things more awkward.”

The other part didn’t speak, just sat there quietly, smiling slightly. The smile was shallow but sweet, sweet enough to melt into the blood flowing to his heart and, with every heartbeat, spread to every corner of his body.

Before he could decide which voice to follow, Ran Lin unilaterally declared, “After this drink, let’s turn a page on all this mess.”

The reactions of the two parts of his mind were almost instantaneous.

The first part was throwing confetti and setting off firecrackers in celebration; the second part’s smile disappeared, bewildered.

Lu Yiyao only knew the first part of himself, never considering the existence of the second.

He had always thought Ran Lin’s confession would be a difficult situation to manage. But unexpectedly, when he heard those words, the only clarity in the brief mental shutdown was a hint of sweetness.

He liked hearing Ran Lin say those words.

This was the conclusion he came to on the way back to the hotel after replaying the events in his mind.

But at that moment, the two parts of his mind were already fighting, and the phrase “to a friendship that lasts forever” was somehow desperately pulled out amidst the chaos.

If not for Zhang Beichen’s timely WeChat message, the situation might have become even more awkward.

Because at that time, he couldn’t mediate between the two conflicting parts of himself, and to make matters worse, a third part emerged. This one didn’t join the fray but stood outside the battlefield, arms crossed and frowning, scolding, “You have time to fight each other, why not team up and ask Ran Lin what ‘turning the page on all this mess’ means? How did liking us become a mess!”

Lu Yiyao didn’t know whose advice to follow.

So, he decided not to listen to anyone but continue listening to Ran Lin.

Listening to Ran Lin talk about his debut, his family, everything.

Lu Yiyao couldn’t clearly remember what he contributed to the conversation, only feeling that not thinking about anything and just chatting was very comfortable, so much so that he wished it could go on forever.

His mind, like mashed paste, slowly cooled down on the way back to the hotel.

Perhaps also thanks to Li Tong.

To make his question sound less odd, he substituted Ran Lin with “a girl” in his hypothetical scenario.

His assistant was decidedly enthusiastic—it would be the first time a girl liked him, and he would definitely go for it!

Amused yet exasperated, Lu Yiyao whimsically applied the hypothetical to himself.

What if Ran Lin were a girl? How would the problem change?

Instantly, all the problems seemed to dissolve.

He admired this girl, enjoyed her company, and if she happened to like him back, he would become Li Tong #2, joyfully reaching out to embrace her.

Li Tong asked, “Lu Ge, do you actually want to avoid her or not?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t need to think to answer that question.

If he wanted to avoid, he wouldn’t have been so conflicted for so many days; if he wanted to avoid, he wouldn’t have felt so lost and reluctant when Ran Lin said it was time to turn the page.

At that moment, he realized his feelings for Ran Lin were more than just friendship. It was the kind of liking that could potentially evolve into love.

He had misunderstood the premise from the beginning, which was why everything became so complicated.

But misunderstanding this premise was inevitable.

Lu Yiyao had never thought it possible for him to fall for another man.

This self-awareness of his sexual orientation was as firm as his self-awareness of his gender.

But when his assistant assumed the person troubling him was a female celebrity, and when he himself stepped out of the “friendship” perspective, everything made sense.

The same rejection had no impact on his life when it came from Xi Ruohan but rejecting Ran Lin had consumed years’ worth of mental energy over a few months.

The same turning of the page from Xi Ruohan was a relief, whereas from Ran Lin, it left him feeling empty and lost.

That WeChat message was the final test Lu Yiyao set for himself.

Ran Lin cooperated, not replying until the next morning.

Even if Lu Yiyao was slow to notice, he could feel the changes in himself before and after receiving the message. If a person’s ordinary message can cause such fluctuations in your mood, then continuing to consider it “just friends” is truly self-deception.

He didn’t know if he was gay.

But he had definitely fallen for Ran Lin—after Ran Lin had completely turned the page.

Lu Yiyao had never encountered such a vexing script in his life and suspected even this was written by Song Mang.

“Lu Ge, I think caution is good, but you should know that good girls don’t wait around, and sometimes being too cautious can make you miss good opportunities.”

Li Tong, helping his boss pack, observed, sensing the boss, who had seemed to have a sudden clarity upon opening the door, was fading, replaced by a beautiful man once again wrapped in worries.

It’s like, after a long wait, finally catching a big fish. For the first few minutes, you’re so happy you want to sing, but then you realize that you neither know how to cook nor how to keep it, so you can’t eat it or keep it alive. Reluctant to release it back into the water, you just stand awkwardly in the wind, holding the fish, filled with sorrow and trouble.

Upon hearing this, Lu Yiyao gave him a deep look and sighed. “You don’t understand.”

“…” Li Tong couldn’t take it anymore and decided to speak his mind. “Lu Ge, no offense, but based on the questions you asked me last night and your behavior now, I really think I understand… No, I’m sure I understand more than you.”

Lu Yiyao was amused by his assistant’s earnest righteousness and ended up laughing, then shook his head, explaining, “I fully trust your expertise in matters of the heart. If I really do pursue someone, you’ll be the first one I consult.”

Li Tong was stunned and puzzled. “Does that mean you haven’t decided whether to pursue her or not? I thought you were sure you liked her. Why not go after her?”

Lu Yiyao lowered his head, continuing to pack his luggage. “Because I don’t know how long this liking will last. What if it’s just a temporary illusion caused by working closely together during filming? That’s not uncommon. What if I chase her and then realize it’s not right and I don’t feel the same way anymore? Breaking up then would be irresponsible.”

Li Tong opened his mouth in surprise and, after a while, said, “So it’s that female actor from the group…”

Lu Yiyao’s folding paused for half a second, mentally crumpling up that talkative part of himself and throwing it into Niagara Falls!

Li Tong didn’t expect any response from his boss. With such high security, even accidentally revealing something was like a blessing from the gossip gods for his curious heart.

Lu Yiyao’s method of folding clothes was a bit complicated, but indeed, as he methodically folded them, they ended up neatly arranged and easily stored in the luggage.

Li Tong always thought it could be filmed and put online as a storage video tutorial.

The suitcase indeed became tidy and orderly. If it were up to him to create such a systematically packed suitcase with such laborious work, he’d rather keep the suitcase messy.

Li Tong thought, this was their difference—Lu Yiyao lived too earnestly.

Being too earnest leads to hardship.

Who cares if it’s just acting or a temporary delusion? Instead of overthinking, why not just date and see?

But he couldn’t say that, and his boss wouldn’t do that either. If he did, he wouldn’t be Lu Yiyao anymore.

Being earnest is difficult, so those who stick to it are precious.

“Li Tong…” After folding the last piece of clothing, Lu Yiyao slowly looked up and unexpectedly asked, “Why are you called Li Tong¹?”

Li Tong swallowed and truthfully explained, “My parents were classmates, so…”

Lu Yiyao asked, “Then why not call you Li Xue¹?”

Li Tong scratched his head, realizing he had never asked his parents about this and ventured a guess. “Maybe they both didn’t like studying¹…”

¹Clarity: [Tong] (同) means same, while Xue [学] means study.

Lu Yiyao suddenly realized his question was incredibly nonsensical.

The shock of potentially being gay was more intense than he had anticipated and had a delayed impact. Once the sweetness of the realization “I like Ran Lin” passed, the upheaval of his sexual orientation became clearer, even making him slightly paranoid.

Accepting he might be gay was harder than accepting his feelings for Ran Lin.

But if he wasn’t gay, just as he told Li Tong, he wasn’t confident that his “liking” would last long.

Ding-dong.

Just as Li Tong was about to remind him, Lu Yiyao quickly grabbed his phone and lit up the screen.

Li Tong was nearly startled and couldn’t help asking curiously, “Is it that person?”

Lu Yiyao knew he meant the “actress”, so he played along. “It’s Ran Lin. He’s already left and just let me know.”

Li Tong didn’t think anything of it, pulling out his phone to check for new messages and then grumbled, “Not cool, leaving without saying anything.”

Lu Yiyao was puzzled. “Are you talking about Ran Lin?”

“No.” Li Tong quickly clarified, “I mean Liu Wanwan.”

Lu Yiyao asked, “Who’s that?”

Li Tong explained, “Ran Ge’s assistant, the girl with really fair skin.”

Lu Yiyao recalled her, but asked, “What’s her name?”

Li Tong replied, “Liu Wanwan¹, like the crescent moon¹.”

Lu Yiyao: “……¹“

¹[Wan] (弯) means bend. Her name derives from crescent moon (月牙弯弯). The joke here is, Lu Yiyao just discovered he is bent (gay), which elicits this response.

Li Tong asked, “Lu Ge, what’s wrong?”

Lu Yiyao replied, “Nothing, just a bit nostalgic for the past.”

When everything was straightforward, the world seemed simple. But with a shake, suddenly everything seems ambiguous.

Lu Yiyao thought, the perspective from which you view the world is indeed crucial…

……

Lu Yiyao went home for his twenty-eighth visit—to Xicheng, the home of his mother and sister.

It wasn’t the maid who opened the door, but his sister.

“Brother—”

Her delighted call hadn’t even finished before she had already thrown herself into Lu Yiyao’s arms.

Lu Yimeng, at 171cm, usually wore high heels and carried an imposing presence, preferring trousers and bold red lips, looking even more like a female CEO than their mother.

But only in front of her brother did she instantly turn into a cutesy girl.

Lu Yiyao, resigned to having his sister cling to him like a koala, walked into the living room, asking, “Where’s Mom?”

“You really timed your return.”

Before Lu Yimeng could answer, Fan Li had already come downstairs, looking snidely at her son.

Seeing their mother, the first to react was actually Lu Yimeng, who immediately hopped off Lu Yiyao and sat obediently on the couch, distancing herself from the impending “mother-son reunion”.

Lu Yiyao always thought “wearing loungewear with the flair of a business suit” was his mother’s unique skill. For instance, now, the comfortable material and light color of her attire didn’t hide her imposing aura, forcing Lu Yiyao to comply by saying, “Happy New Year President Fan.”

Fan Li’s expression fell, the aloof demeanor breaking as she commanded irritably, “Come here.”

Lu Yiyao dared not delay, hurrying up the stairs to stand before his mother for inspection.

Fan Li scrutinized him for a while, frowning unhappily. “Why have you lost weight? Aren’t they feeding you properly on set?”

“I’m eating well. It’s just that the role required me to be thin,” Lu Yiyao quickly explained. Otherwise, the confirmed narrative of “hardship on set” would make his mother nag until the end of the year.

Fan Li was half-convinced, but seeing her son still looked vibrant, she reluctantly accepted his explanation.

Lu Yimeng pretended to watch TV but kept glancing over. The thinness was just the appetizer; her mother’s real concerns hadn’t even been addressed yet. So, for safety, she decided it was best to remain invisible.

Lu Yiyao entered the home at 7 p.m., and within half an hour, the family of three was sitting down for dinner, which was why his mother commented on his timely return.

However, after secretly inquiring with the maid, Lu Yiyao relaxed, knowing his mother had only returned home twenty minutes before him. Choosing to return in the evening was right, given Ms. Fan Li’s level of busyness rivaled his own as an A-list actor.

“Eat more.” Fan Li served her son a shrimp, her tone gentle and caring. However, her expression remained cold, leading to a mismatch between her tone and facial expression.

Lu Yiyao, puzzled, glanced at Lu Yimeng.

His sister refused to meet his gaze and focused on eating.

Lu Yiyao got the hint.

He leisurely peeled the shrimp, and just as he finished peeling one without eating it, Fan Li’s patience ran out—

“Da Chu told me everything.”

Without thinking, Lu Yiyao knew it had to be about this; otherwise, there wouldn’t be any other reason for him to upset his mother during his months in Hengdian.

Putting down the shrimp, Lu Yiyao sighed helplessly. “I knew I couldn’t trust Da Chu.”

Before Fan Li could speak, Lu Yimeng couldn’t help but interject, “Brother, you’re so naive, thinking Da Chu could keep a secret for you…”

The rest of her words were swallowed under her mother’s stern gaze.

Lu Yimeng shrank back, remaining silent.

Fan Li was satisfied and continued to look at her son, saying indifferently, “Tell me, why did you feel the need to hide it?”

“It’s all resolved,” Lu Yiyao said. “I didn’t want to upset you with it again.”

Fan Li raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You’re afraid I’d get involved, aren’t you?”

Lu Yiyao put on a flattering smile that said, “Mom, you’re so clever.”

Lu Yimeng rolled her eyes at him—Bootlicker.

Lu Yiyao glanced back—It’s called survival skills.

Indeed, in front of her son’s smile, Fan Li’s expression remained tight, but her eyes slowly softened.

Lu Yiyao knew his mom didn’t really want to do anything to Zhang Beichen; otherwise, she wouldn’t have waited months to ask him about it—the disloyal Da Chu must have reported everything as soon as it happened.

What bothered his mom was that her son was bullied and didn’t retaliate. But while she might be displeased, she still respected his decisions.

This was where his mother differed most from his father.

In fact, if it had been his father, he might not have intervened directly, but even without intervening, he would have given a thorough lecture to feel content.

“Brother.” Sensing the tension easing, Lu Yimeng’s curiosity resurfaced. “Is that Zhang Beichen the one you filmed the variety show with?”

Lu Yiyao was a bit surprised. “You remember quite clearly.”

“Of course,” Lu Yimeng said with some displeasure. “I don’t miss any of your shows. I’m your number one fan!”

A smile touched Lu Yiyao’s eyes.

Lu Yimeng, however, was indignant on behalf of her brother. “You’ve been on a variety show together; even if not friends, you’re acquaintances. He shouldn’t be the one to backstab you.”

“In your brother’s circle, no one but themselves is off-limits.” Fan Li huffed lightly.

Lu Yiyao frowned. “Mom…”

“Alright, alright, I’m biased,” Fan Li admitted quickly. She and her son always agreed to disagree. “But through this incident, you should understand that while you mustn’t harbor ill will towards others, you also can’t be naive. Just because you are sincere with others doesn’t mean they will reciprocate.”

“I understand.” Lu Yiyao felt overestimated. “But I haven’t been sincerely sincere with everyone, nor do I expect heartfelt sincerity in return. I just do my job and earn my rightful income.”

Fan Li lifted her eyelids. “Then your input-output ratio is too low.”

Lu Yiyao 囧: “Being a star has a low input-output ratio?”

“Of course.” Fan Li didn’t hesitate. “If you were in business, who would have the time to insult you online? Do you think your investment is only in labor? Being a celebrity requires fulfilling the fantasies of the audience; the hidden costs are immeasurable.”

“Mom,” Lu Yiyao said somewhat moved, “you sound exactly like my agent.”

“Hmm.” Lu Yimeng nodded. “An agent who’s eager for you to quit the industry.”

Fan Li glared at the two heartless kids and decided to stop talking. Otherwise, she’d be too aggravated to finish her meal.

Just when Lu Yiyao thought the dinner might pass peacefully, towards the end, his mother suddenly said, “I don’t care about anything else, but you absolutely cannot find a girlfriend in the entertainment industry. That’s my bottom line.”

Lu Yiyao felt an internal twist.

It was a long-standing attitude from his mother, one Lu Yiyao was accustomed to. Usually, he would just nod along; after all, without a specific person in mind, there was no point in arguing about hypotheticals.

But today, he felt an urge to argue.

“The entertainment industry isn’t as chaotic as you think. I’m also part of it. Am I chaotic?”

Fan Li’s eyes flashed with insight, but she didn’t speak immediately, just steadily observing her son.

Lu Yimeng aligned with her mother on this issue. “Brother, you’re the exception, okay? There aren’t many as naïve as you—not just in the entertainment industry but the whole world.”

Lu Yiyao looked at her complexly, unsure whether to be annoyed by her exaggeration or comforted by her perpetual support for her big brother.

“Do you… have a girlfriend?” Fan Li suddenly asked, her tone neutral, emotion hard to gauge.

Lu Yiyao gathered himself and innocently looked up at his mother, trying to keep his expression and voice unblemished. “I work 360 days a year. I’d like to date, but where would I find the time?”

Fan Li scrutinized her son’s expression for a moment, finding it 70% believable but 30% suspicious.

Lu Yimeng didn’t doubt at all. “Mom, don’t be so suspicious. With Brother’s peculiar standards, I’d be surprised if I met my sister-in-law before I turned 30.”

Fan Li remained silent.

Lu Yiyao reassuringly patted Lu Yimeng’s head. “Those who know me best are my own sister.”

Lu Yimeng felt something was off, and after Lu Yiyao withdrew his hand, she suddenly widened her eyes, “Brother, did you even wash your hands after peeling the shrimp?!”

Lu Yiyao burst into laughter.

Lu Yimeng lamented her freshly washed hair.

Fan Li watched her “loving” children with a sense of satisfaction but insisted on her bottom line. “Regardless, someone from the entertainment industry is out of the question.”

Lu Yiyao didn’t mind, but Lu Yimeng was annoyed. “Mom, not every relationship leads to marriage. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Fan Li really didn’t understand how she gave birth to two such oblivious children. “Others might not marry who they date, but if your brother dates someone, he’s certain to marry them.”

Lu Yimeng: “…That’s actually a good point. I’m speechless.”

Lu Yiyao held his forehead, suddenly missing the East City residence with its gloomy and oppressive atmosphere. At least it was… quiet.

Lu Yiyao stayed in West City for a day and two nights and left early on New Year’s Eve to return to East City.

When he arrived home, his father Lu Guoming hadn’t returned yet; only Auntie Zhou was there. Lu Yiyao ended up helping her in the kitchen.

Auntie Zhou initially refused, but relented. The two of them chatted and worked together, creating a warm atmosphere.

It was almost 8 p.m. when Lu Guoming finally came home. His greeting to his son was neither warm nor cold.

The dinner was dry, and after staying up until midnight to wish his father a happy new year, Lu Guoming nodded and retired to his room.

Lu Yiyao sighed, resigned. Every year was the same; despite having little to talk about, father and son would stay up to welcome the new year. Only then would New Year’s Eve feel complete.

But looking at the empty house, he wanted to stay longer, at least to bring some life to the place.

Back in his room, Lu Yiyao hesitated whether to send Ran Lin a new year’s message, but while he hesitated, he received one—[Happy New Year.]

Lu Yiyao didn’t know if it was a mass message or individual, but he manually typed a reply—[Happy New Year.]

There was no further reply from the other side.

Lu Yiyao stared at the phone screen, unable to find anything beyond a cordial new year’s wish in the exchange.

Ran Lin had truly turned the page.

As Li Tong said, good girls don’t wait around; hesitation can lead to missed opportunities.

Lu Yiyao could now clearly feel the door of opportunity slowly closing.

He needed time to think clearly, but Ran Lin was under no obligation to wait for him.

Jumping out of bed, Lu Yiyao found Huo Yuntao’s contact and called him.

It took a while to connect, but the voice that answered was lively. “Hello, Lao Lu, how come you’ve decided to give me a midnight new year call? That’s rare.”

It sounded noisy on Huo Yuntao’s side, like he was surrounded by many people. Lu Yiyao realized Huo Yuntao always went home for the new year. But it was only for two or three days, and he was always busy being the distinguished “Young Master Huo”, so Lu Yiyao preferred to visit him in England rather than encroach on his precious family time during the new year.

“Are you at home?” Lu Yiyao still wanted to confirm.

“Of course.” Huo Yuntao seemed to have moved to a quieter room. “If my great-grandmother doesn’t see me, she’d fly to England herself, believe it or not.”

Lu Yiyao believed.

The Huo family was large and had a tradition of longevity. Conservatively estimated, at least thirty family members would gather for the new year, and Huo Yuntao was undoubtedly the jewel of the family.

“Getting sidetracked,” Huo Yuntao cleared his throat, becoming serious. “Happy New Year, Lao Lu.”

“Yeah, Happy New Year.” Lu Yiyao was genuinely grateful to have such a friend. “Lao Huo, I might be gay.”

“……”

“……”

“Is this really the news you want me to process in the first hour of the new year!!!”

……

When Huo Yuntao snuck out to the garage, he bumped right into his cousin, who had just finished setting off fireworks with the kids.

The cousin, an honest and kind man, asked, “Where are you off to?”

Huo Yuntao gestured for silence, whispering, “A friend’s in trouble. I have to go check on him.”

Huo Yuntao’s expression was so sincere that his cousin immediately showed concern. “What happened? Can I help?”

Huo Yuntao shook his head gravely. “It’s an accident, a sudden one. No one can help him. I’m just going to offer some emotional support.”

The cousin, holding his child’s hand, full of righteous kindness, asked, “Lu Yiyao?”

Huo Yuntao, caught off guard, stepped back. “How did you know…”

The cousin adjusted his glasses naturally. “You only have that one friend in China, don’t you?”

Huo Yuntao swallowed, feeling a bittersweet resignation.

Driving his sports car along the deserted second ring, he began to reflect on whether his life was a failure.

While Huo Yuntao slipped out, Lu Yiyao also stealthily drove off.

On New Year’s Eve, not many places were open, so the two arranged to meet at Lu Yiyao’s apartment.

When Huo Yuntao arrived, Lu Yiyao was already waiting. The room was warm, the lighting cozy, and even the lemon soda was ready.

After a long time apart, the two needed no pleasantries. As soon as Huo Yuntao entered, he urged, while changing his shoes, “Hurry up and get to the point. I want to hear all the details. Everything.”

While his words still sparkled with curiosity, Huo Yuntao’s demeanor was devoid of his usual playfulness and as serious as he could be, rivaling Lu Guoming.

Lu Yiyao understood; when it comes to sexual orientation, nothing is trivial. Everything can be joked about, but not this.

Half an hour later.

Lu Yiyao’s soda was half-finished, and Huo Yuntao’s was already empty; one might think the latter was the one recounting the story.

“So that’s it. I’m sure I like him now, so I suspect I’m gay.”

Huo Yuntao, who had hurriedly donned a cashmere sweater in his haste to leave, was now sweating in Lu Yiyao’s warm apartment.

“Find me a T-shirt first.” Huo Yuntao felt he might overheat. No, perhaps he already had.

Lu Yiyao rolled his eyes, waiting for a while only to hear “I need to change,” which was definitely something only a close friend would say.

Their sizes were similar, so Lu Yiyao found a new T-shirt he hadn’t worn yet for Huo Yuntao.

Without any hesitation, Huo Yuntao stripped off his cashmere sweater in front of Lu Yiyao and put on the T-shirt, instantly feeling cooler. His mood seemed to lighten a bit as well.

After downing Lu Yiyao’s soda water in one gulp, Huo Yuntao got straight to the point. “I just have one question for you: Do you want to sleep with him?”

Lu Yiyao froze, his mind instantly flooded with a tumult of censored images.

“Ahem,” Lu Yiyao regained his composure, cleared his throat, and said in a deep voice, “Your question is too crude.”

Huo Yuntao looked at him disdainfully. “Not nearly as crude as what you’re imagining.”

They stared at each other in silence.

After a while.

Lu Yiyao was the first to look away, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

Huo Yuntao held his forehead, resigned to the fact that his friend was beyond saving.

“But why have I never liked men before?” Lu Yiyao pondered, a question that had been bothering him.

At this point, as a friend, Huo Yuntao could only help his friend in his self-exploration. “Have you ever liked any woman before?”

Lu Yiyao frowned, dredging his memory but coming up empty.

“But when you changed clothes in front of me just now, I didn’t feel anything.”

“Thanks for confirming our rock-solid friendship,” Huo Yuntao said irritably. “Just because I like women doesn’t mean I’m attracted to every woman.”

Lu Yiyao fell silent.

Huo Yuntao sighed, suddenly feeling a bit sympathetic.

This was the result he least wanted to see, but it often happens that the more you don’t want something, the more it comes.

“Do you think,” Lu Yiyao suddenly looked up as if he had found the ultimate answer to the universe, “it might be because my dad sent me to an all-boys school?”

Huo Yuntao, also a graduate of an all-boys boarding school, thought, ‘It’s not fair to blame your father for this…’

……

Before the dawn of the new year, the two friends said their reluctant goodbyes.

Actually, apart from the initial struggle with sexual orientation, most of the night was Huo Yuntao listening to Lu Yiyao complain about “how full of pitfalls life’s script can be.”

Fate is an eternal theme of mismatches: you like me, I don’t like you; you don’t like me, I end up liking you. People meet, pass by, get to know each other, and forget each other amidst these crisscrossing paths.

Huo Yuntao understood Lu Yiyao’s frustration—what could have been mutual affection turned into unrequited love.

However, as they parted, as a friend, he still had to remind him one more time. “Whatever decision you make, I support you, but don’t forget, you’re both in the entertainment industry.”

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 51

At the moment of wrap-up, Ran Lin had imagined feeling a variety of emotions—excitement, reflection, exhilaration, reluctance, and more.

But he never anticipated feeling so wistful, as if a part of his soul had been taken away. It was an emptiness he had never experienced before, a feeling he first encountered with <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

Perhaps it was because this was his first major role, with significant screen time over a long period and deeply immersed, that when Fang Xian ceased to exist in the world, a piece of his heart left with the character.

This mood persisted at the wrap party.

As Chinese New Year approached, the post-production phase of the entire shoot was a race against time. Finally, thanks to the heavy snowfall, they managed to wrap up a day earlier than planned, saving the time and effort it would have taken to create a snowy scene.

For a large-scale production like <Sword of Fallen Flowers> this one-day advance meant saving at least hundreds of thousands in basic expenses, not to mention the costs for actors, locations, and other logistics. Often, film crews don’t just fail to finish early; they delay for various reasons, leading to soaring expenses in venue rentals, actor salaries, and day-to-day costs.

Comparing the two scenarios, the producer, who had been stressed about controlling the budget throughout the shoot, was so moved by the turn of events that they felt like offering incense in gratitude.

In appreciation of the cast and crew’s hard work, the standard wrap party was upgraded to a luxurious feast. Everyone headed straight to the hotel after wrapping up, and before they even warmed their seats, a variety of delicious dishes started flowing in, each one more tempting than the last.

With delicious food set in front of them, who would care about other things? After months of hard work, everyone dived into the feast with the intent to make up for all the hardships, eating and drinking merrily.

Within an hour, everyone loosened up, chatting loudly, urging each other to drink, eating heartily, and taking joyful group photos. It was hard to distinguish between directors, producers, lighting crew, and crew members in the jovial atmosphere.

Ran Lin was happy, but his joy was shadowed by a sense of emptiness, making his happiness seem quiet and subdued. He didn’t share Tang Xiaoyu’s excitement of wanting to drink with everyone; instead, he quietly watched everything, enjoying the moment in his own subdued way.

Thankfully, in the hustle and bustle of the party, no one seemed to notice his mood.

“What are you thinking about?”

Well, except for Lu Yiyao, his tablemate.

The main actors were seated with the producer, director, and scriptwriter, but at that moment, the producer and director were engaged in conversations elsewhere, and the scriptwriter and the third male lead were deeply engrossed in a discussion about poetry and philosophy, completely forgetting the others at the table.

That left the first and second leads, one who didn’t care for the drinking culture and was politely declining drinks, and the other who had finished his social duties and was now leisurely enjoying some more dishes.

Lu Yiyao, after changing out of his costume, was dressed in a high-neck sweater and a wool coat, looking dashing and refined. Now, with the coat off, his demeanor softened. High-neck sweaters aren’t easy to pull off; they can make one look neckless and frumpy. But on Lu Yiyao, it looked perfect, enhancing his polite and dignified demeanor. His hair was casually styled; most of it was swept back with a few strands falling over his forehead, making his attractive eyes even more captivating.

Fortunately, he seemed to have turned off his charm, his gaze clear and calm. Ran Lin was able to respond after a moment’s thought, smiling. “Just thinking that I’ll have to set my alarm later from tomorrow on. Kind of don’t want to.”

Lu Yiyao chuckled, teasingly suggesting, “Well, you wake up in stages anyways. Just set the last alarm.”

Ran Lin playfully retorted. “Then there’s no need to get up at eight if he starts the first phase at four.”

Lu Yiyao laughed, revealing his white teeth. Ran Lin was dazzled by the sight and suddenly asked, “Do you have a toothpaste endorsement?”

Lu Yiyao was stunned, blinking in confusion, and shook his head.

As Ran Lin stuffed a snow cotton red bean pastry into his mouth, he seriously and earnestly suggested, “You should have your agent discuss one for you. Really, it’s a waste not to endorse something with those teeth of yours.”

The friend’s suggestion was sincere and serious, but as he continued eating, puffing his cheeks like a hamster, it lacked any persuasive power.

Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but laugh and feel helpless, casually picking another pastry for him.

Ran Lin, never one to refuse, puffed his cheeks out again, graciously munching away and politely saying, “Don’t just feed me. Have some yourself… It’s really good…”

There were a few dishes on the table that Lu Yiyao hadn’t tried, and this pastry was among them. However, having his appetite piqued, he picked one up and took a bite, only to feel a bit awkward.

The pastry was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, sweet and rich—the chef’s skills were impeccable. But for him, the dish was just too sweet.

“Is it not good?” Ran Lin immediately understood Lu Yiyao’s expression, somewhat surprised. He chewed a few more times, finding his piece delightful.

“It’s a bit sweet,” Lu Yiyao said tactfully.

“Snow cotton red bean is supposed to be sweet.” Ran Lin, thinking he was criticizing, instinctively defended the chef. “And this red bean paste must be homemade by the hotel, not greasy at all, and not overly sweet…”

“It’s not that.” Lu Yiyao knew there was a misunderstanding and explained, “It’s not the dish’s problem. I’m just not very fond of sweets in general.”

“Oh…” Ran Lin felt a bit embarrassed and fell silent, not wanting to babble any further. After a while, feeling he had to express himself, he still muttered, “Maybe you should eat sweets occasionally. They can make you feel better.”

Lu Yiyao tilted his head to think for a moment, then said seriously, “No worries. I seldom feel down.”

Ran Lin glared at him. “Are you bragging?”

Lu Yiyao laughed and openly admitted, “Probably.”

Ran Lin wanted to kick him. But that was just a thought. Starting tomorrow, it would be difficult even to see him, and he couldn’t bear to part with even a few kicks.

“After the drama, what are your work plans?” Lu Yiyao asked casually.

Ran Lin shook his head. “I don’t know. Xi Jie hasn’t told me yet. I guess there are no arrangements. I’ll go home for the New Year first. What about you?”

“The same, going home first,” Lu Yiyao’s eyes softened. “But I have to start working on the fourth day of the lunar year, flying to Changsha.”

Ran Lin noticed that when Lu Yiyao mentioned home, there were two completely different styles: sometimes tender as water, sometimes with deep bitterness. He was actually very curious, but he always restrained himself from asking. Initially, it was because he felt it was inappropriate to pry into others’ privacy, but now he felt he simply wasn’t in a position to ask.

Lu Yiyao no longer invited him for meals or talked about true friendship. Their interactions in the last week of the drama group were as plain as water.

“Being busy is good,” Ran Lin said politely. “Like me, wanting to be busy but having nothing to do.”

Lu Yiyao said, “Once this drama is aired, you’ll be extremely busy.”

Ran Lin looked up at him. “Really?”

Lu Yiyao nodded. “Yes, you’ll find yourself suddenly overwhelmed with endless invitations, non-stop work, fervent fans, and… a skyrocketing bank balance.”

Ran Lin swallowed, his eyes shimmering with the light of currency. “Actually, you could have just mentioned the last part…”

Lu Yiyao knew he was joking, but he still couldn’t help but ruffle his hair. “Money-grubber.”

It was meant to be a ruffle, but the touch was brief, as Ran Lin dodged it subtly.

Lu Yiyao’s hand paused mid-air, feeling somewhat awkward, then saw Ran Lin shaking his head and humming a tune. “They say money is a bastard~~ but it looks so good~~~”

He hummed just a couple of lines, deliberately off-tune, but the awkwardness suddenly dispersed.

Lu Yiyao withdrew his hand naturally and suddenly remembered a leaked shampoo outtake, so he asked, “Did you study music?”

“No, just a hobby.” Ran Lin smiled at him. “You know, during school days, being able to play and sing adds to the charm.”

Lu Yiyao leaned on his arm and looked at Ran Lin objectively. “You’re naturally good-looking. You don’t need to sing.”

Ran Lin no longer felt joy from compliments and mimicked him, resting his chin on his arm, turning his face to meet Lu Yiyao’s eyes.

“Are you planning to always chat with me forever while holding me in high esteem?” Perhaps the atmosphere was too tranquil and peaceful, or perhaps the few drinks had warmed his head. Ran Lin suddenly felt that it wasn’t a big deal to be open since they understood each other without words, why continue to pretend ignorance?

Lu Yiyao was caught off guard by Ran Lin’s question. Instinctively, he wanted to explain that he wasn’t deliberately flattering him; he was just speaking the truth, but he knew it wasn’t entirely so. Because of his refusal, there was a sense of guilt for hurting someone, which made him restrain impulses that he would have previously teased about.

It turned out he wasn’t the only one who felt it was very dry.

Seeing Lu Yiyao’s hesitating expression, Ran Lin knew he was playing out scenarios in his head again.

Sometimes Ran Lin felt tired for Lu Yiyao, wondering why he had to live so uprightly, as if he were a signboard in the Forbidden City, unable to tolerate a slight misalignment. But what was charming about Lu Yiyao was exactly this.

“Hey.” Ran Lin glanced around, noticing no one paid attention to their table in the bustling environment, then looked at Tang Xiaoyu and Song Mang, who were almost under the table from drinking, and whispered to Lu Yiyao, “Come here.”

Lu Yiyao doubted he heard right.

They were already sitting close, barely an arm’s length apart. In such proximity, how could he “come over” further?

Ran Lin sighed. If the mountain won’t come to him, he’d go to it. He moved his chair closer to Lu Yiyao, leaning in as if they were villains in a TV drama, whispering plots. Lu Yiyao didn’t move away, but facing the second male lead so close, he felt an ominous sense.

Finally, Ran Lin spoke, his voice low but his expression open and honest, contrary to their sneaky “plotting” behavior.

“Do you know what I admire and envy most about you?”

Asking questions was Lu Yiyao’s favorite but most failed tactic.

But with Ran Lin, it flowed smoothly. Lu Yiyao didn’t need to answer; he just needed to listen attentively.

“It’s that no matter what, you can discuss anything openly because you don’t hide any darkness in your heart, so you’re willing to pull others to bask in the sunlight with you.”

Ran Lin spoke frankly, his gaze steady and clear.

Lu Yiyao was stunned.

At that moment, he couldn’t tell if he was facing Ran Lin or Fang Xian; Ran Lin wasn’t this laid-back and suave, and Fang Xian wasn’t this gentle and calm.

“Today, I’ll learn from you,” Ran Lin said. He took a deep breath and looked around like a thief to ensure safety, then turned back to Lu Yiyao, whispering as softly as his breath. “I like you.”

Lu Yiyao’s mind went blank, forgetting to breathe.

Ran Lin exhaled, feeling as if a cool breeze had blown through his heart, refreshing and pleasant.

Speaking the truth wasn’t hard.

If it were someone else, he wouldn’t have said it, but somehow with Lu Yiyao, he felt reassured even after speaking the truth, as if certain Lu Yiyao wouldn’t betray his trust.

Like he once told Xi Ruohan, falling in love with you is a happiness.

“Surprised or not, happy or not?” With a mischievous lift of his eyebrows, Ran Lin murmured with a smile.

Lu Yiyao didn’t know what to say. Facing an unconventional friend was truly exhausting. At this moment, he felt the neatly arranged thoughts in his head had turned into a tangled mess due to a cat’s paw.

Seeing Lu Yiyao’s bewildered look, Ran Lin’s lips curved up, deciding not to tease him anymore. He softened his voice and said, “I know, and you know, so let’s not both gingerly protect that thin layer of paper. It’s tiring for you and for me. But I still need to say sorry for troubling you…”

Lu Yiyao’s heart slowly calmed down. He seemed to know what Ran Lin was about to say, but for some reason, he didn’t really want to hear it.

“I respect you.” Ran Lin suddenly raised a glass of wine, his smile bright. “After this drink, let’s turn a page on all this mess.”

Lu Yiyao touched the bottle of liquor but hesitated to move. Ran Lin thought he still had concerns, so he decisively took his own bottle to pour for him. As he poured, he said, “You don’t need to worry. I’ve truly given up. No, I never really intended anything. Actually, if you hadn’t noticed, this could have just passed without anyone being the wiser. So you need to look inward; being too intuitive isn’t always cute, you know…”

After his rambling, Lu Yiyao’s cup was full. Putting down the bottle, Ran Lin picked up his own cup, staring intently at him. Lu Yiyao felt a moment of daze before realizing he had already raised his cup.

Their glasses clinked, emitting a crisp and pleasant sound. Ran Lin downed his drink in one go, feeling relieved and as if clouds had lifted from his brow.

“Hey,” Ran Lin said, putting down his cup and sensing something amiss. “It’s all been me talking. You should say something at least.”

Coming back to his senses, Lu Yiyao, unsure of what to say, finally strained to offer, “To a friendship that lasts forever.”

Ran Lin watched Lu Yiyao drink, thinking that the man was really unfortunate. A proper star had been dragged onto a bumper car ride by him, bumbling and tumbling around until finally realizing he’s a road hazard but still insisting on continuing as a passenger.

Contemplating breaking up with a straight man to this extent could almost send one to hell, Ran Lin thought. Even if he hadn’t done it, just the thought was enough for Lu Yiyao to have a thousand reasons to break ties with him. Yet, not only did he not do so, but he also went out of his way to care for his feelings and give him a way out. Facing such a Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin couldn’t feign ignorance or wish to see him troubled because of himself.

After tonight, Lu Yiyao wouldn’t need to worry about this trifle anymore, no longer feeling the need to make amends, continuing as the busy star he was, shining in his own world.

Lu Yiyao didn’t like drinking, but he didn’t despise it to the point of being unable to swallow. However, today’s drink was an exception. He finished it in three attempts, thinking the whole time that he wanted to put it down and say, “I’m not drinking this. I need more time to think, and you can’t just decide to turn the page on your own.” 

However, the cup he finally put back on the table was empty.

Ran Lin looked at the empty cup, feeling utterly relieved. The drama wrap was complete, and so was this awkward little issue. Nothing could be more satisfying as a conclusion.

Lu Yiyao watched Ran Lin’s face light up with newfound freedom, watched him pick the last two sweet bean paste buns with his chopsticks, eating heartily and carefree. He inexplicably wanted to pinch those puffed cheeks.

How could it just be over?

How could it end like this?

How could it be that just because you say you like me, then you like me, and when you say you give up, you give up, without even consulting the “victim”?

But then he thought, wasn’t it his wish to “pretend like nothing ever happened”? Now that the outcome wasn’t just in line with but far exceeded his expectations, what was there to be unsatisfied about?

Ding.

The familiar sound of a WeChat notification interrupted Lu Yiyao’s tumultuous thoughts.

It was from Ran Lin’s phone on the table.

Ran Lin stopped eating and picked up his phone with a puzzled look. Within seconds, his face changed from “just escaped from Wuzhishan” to “once again under a tight spell.”

Before Lu Yiyao could ask, Ran Lin looked at him and whispered, “Zhang Beichen.”

Lu Yiyao immediately became alert, forgetting all about likes, dislikes, and turning pages. “He’s looking for you?”

“Or rather, for both of us,” Ran Lin said. “He knows we wrapped up today and asked when we are leaving Hengdian, wondering if we could have a meal together.”

Lu Yiyao’s lips pressed into a line, pondering for a long time before asking, “What do you think?”

“Could it be…” Ran Lin said hopefully, “He wants to come clean with us?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t confirm or deny, simply saying, “Then he’s been dragging this out for quite some time.”

Ran Lin understood Lu Yiyao’s implication. In fact, he didn’t harbor much hope for this dinner with Zhang Beichen, feeling it was more of a probe than a confession. Besides, the return tickets provided by the crew were for early tomorrow morning. They could change them, but it would be a hassle. Moreover, if Zhang Beichen truly intended to confess, whether through a meal, a call, or even a simple WeChat message, it could be done.

Seeing Ran Lin stand up, Lu Yiyao asked in surprise, “Where are you going?”

“To make a call,” Ran Lin said.

“To him?”

“Yeah.”

“What will you say?”

“Depends on what he says.”

“Make the call, but don’t be foolish…”

“Elder Brother,” Ran Lin suddenly used his character’s name for Lu Yiyao. “I’m a thousand times smarter than you, okay?”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback, not only by the address but also by the attitude.

Unconsciously smiling, he said, “Go on, Young Master Fang.”

Ran Lin took his phone to a relatively quiet corner, calmed his mind for a moment, then dialed Zhang Beichen’s number.

The other side picked up quickly. “Ran Lin?”

“Yeah,” Ran Lin tried to sound natural. “The wrap party is still going. It’s a bit noisy.”

“No problem,” Zhang Beichen said. “Did you get my message?”

Ran Lin replied, “Got it, but we probably can’t make it. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”

“Oh…” Zhang Beichen sounded slightly downcast.

Ran Lin felt a strange twinge, unclear if it was discomfort or hope.

“Do you have something to say?” he asked. “If there’s something, you can say it over the phone.”

There was silence on the other end.

It might have been a moment or an eternity, Ran Lin waited intently, losing track of time.

Finally, the voice on the other end brightened, as if even the initial downcast tone had disappeared. “Nothing much, just that after spending several months here, it’s a pity we only got together once.”

Ran Lin’s eyes dimmed, and after a long while, he said, “Yeah, it’s a pity.”

They chatted a bit more about inconsequential things, mostly about their experiences filming. Ran Lin inexplicably didn’t want to continue the conversation and ended the call hastily.

Turning around, he found Lu Yiyao had come up behind him at some point.

“What did he say?” Lu Yiyao asked.

Ran Lin sighed, forcing a smile.

Lu Yiyao understood and shrugged. “As expected, don’t worry too much.”

Ran Lin shook his head, sincerely saying, “It’s fine.”

It was really okay.

Some time had passed, and the busy work had already diluted the discomfort. The only reason for making the call was holding onto that last bit of hope.

Perhaps Zhang Beichen wasn’t the mastermind in this matter. To assume more extremely, he might not have even been aware at the beginning. But once the situation erupted, even he could suspect Zhang Beichen, so he didn’t believe Zhang Beichen himself wouldn’t have doubts. And an agent would almost never do anything without informing their artist; even if they did, they would need to face the questioning later. Otherwise, the artist would explode, potentially causing irrational actions that would lead to mutual destruction, a loss for both sides.

Therefore, Zhang Beichen might be the planner, or at least aware, but definitely not innocent.

Just like he himself once tacitly allowed his team to hype things up.

Zhang Beichen’s WeChat message interrupted the previous conversation, making it impossible to continue. Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, who had returned to their seats, somehow started talking about the arduous journey in the entertainment industry. It was probably Ran Lin who started the conversation, intending to say that from another perspective, he could understand Zhang Beichen. It’s not easy to make a name in this circle, and even harder to maintain it, so any minor issue would cause significant tension, sometimes leading them to extremes.

But as the conversation continued, he began to share their own hard-fought histories, how he became popular from a photo, signing with an agency, and the minor roles he played after debuting. It was almost like a personal autobiography.

Feeling like he was veering into self-pity, Ran Lin stopped and said to Li Yiyao, “Don’t just listen to me. Talk about yourself.”

Lu Yiyao had never revealed his debut story to any colleague, not even to Yao Hong. Initially, she knew a little, under the company’s instructions, but her knowledge was more speculation than solid fact.

He had often thought that perhaps one day in the future, he would make a close friend within the circle, and they would chat about their pasts in an idyllic setting.

The reality was far from this ideal. There was no cool breeze, only air conditioning; no moonlight, just electric lights; no sound of waves, only the noisy clinking of glasses and a mess of dishes and cups, with two drunken colleagues sleeping across the table.

But he spoke anyway, earnestly and in detail, afraid of deviating even slightly from the truth.

“I went to England for high school, and by my sophomore year, it had been eight years. People talk about the seven-year itch, but I hit my breaking point in the eighth year and was determined to return home. I was studying drama, and a friend whose family was involved in the entertainment industry introduced me to Pentium Times. My first role was the third male lead, then the second male lead, and then the lead…”

Realizing how bland his story seemed, Lu Yiyao couldn’t continue and sincerely looked at Ran Lin, concluding, “That’s it.”

Ran Lin felt deep envy and frustration. “That’s it? What more could you want…”

Even the so-called anti-Japanese dramas wouldn’t allow such a flawless protagonist!

After the banter, Ran Lin remembered something and asked, “Don’t you regret not finishing college?”

“If a journalist asked, I would say I do,” Lu Yiyao replied.

“What about when I ask?” Ran Lin inquired.

Lu Yiyao’s eyes softened, like petals in the breeze. “If you’re asking, then the honest truth is, it’s okay.”

Previously, Ran Lin dreaded Lu Yiyao’s smile, as it would make his heart race. But now, he felt an odd calm, simply finding the man good looking—a pure appreciation of his looks. With a smile, all other sounds seemed to vanish, leaving only a gentle breeze and the faint scent of flowers and grass.

“Does your family not mind?”

“They’ve wanted me to go to business school from the beginning; I chose drama just to rebel.”

“So your choice wasn’t because you like acting?”

“Not really. It’s more like a slight interest.”

“……”

“What’s that look for?”

“I feel like representing all the people who love acting but never had the chance and want to throw a cake at you.”

“Why a cake?”

“Because you don’t like sweets.”

“……”

Only Ran Lin could “attack” someone so gently. Lu Yiyao, almost as if possessed, took another bite of the sweet bean paste bun. It was a bit cold now, making it taste sweeter, but somehow… it wasn’t too bad.

Ran Lin really wanted to ask why Lu Yiyao so casually chose such a significant life decision as his major just to oppose his family. But then he thought about how he studied Spanish and how it hadn’t really affected his life significantly.

Besides, he always felt Lu Yiyao was reluctant to discuss his family, so it might be safer to continue envying the seemingly effortless career of this male god…

“Keep it a secret.”

While he was lost in thought, Lu Yiyao’s request came to his ears.

Ran Lin didn’t react for a while and asked, “Keep what secret?”

Lu Yiyao looked around cautiously, confirming it was safe, then whispered, “I’m a connection-based hire.”

Ran Lin 囧*: “Even for later roles?”

*Clarity: While the character means something along the lines of oops, in this context, it’s mainly how it looks (a shocked face).

Lu Yiyao replied, “Not for those. After the third male lead role, I gained some popularity and never lacked opportunities.”

Ran Lin looked at him in despair. “If I didn’t know you well and understand you’re just stating facts, I’d really be angry.”

Lu Yiyao laughed at this but then became serious again, sighing softly. “My dad always said that too much smooth sailing isn’t a good thing. If life is too smooth, there will definitely be hurdles ahead.”

Ran Lin suddenly remembered his own father saying something similar, though it seemed to differ from Lu Yiyao’s more philosophical father…

“I remember now.” Ran Lin tapped the table lightly. “My dad said, ‘When you encounter smooth sailing, it’ll continue smoothly.'”

Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but smile. “So whose advice should we follow?”

After thinking seriously for a moment, Ran Lin offered a solution. “Listen to both and combine them.”

“Did your dad ever say what to do when facing difficulties?” Lu Yiyao suddenly asked.

Ran Lin was surprised because his father indeed had advice. “If it’s too hard, just quit and come back to run the bun shop.”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback. “Your family is in the catering business?”

Ran Lin, slightly embarrassed, coughed lightly. “Not so glamorous, just a bun shop. It’s small, but my mom’s fillings are unmatched, and my dad’s kneading skills are exceptional…”

Lu Yiyao was enticed by the talk of food, but still asked with a scientific spirit, “How do you define dough with excellent ‘texture and strength’?”

Ran Lin thought about it and gave up. “That’s what my dad says. You’ll have to ask him.”

Lu Yiyao: “……”

Of course, Lu Yiyao wasn’t going to ask Ran Lin’s father for clarification; in fact, he didn’t even know why they were discussing such topics. But he found himself enjoying the conversation, even wishing that the wrap party would never end.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. At midnight, the wrap party finally concluded. Tang Xiaoyu and Song Mang were both dragged back to their hotel, fortunately before they got too drunk. The third male lead had the foresight to take a photo with the first and second male leads and promptly sent it to Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao after it was taken.

In the car back to the hotel, Ran Lin posted a Weibo about the wrap party of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> along with a collage of nine pictures, including the group photo of the entire crew, a photo of the three of them, and photos with the director, scriptwriter, other actors, and crew members.

The moment the Weibo was posted, all the memories of the past few months flashed before his eyes, as if sending off the memories to be archived once the post was published.

Liu Wanwan sensed Ran Lin’s melancholy and asked, “Ran Ge, are you a bit reluctant to let go?”

Ran Lin shook his head, put down his phone, and said word by word to his assistant, “Beautiful memories are meant to inspire us to keep moving forward.”

Liu Wanwan quietly watched him for a few seconds and asked, “Brother, do you have a burner Weibo account where you repost motivational quotes* every day?”

*Chicken soup. Refers to things, normally writings or articles, which affect motivation and make you feel good reading it, just like how chicken soup will warm your soul.

Ran Lin laughed, suddenly remembering something, and patted his assistant’s shoulder. “Wanwan, I did something really cool today.”

Liu Wanwan perked up. “What did you do?”

Ran Lin shook his head. “Can’t say.”

Liu Wanwan, frustrated but still hopeful, asked, “Can you at least say how cool it was?”

Ran Lin grinned, showing off a set of teeth as white as Lu Yiyao’s. “So cool that I was 2.8 meters tall today.”

In the end, Liu Wanwan had no idea what heroic feat her boss had accomplished. But she could clearly sense that the Ran Lin who finished this drama was different from a few months ago. It wasn’t specific changes, but occasionally, in his smile or the look in his eyes, he seemed less cautious and more boldly expressive, almost like… Fang Xian?

Perhaps it was telepathy, but on the way back, Lu Yiyao also posted a Weibo about the wrap, and after posting, he immediately went back to the homepage and saw Ran Lin’s post.

Without hesitation, he liked it and left a comment, then switched to WeChat, thinking of asking if Ran Lin had made it back to the hotel.

He typed halfway before realizing that it might not be necessary. Ran Lin would definitely have returned to the hotel; it’s only a few minutes’ drive, and it’s unlikely something happened. So this question seemed more like an excuse to talk.

The troubling part was, he really wanted an excuse to talk.

But he couldn’t. Not only had Ran Lin said they had turned the page, but even if Ran Lin hadn’t made things clear today, he had decided not to stir things up further. Although he didn’t consider it flirting, he wondered why he didn’t ask Tang Xiaoyu, Song Mang, or Chen Qizheng, and instead specifically wanted to ask Ran Lin.

“Lu Ge, are you okay?” Li Tong didn’t want to interrupt but seeing Lu Yiyao frowning and muttering under his breath without clarity, he couldn’t help but express concern.

“Li Tong…”

“Yes, Lu Ge, go ahead.”

“……”

Good, the assistant can now cue himself for the process.

With no Yao Hong around, only he and Li Tong were in the car, making it easier to ask—

“If a girl likes you, but you don’t like her back, what would you do?”

“Chase her like crazy,” Li Tong replied without hesitation. “Happiness is something you have to fight for. If you give up after being rejected…”

“Wait,” Lu Yiyao interrupted his assistant’s impassioned speech, unsure if he had misunderstood. “I mean, it’s not you who likes the girl. It’s the girl who likes you.”

Li Tong was stunned. “How could that happen?”

“It does,” Lu Yiyao said, feeling a pang of sadness, and patted his assistant’s shoulder, repeating the question. “If a girl likes you, but you don’t like her, what would you do?”

Li Tong thought for a moment and seriously replied, “It depends on whether she has confessed to me or not.”

The discussion was finally on the right track, and Lu Yiyao sat up straight. “What if she hasn’t confessed? And what if she has?”

Li Tong: “If she hasn’t confessed, I’d hint at her to confess. If she does, I’d try dating her. If she’s too shy to confess, we men can also take the initiative!”

Lu Yiyao: “……”

Li Tong: “Lu Ge?”

Lu Yiyao: “No, it’s fine. You have a clear thought process.”

Leaning back into his seat, Lu Yiyao mentally hit himself with a cake a hundred times for the question he asked three minutes ago.

“Lu Ge.” Li Tong suddenly turned completely around, kneeling on the seat, leaning over the back to face Lu Yiyao directly. “Is it someone from the industry?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t understand. “What industry?”

Li Tong said, “The millions of followers V. Is she the one chasing you?”

Lu Yiyao: “……”

Seeing his boss’s expression, Li Tong knew the answer. Sighing, he felt like his sympathies were aligning with Yao Hong’s, deeply worried for Lu Yiyao. “Lu Ge, next time you ask me something, don’t let me be myself. Let me be you, then I’ll know how to think about it.”

Lu Yiyao looked at him, unwilling to trust easily.

Li Tong continued regardless, “If I were you and the girl who likes me is a colleague, then I would need to be very careful. Since you don’t like her, don’t even touch it because there will be 100% rumors. If it were a real relationship, it might be worth it, but if you don’t like her and still get caught up in rumors, then it’s unnecessary.”

“What if I’ve already rejected her?”

“Did she confess?”

“Sort of.”

“Then it’s even more awkward; you can only try to avoid her as much as possible.”

“Do I have to avoid her?”

“Not necessarily.” Li Tong rested his chin on the backrest. “But if you’ve already rejected her and still linger around her. What if she keeps hoping there’s a chance with you?”

Lu Yiyao frowned. “Does that mean we can’t work together anymore? Avoid her at press conferences, filming, interviews, parties, and celebrity gatherings?”

“If it’s for work, then there’s no helping it, but…” Li Tong leaned closer to Lu Yiyao. “Lu Ge, do you actually want to avoid her or not?”

Lu Yiyao avoided his assistant’s probing, seemingly calm as he looked out the window but actually not focusing on anything. “I just feel like, now that everything’s out in the open, there’s no need to avoid her deliberately, right?”

Li Tong looked at his boss’s profile and mustered up the courage to ask, “Lu Ge, don’t be mad at me for being nosy, but is she chasing you, or are you chasing her?”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback, asking instinctively, “Why would you have that doubt?”

Li Tong felt his suspicion was very normal. “Because you look more like the one who was rejected.”

Lu Yiyao’s gaze finally focused on the car window, ignoring the fleeting darkness outside. The reflection showed a face marred by worry.

It certainly didn’t look like the face of someone being pursued.

“Li Tong.” Lu Yiyao withdrew his gaze and looked at his assistant with a sigh. “It’s too hard to be a good person.”

Li Tong shrugged. “Then be a bad person.”

Lu Yiyao was confused. “Huh?”

“No,” Li Tong clarified. “I mean, just be yourself. Celebrities should date if they want to, but of course, you should first inform Hong Jie, and public relations need to keep up. Otherwise, fans will definitely react…”

“There’s no need to think so far ahead,” Lu Yiyao said, frustrated, interrupting his assistant’s planning. “I need to find myself first.”

Li Tong didn’t quite understand. Finding oneself seemed too profound for him.

Lu Yiyao picked up his phone again and finished the message he had interrupted before—[Have you reached the hotel?]

Even as his own car arrived at the hotel, Ran Lin hadn’t responded.

Lu Yiyao was in a subdued mood all the way to his room.

He took a subdued shower, went to bed subdued, and even his dreams were heavy.

In the dream, Li Tong immediately guessed, “It’s Ran Lin, right? You’re chasing Ran Lin!”

He explained in Chinese, English, and some other unknown language countless times to Li Tong that it wasn’t him chasing Ran Lin but Ran Lin chasing him. But his assistant kept covering his ears, chanting, “I’m not listening. I’m not listening,” and even started singing—

The young man under the sun~~ Has your dream come true~~ In this cold world~~ Have you changed~~

He only knew it was Ran Lin’s ringtone, but it was during the wrap party while listening to Ran Lin’s struggle story that he learned it was his first single after debuting.

Li Tong sang so terribly that he woke up before the song even finished. It was only 4 a.m., which had recently become his usual wake-up time.

Reluctantly, Lu Yiyao got up to freshen up and began packing his luggage while listening to the morning news.

Li Tong would come later to help him, but he preferred doing what he could on his own. Besides, there wasn’t much else to do at this time.

The pervasive sense of gloom from last night continued into his dreams and lingered until the morning. Even when the first rays of sunlight entered through the window, the first thing Lu Yiyao noticed was the dust floating in the light.

Then there was a knock at the door. It was Li Tong. And his phone rang, it was Ran Lin.

Lu Yiyao checked his phone first while still crouching.

[Sorry, I went to sleep as soon as I got back yesterday and didn’t check my phone. Is something up?]

[No, just checking if you made it.]

[It’s just a two-step distance, and we took a car. Are you too distrustful of our harmonious society? 😂]

Lu Yiyao, looking at that laughing-crying emoji, felt his heart suddenly clear and sunny.

Li Tong, not receiving any response for a long time, was about to call when the door opened. His boss, with dark circles under his eyes, was all smiles.

Then he heard Lu Yiyao declare, “I’ve found myself.”

Li Tong swallowed hard and asked, “Do we need to inform Hong Jie first? You’re dating now, the public relations…”

“No need to inform her. This matter can’t be PR’d.” Lu Yiyao pulled his assistant in and shut the door firmly.

Li Tong stood at the entrance, not wanting to venture further, fearing being pulled into some dark organization.

Lu Yiyao didn’t push him and just stood at the entrance, almost in a “wall slam” pose. “So, you have to help me keep this a secret. You can’t tell Hong Jie, and certainly can’t tell anyone else.”

Li Tong had never felt such an important duty before, his blood boiling. “Lu Ge, trust me, even if it rots in my stomach, I won’t utter a word.”

Lu Yiyao looked at him for a long time, nodded approvingly, then turned back to his room to continue humming a tune while packing his luggage.

Li Tong hurriedly followed. “Lu Ge, who is it?”

Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”

Li Tong: “Is it an internet celebrity or an actor?”

Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”

Li Tong: “Where are they from?”

Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”

Li Tong: “What song are you humming?”

Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”

Li Tong: “……”

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Lu Yiyao stopped his tune and looked up. His usual smile was gone, replaced by a rare hesitation. “This is complicated and involves a lot. It has to be handled carefully.”

Li Tong: “Didn’t you say she likes you?”

Lu Yiyao shook his head gently. “You don’t understand.”

Li Tong: “……”

How could he not understand? He knew the question from last night was a facade, about being pursued by a girl and not liking her back. Clearly, his boss was longing for something unattainable!

---

Kinky Thoughts:

Yes! Finally! Go get him son!

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

---

Chapter 50

After finishing the call with Huo Yuntao, it was already past 1 a.m. With a heavy day of filming ahead, Lu Yiyao knew he should go to sleep immediately; otherwise, he wouldn’t even enjoy the three or four hours of sleep left.

But he wasn’t sleepy.

He was more awake than ever before, with various thoughts tumbling in his head, interspersed with replayed snippets of Huo Yuntao’s advice. It was all so muddled that he couldn’t distinguish what were his thoughts and what were Huo Yuntao’s anymore.

Since you don’t want to develop feelings for him, does it matter whether he likes you or not?

It didn’t matter. But he just wanted to know.

And what difference would it make knowing?

Not wanting to accept someone’s feelings, not wanting to hurt them, yet hoping they behave as they always did—it’s simply…

“Beast!”

Lu Yiyao buried his face in the pillow, feeling self-loathing for the first time.

In the English countryside villa under the winter sky, Huo Yuntao carefully assembled the baked gingerbread into a house, ending with tears streaming down his face at his creation.

The finished product barely resembled the original sweet Christmas gingerbread house concept. The walls were crooked, the roof askew, and most importantly, the gingerbread was overbaked. The intended warm brown biscuits were tinged with patches of black, making the whole piece seem more suitable for Halloween than Christmas.

He sighed, took down a wall, and started crunching it.

Chewing helps with thinking.

He hadn’t had to use his brain this much in a long time.

Despite the solid advice he gave Lu Yiyao, he was merely theorizing from the sidelines. After all, during his early dating days, he was naive enough to believe that boys and girls could make babies by lying together. So, Lu Yiyao’s so-called doubts and hesitations—he could understand but couldn’t truly empathize.

Liking someone means wanting to talk to them, be close to them, or simply feeling happy just seeing them. How hard can it be to figure that out?

If Ran Lin were a girl, Huo Yuntao could have directly thrown this reasoning at Lu Yiyao. No, if that were the case, Lu Yiyao probably wouldn’t have called him, being clear about his feelings.

The problem is Ran Lin is a man.

When Huo Yuntao first received the call from his old friend, he didn’t think much of it, just helping a friend fend off an unwanted suitor. But this time he realized Lu Yiyao’s concern for this matter, or rather for that person, far exceeded his imagination.

Over a decade of friendship, and he’d never seen Lu Yiyao so fixated on anyone, regardless of gender.

Liking and loving might be hard to distinguish, but caring is definite.

Could Lu Yiyao possibly be gay?

That’s something Huo Yuntao had never even considered.

Having studied in England for so many years, it’s not unusual to be swayed by the culture, but Lu Yiyao never showed the slightest inclination in that direction.

Clearly, Lu Yiyao thought the same, hence his assertive denial every time the topic arose.

With this in mind, Huo Yuntao knew he couldn’t be the one to push the wave and add to the billow.

Sexual orientation is no small matter. Whether one likes men or women can profoundly impact or even change one’s path in life. Lu Yiyao might be standing at a crossroads—a slight push could lead him left, a gentle pull right. Huo Yuntao could fully support whatever choice his friend made, but he couldn’t let his preferences influence or interfere.

Personally, he hoped Lu Yiyao would remain the same straightforward person, bright future and all. Because if Lu Yiyao chose the left path, it would mean tackling a very tough road, at best sacrificing his career and popularity, and at worst ruining the already unstable family relationships.

But as a friend, if Lu Yiyao indeed chose the hard mode, Huo Yuntao would have to pick up an ax and accompany his friend on the journey. What had he done in his past life to deserve this!

Having one true friend is enough.

Any more, and you really might worry yourself to death.

……

Lu Yiyao thought all night, staying awake until dawn.

As the eastern sky turned white, he made a decision—to be a good person.

What does it mean to be a good person?

It means being kind, understanding, restraining oneself, being like the Disney character who quietly accompanies Ran Lin “preparing” for the scene.

Hoping someone continues being an intimate friend without reciprocating their feelings is like wanting the impossible. Not acting on whims, restraining the so-called “pure friendship”, is the greatest consideration and respect for the other person.

Regarding whether to wear the same clothes or strip someone’s clothes off, Huo Yuntao’s crass words had some truth.

Once one side falls in love, friendship is no longer possible.

He accepted that.

But if possible, he wished he could go back to the moment Ran Lin’s heart was stirred and strangled whatever he was doing but definitely shouldn’t have been doing in the flowing time.

……

“Cut! That’s a wrap—”

As the director’s voice echoed through the loudspeaker, everyone on the set applauded.

Beautiful flowers were presented. Zhao Buyao, who had just been “arguing” with Tang Jingyu, was beaming—Xi Ruohan’s scenes were wrapped.

This was the predetermined schedule, starting a week late and ending a week early.

“Thank you for your hard work.” Director Chen stood up and went to the set as usual to give affirmation and encouragement to the actor finishing their shoot.

“I really want to say it wasn’t hard, but Director Chen…” Xi Ruohan’s pretty face crumpled with a mix of mischief, sincerity, and a hint of teasing. “In these four and a half months in your crew, I lost over ten pounds.”

Chen Qizheng tilted his head to observe for a moment, jokingly retorting, “Doesn’t seem very obvious…”

Xi Ruohan: “Any thinner and I’d look unrecognizable.” She finally turned serious, paused, and sincerely said, “Thank you, Director.”

A drama can stagnate an actor or push them to break through and be reborn. Only the actors themselves understand the taste and gain.

Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu were sitting in the rest area outside the “Liuhua Palace”, as their scenes were scheduled for later. They could only watch Xi Ruohan and the director talk through the open doorway, unable to hear the conversation but noticing that Xi Ruohan was more docile than ever before, the director was unusually amiable, and Lu Yiyao, as always, was gentle.

“Her scenes are wrapped, huh? That must feel good,” Tang Xiaoyu said enviously.

Ran Lin comforted him. “We’ll be done soon too.”

“Thank goodness this series is only forty episodes.” Tang Xiaoyu sighed deeply, filled with emotion, “Otherwise, with such high standards and strict demands, even the martial alliance leader couldn’t last for sixty episodes.”

Ran Lin chuckled, about to join in, but Tang Xiaoyu suddenly changed the topic in a lower voice. “Have you noticed that Xi Ruohan seems a bit different from when she first joined?”

Ran Lin glanced at the leading actress again and nodded. “Yeah, she’s definitely lost a lot of weight.”

Tang Xiaoyu clarified with frustration. “I’m not talking about her figure, but her personality, personality!”

Ran Lin, momentarily confused, was about to apologize to his own orientation when Tang Xiaoyu didn’t notice and continued, “When she first came, her nose was almost in the air, and I was invisible to her…”

Before he could finish, he stopped abruptly as Xi Ruohan, who had finished saying her goodbyes to the director and crew, came out.

Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu immediately stood up and congratulated the lead actress on finishing her scenes.

Xi Ruohan responded formally and politely.

Just when they thought everything was smooth and it was time for goodbyes, Xi Ruohan suddenly threw out, “I hope we have the chance to work together again,” and then ran off without looking back.

Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu were left looking at each other in bewilderment.

After a moment, Ran Lin burst into laughter.

Tang Xiaoyu, catching on, said with a dejected face, “That’s not hope, that’s a curse… When a lady becomes gentle, she’s still a lady—one of the most difficult types of women for me in this lifetime. Even as just a partner, of course, I’d prefer the gentle ones!”

After the tumultuous Tang Jingyu and Zhao Buyao’s scenes at the Liuhua Palace, it was time for the deep-in-enemy-lines scenes of Fang Xian and Xu Chongfei.

By this time, Fang Xian and Tang Jingyu were at odds, and Xu Chongfei, having rescued Tang Jingyu from the Fang Clan, discovered the mastermind behind the shadows was Abbot Haikong.

It was indeed Fang Huanzhi who orchestrated the bloodbath of the opposing sects, but the one who used Fang Huanzhi’s plot to eliminate the sects and then used Tang Jingyu to eliminate Fang Huanzhi was the Liuhua Palace. They desired the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual and aimed to dominate the martial world.

Zhao Buyao, as the daughter of the Liuhua Palace’s leader, naturally disbelieved this and had a fierce argument with Tang Jingyu. In a fit of anger, Zhao Buyao stormed off and disappeared. Tang Jingyu, determined to uncover the truth, sneaks into the Liuhua Palace only to be captured, his fate uncertain.

Xu Chongfei, helplessly, seeks Fang Xian’s help to rescue his elder brother together.

Then, surprisingly, Fang Xian agreed.

“I’ve always felt there’s a plot hole here…” As the setup for the next scene was somewhat complicated, the director’s assistant hadn’t come to notify them to start filming yet, so Tang Xiaoyu casually discussed the upcoming plot with Ran Lin. “If Fang Xian wants to kill Tang Jingyu to avenge his father, why would he agree to rescue him with Xu Chongfei?”

Before Ran Lin could answer, a puzzled voice suddenly spoke up from not far away. “I also think this is a problem that needs to be studied.”

Lu Yiyao, unnoticed until now, stood at the doorway, smiling as he watched them.

Ran Lin’s heart fluttered slightly but didn’t show it on his face.

Tang Xiaoyu spoke first. “Right? It’s just so weird.”

Lu Yiyao nodded and then turned naturally to Ran Lin, asking, “What do you think?”

Ran Lin frowned slightly, feeling today’s Lu Yiyao was different; the pressing intensity from before seemed to have disappeared, and he was back to being the polite Teacher Lu.

It was a bit disappointing, but mostly comforting.

Ran Lin took a deep breath and then patted the empty chair beside him, motioning for Lu Yiyao to come over. “Come, sit here, and let Fang Xian analyze for you the heart-wrenching journey.”

Lu Yiyao smiled and complied, taking the seat.

Tang Xiaoyu grumbled, “Hurry up, Second Brother.”

Seemingly joking, but when he started speaking, Ran Lin became serious. “Fang Xian’s attitude towards Tang Jingyu can be summed up like so: ‘I must kill you, but I can’t let others kill you.'”

Tang Xiaoyu was puzzled. “I can’t understand this mindset…”

Ran Lin looked at Lu Yiyao. “What about you?”

Lu Yiyao thought for a moment and said, “I can somewhat understand, but certainly not as deeply as you.”

Ran Lin felt a bit flattered by his response.

Suddenly he thought that if Lu Yiyao couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, occasionally praising him like this wasn’t bad either.

“In fact, it’s quite simple.” Ran Lin began his explanation. “Fang Xian wants to kill Tang Jingyu because he must avenge his father, but he can’t let others kill Tang Jingyu because Tang Jingyu is his brother.”

Tang Xiaoyu interjected, “But they’ve already broken their brotherhood oath, right?”

Ran Lin sighed, pointing to his heart. “The oath may be broken, but this can’t just change on a whim.”

After saying this, Ran Lin realized how familiar this gesture was and suddenly remembered the time he and Lu Yiyao had dinner alone, discussing how to be friends. Lu Yiyao had pointed to his heart and said the ultimate reason lay there…

Feeling a bit awkward, Ran Lin instinctively looked at Lu Yiyao.

Their eyes met, and Lu Yiyao naturally said, “I agree with you. No matter how harsh or decisive Fang Xian’s words are, his brotherly bond with Tang Jingyu of over a decade can’t just be broken like that.”

Ran Lin finally realized what was different today. “Why have you been praising me all day…”

Lu Yiyao feigned innocence. “Have I?”

“Yes,” Tang Xiaoyu quickly agreed, providing objective third-party evidence. “Although you and Second Brother always had a good relationship, you liked to tease him when chatting. Today there wasn’t a single tease—all praises—very suspicious.”

Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected his behavior to be so obvious.

He had just reassessed his attitude, feeling like he might have been too casual before and also somewhat remorseful for not being able to reciprocate Ran Lin’s feelings. So, combining these factors, he ended up acting the way he did now.

Well, not only did Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu find it strange, but he also felt a bit awkward.

“You…” Ran Lin leaned in to scrutinize him and asked earnestly, “Are you trying to ask me for a favor?”

Lu Yiyao, not feigning anymore and slightly annoyed, replied, “Yes, I hope in tomorrow’s forest battle scene, you can go easy on me.”

Ran Lin sadly discovered his own masochistic tendency; he enjoyed it when the conversation wasn’t flattering and preferred seeing Lu Yiyao roll his eyes at him.

“Brother, are you stealing my lines?” Tang Xiaoyu finally relaxed; this was the normal atmosphere among the three brothers. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be sacrificed tomorrow?”

Lu Yiyao laughed at the joke and was about to respond when the director’s assistant came over to announce that they were ready to start shooting.

The three of them, refreshed, headed for the “Liuhua Palace”.

The entire day’s filming went very smoothly, wrapping up successfully at 10:30 p.m.

This was the most relaxed day Ran Lin had experienced in a while—mentally, at least. Lu Yiyao seemed to have suddenly forgotten about their failed dinner plans, discussing nothing but the script and acting during breaks. After removing makeup, he headed back to the hotel, never mentioning anything else.

Ran Lin didn’t know what had happened, or perhaps nothing had happened at all, and Lu Yiyao simply got tired of insisting and gave up.

It wasn’t possible to be lovers or best friends; stopping at ordinary friends was the most appropriate.

This was the outcome Ran Lin had foreseen, so he accepted it calmly, like still water.

Although the wind was comfortable, it didn’t belong to him and would always blow elsewhere.

That night, back at the hotel, Ran Lin asked Liu Wanwan to bring back a small cake. He closed the door and ate it piece by piece, marking the end of this period of unrequited love—if it could be called that.

After all, to feel sweet inside, one doesn’t necessarily need to pretend to have someone; eating cake is quite nice.

……

The next day, at the Dongyang Forest in Hengdian.

Here, the three brothers, Tang, Fang, and Xu, would engage in a life-and-death battle.

This was a critical scene, second only to the dramatic split between Fang and Tang. Though not as large in scale, it was equally important in terms of plot significance and emotional conflict.

With Writer Song Mang, once again present—dressed in a shiny silver down jacket and accompanying the crew to the small forest—the significance of the scene was evident.

The temperature in Hengdian had dropped sharply in the past two days, nearing freezing, necessitating heavier clothing.

But the actors had it harder.

The three men, about to engage in a fierce battle, sat together, wrapped in heavy coats, facing a box of ice cream and ice cubes, looking utterly despairing.

Ran Lin: “I haven’t even started eating, and my teeth already hurt.”

Lu Yiyao: “Great responsibilities lie ahead for those who eat ice…”

Tang Xiaoyu: “Really, can’t we negotiate with the writer to change it to a winter blood battle?”

All three handsome faces turned to look at Song Mang, not far behind the monitor.

As if sensing their gaze, the writer looked up and back at them.

The three sighed and braced themselves, tossing aside their coats to start eating.

Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu chose ice cream for its flavor.

Lu Yiyao went for the ice cubes, crunching away.

The script set the three men’s decisive battle in the height of summer, but now they were shooting in winter. To prevent the actors’ breath from showing and causing inconsistencies, they had to cool their mouths like this.

The director, feeling pity for them, announced the start of filming as soon as they were almost done eating.

As if understanding the day’s dramatic need, the sky was overcast and gloomy, with thick clouds hanging low. The weather couldn’t be worse.

Fortunately, the location was a densely wooded area that obscured the winter desolation, giving a semblance of summer lushness. Even if there were sunlight, it would be blocked by the forest canopy, with all lighting dependent on the crew’s equipment, so the actual weather didn’t matter.

With a click from the clapperboard, everything else faded away except for the rustling leaves.

Ran Lin, portraying Fang Xian, wore a dark, streamlined outfit that made him look less like a noble son and more like a bounty hunter or assassin. The wind lifted his hair, leaving only a stern and solemn aura, devoid of any frivolous elegance.

Not far off was Lu Yiyao’s character, Tang Jingyu, whose clothes, having been trapped in Liuhua Palace, were tattered and torn, and his face bore wounds. Yet, his gaze remained calm, firmly fixed on Fang Xian.

Standing between the two was Xu Chongfei, clad in a pale moonlight white outfit.

Tang Xiaoyu, deviating from his usual playful demeanor, appeared with furrowed brows and a stern countenance, his usual grace now eclipsed by the looming conflict between his brothers.

“Xu Chongfei, step aside!” Fang Xian suddenly bellowed with force.

“How can I just step aside?” Xu Chongfei roared back, almost bellowing. “To step aside and watch my two best brothers tear each other apart?”

Fang Xian retorted, “If you don’t step aside, then I can’t be brothers with you!”

Xu Chongfei exclaimed in desperation, “Ran Lin, have you gone mad—”

Ran Lin: “……”

The entire crew: “……”

Director Chen: “Cut!”

Tang Xiaoyu’s face was filled with regret as he wished he could bite off his tongue for his slip.

He half-expected Ran Lin to laugh at him, but upon glancing over, he found Ran Lin still glaring furiously at him, his chest heaving with intense emotion.

Tang Xiaoyu suddenly felt the urge to joke fade away.

Turning to Lu Yiyao, who, although not as deeply immersed as Ran Lin, still had a serious, thoughtful expression, not even shifting his position.

Ice cream was passed around, and Tang Xiaoyu grabbed it and devoured several bites, numbing his entire mouth before handing the rest back.

Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin did the same, cooling down their mouths.

As the clapperboard snapped again, Tang Xiaoyu suddenly felt an eerie silence, as if even the wind had stopped blowing. The atmosphere was tense, filled only with Ran Lin’s… no, only Fang Xian’s furious roars, which echoed painfully in everyone’s ears and hearts.

He shouted, “Xu Chongfei, step aside!”

For the first time, Tang Xiaoyu felt as if another soul had entered his body. He didn’t need to deliberate on how to respond or how to act; he simply had to entrust his body to… Xu Chongfei.

“How can I just step aside! To step aside and watch my two best brothers tear each other apart—”

Fang Xian stared at him with eyes red from excitement and other unspeakable reasons, warning, “If you don’t step aside, then I can’t be brothers with you!”

Xu Chongfei was in complete disarray, unsure how to untangle the emotional knots between them. He knew he couldn’t move; one wrong move and all would be lost!

“Why would you save him from Liuhua Palace if you intend to kill him?” Xu Chongfei’s voice was hoarse and strained from shouting, a bitter sorrow in his tone.

Fang Xian gritted his teeth, not really answering Xu Chongfei, but rather convincing himself. “I saved him because I want to be the one to kill him!”

“Then you’ll have to step over my dead body!”

“Don’t force me!”

“It’s you who’s forcing me!!!”

“Chongfei…” Tang Jingyu, who had been silent all this time, suddenly spoke up. His voice was low, laden with suppressed emotions, and yet indifferent. “Step aside.”

“Elder Brother?!” Xu Chongfei looked at Tang Jingyu incredulously.

Tang Jingyu simply shook his head with a hint of a smile, a stark contrast to Fang Xian’s rage.

He said, “Chongfei, step aside. Let him kill me. I’ve avenged myself and have no regrets.”

“So…” Fang Xian trembled. “If Haikong hadn’t poisoned, you would’ve killed my father…”

“Yes,” Tang Jingyu replied without hesitation. “For a vendetta as deep as ours, we cannot coexist under the same sky.”

“…Even if it means using me?” Fang Xian’s voice trailed off, as if he dared not ask the final question, the last word almost inaudible.

Tang Jingyu suddenly laughed—a genuine laugh unlike any before. It was carefree and unguarded; his usual furrowed brows smoothed out, and for once, he seemed light and joyous.

He spoke more clearly. “No need to ask one by one. I’ll tell you everything. If Haikong hadn’t poisoned, I would’ve found my own way to take revenge. Using my identity, using you, using whatever means necessary. I actually hate Haikong for robbing me of the chance to take my own revenge.”

“Tang—Jing—Yu!”

“Elder Brother?!”

Both Fang Xian and Xu Chongfei exclaimed in unison, though with different emotions, one in extreme anger and the other exhausted in body and spirit.

“Why would you say such things!” Xu Chongfei yelled with all his might, then suddenly froze, murmuring to himself as if realizing something. “You want Second Brother to kill you, don’t you? That’s why you’re provoking him…”

Tang Jingyu held back his urge to look away, nonchalantly meeting Xu Chongfei’s gaze, and continued, “You’re overthinking. I’m just telling the truth.” As he spoke, his eyes met Fang Xian’s, and his voice became louder and prouder. “I’ve never regretted using you, Fang Xian. Being used by me is your own folly—”

Fang Xian could no longer listen, drawing his sword with murderous intent towards Tang Jingyu!

Tang Jingyu’s smile faded, his gaze becoming calm, and as if content, he closed his eyes, not moving an inch, as the wind brushed past.

Suddenly, Xu Chongfei leapt forward!

Fang Xian thought he was trying to stop him, his eyes narrowing in intensified rage!

But Xu Chongfei, seemingly wielding a weapon, actually used his body to intercept Fang Xian’s sword!

Fang Xian realized too late that the sword was unstoppable…

“Cut!”

The director’s voice halted the scene, and Ran Lin, who played Fang Xian, stood straight, sword tip touching the ground, head lowered, gathering emotions for the next scene.

Lu Yiyao watched him, feeling a sourness in his heart, unsure if it was for Fang Xian or Tang Jingyu.

Tang Xiaoyu was taken aside by the makeup artist for touch-ups.

Soon after, with a bloodstained chest and a sword protruding gruesomely, he looked both realistic and tragic.

Ran Lin’s sword was taken away, as Fang Xian had already plunged his into Xu Chongfei’s body, leaving no sword in hand.

Tang Xiaoyu quietly approached Ran Lin and softly said, “Hey, it’s your turn to hold me.”

Ran Lin finally looked up, eyes red and moist but tearless, filled with a sorrowful gaze that made Tang Xiaoyu feel equally pained.

“I’m alright,” Tang Xiaoyu assured. “I will always live in both of your hearts, which is great.”

Ran Lin tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

After a while, he hoarsely said, “When I first got the role, I knew, of the three of us, you were the most foolish.”

Tang Xiaoyu understood Ran Lin was referring to the initial acceptance of the role of Xu Chongfei but couldn’t discern whether the words were meant for him or the character. His voice was filled with tenderness and sorrow—genuine emotions—not just an act.

As filming resumed, “Xu Chongfei” lay in “Fang Xian’s” arms.

His blood smeared on Fang Xian’s hand, staining his clothes and seeping into his heart.

Tang Jingyu stood at his usual spot, unable to maintain his composed demeanor. He had wanted to die by Fang Xian’s hand as a repayment, but never envisioned it ending like this.

The clapperboard snapped shut, startling a nearby sparrow.

The bird flew through the dense forest, towards the sky, lively and free, like a soul breaking free from its shackles.

Fang Xian couldn’t hold back any longer; a tear fell onto Xu Chongfei’s nose.

He shakily reached out, as if searching for something.

Fang Xian immediately grasped his hand tightly.

“Second Brother…” Xu Chongfei’s voice was intermittent, strained, and weak. “If I can repay the life that Elder Brother owes you, would that be alright…”

Fang Xian shook his head vigorously, his voice trembling fiercely. “Don’t talk nonsense. You won’t die. I’ll take you to Divine Doctor Xue right away…”

“Second Brother.” Xu Chongfei managed a weak smile and a glimpse of his usual mischief in his eyes. “Do you want me to leave with no peace of mind…”

Taking a deep breath, Fang Xian’s tears blurred his vision as he nearly shouted, “Fine! You’ve repaid it! The life of my third brother is most precious. No need to die. Just a wound is enough to repay. Hold on, I’ll find…”

“Bullshit!” For the first time in his life, Xu Chongfei swore. “You only speak nicely when you’re lying…”

“Xu Chongfei, listen well,” Fang Xian declared solemnly. “I, Fang Xian, swear to the heavens that my feud with Tang Jingyu ends here. If I break this oath, I shall meet a terrible end!”

Xu Chongfei, satisfied, couldn’t muster a smile due to the pain, but a smile reflected in his eyes, clear and pure like a lake on a spring day.

“Elder Brother…” Xu Chongfei strained to look at Tang Jingyu, saying with a hint of triumph. “Did you hear that… Second Brother said, the three of us are still brothers…”

Fang Xian didn’t say that—he only mentioned ending the feud.

But Tang Jingyu looked at him firmly and nodded gently. “Yes, still brothers. We did say we’d be brothers for life.”

Their vow was to erase all feuds and grudges—not just the animosity but also the brotherhood.

Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian both knew they could never be brothers again.

But if lies could bring back Xu Chongfei’s life, they were willing to tell them for a lifetime.

“Chongfei—” The person in his arms slowly closed his eyes, and Fang Xian called out in grief.

“I’m, I’m okay…” Xu Chongfei mustered the last bit of his strength, looking at the increasingly blurred Fang Xian. “I want to go back to the Plum Garden…”

The Plum Garden, the place where they swore brotherhood, was where, despite the plum trees, they never had the chance to see the plum blossoms bloom.

In his arms, Xu Chongfei closed his eyes forever.

Fang Xian held him tight, his voice choked with sobs. “Second Brother will take you back…”

……

“Cut!” Chen Qizheng made a deep breath before loudly announcing, “Pass—”

Song Mang was crying silently; if he wasn’t the scriptwriter, he would’ve sent blades to the writer for creating such a heart-wrenching story. How could he have come up with such a plot!

In the monitor, Ran Lin was still holding Tang Xiaoxu.

However, at the moment of “cut,” he immediately opened his eyes but didn’t move; he just looked up at his “Second Brother”.

Ran Lin wasn’t crying anymore, but the tears he shed before lingered in his eyes, about to fall.

Tang Xiaoyu reached out and gently touched his face, earnestly asking, “How do you manage to cry so handsomely…”

Ran Lin was defeated by his words and broke into laughter.

Tang Xiaoyu clambered out of “Second Brother’s” arms and hurried towards “Elder Brother”, wanting to share post-performance thoughts.

Lu Yiyao was still replaying the moment Tang Xiaoyu touched Ran Lin’s face. By the time he snapped out of it, Tang Xiaoyu was already near.

Lu Yiyao quickly extended a hand in a “please stop” gesture.

However, the enthusiastic third male lead was about to crash into him.

Lu Yiyao quickly stepped back, loudly cautioning, “Your sword¹—”

Tang Xiaoyu stopped abruptly, hurt disbelief in his eyes. “I’m cheap¹?”

¹Clarity: Lu Yiyao said sword [jian] (剑) while Tang Xiaoyu thought he was calling him cheap [jian] (贱). They’re homophones..

Ran Lin, feeling something was amiss the moment he ran off, followed and swiftly pulled off the “sword” sticking to Tang Xiaoyu’s chest, showing it to him. “You’re carrying the ‘sword’, Third Brother.”

Realization dawned on Tang Xiaoyu, and he felt the world brighten again.

Lu Yiyao, after this disturbance, completely stepped out of Tang Jingyu’s somber mood, the sorrow slowly fading.

Ran Lin felt a sudden urge to keep this lively “fish” in a glass tank as a mascot.

As he was pondering this, his nose suddenly felt cold.

Ran Lin froze, looking up instinctively.

Through the dense branches, the sky seemed darker than before. The wind had stopped, making everything even more eerily quiet.

His nose felt cold again.

Ran Lin widened his eyes in surprise, belatedly realizing—it was snowing.

……

Snow was rare in Hengdian in winter, and even when it did snow, it wasn’t much.

But this snowfall was different, starting as small flakes and growing into larger ones, creating a scene reminiscent of the north.

The next morning, the sky was clear, but the snow hadn’t stopped. Without any wind, the snowflakes quietly drifted down, slow and graceful.

This delighted the entire crew.

The final scene in the Plum Garden, which was supposed to be set in snowy weather according to the script, was now blessed with real snow. The crew had prepared lime and foam to create fake snow effects—usually the way to go for snow scenes in Hengdian.

But nature had granted them a perfect setting!

The scenery of the Plum Garden wasn’t yet complete, but to catch the snowfall, the crew worked overnight, making the plum blossoms bloom throughout the garden, creating a dreamy and surreal mix of reality and fiction.

The shooting schedule was adjusted, and the final scene was moved up to this day.

When Ran Lin entered the set after makeup, he was mesmerized by the garden’s scenery.

Lu Yiyao was already seated in the garden, his back bearing Tang Jingyu’s solitude and melancholy.

This scene didn’t include Tang Xiaoyu—after all, it was a grave-visiting scene, and the person in the grave showing up would turn the finale into a ghost story—but the dedicated third male lead still followed the crew to watch.

The dawn was breaking, and the snowflakes were getting smaller.

The crew didn’t dare delay and hurried to prepare. As the snow covered the Plum Garden brightened like daylight, all cast and crew took their places, the clapperboard snapped crisply!

Three years ago, in the height of summer, Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian buried Xu Chongfei here.

It seemed they were never destined to see the plum blossoms in bloom, whether during their brotherhood oath or while erecting the tomb, always surrounded by verdant greenery.

After that, the two went their separate ways, never to meet again.

Even when they came to mourn, they avoided Xu Chongfei’s actual death anniversary, one choosing the day before, the other the day after, unspoken yet perfectly in sync.

Today wasn’t any special day, just a regular winter day.

Yet, Fang Xian suddenly realized that the place which held their most cherished and sorrowful memories, he had never once seen the real plum blossoms in bloom.

Once the thought occurred, he couldn’t let it go.

So, Fang Xian came here.

Traveling day and night, for many days, just to see the plum blossoms.

As soon as he arrived at the Moon Gate, he was greeted with the fragrance of the blossoms. The scent was refreshing, as if stirring the deepest memories within one’s heart…

[Fang Xian: Why choose here?]

[Tang Jingyu: A gentleman is like a plum blossom, standing proud and unyielding in frost and snow. What, doesn’t that suit you, Young Master Fang?]

[Xu Chongfei: My fault, my fault, I should have chosen a winter day to bring you two here for the oath.]

[Tang Jingyu: Ignore him. I think this place is good. Chongfei, light the incense.]

That year, surrounded by lush greenery with no plum blossoms in sight.

He, calm as water; he, reckless and free; he, gentle as jade; the three young men swore brotherhood amidst heaven and earth and the mountains and river as their witness…

Fang Xian shook his head, stopping himself from reminiscing further.

Stepping through the Moon Gate, the scent of plum blossoms was stronger, the light snow adding to the vibrant red of the blossoms.

For the first time, Fang Xian saw the garden in full bloom.

It was truly beautiful.

He walked slowly towards the deepest part of the garden, where the largest plum tree stood, under which lay his dearest brother.

Suddenly, Fang Xian stopped.

The largest plum tree came into view, but he stood frozen, unable to move forward.

Beside the stone table under the tree, someone was pouring and drinking by himself.

Amidst the falling snow, he seemed to be murmuring, talking to someone.

He was alone.

But Fang Xian knew he was talking to Xu Chongfei, speaking, and Xu Chongfei listening—because he did the same.

As if sensing an intruder, Tang Jingyu put down his wine cup and looked up warily.

Their eyes met.

In the moment he recognized the visitor, the sharpness in Tang Jingyu’s eyes dissipated, replaced by a faint surprise.

Fang Xian stood there, quietly watching him.

The martial world is vast, so vast that mountains and rivers can separate them forever, yet it’s also small, small enough to fit within a courtyard garden.

A gust of wind came from nowhere, and suddenly, the falling plum blossoms fell like rain.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

---

Chapter 49

“Cut—”

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

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

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

Everyone in the crew was drawn into the performance.

Especially the actors involved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Lu Yiyao might not think so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said, “Can you hug me again?”

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

Such deep eyes should be illegal!

And then—

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

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

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

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

Until Ran Lin’s embrace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lu Yiyao nodded. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I see…”

“Yeah, it’s okay…”

“Alright, see you tomorrow.”

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

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

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

“And then?”

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

“So our dinner is canceled?”

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

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

Meanwhile, in a hidden corner of the filming location.

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

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

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

Ran Lin: “On the scene we just shot!”

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

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

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

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

The call lasted less than a minute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girl immediately leaned in. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fortunately, Lu Yiyao was easy to deceive.

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It isn’t.”

“I thought there was no follow-up?”

“I never said that.”

“But you haven’t contacted me since.”

“Am I not contacting you now?”

“……”

Ding—

“What’s that sound?”

“The oven.”

“Aren’t you going to check?”

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

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

Ten minutes later.

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

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

Huo Yuntao: “…”

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

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

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

Huo Yuntao: “You did.”

Lu Yiyao: “For that long?”

Huo Yuntao: “And you were beaming.”

Lu Yiyao: “…”

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

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

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

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

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

Lu Yiyao fell silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The premonition came true.

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

Lu Yiyao’s eyes narrowed slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lu Yiyao hesitated.

Huo Yuntao’s eyes widened. “Well?”

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

Huo Yuntao: “…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t a good sign.

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

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

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

Lu Yiyao paused. “In what way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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Kinky Thoughts:

I need a friend like Huo Yuntao.

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