Author: Kinky

Midnight Owl Ch60

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Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 60: Extra — Ding Xiaoche (Part 1)

As the sun rose, the 4S store just opened its doors. Customers poured in, almost breaking the threshold.

The security guards were armed and vigilant, not only to check the customers entering the store for any signs of infection but also to guard against zombies that might suddenly appear from the roadside.

With zombies rampant, the lifespan of vehicles drastically reduced, creating a sudden surge in car demand. Fortunately, the 4S store had ample inventory. As long as citizens could safely enter the store, they could purchase cars with confidence.

The showroom was packed, with almost every car model surrounded by eager buyers, making it hard to even sit in a car for a trial without waiting in line. Only in the northeast corner of the hall was it slightly quieter.

There, a purple Volkswagen Beetle was on display.

Beside it stood only two male customers. One was taller with a slim figure, extraordinarily handsome, and had long hair that few men would keep. It didn’t seem out of place on him but rather added to his refined demeanor. The other, slightly shorter but also young and handsome, exuded youthful vitality.

The extraordinarily handsome one gazed at the purple Beetle, mesmerized, while the younger handsome one rolled his eyes skyward.

“It’s beautiful.” Meng Zhang thought for a long time and could only come up with this.

Ding Xiaoche despaired. “Your aesthetics are too distorted.”

Meng Zhang turned to look at him.

Ding Xiaoche swallowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Meng Zhang’s lips were slightly raised in a faint smile, as gentle as a breeze and as bright as the moon. “It’s beautiful, but not as much as you.”

Ding Xiaoche: “……”

“Salesperson—” In the end, Ding Xiaoche surrendered to the sweet talk.

He wasn’t afraid of the god having no aesthetics, but rather his words.

The two paid on the spot, picked up the car, and soon drove the purple Beetle back to Ding Xiaoche’s house.

Although it was a done deal, Ding Xiaoche still complained all the way, and even after entering the house, he kept mumbling. “Enchantment Red, Mint Green, Ice Blue, Macaron Pink, Lavender Purple… the colors of the cars you’ve bought could make up a tropical fruit basket!”

Meng Zhang was changing shoes when he heard this and paused. “Tropical… fruit basket?”

“It’s a bunch of colorful tropical fruits in a basket,” Ding Xiaoche explained while gesturing, “piled up like a little mountain, brimming with enthusiasm…”

Meng Zhang was still confused. “How is tropical fruit different from the fruit in the store downstairs?”

Ding Xiaoche couldn’t describe it, so he simply started to draw. “This is a mango. It’s orange-yellow and not available in the fruit store downstairs!”

Meng Zhang looked at the drawing, which seemed more like a pebble, still unable to envision this tropical fruit.

Ding Xiaoche looked at his own work, also somewhat at a loss for words, and finally sighed. “I should have taken a picture with my phone.” He looked at Meng Zhang somewhat apologetically. “Those foreigners didn’t bring the actual thing. They were just looking at photos on their phones and chatting. I just caught a glimpse.”

Foreigners, referring to people who appear in the city at a certain time every day.

Meng Zhang and Ding Xiaoche had agreed, if they encountered anything novel or heard unfamiliar words from these foreigners, to try to remember them. It might be useful, or it might not, but in any case, they had plenty of leisure time to ponder and decipher together, adding some fun.

Although that’s what they said, they didn’t need to take every word seriously or remember everything. But clearly, Ding Xiaoche was concerned and felt apologetic for not doing his best.

His earnestness, bordering on silliness, was the most worrisome yet adorable trait of Ding Xiaoche.

Meng Zhang pulled him over and skillfully stole a kiss. Ding Xiaoche was stunned and took a while to react.

Meng Zhang thought for a moment and kissed him a second time. Ding Xiaoche’s face turned red, but as usual, he was stubborn. “Why… Why did you kiss me?”

Meng Zhang embraced him, forehead to forehead, their bodies subtly emitting a fragrance of sandalwood, bringing an involuntary sense of peace and tranquility. “Thank you for letting me choose the car.”

Ding Xiaoche muttered. “It was your money anyway…”

“Not so,” Meng Zhang corrected him. “Every penny I spend now is your money.”

Ding Xiaoche: “……”

“That day I already said, from now on—” Meng Zhang pulled them apart slightly, eyes meeting eyes, earnestly gazing into the depths of Ding Xiaoche’s eyes, declaring his sovereignty. “My incense money is yours, and you, belong to me.”

……

Lord Meng Zhang didn’t remember anything before his spirit left his body.

It was on a certain day five years ago that he suddenly broke free from the shackles of his idol, and his spirit gained freedom. That’s when he began to have memories. In the following year, although he remained within the Temple of Three Religions and never left, he pieced together an understanding of the world from the casual conversations of the “visitors”.

This is a city overrun by zombies. Zombies bite people, and those bitten may become infected or even die. The visitors’ task is to escort vaccines to the central hospital.

His duty was to bless these visitors.

As soon as someone discovered his statue and offered incense, countless weapons and objects would appear in his mind, as if they had been rooted there for centuries. He only needed to choose two of them and bestow them on the person.

This was how he spent over three hundred days in an orderly fashion. Then, Ding Xiaoche arrived.

It was a rainy night. A person, tied up like a rice dumpling, “thumped” into the Temple of Three Religions.

Four visitors kicked him into the temple and continued to beat him.

The person on the ground had no strength to fight back, but he could talk back. “I lent you my car, and you beat me. Repaying kindness with ingratitude, you’ll go to the eighteenth level of hell—”

Meng Zhang, floating in mid-air, was speechless for him. At this moment, he was shouting curses. There was no other word to describe him except stupidity.

As expected, the four became even angrier and kicked him harder. “You damn blew the horn and attracted the zombies, didn’t you? Ah? I almost died on the riverbank—”

The man who was kicked groaned in pain but refused to give in. “I told you the car was yours. I want to go home. I don’t want to go to the north of the city. Why don’t you let me go!”

Conflicts among visitors were common. Sometimes several groups would fight together, which was quite a sight. So, Meng Zhang wasn’t surprised by such scenes.

He turned around, preparing to float back behind the statue to wait to be found, when a cold snort made him stop.

“Lao Si, arguing with an NPC. Are you fed up or something?”

NPC. This was a term many visitors used when worshiping him. He didn’t understand what it meant, but knew that if everyone was called NPC, they must be of the same kind.

Meng Zhang had never seen his own kind in the Temple of Three Religions. He had only seen visitors and the zombies that followed them.

“Ah—” The kicked man suddenly let out a piercing scream.

Meng Zhang felt a sudden jolt in his heart. He turned stiffly to see one of the four, the one with the coldest eye, stabbing the kicked man’s forearm with a dagger.

The attacker was emotionless as he pulled out the dagger, shook off the blood, and sheathed it.

The kicked man was in so much pain that he could no longer scream. His face paled, and his forehead was covered in sweat.

The other three visitors were also shocked. The one who had kicked the hardest showed some pity. “Isn’t this too cruel…?”

The cold-eyed man sighed impatiently and looked at them. “How many times do I have to say it? Don’t get emotionally involved. These are just NPCs. Whether they live or die, they’ll reset to factory settings tomorrow, okay?”

After saying this, he looked at the curled-up, kicked man and asked lightly, “Now, will you take us to the north of the city?”

The kicked man clenched his teeth and remained silent.

The cold-eyed man squatted down, slowly saying, “Looks like I need to stab you again.”

The kicked man panicked. His eyes were unable to hide his terror. Meng Zhang could feel the extreme fear trembling in those eyes.

Yet he stubbornly remained silent, nearly biting through his lips.

As the cold-eyed man nonchalantly took out the dagger again, Meng Zhang suddenly became angry. His rage was so intense that before he even knew what to do, the entire Temple of Three Religions started shaking violently!

“Fuck, an earthquake?!”

The three visitors panicked, their faces changing.

But the shaking of the Temple of Three Religions didn’t stop. Instead, it intensified. Dust fell from the beams, and tiles slid off the roof outside, shattering!

“What are you waiting for? Run—”

“A hidden Easter egg…”

“Fuck the Easter egg when your life is at stake!”

The four ran away in a panic. The last one didn’t forget to grab the rope and drag the kicked man out of the door.

Meng Zhang didn’t give them a chance, timing it perfectly to close the temple doors the moment they left!

The doors closed like steel blades, cutting off the rope. The kicked man, who hadn’t been dragged out yet, fell to the ground.

Meng Zhang approached to check on him, but the man only sat there for a few seconds before realizing the ropes were loose. He suddenly sprang up and ran under the offering table, hiding expertly.

Meng Zhang was puzzled. He listened to the car noises, assuming the others had run off, so he stopped the shaking.

The temple returned to silence. Meng Zhang waved his hand, and the fallen incense burner and candles returned to their original state, erasing all traces of the chaos.

“Why are you hiding there?” Meng Zhang landed and manifested himself.

“Who’s talking?” A trembling voice came from under the table.

Meng Zhang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Come out, and you’ll see.”

“No.” The person under the table insisted. “What if there’s an aftershock? It’s safest here!”

Aftershocks?

Meng Zhang noted this new word to research later. He then took two steps forward and squatted in front of the table.

The person under the table was pale, shaking violently, his arm covered in blood.

In this state, when he made eye contact, he suddenly paused and said, “Your hair is so long.”

Meng Zhang was taken aback, not knowing what to say.

After a while, he found his voice. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

The person under the table was startled. Seemingly regaining his senses, he took a sharp inhale and howled, “It hurts—”

“It hurts like hell—”

“They are inhuman—”

“Bastards—”

Meng Zhang resisted the urge to cover his ears and gently blew on the NPC’s wounded arm.

The wound and pain disappeared, leaving only bloodstains as proof of the evildoers’ presence.

The person under the table was incredulous, first tentatively poking his arm, finding no pain. Then he hit it harder and still found no pain. He was immediately revitalized and asked in amazement, “Are you an immortal?”

Their eyes met, and the air suddenly became quiet.

Meng Zhang pondered for a long time and found only one word to answer. “…Yes.”

All his composure and godlike aura were lost in this rhythmless and unpredictable conversation.

“Was the earthquake just now also your doing?”

“……”

“It’s like the earth shaking and mountains moving.” Seeing that he didn’t quite understand, the young man in the cramped space under the table still insisted on making hand gestures and mimicking sounds. “Just now, it was like ‘bang bang’ and ‘whoosh whoosh’ and ‘ahhh’—”

Meng Zhang swallowed hard. “…Yeah.”

The young man’s expression brightened, giving him an unreservedly radiant smile. “So there really are gods in this world, and you’re so handsome too.”

For some reason, seeing him smile, Meng Zhang couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I’m Xiao Ding.” The young man put his hands together in prayer and bowed as if offering incense. “Thank you, god, for saving me.”

“I’m Meng Zhang.” Without thinking, he also gave his name.

Xiao Ding was surprised. “Gods have names too?”

Meng Zhang: “…Yeah.”

Xiao Ding frowned at him. “Why do you always just say, ‘Yeah’?”

Meng Zhang: “……”

Xiao Ding: “Now you’re not even saying ‘yeah’.”

Lord Meng Zhang had never been so passive in conversation before. He decided to take back control of the conversation. “Are you also a blessed one?”

Xiao Ding looked at him blankly for a while, then suddenly asked, “Can I come out?”

“Aren’t you worried about ‘aftershocks’?” Meng Zhang may not understand the word, but he clearly remembers the conversation.

Xiao Ding, who had been tilting his head in the low table for a long time, wrinkled his face pitifully. “I’m worried, but my neck is so sore…”

Meng Zhang pulled him out irritably. Xiao Ding cracked his neck for a while, finally feeling comfortable. “What did you ask just now?”

“Are you a Blesser?” Meng Zhang sighed and repeated, feeling tired for the first time in his immortal path.

“No.” Xiao Ding shook his head firmly, then asked, “What’s a Blesser?”

Meng Zhang: “……”

It rained all night. The god spent the whole night in conversation with Xiao Ding, finally understanding that although Xiao Ding wasn’t a visitor, he was also not a Blesser like him. If anything, Xiao Ding was a “car giver”, struggling every time he encountered visitors before eventually letting them take his car.

Meng Zhang also learned that many people in the city, like Xiao Ding, were trying hard to survive amidst the siege from the zombies.

Night was the most dangerous time in the city, with shops being smashed, stalls robbed, hordes of zombies roaming, and blood flowing like rivers. But by day, these traces all faded away—these shops would reopen, most zombies would go into hiding, and the city’s armed forces would take their posts, so life continued as usual.

“Going back to the north of the city for work?” Hearing Xiao Ding was about to leave, Meng Zhang suddenly felt reluctant. “I thought you’d rather die than go to the north of the city?”

“That’s at night. It’s fine during the day.” Xiao Ding worriedly looked at the blood on his sleeve. “I just won’t have time to change clothes. My boss is definitely going to scold me.”

Meng Zhang recalled the visitors he had seen, picked one that he found most appealing, raised his hand, and Xiao Ding was instantly dressed in clean clothes just like that visitor.

“You’re so useful!” Xiao Ding was thrilled with his new outfit, praising sincerely.

“……” Meng Zhang had given up. Xiao Ding could say whatever he wanted, and he would just smile.

The spirited young man walked to the temple gate. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he quickly turned back. “Can I come to see you again in the future?”

“Of course.” Meng Zhang hadn’t thought much before replying.

Xiao Ding grinned, satisfied.

“Hold on.” Meng Zhang suddenly remembered something he’d been thinking about all night. “What’s your full name?”

A name should have both a first and last name*.

*Clarity: His name is just Ding, with Xiao (小) being a form of an address (like Little Ding), usually used to address someone (younger or lower rank) that you’re familiar with as a sign of closeness or affection. Note that the Xiao is not his surname.

Xiao Ding looked at him blankly, not understanding. “Just Xiao Ding.”

Meng Zhang frowned. “Don’t you have a full name?”

Xiao Ding seemed puzzled by the question. He thought seriously for a moment, and then shook his head regretfully. “No, I don’t. My surname is Ding, and everyone just calls me Xiao Ding.”

Watching him leave, Meng Zhang replayed the phrase “Can I come see you again in the future?” in his mind, unexpectedly feeling a sense of anticipation.

Ten days passed quietly.

For Meng Zhang, ten days used to be like fleeting water, but this time, they felt like an eternity.

He suspected there was a discrepancy in their understanding of “future”. His “future” meant a few days, but what about Xiao Ding’s “future”?

Meng Zhang didn’t know, but he couldn’t wait any longer.

For the first time, he felt an urge to leave the Temple of Three Religions. And without hesitation, he acted on it.

Xiao Ding worked in the north of the city and returned to the south after work. Meng Zhang set out in the early morning and floated above the north of the city all day.

This was his first time seeing the apocalyptic city described by the visitors, but he was in no mood to admire the scenery. He only wanted to find Xiao Ding, and upon finding him, he wanted to ask, “Do you know the consequences of deceiving a god?”

However, in this bustling city with its myriad buildings, shops, and traffic, finding one person was like looking for a needle in a haystack, even for a god.

As night fell and chaos and screams reigned in the north of the city before it sank into a deathly silence, and as the south of the city lost its daytime bustle and people hid in safe places to survive the long night, the cars still driving in the south became conspicuous.

Meng Zhang would float down to each car he saw. His spirit was invisible and intangible, undetectable to visitors and the city’s inhabitants alike.

In the end, Meng Zhang finally saw Xiao Ding in the ninth car.

This time, the four people who borrowed the car were very polite, treating the car owner with good food and drink. When Meng Zhang’s spirit floated into the back seat, the young man was happily munching on chips.

Meng Zhang blew air at him.

Xiao Ding felt a breeze tickling his face, wiped it off with his hand, and continued munching, completely unaware of being watched by a god.

Meng Zhang held back his irritation until the car reached the dock, and the group abandoned the car to board a boat. Xiao Ding then returned to the driver’s seat, preparing to drive home. It was only then that Meng Zhang appeared in the passenger seat.

Full of dissatisfaction, and before he could complain, the sight of him made Driver Ding scream so loudly it could break through the car roof.

“Ahhh, a ghost!”

Meng Zhang collapsed with frustration and, losing his temper, flicked Xiao Ding’s forehead hard.

The scream stopped abruptly. Driver Ding held his forehead and looked at him pitifully. “Why did you flick me?”

Meng Zhang sighed internally, suddenly regretting that he should have been gentler, but his tone remained stern. “Those who break promises are abandoned by both humans and gods.”

Xiao Ding frowned, confused. “Break what promise? What promise did I break?”

“You said you would come to the Temple of Three Teachings in the future. Not coming for ten days is breaking the promise.” Meng Zhang didn’t care. For him, “future” meant a maximum of ten days!

Xiao Ding didn’t seem guilty, but more confused. “Temple… of Three Religions?”

His face showed no sign of joking, just pure bewilderment. Meng Zhang felt a chill in his heart and suddenly panicked. “Xiao Ding?”

“You know my name?” Xiao Ding raised an eyebrow, completely surprised. “Do we know each other?”

The author has something to say:

Don’t fear the awakening of a god’s consciousness, but fear when a god’s little heart is moved~~ (～￣▽￣)～

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

Suddenly Trending Ch61

Kinky1 Comment

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 61

Lu Yiyao’s pride lasted only until Yao Hong left. As the door closed, his smile gradually faded into a sorrowful and aggrieved expression.

Ran Lin couldn’t possibly have agreed to that bastard Ding something, but why hadn’t he mentioned anything about this message delivery? And even later, about the audition, Ran Lin didn’t mention a word.

Thinking it over, Lu Yiyao could only come up with a pessimistic answer that he was “worried about overthinking, being suspicious, or even making a jealous scene without reason.” And for Ran Lin to have such worries only meant one thing—that he, as a boyfriend, hadn’t managed to fully earn Ran Lin’s trust and peace of mind.

This realization made Lu Yiyao gloomy.

In his first relationship, he wasn’t quite clear on how lovers should interact. His most familiar couple, Huo Yuntao and Lin Panxi, who were long-distance most of the time, hardly provided a reference. Moreover, Ran Lin was a man.

He could only try his best based on instinct, but it was evidently not enough.

If only they could be together every day, Lu Yiyao thought while showering. Even if not every day, at least not like now, where seeing each other once a month was considered fortunate. The rest of their communication had to rely on messaging apps.

Many things were better said face-to-face, and many things were better done face-to-face. Probably only celebrities experience love like a mobile nurturing game.

Continuing his inner monologue until he finished showering, Lu Yiyao didn’t feel a bit sleepy and ended up clutching the corner of his blanket, pitifully, until dawn.

Finally, as the early summer sun rose, Lu Yiyao couldn’t wait to send a WeChat message—[Are you awake?]

……

Ran Lin got up early today as it was going to be a very busy day. With the explosive viewership of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> and Fang Xian’s rapidly rising popularity, the company immediately seized the opportunity to organize a fan meeting for him. Today was the first one in Beijing, and if it went well, they planned to visit other cities. However, the fan meeting was at 7 p.m., and in the morning, he had to visit the company first, as the higher-ups wanted to personally send their condolences to him. Then in the afternoon, there was a live broadcast, previously promised to fans on Weibo, and only after all this would be the evening’s main event.

When he received Lu Yiyao’s WeChat, he was already in the company’s dressing room getting styled.

Since they started dating, Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin both changed their WeChat profile pictures to landscapes, changing them every few days like a calendar. They even renamed each other’s contact names to “Teacher from Sanya” and “Iron Fan from the Airport” to have a cover story just in case their chats were seen by others.

So, Ran Lin glanced at the stylist in the mirror, switched his phone to silent mode, and carefully replied—[Started working.]

Lu Yiyao—[So early?]

Ran Lin—[Now you know I wasn’t bragging. I’m really famous now, back-to-back schedules, super busy!]

Lu Yiyao—[Please write ‘modesty’ a hundred times.]

Ran Lin—[Modesty is for others, for you I only have swagger. There’s a saying you’ve probably never heard, “Like an old lady stepping on the accelerator, shaking things up*!” That’s me right now 🦚 🦚 🦚.]

*It’s a colloquialism used to describe a situation where someone or something suddenly becomes active or agitated, much like an old lady who accidentally steps on the gas, causing the car to lurch forward unexpectedly and everyone inside shakes or jolts. In this context, Ran Lin is basically saying he’s the old lady suddenly stepping on the gas (rising to stardom) and shaking everyone up (getting more exciting fans).

Lu Yiyao stared at his phone, grinning foolishly.

Ran Lin never hesitated to tell him that he was different from others, so everything he received from Ran Lin felt uniquely special.

Lu Yiyao—[When are you free? I want to call you.]

Ran Lin—[Not now. Maybe after I’m done with styling, if the boss hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll find a place to call you. Are you always available?]

Lu Yiyao—[In another hour and a half, I have to start working too.]

Ran Lin—[Okay, I’ll message you before that.]

Lu Yiyao—[Feels like a spy rendezvous 💦.]

Ran Lin—[No, it’s like comrades who have formed a deep bond in the revolution.]

Ran Lin—[I love you ❤️.]

Ran Lin—[“Ran Lin has withdrawn a message”]

Lu Yiyao—[…Couldn’t you have waited two seconds longer before retracting?!]

Ran Lin—[Safety.]

Lu Yiyao—[Tigger smashing a honey jar.gif]]

Ran Lin smiled, feeling like the jar of honey had shattered in his heart, sweetening everything.

On the other end of the phone, the gloominess that hadn’t subsided the entire night suddenly disappeared without Li Yiyao noticing. As the chat ended, he felt clear and bright.

He decided to take another shower, feeling refreshed, ordered hotel breakfast, and while eating a sandwich with soy milk, watched the morning news.

Less than an hour and a half later, just an hour after their chat, Ran Lin’s call came through.

Li Tong was helping him pack in the room and knew from his boss’ expression that they were about to witness some more lovey-dovey moments. He discreetly left to his own room, giving his boss some privacy.

“What’s up?” Ran Lin asked as soon as the call connected. Although Lu Yiyao had only mentioned wanting to call, Ran Lin always felt Lu Yiyao had something to say, so as soon as he found a break, he sneaked off to a secluded spot and made the call.

Lu Yiyao hesitated for a moment but decided to start with the good news. “It looks like you’re confirmed for the lead in <Mint Green>.”

Ran Lin had made many guesses and assumptions while waiting for the call but never expected this. “Really?!”

Lu Yiyao could hear the disbelief and delight in the other’s voice, his gaze softening unconsciously. “Really. Do you still doubt my sources?”

“Not at all.” The voice on the other end suppressed a laugh with a bit of smugness. “My harbinger of good news is always accurate.”

Lu Yiyao smirked and, after a while, asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about the audition?”

There was no hesitation on the other end. The reply came naturally. “I thought the chances were slim, so I planned to wait until there was definite news to tell you. Even if it didn’t work out, it would just be a disappointment. I didn’t want you to be kept in suspense with me.”

Lu Yiyao always felt Ran Lin worried too much. “It’s you who is fighting for the role, not me. Why are you always worried about me?”

After a long silence, a soft sigh came through. “I always thought the fight was on me, but the suspense was in your heart. It seems I overestimated my charm.”

Lu Yiyao suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

He felt like his heart was a bucket tied to a well rope, which, despite his contemplations on life, had only been moving up and down vertically with the rope. But a single sentence from Ran Lin stirred up a wild wind, causing the rope to sway chaotically and the bucket to clatter against the wall of the well.

“Why did you stop talking all of a sudden?” Ran Lin felt a bit embarrassed. “I was just joking. If you don’t play along, it’ll be awkward for me.”

“You haven’t overestimated your charm,” Lu Yiyao said with a deepened voice, earnestly. “I think about you every day, worrying if you’ll miss good opportunities, if you’ll be bullied, or if you’ll meet bad people.”

Ran Lin blinked, feeling a flush of warmth on his face but still teasing, “Can’t you give a buffer before switching to deep emotional mode?”

Lu Yiyao confidently retorted, “I’ve always been in this mode. There’s no switching.”

Ran Lin loved his outpour of sweet nothings. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. We live in a society ruled by law; there aren’t that many bad people around.”

Lu Yiyao’s eyes dropped, murmuring softly, “Aren’t there…”

On the other end of the phone, Ran Lin’s brows furrowed, and the joking mood faded as he pondered and then cautiously asked, “Do those trying to take advantage of me… count?”

Lu Yiyao was caught off guard, not expecting the topic to be brought up before he even started. The already clear mood immediately returned to the primeval, expansive, full of birdsong and wildlife, lush greenery. “You tell me!”

After an anxious wait, Ran Lin was comforted by such a seemingly ferocious but paper tiger-like roar. “I think they should count.”

“Of course, they count!” Lu Yiyao wished he could rush over and do this and that and then this and that in an infinite loop!

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lu Yiyao’s tone softened, carrying a tinge of sullenness. Actually, this was what he most wanted to ask.

But Ran Lin sensed something unusual in his lover’s reaction. Lu Yiyao’s tone didn’t sound like he had just found out. Wouldn’t the first reaction be to ask, “Who is that bastard?”

“You already know?” Though it was phrased as a question, the certainty was apparent.

Lu Yiyao didn’t hide it and straightforwardly affirmed, “Yeah.”

The phone fell silent for a moment, then came a sigh. “Hong Jie not becoming a gossip reporter is truly a blessing for celebrities.”

Lu Yiyao, amused, was about to agree when he heard Ran Lin continue, “Guilty by association. I was worried you’d overthink, always feeling it’s better to say less than more.”

“So it was about exchanging the lead role for your favor.” Lu Yiyao’s eyes narrowed, as if his dangerous gaze could pierce through space and incinerate that bastard to ashes.

Ran Lin frowned slightly, realizing something was off. Lu Yiyao knew all along, so why did it sound like he was just making sense of it?

“What exactly did Yao Hong tell you?” Ran Lin asked cautiously. They couldn’t see each other in person anymore, so at least over the phone, everything had to be thoroughly discussed to avoid any misunderstanding.

Lu Yiyao thought for a bit. “Just said that Ding… Kai, right, conveyed some message to you, but what he conveyed, and your response are unclear. However, it was he who recommended you for the audition, and then you indeed secured the lead role. The contract should be sent to your company in the next couple of days.”

Ran Lin leaned against the wall, feeling a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

With such a description, anyone would think the worst!

“Hello?” Lu Yiyao noticed the silence on the other end after he finished speaking. “Can you still hear me?”

“Yes…” Ran Lin swallowed hard, not daring to imagine what Lu Yiyao might have thought if he hadn’t been honest.

“Why the silence?” Lu Yiyao started to worry.

Ran Lin lowered his voice. “I was thinking… What were you feeling when you heard all this from Hong Jie…”

Lu Yiyao fell silent for a while, then admitted, “Actually quite upset. I knew you were just worried about me overthinking; hence, you didn’t say anything, but not being able to reassure you is my fault.”

Ran Lin blinked, feeling the plot twist wasn’t quite what he expected.

“Don’t you doubt me? You know I got the lead role…” As Ran Lin spoke, he felt increasingly trapped.

“It has nothing to do with the outcome,” Lu Yiyao stated plainly. “I like you, and I know what kind of person you are.”

Ran Lin felt a whirl of emotions, unable to speak.

He looked up at the ceiling as if his lover was standing right in front of him, his image so grand it could break through the roof.

After mentally slapping himself a few times, he felt a bit better and spoke again. “Listen, I’m going to tell you everything…”

For the next few minutes, Ran Lin recounted the entire incident, from the conversation at the dinner, meeting Zhang Beichen, to the end of the audition, not missing any detail.

After listening, Lu Yiyao finally understood the whole story.

Regarding that bastard Ding Kai, he reserved his judgment, but one thing he grudgingly admitted—the guy had good taste.

“Lu Yiyao,” Ran Lin suddenly said, out of the blue. “I’m sorry.”

Lu Yiyao’s heart skipped a beat, and then his breathing became erratic.

Over the phone, Ran Lin’s voice was clear and resolute. “From now on, anything related to me, I absolutely won’t let you hear from someone else.”

……

On the way to the airport, Lu Yiyao reluctantly crawled out of his honey pot and then remembered he forgot to ask for a concession, quickly adding—[A promise with a penalty clause is a real promise 😊.]

Ran Lin must have been busy, as at 12:30 p.m., when Lu Yiyao landed, he finally received a reply—

[If you hear anything related to me from someone else that I haven’t told you, I’ll lie down and let you do whatever you want.]

Lu Yiyao unconsciously swallowed, suddenly contemplating whether to have Hong Jie dig up some more news.

Meanwhile, Ran Lin put his phone back in his pocket, his mood as clear as a blue lake.

Liu Wanwan thought his good mood was due to a recent chat with the company’s executives, as they were preparing to focus on promoting him. Anyone would be happy in his place.

But there was an extra sweetness in Ran Lin’s happiness, which Liu Wanwan couldn’t fathom, feeling like just being near Ran Lin could lift her spirits.

Wang Xi also noticed something unusual and asked during lunch, “What’s got you so happy?”

Ran Lin didn’t expect his mood to be so apparent. He snapped back to reality and replied, “I have a live broadcast this afternoon. A little excited.”

Wang Xi eyed him skeptically but couldn’t figure out the reason, so she let it go.

Ran Lin reined in his thoughts, no longer daring to be too boastful. Although he trusted Lu Yiyao’s information about the lead role in <Mint Green>, the contract hadn’t reached the company yet. Moreover, the source of the information wasn’t easy to explain, so he acted as if he didn’t know anything, waiting for any movement from the company.

His thoughts then drifted back to the earlier “heart-to-heart” with the company’s executives.

It wasn’t his first time having such talks, but all the previous ones felt superficially courteous, seemingly to reassure him of the company’s high regard so he wouldn’t overthink and just focus on developing with the company. But they were mostly vague and idealistic rather than concrete.

Today was different.

He could sense their “expectation and optimism” about his future. During the talk, they even discussed near- and far-reaching plans—not vague ideas, but actual, feasible strategies the company had seriously considered. For the first time, Ran Lin truly felt “valued”.

He knew he had <Sword of Fallen Flowers> to thank.

Since the betrayal of Tang and Fang, the viewership had exploded. Although the upward momentum slowed due to some criticisms of clichés and melodrama, it still stabilized at the forefront of domestic dramas. The dedicated setting, the elegantly poetic world of martial arts, and the actors’ dedicated, even stunning performances made it the undisputed king of dramas for the June slot.

Many viewers started watching mid-series, expressing that their battered souls found healing in this drama. The aesthetic yet not vulgar, whimsical yet free-spirited world of martial arts was indeed a rare sight in recent years.

Ran Lin had never imagined that becoming famous overnight would happen to him.

When it did, along with the happiness, there was also a bit of trepidation.

It felt like it happened overnight. By the time he noticed, his Weibo followers had already surpassed 8 million.

The popularity came so quickly that it always felt unreal, as if at any moment, it could just as quickly slip away.

All Ran Lin could do was constantly pull his drifting heart back down, reminding himself constantly that the path is still to be walked on the ground, step by step, moving forward.

At 2 p.m., the live broadcast began in the Dream Without Limits conference room.

The Weibo announcement had been made well in advance, so before it even started, the live room was packed.

Wang Xi said it was just chatting with fans, answering questions—anyway, an hour would pass quickly.

When Liu Wanwan handed over the phone, all set up, Ran Lin suddenly felt like escaping.

“Hello everyone, I’m Ran Lin.” Speaking to the phone felt odd, so Ran Lin tried to smile naturally.

To his relief, as soon as he spoke, the comments exploded, scrolling at double speed, all saying—

[Ahhhhhhhhh!]

[Fang Xian!!!]

[Your voice is so nice!]

[Sending flowers, hearts, stars, everything for you ahhhh—]

The comments came too fast for Ran Lin to keep up, so he just spoke freely. “Thank you everyone for supporting <Sword of Fallen Flowers>, and for liking Fang Xian… Uh, feel free to ask anything. I’ll answer what I can…”

“What do you mean by ‘what you can answer’?” Ran Lin looked at the questions popping up, his expression playful. “It means whatever won’t get me scolded by the company or beaten up by other artists, so please be mindful of your questions… Ah, this is… thanks to ‘Burning Elf’ for the roses, thanks to ‘I Want to Send the Scriptwriter Blades’ for the yacht…”

After reading the comments, Ran Lin laughed first.

Immediately, the comments section erupted into wails. Blades were no longer enough; they were planning to gang up and beat the scriptwriter.

“Count me in. Acting that part was so distressing, thinking every day why I’m so miserable…”

Ran Lin joined in the fans’ banter. As he was speaking, he suddenly saw a question—[What’s your private relationship with Lu Yiyao?]

The comments scrolled too quickly, and in a blink, they were gone. Ran Lin pretended not to see it, picking out some innocuous questions to answer.

Unknowingly, fifty minutes passed, and the substantial questions were mostly covered. Some sensitive questions kept scrolling, including about his relationship with Lu Yiyao and other various issues. Compared to those, this question was quite normal, but he instinctively avoided it due to his guilty conscience.

But on second thought, he and Lu Yiyao had worked together, and their Weibo interactions were still ongoing. Disassociating would actually be strange.

But with so many questions, overlooking a few wouldn’t matter to anyone.

Seeing it was almost time, Ran Lin offered, “Ten minutes left. Let me sing a song for you.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Liu Wanwan came over with his phone, playing the accompaniment.

Ran Lin sang his debut song.

The young man under the sun, has your dream come true? In this cold world, have you changed?

The first time he sang this song, he always felt the lyrics were a bit pessimistic.

But gradually, he understood that it’s not about whether dreams are realized, but if you’re still the same person.

This was what the song was really about—fortunately, he still was.

……

The fan meeting was bigger than Ran Lin had anticipated, but thankfully there was a host guiding the flow. He followed through the event almost in a daze, thanks also to the fans selected for interaction on stage, who were even more excited and nervous than him. When two nervous souls met, it ended up being quite harmonious.

By the time he returned to his apartment late at night, he could still hear fans calling his name.

[Finished work?]—In WeChat, it was a message from Lu Yiyao sent an hour ago.

Ran Lin just saw it, not even bothering to change his clothes, and replied—[Just finished. Just got back. How about you?]

Lu Yiyao obviously hadn’t gone to bed yet, as a video call came through immediately.

Ran Lin hurriedly answered, and Lu Yiyao’s handsome face soon appeared on the screen.

Ran Lin liked what he saw and deeply felt the person who coined the term “licking the screen” was a genius.

“Haven’t removed your makeup yet?” Lu Yiyao, oblivious to Ran Lin’s smitten gaze, instead noticed his face.

Ran Lin yawned wearily. “I just got back and saw your message.”

Lu Yiyao felt a pang of sympathy. “Then you should rest. Why bother replying?”

“By the time I’m done resting, who knows when we’ll be able to contact each other again,” Ran Lin said with a forlorn expression. “Of course, I have to seize the moment.”

Lu Yiyao felt a bittersweet sentiment. “It feels like we are racing against time in our relationship.”

“No.” Ran Lin thought for a moment. “It’s more like an online relationship.”

Lu Yiyao felt reassured, “No worries, online relationships can also end happily. Huo Yuntao and his wife are proof.”

Ran Lin: “……”

The word “wife” sent a small, non-fatal, tingling current through Ran Lin, buzzing through him.

Lu Yiyao, intently gazing into Ran Lin’s eyes, suddenly seemed to understand something and murmured softly again, “Wife?”

The current turned into a high voltage shock. Ran Lin heard a “boom”, and then his mind went blank.

Lu Yiyao was delighted by the dazed Ran Lin on the screen and kept calling out to him a dozen times. Finally, Ran Lin was jolted back to reality.

“Why am I the wife?” Ran Lin realized how hoarse his voice sounded after speaking.

“Either is fine, whatever you prefer.” Lu Yiyao leaned closer to the screen, filling up their communication world with his face, smiling softly.

“You really aren’t fussy…” Ran Lin covered his forehead, shielding his eyes, to avoid being seen blushing with sweet embarrassment.

After enough teasing, Lu Yiyao remembered the main topic. “By the way, there’s a celebration party the day after tomorrow. Huo Yuntao and Lin Panxi will also be there. If you’re free, we can get together after the party.”

The celebration party for the explosive success of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> was inevitable for a second wave of promotion and to boost the finale. It was also the only chance in June for him and Lu Yiyao to intersect openly.

Ran Lin knew Lin Panxi was Huo Yuntao’s fiancée. According to Lu Yiyao, Huo Yuntao’s return was for marriage, but as the date approached, the woman hesitated, probably due to the long distance. They decided to get engaged first and postpone the official wedding.

A gathering of four, including female company, wouldn’t raise any suspicions even if photographed, especially after a celebration party, which is considered normal socializing. So as soon as Lu Yiyao suggested it, Ran Lin immediately agreed. “I’m very free.”

Lu Yiyao smirked. “Then it’s a plan.”

Ran Lin nodded vigorously, then said, “Move your head up a bit.”

Lu Yiyao was confused. “What?”

Ran Lin instructed, “Just tilt your head up a little.”

Lu Yiyao, not understanding why, complied.

“Good.” Ran Lin was satisfied with the angle. “Stay like that.”

Lu Yiyao stayed still, then watched as Ran Lin’s mouth approached the screen. After the kiss, Ran Lin leaned back, looking refreshed. “You didn’t hang up this time.”

Despite the childish act, Lu Yiyao nodded earnestly, wholeheartedly praising, “Yeah, you’re the best.”

……

The day of the celebration party arrived quickly.

Wang Xi arrived at Ran Lin’s apartment two hours earlier than scheduled, not waiting downstairs but coming up to knock on the door directly.

Ran Lin was puzzled by the call, so as soon as he opened the door, he asked, “Xi Jie, why are you here so early?”

Wang Xi, without bothering to remove her shoes, just stood in the foyer, looking at him, her eyes filled with faint excitement.

Ran Lin felt a chill down his spine and swallowed, asking again, “Xi Jie, what’s the matter?”

Finally, after enough buildup, Wang Xi pulled out the printed contract from her bag, revealing the answer, “<Mint Green>, it’s secured.”

“Really? That’s great.” Ran Lin took the contract naturally.

But his casual demeanor made Wang Xi feel something was off. “Why aren’t you more excited?”

Ran Lin felt a bit guilty; he couldn’t exactly say he had inside information.

Thinking quickly, he resorted to “confidence.”

“I felt pretty good about my audition that day.” Ran Lin nodded wisely. “Yeah, I had a good feeling.”

Wang Xi rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be too full of yourself; you were just lucky this time.”

Ran Lin believed that. As he told Lu Yiyao, he hadn’t held much hope during the audition. Even though Ding Kai mentioned fair competition, it was hard to imagine they’d still want to give him a fair chance after all that had happened. He initially thought it was just a formality.

Wang Xi’s excitement today was also for that reason.

Securing a significant role for an artist wouldn’t normally excite her this much, but refusing the investor’s conditions and still getting the role was rare, not only for artists she managed but also in the entertainment industry. The joy from this kind of success was a very special feeling.

“I’ve contacted Ding Kai to express our thanks, and surprisingly, it wasn’t an assistant but him personally on the phone,” Wang Xi said. “Guess what he said?”

Ran Lin couldn’t guess and just curiously awaited the revelation.

Wang Xi didn’t keep him in suspense, simply shrugging. “He said it was all the director’s decision; there was no need to thank him, and he was busy with other things. If there’s nothing else, I should get busy too.”

Ran Lin imagined several ways Ding Kai might have said this, none endearing, and half-seriously, half-jokingly asked, “Xi Jie, didn’t you feel like punching him then?”

Wang Xi thought about it seriously, then pointed at the contract in Ran Lin’s hand, tapping on the A4 paper to make a rustling noise—

“<Mint Green> saved him.”

……

On the way to the celebration party, Ran Lin secretly messaged Lu Yiyao—[Contract received.]

He didn’t need to be too explicit; he believed Lu Yiyao would understand.

But there was no reply from the other end.

It wasn’t until backstage at the celebration party that Ran Lin finally saw Lu Yiyao, who was chatting amiably with the director and the screenwriter.

There he was, sitting on a sofa, dressed in a black suit, exuding an elite aura. His fringe was swept back, revealing a handsome forehead; the hairstyle was neat and mature, enhancing his facial features’ charm, especially his eyes, brimming with ease and confidence amidst laughter and conversation. He no longer seemed like a popular young actor but rather had the taste of a superstar.

Of course, Ran Lin thought it might also be because he was viewing him through rose-colored glasses. After all, he had rarely seen this side of Lu Yiyao lately—professional, dignified, and dashing.

“Ran Lin.” Song Mang was the first to see him and immediately stood up to greet him. “Come here. We were just talking about you.”

Lu Yiyao and Chen Qizheng turned to look at him, and Ran Lin, after a moment of thought, politely said, “Director Chen, Lu Ge1.”

Cheng Qizheng nodded, noticing nothing amiss.

Lu Yiyao almost burst a blood vessel1, but luckily he caught the warning in Ran Lin’s eyes—so deep that only he could see through the facade to the essence.

1Calling someone [Ge] (哥) is reserved, usually for close relationships. This is significant considering the kind of relationship Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao have, which is why Lu Yiyao reacted like this.

But as Ran Lin sat down, Lu Yiyao belatedly savored the address.

Lu Ge…

If it weren’t for the public setting, in a place where curtains needed to be drawn, calling out like that might indeed be quite interesting…

Ran Lin always felt Lu Yiyao’s gaze wandering, and not in a very proper manner, but given the public setting, he couldn’t well execute a private punishment. He could only ignore him and turn to Song Mang, casually asking, “Screenwriter Song, you were talking about me?”

“Yes,” Song Mang confirmed. “We were just discussing crying scenes, saying yours are different from others.”

Ran Lin was curious. “How so?”

Song Mang explained, “They’re contagious. Some people cry, and neither the co-actors nor the audience feel it, but when some cry, everyone wants to cry. You’re the latter.”

It was still early, and only the four of them were in the lounge, so this kind of actor evaluation was part of a casual private conversation, not worrying about others overthinking.

But with Lu Yiyao there, praising the second male lead in front of the primary one, even if just for appearances, Ran Lin felt the need to be courteous. “Don’t say that, Screenwriter Song. If I can cry well, it’s all thanks to Lu Ge. Most of my crying scenes were because of him.”

Chen Qizheng coughed twice, then, as if to cover it up, picked up his tea and leisurely started to sip.

But Ran Lin swore he saw a smile in the director’s eyes.

Alright, he also felt that his recent flattering comment was a bit cheesy, but under normal circumstances, if he and Lu Yiyao weren’t in an abnormal relationship, hearing the screenwriter praise him, he would definitely praise the lead first to prevent any misunderstandings.

“You don’t need to be modest.” Lu Yiyao spoke up lightly, his tone clearly holding back laughter. “Just now, Director Chen, Screenwriter Song, and I have reached a consensus. For setting the mood, it must be you who cries. My crying is mainly responsible for attracting the camera.”

Ran Lin stared at him blankly. “What do you mean by attracting the camera?”

Lu Yiyao explained seriously, “It means making the scene in the camera look better.”

Ran Lin blinked, seeming to understand. “So you’re saying you look better when you cry than I do?”

Lu Yiyao spread his hands, deliberately asking, “Any doubts?”

Ran Lin looked at him, then at the director and the screenwriter, puzzled. “Why are we discussing this? Isn’t it a fact?”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback.

Song Mang laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “See? He’s devoted to you.”

Lu Yiyao knew Song Mang was teasing, but he almost wanted him to repeat it.

Most of the time, Ran Lin was watching Lu Yiyao with peripheral vision, as if missing a glance was a loss.

Neither had delved deep into what a secret relationship in the entertainment industry was like; they were just going by instinct. With a bit of trepidation, sweetness, thrill, and joy, sometimes it felt hard, but sometimes it felt incredibly happy.

As the time for the celebration party drew near and the actors started arriving, Tang Xiaoyu, Xi Ruohan… nearly all the key characters were there. The place became lively, but similarly, it was no longer convenient to chat about everything, mostly sticking to pleasantries.

Tang Xiaoyu did pull Ran Lin aside for a chat, which lasted until the staff informed them it was time for the red carpet, and they reluctantly parted.

The red carpet ceremony was an important prelude to the celebration party—the main creators and actors had to walk down the red carpet, sign their names on the signing board, and take a group photo. It wasn’t only about making an appearance but also about bringing good luck.

The love triangle between Tang Jingyu, Zhao Buyao, and Fang Xian in the drama was one of the most discussed topics. The organizers arranged for them to walk the red carpet together. Otherwise, Tang Jingyu and Zhao Buyao would pair up, and Xu Chongfei and Li’er would pair up, leaving Fang Xian alone, which would look quite pitiful.

The last time during the premiere celebration, Ran Lin walked the red carpet paired with another female actress, and during “Drifting Stories”, the five guests all walked the red carpet separately.

So this was the first time Ran Lin would share the red carpet frame with Lu Yiyao.

Ran Lin was also in a suit today, like Lu Yiyao, suitable for summer with its light, breathable linen material. Unlike Lu Yiyao’s meticulous look, he didn’t wear a tie but only buttoned one button of the suit, allowing the light-colored shirt underneath to be a focal point of color—casual yet formal.

Looking over Xi Ruohan’s head, Ran Lin tried to catch a glimpse of Lu Yiyao’s profile.

But before he could get a clear view, Lu Yiyao turned to look at him.

Their eyes met, and both saw what they needed in each other’s gaze.

Perhaps it was anticipation, courage, trust, love, or everything that makes you fearless about the future.

Xi Ruohan was accustomed to being ignored. During filming, these two only had eyes for each other. But now she still had to play the spoiler because—

“It’s time to go, gentlemen.”

As the cameras clicked incessantly, the trio elegantly stepped onto the red carpet. The lead actress walked in the middle, flanked by the handsome lead and second lead.

The red carpet wasn’t long and didn’t take much time to walk, but they tread each step firmly as if they weren’t walking on a red carpet but on the path of life itself.

At the signing board, Xi Ruohan stood in the middle, with Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao on either side. The three of them signed their names together.

Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, positioned at opposite ends of the board, managed to sign at approximately the same height and position, creating a sense of remote connection.

Ran Lin had never signed with such focus before; every stroke was deliberate.

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

Suddenly Trending Ch60

Kinky2 Comments

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 60

Wang Xi gave Ran Lin a look.

Actually, there was no need for it. Ran Lin understood and immediately stood up, took the decanter, and began to pour wine for Ding Kai.

The richly colored red wine slowly filled the glass, emitting an enticing luster under the crystal glass, and as the wine reached the right amount, Ran Lin skillfully rotated the bottom of the bottle, drawing it back just in time to prevent any spillage from the mouth of the bottle.

Ding Kai raised his eyebrows slightly and spoke with a hint of surprise in his tone. “Have you trained especially for this?”

This was the first serious conversation Ding Kai had initiated with him since he arrived, though the content was rather trivial.

Pretending not to notice the slight mockery, Ran Lin responded with a natural smile, “It’s a personal hobby. I like to enjoy a bit of wine in my spare time.”

Ran Lin’s voice was gentle and casual, sounding very sincere.

Wang Xi thought to herself, ‘Keep making up your tall tales.’

Aside from socializing, Ran Lin never touched alcohol, but truth be told, when it came to drinking, Ran Lin did know his stuff and was quite professional.

After pouring for Wang Xi and himself, Ran Lin put down the bottle but didn’t sit.

This dinner was different from the last one Wang Xi attended. Last time, Wang Xi was riding on someone else’s coattails to get acquainted with Ding Kai. This time, Wang Xi was the host, introducing her artist to a potential investor. Therefore, the first toast was naturally Wang Xi’s to make, but Ran Lin also had to be involved.

Sure enough, once the wine was poured, Wang Xi stood up. “Mr. Ding, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to grace us with your presence. This first toast, Ran Lin and I would like to offer it to you.”

After finishing his sentence, Wang Xi raised her glass, and Ran Lin followed suit in a timely manner.

Ding Kai suddenly smiled, picked up his glass, but said, “Everyone sit down. I don’t like all these formalities at the dining table. Let’s just have dinner, enjoy the wine, and chat.”

Ding Kai’s voice was light and warm, at first sounding like he genuinely wanted a good conversation. But if you listened carefully, you could discern the underlying control in his tone. It wasn’t “you can have a good chat with others,” it was “I expect you to have a good chat.”

Perhaps Ding Kai truly disliked the formalities of dining tables. Ran Lin thought that in such a small gathering, without the need for pretenses, everyone could relax and enjoy as they pleased.

But of course, Wang Xi and he couldn’t just sit back down. Having already stood up, they had to finish the first toast.

Fortunately, Ding Kai didn’t stop them but only symbolically sipped a bit himself, a clear case of “you drink a full glass, I drink as I wish.”

Regardless, the meal started, and after a couple of bites, Ding Kai finally looked over. As their eyes met, Ran Lin quickly initiated a conversation. “President Ding, I heard you enjoy playing golf…”

“You need to update your sources,” Ding Kai interrupted him calmly. “I prefer basketball.”

Wang Xi internally flinched. Basketball? None of the information they had gathered mentioned this.

Ran Lin had only intended to lay the groundwork for the “real business” to follow, only to be countered immediately. But there was no time to discuss the accuracy of the information with Wang Xi, so he simply followed along, “What a coincidence. I also like basketball.”

Ding Kai had never seen such transparent flattery and deliberately asked, “What if I had just said I liked golf?”

Ran Lin, with all sincerity, replied, “Then I would have asked for your guidance, as I know nothing about golf.”

Ding Kai paused and then laughed.

He was sure that if he had just said he liked golf, Ran Lin would discuss golf as professionally as he poured wine. But now, since he preferred basketball, Ran Lin claimed to know nothing about golf. It was clear he was hedging his bets, yet doing so in a way that was amusing and hard to get angry at.

Ding Kai decided to revise his opinion—not only was this little star not stupid, but he was also quite clever.

In this circle, cleverness is common, but some turn cleverness into cunningness, while others make it endearing.

“Let’s not talk about sports. We all know why we’re here today,” Ding Kai said, gently swirling his wine as if admiring it. “Many people are vying for the lead role in <Mint Green>. You think you’re better than all of them. Give me a compelling reason.”

As his words faded, Ding Kai put down his wine glass and quietly looked at him.

Ran Lin suddenly realized the “pragmatic” label Wang Xi had was spot on; he had never encountered a financier who spoke so directly.

Wang Xi was also stunned; she thought Ding Kai would beat around the bush like last time. How did it suddenly become a straight punch?

However, opportunities don’t come twice. Without missing a beat, Wang Xi immediately chimed in, “Mr. Ding, the thing is, our Ran Lin…”

“Ms. Wang.” Ding Kai addressed her with a particularly polite title and a faint smile. “Let him speak. After all, he is the one who’s going to play the role.”

Wang Xi, hitting a soft spot, smiled awkwardly and fell silent.

Ding Kai then turned his gaze back to Ran Lin, composed and patient for an answer.

Ran Lin didn’t make him wait too long. “I don’t consider myself superior to all of them.”

Wang Xi frowned subtly.

Ding Kai smiled. It was hard to tell if he was joking or serious. “So you’re saying there’s no need to specifically choose you then?”

Ran Lin didn’t hesitate at all and sincerely said, “There are many excellent actors, and no role is absolutely meant for a specific actor, especially since I’m a newcomer. Even if I were to tell you, President Ding, that I’m the most suitable for this role and list reasons one, two, and three, at most, you would just smile.”

Ran Lin never considered himself foolish, but he also never thought he was so shrewd as to be invincible. He was still too green, and there were plenty of inscrutable people out there. When facing such unpredictable people, the only thing to do is to be honest and not try to outsmart them because they can see right through those little tricks.

So, what he told Ding Kai was the whole truth.

At most, he just made the truth sound a bit nicer, with a bit of flattery mixed in.

Wang Xi pursed her lips anxiously, unable to make any outward show of it. Ran Lin hadn’t said any of the things she had advised beforehand; instead, he was improvising. But if she were in his shoes, she’d probably improvise too—Ding Kai’s approach this time was completely different from the last and utterly unpredictable.

“You’re quite humble.” Ding Kai nodded, but then his tone shifted. “However, humility is a virtue elsewhere, but not in the entertainment industry. If you don’t have confidence in yourself, how can you expect investors to have confidence in you?”

Ran Lin was taken aback.

Wang Xi took a sip of her wine, her mind racing with thoughts of how to smooth things over.

Talking to someone like Ding Kai required full attention; the slightest distraction could lead you into a trap. Ran Lin had underestimated his opponent…

“I do have confidence in myself.” Ran Lin’s tone slightly rose.

Ding Kai narrowed his eyes, as if sizing him up, or perhaps mocking. “You just said that you’re a newcomer—that you’re not better than the others.”

“My confidence is in my ability to deliver my best performance and embrace the character. But I can’t and don’t have the right to deny other excellent actors. Saying no one but me could play the lead in <Mint Green> isn’t confidence; it’s ignorance.”

Ding Kai’s playful demeanor faded, and he became serious. “So, the question comes back: why should you be the one chosen?”

“It’s not that I must be chosen, but among the actors who could play this role well…” Ran Lin smirked slightly, a hint of pride in his voice. “I’m cheaper.”

“There’s nothing to be proud of being cheap…” Ding Kai was taken aback, never having seen someone so inexplicably proud of their lower value.

“It’s indeed a bit embarrassing most of the time, but at times like this, it becomes useful,” Ran Lin admitted openly, still unabashedly proud.

Ding Kai picked up his glass, took a gentle sip, and then sighed. “You’re not like Li Yi, you’re like Li Yan.”

Ran Lin shook his head without hesitation. “I’m not nearly as perceptive as Li Yan. He’s almost transcendent.”

Ding Kai’s wrist, still holding the wine glass, froze, and he looked up in surprise. “You’ve read the original novel?”

Ran Lin then realized, Li Yan, as the protagonist’s cousin, wasn’t given much attention in the original work, although the few details depicted him as an exceptionally wise and precocious young man. However, this character was omitted from the script.

In the midst of their conversation, Ran Lin hadn’t thought much about it, but now he realized it was another trap.

Ding Kai was wasting his talents in the film industry, Ran Lin thought. The man should be out there with a shovel, loosening soil, contributing to urban greenery.

Despite his internal criticism, he replied honestly, “Yes, I’ve read it. It’s quite good.”

“And how does it compare to the script?” Ding Kai asked.

Ran Lin replied, “The novel is richer in content but not as tightly paced as the script, and the script has more humor.”

Ding Kai inquired, “How many times have you read the script?”

Ran Lin: “Huh?”

Ding Kai slowed his speech and repeated more emphatically. “I asked how many times you have read the script.”

Ran Lin, still a bit dazed, spoke the truth. “I’ve been reading it continuously…”

Ding Kai stared at him motionlessly.

Ran Lin let him look, not moving a muscle.

At this point in the meal, the other party gave off a sense of oppression for the first time, and in the long and quiet stare, Ran Lin unconsciously held his breath.

Without warning, Ding Kai suddenly softly uttered his name. “Ran Lin…”

Ran Lin was almost startled, and after a few seconds, he responded, “Hm?”

Ding Kai nodded slightly, as if affirmatively. “Quite good.”

By the end of the meal, Ran Lin still couldn’t fathom the true meaning behind those two words.

The only certainty was that, on the way back, Wang Xi’s complexion wasn’t very good. Ran Lin carefully reviewed his own performance, feeling that if not one hundred percent, at least seventy percent was achieved. He avoided all the pitfalls he could and even outperformed occasionally. He couldn’t understand why the agent was dissatisfied or from what aspect she saw a bleak future.

[I’m home.]—By the time he returned to the apartment, it was already eleven at night. The first thing Ran Lin did was send a WeChat message to Lu Yiyao, who knew he had a dinner with investors that day and was also waiting for the progress.

But the response was a video call invitation.

Ran Lin hesitated for half a second before accepting, not wanting to seem too eager.

“How did it go?” Lu Yiyao appeared to be on a hotel sofa, his background a window with tightly drawn curtains, the deep color of the curtains making the bathrobe he wore seem whiter.

“Huh?” As the answer was delayed, Lu Yiyao voiced his confusion.

Ran Lin quickly pulled his thoughts back from wanting to dive into the phone and peel off the bathrobe, cleared his throat, and seriously said, “I think it went well. There should at least be hope, but Xi Jie’s expression wasn’t very good.”

“She’s probably just being cautious, afraid of being happy for nothing too early. But…” Lu Yiyao changed his tone and said, with a hint of indulgence, “I believe in you more.”

Ran Lin raised his chin, almost looking down his nose. “You should believe in me from the start.”

Lu Yiyao nodded unenthusiastically, saying, “Fine, keep jumping around while I’m not back.”

Ran Lin glanced at him sideways. “And what can you do when you’re back?”

Lu Yiyao suddenly leaned closer to the screen, whispering softly, “What do you think I can do to you?”

Ran Lin felt a shiver down his spine, almost losing grip on his phone, yet still pretended to be capable. “Then I need to think about it…”

Lu Yiyao nodded in agreement. “Hmm, try to think without limits.”

Ran Lin admitted defeat.

Holding the phone, he collapsed into bed, his face as red as a ripe tomato. “If you keep this up, I’m going to call the police…”

Lu Yiyao looked pitifully wronged. Being in a relationship where he could only look and not touch, at most only fantasizing, he was a ruffian, but a pitiful one.

“Hey, when are you coming back?” Ran Lin suddenly asked softly.

The pitiful ruffian instantly perked up. “Missing me?”

Ran Lin stared at him unblinkingly. “Very much.”

Lu Yiyao half-opened his mouth, then closed it again, swallowing back the words he had prepared, and said with a mixture of laughter and tears, “Why aren’t you teasing me anymore.”

Ran Lin smiled wryly. “Can’t always slap without soothing, right? What if you can’t take it and run away?”

Lu Yiyao’s eyes curved down. “Then you’ll have to chase after me.”

Ran Lin thought about it and very solemnly told him, “Then I’ll only chase you for three months. Not any longer.”

“Don’t worry.” Lu Yiyao confidently and shamelessly said, “I’d agree in three days.”

Ran Lin happily smiled, feeling deeply affectionate, and gave a gentle kiss towards the phone screen.

After the kiss, the video abruptly ended—Lu Yiyao’s lips were just near the red hang-up button.

Ran Lin felt maybe even the heavens were tired of their sweetness.

But then again, during the honeymoon phase, even if it turned to syrup, it could be forgiven.

……

Ding Kai’s response came a week later.

<Sword of Fallen Flowers> had already aired over ten episodes. The plot was getting better, and viewership was climbing steadily. Many viewers considered it the most authentic wuxia drama in recent years.

When Wang Xi called, Ran Lin had just finished watching the first episode of the evening and was browsing Weibo during the commercial break.

The plot had progressed to Tang Jingyu confirming that Fang Huanzhi was his family’s murderer, only to turn around and swear brotherhood with Fang Xian, starting an unskilled but increasingly firm disguise—marking the first minor climax of the story.

Online, fans were divided into three camps: those pro-Tang, those pro-Fang, and those only interested in “Fang Tang”. The “Tang supporters” believed Tang Jingyu was justified in his actions; a familial annihilation was an unforgivable offense, and not telling Fang Xian was actually considering the brotherhood and not knowing how to broach the subject; “Fang supporters” argued that Fang Xian was innocent from the beginning, not involved in the annihilation, genuinely caring about his brotherhood, ending up as a deceived sweet fool who still thought he and Tang Jingyu were best friends, a truly heart-wrenching sight; the “Fang Tang faction” didn’t care about right or wrong, only wanting to send razor blades to the scriptwriter.

In the midst of this online battle, Ran Lin’s ranking in the celebrity search heat quietly rose, most visibly with his fan count increasing rapidly every day. The volume of comments on his Weibo was so overwhelming that he couldn’t keep up with it.

Being noticed and appreciated for his work was Ran Lin’s happiest moment.

Finally, the commercial break ended. Ran Lin exited Weibo and sat upright on the sofa, ready to continue watching, but as soon as he set his phone aside, it rang.

It was Wang Xi.

It was almost nine in the evening. Ran Lin’s first thought was that there must be some last-minute change to the schedule for tomorrow, but as soon as he answered the call, Wang Xi got straight to the point. “Ding Kai wants to have dinner with you.”

It took Ran Lin half a minute to digest this.

It wasn’t unusual for financiers to invite artists through their agents, but the fact that “Ding Kai wanted to have dinner with him” was peculiar in itself.

“He… invited me?” Ran Lin couldn’t help but ask again.

There was a moment of silence on the other end before she said, “Yes, he invited you, and only you.”

“What do you mean, only me?” It was the first time Ran Lin felt his brain was insufficient.

Wang Xi sighed. “It means even I’m not needed. Just you and him, alone, for dinner.”

Ran Lin was stunned, seeming to understand something, his heart sinking slowly.

Wang Xi, certain he would understand, didn’t continue, only waiting patiently.

Ran Lin, belatedly realizing, asked, “Xi Jie, you’ve been upset since we got back from dinner that day. Is it because of this?”

Wang Xi no longer hid her feelings. “That day I just had a bad premonition, and today it was confirmed.”

Ran Lin suddenly felt angry, but he restrained himself, not lashing out. “So it doesn’t matter how good I am in the drama, or how deeply I understand the script; ‘this dinner’ is what’s important?”

“If you’re asking me, I don’t think so.” Wang Xi analyzed objectively, without any emotion. “Someone like Ding Kai, as a financier, primarily wants to make money. Only on the premise of ensuring profit will he consider extras.”

“You mean if my acting isn’t good, if my professional skills aren’t up to par, I don’t even qualify to be exploited?”

“That’s the reality. It’s not just you who can act; others with equivalent ability who are willing to go further naturally have more opportunities.”

The television had already started airing the second episode of the evening, but whatever the actors were saying, Ran Lin couldn’t hear a word.

The entire room seemed to be muted, with only Wang Xi’s voice on the phone, cold and clear.

“You’re not suggesting I agree to it, are you?”

Wang Xi was speechless. “I’m not a pimp.”

Ran Lin was flustered, just about to ask more, when Wang Xi continued, “If you are willing and can make the sacrifice, we’ll proceed accordingly. But if you’re not, I’ll decline the offer for you. Right now, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> has good reviews and viewership. There will always be more opportunities.”

Suddenly, Ran Lin wasn’t angry anymore, just left with a wry smile. “Based on your comparison, who would choose the first option?”

“Many people,” Wang Xi said without hesitation. “This isn’t just a chance at a leading role. Getting in with Ding Kai means you won’t worry about resources in the future. It’s just…”

Wang Xi hesitated, and Ran Lin curiously asked, “Just what?”

“Just that I’ve never heard of Ding Kai keeping anyone or being involved with anyone, let alone male artists. Either he’s very secretive, or… your charm is irresistible.”

Ran Lin felt a deep sense of resignation. “That kind of praise doesn’t make one happy at all…”

After finishing the call with his agent, Ran Lin zoned out for a while.

These days, as <Sword of Fallen Flowers> steadily rose in acclaim and viewership, he thought <Mint Green> was a sure thing. But just one call scattered months of effort like the wind.

It wasn’t until the second episode ended that Ran Lin finally snapped back to reality, looking at the hoverboard in the corner, feeling a bit sorry for all the times he fell.

Just then, Wang Xi’s call came through again.

Ran Lin was now somewhat fearful of Wang Xi’s calls, always feeling like countless demons and ghosts were waiting for his agent to relay their messages.

“Xi Jie?” Ran Lin called out softly.

“What’s with that tone? I’m not some midnight horror,” Wang Xi retorted, quickly getting to the point. “I’ve declined for you.”

Ran Lin was bewildered, checking the time; it was 9:30 p.m. “You could still contact them at this hour?”

Wang Xi chuckled. “Of course, shady dealings are best done at shady times.”

Ran Lin breathed a sigh of relief. Although the opportunity was gone, having it declined felt like a weight was lifted. And it was better to make such decisions early, the sooner the stance was clear, the better…

“Fair competition.” Suddenly, those words came through the phone.

Ran Lin didn’t catch it clearly. “What?”

Wang Xi decided to give the full version. “In response to your refusal, the other side expressed genuine regret. So now you’re on the same starting line as all the other candidates. It’s going to be a fair competition.”

“What does the same starting line mean?” Ran Lin suddenly realized Ding Kai, who was already hard to understand in person, became even more enigmatic through a go-between. “All the other actors have declined him too?”

Wang Xi thought if Ding Kai heard her artist’s naive comments, he might splash red wine in anger.

“As I said before, there’s no gossip about him in the industry. This time, he might really have just taken a liking to you.”

Ran Lin looked skyward, speechless, not knowing whether to critique or curse.

However, the fact that he could return to the same starting line was indeed surprising to him. “Normally, once I’ve refused, would I still have a chance for a fair competition? Shouldn’t I be suppressed out of anger to never rise again?”

“To be honest, I’m also a bit surprised,” Wang Xi said. “But if it’s Ding Kai, it seems understandable. His primary goal is always to make money. If you can give him profits, he’ll give you the opportunity. As for the extras, if it works, great; if not, he won’t insist. After all, I guess he’s not lacking people throwing themselves at him.”

Ran Lin still felt uneasy. “<Mint Green> wouldn’t be lacking just one alternative option like me, right?”

Unexpectedly, Wang Xi mentioned, “He did say that. He appreciates your acting and wants you not to feel pressured—to just perform well during the audition.”

Ran Lin was exasperated. He wasn’t feeling any pressure in the first place, thanks to whom!

“Wait, audition?” Ran Lin finally caught the keyword.

Wang Xi said, “All the candidates for the lead male role will be auditioned by the director one by one.”

Ran Lin asked, “Are you sure it’s the director who decides?”

Wang Xi confirmed, “There are five financiers for this drama, and so far, none have insisted on any particular actor. So, it’s up to the professional director to make the final call, ensuring a fair competition, and no party has objections.”

Ran Lin’s feelings suddenly became complex.

If he had agreed to Ding Kai’s “invitation”, the lead role would probably have been his. The other potential actors might not even know what happened before being deprived of a fair chance. Conversely, more often, he might be the one oblivious, suddenly deprived of opportunities.

In this industry, things are always changing rapidly, and no one knows what the next second might bring—an opportunity or a crisis. Ran Lin thought that to strive in the entertainment circle, one really needs equanimity.

……

Ran Lin didn’t expect to run into Zhang Beichen.

Their paths seemed to always cross at audition sites, last time for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> and this time for <Mint Green>.

The difference was that last time they were competing for the second and third male leads, but this time they were both vying for the lead role.

When he arrived at the audition site, Zhang Beichen had just finished his tryout. Seeing Ran Lin, he was quite surprised, pausing for a moment before saying, “Long time no see.”

Zhang Beichen was wearing a refreshing T-shirt and casual pants, looking like a university student on campus.

Ran Lin’s outfit was somewhat similar to his; the only difference being the lighter color of his pants.

Zhang Beichen noticed too, sized him up, and said with a smile, “Our tastes are quite similar.”

Ran Lin couldn’t think of what to say and awkwardly smiled. “Mm.”

Zhang Beichen frowned in confusion, sensing something off, and asked, “Are you okay? You seem off.”

Ran Lin quickly shook his head. “No, I’m just thinking about my lines.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met, and I’m standing right in front of you. You could at least think of me a bit,” Zhang Beichen half-teased, half-complained.

Actually, Ran Lin could have been warmer to him. He could blatantly lie in front of financiers, but facing Zhang Beichen like this, he really didn’t know what to say.

Zhang Beichen tilted his head, looked at him for a while, then suddenly smiled. “I won’t disturb you anymore. Go ahead.”

Ran Lin entered the audition site somewhat awkwardly, clutching his hoverboard.

He didn’t know why he was the one feeling awkward. It was only once he was inside that he remembered he had intended to make a cool entrance on his hoverboard, but now he looked more like a Fuwa holding a carp in a New Year picture.

After watching Ran Lin go in, Zhang Beichen’s smile faded, and he turned to face Wang Xi.

Wang Xi smiled at him and then entered the site.

But Zhang Beichen was certain. At the moment their eyes met, there was no friendliness or smile in Wang Xi’s eyes, but vigilance and wariness.

Zhang Beichen’s smile completely disappeared, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

Agent Wu Xuefeng came out after him. After Zhang Beichen’s audition, Wu Xuefeng had lingered to chat with the director. Upon coming out, he saw his artist deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Wu Xuefeng asked curiously.

Zhang Beichen didn’t immediately respond but said, “Let’s talk in the car.”

Sensing something was up, Wu Xuefeng didn’t say more, following his artist out until they got into the car. As the driver merged into the flow of traffic, he asked, “What’s going on?”

Zhang Beichen pondered for a few seconds, then said, “They might have found out.”

Wu Xuefeng, having seen Ran Lin and Wang Xi at the site, quickly understood but thought his artist’s reaction was somewhat amusing. “It’s been so long; what does it matter if they know? Are they going to dredge up old grievances?”

Sometimes Zhang Beichen really disliked Wu Xuefeng’s dismissive attitude, so he didn’t bother explaining further, just looked out the window with complex emotions, hard to define.

“I spoke to the director.” Wu Xuefeng still felt this matter was more important. “He said you did well.”

Zhang Beichen twitched the corners of his mouth and said lightly, “What, is he supposed to say in front of you that your artist was no good?”

“No, no, this time you really were good. I was quite engrossed when you were acting,” Wu Xuefeng complimented, then remembered something with a smile. “Mr. Qin really knows his stuff. A little guidance from him, and you’ve improved so much.”

Zhang Beichen found the comment irritating and retorted. “I’ve been devouring the script and the original work for two months. It wasn’t just a few casual suggestions that made me leap forward.”

Wu Xuefeng was taken aback by the retort, then laughed. “I was just saying; no need for the temper.”

Zhang Beichen hated this most about Wu Xuefeng—it was like punching cotton. No matter how angry you got, it didn’t land.

“But there’s something I don’t understand,” Wu Xuefeng continued, “If you had Mr. Qin vie for this audition slot for you, why not just have him secure the lead role directly?”

Zhang Beichen scoffed. “What? Do you think I’m his dad? If I want the lead role, he’ll just give it to me? Besides, he’s not a financier for this drama. Just having a fair chance to compete is good enough.”

Wu Xuefeng shrugged, making no further comment.

The relationship between Zhang Beichen and Mr. Qin had already surpassed him, so only his artist knew the extent of their association. Mr. Qin might not be a financier for this drama, but if he were willing to exert influence, the financiers would consider his opinion. However, to get Mr. Qin to put in even a little effort, his own artist would have to exert much more, and clearly, Zhang Beichen wasn’t inclined to do so.

……

Mountain Stream: [Damn, this is too cruel. Tang Jingyu is inhumane. 😭😭😭]

Heartless and Guiltless: [I’m taking Fang Xian away. Do whatever you want!! 😭😭😭]

Fang Tang Haters Club: [I’ll forever hate Tang Jingyu! Starting today, I’m Fang Xian’s toxic supporter*!!!]

*Refers to fans who only like one member of an idol group and hate all the other members. Nowadays, it generally refer to fanatics who only like their idol and harm other artists.

Love of Yao: [Am I the only one who feels sorry for Tang Jingyu? He didn’t know Haikong would poison them… 😭]

Shivering Official Pair Party: [Um, I feel sorry for Tang Jingyu, but I feel sorrier for Zhao Buyao… Why does the official pairing feel like a cult! 😭😭😭]

Daring to Steal Immortal Elixir from Yao Pond: [Ran Lin’s performance as Fang Xian is so good! It’s heartbreaking! From black fan to passerby fan to super fan to mom fan*!!]

*Clarity: There are many fan types among the fandom. A mom fan is someone who looks at their star as a mother. Generally these are much older ladies (aunties), thus they are considered “moms”.

Waiting for the Blossoming Flowers: [Fang Xian is really too good, too good. When he scolded Haikong saying, “You expect me to trust you over my brother?” my heart shattered into pieces… Haven’t cried watching TV in years, the scriptwriter and actors are all poisonous 💧💧💧]

In the dressing room, Lu Yiyao browsed Weibo while the stylist blow-dried his hair.

The noise of the hairdryer didn’t affect his good mood at all.

<Sword of Fallen Flowers> aired its 30th episode yesterday—the martial arts convention, Fang Huanzhi’s poisoning, Haikong’s framing, and Fang Tang’s split.

The steadily growing viewership exploded.

Online, many criticized the plot as clichéd but were still deeply moved, cursing the scriptwriter while clutching their chests, some even wiping away tears.

Many professional critics gave a similar analysis—the plot may not be particularly astonishing, but the actors’ performances and the quality of the episodes almost entirely made up for the script’s shortcomings. Moreover, the drama captured the long-lost essence of the martial arts world. The promotional phrase “Long-lost chivalrous tenderness, poetically depicted world of martial arts, deep conspiracies, all culminating in a sword amidst falling flowers” was indeed not an exaggeration.

Lu Yiyao had anticipated this response when he finished filming the drama, but now that the day had come, with the entire internet praising Ran Lin’s acting and empathizing with Fang Xian, he suddenly felt the happiness of his treasure being recognized.

An overwhelming happiness.

So happy that even when he saw comments cursing Tang Jingyu and criticizing his own acting, he wanted to reply with a “kiss kiss”.

Yao Hong watched her artist grinning while browsing Weibo and knew he must have seen more praise for Ran Lin. Ever since he successfully pursued his love interest and started a relationship, he hadn’t had a single day of coolness.

Thankfully, he still maintained his composure during appearances, whether on stage, recording shows, or attending various events. He remained as handsome as ever, eliciting screams, and continued to be professional and dedicated.

But in private, like now, Yao Hong could think of no other word than “silly” to describe him.

She understood that it was the honeymoon phase, where one’s head tends to be a bit heated, but she worried that this wasn’t just a phase and that her artist might continue to be this smitten. The thought alone made Yao Hong despair.

Her artist, done with styling, handed his phone to the assistant and cheerfully went to record.

It was already 11 p.m., and the brief rest was just for a touch-up. With the current pace, they were likely to record until the early hours. But Lu Yiyao’s spirits were as high as if he had just woken up.

“What’s up?” Seeing the assistant staring at Lu Yiyao’s now-dark phone screen, Yao Hong asked curiously.

The makeup artist had just left, and only the two of them remained in the room. Li Tong looked up, seemingly emotional. “Hong Jie, how come Lu Ge likes… you know, that person so much.”

Being cautious about eavesdroppers, he was careful with his words.

Yao Hong appreciated his vigilance but had no answer to his question.

Li Tong didn’t really expect an answer from Yao Hong. Leaning back in his chair, he sighed dramatically. “I wish I could fall in love too—”

Yao Hong gave him a look, unable to bear it.

Yet her mood didn’t lighten.

Turning on her phone, she re-entered the WeChat group, looking at the latest gossip coming out, her mind in turmoil.

……

Lu Yiyao’s recording session lasted until 2 a.m., and he almost slept the entire way back to the hotel, only to be woken up by Li Tong upon arrival.

He didn’t feel the fatigue while recording, but once he took a short nap and was woken up, all the exhaustion hit him at once, making his steps back to his room a bit unsteady.

He had planned to take a quick shower and continue sleeping, but instead of Li Tong, Yao Hong followed him into his room.

“Hong Jie?” Lu Yiyao, mustering energy, looked at his agent in confusion.

Yao Hong had been conflicted the entire way about whether to speak up or not. There was no solid proof, but concerning Lu Yiyao, even the slightest possibility warranted her not wanting him to remain unaware.

“Ran Lin is likely to play the lead male role in <Mint Green>.” Yao Hong didn’t beat around the bush and directly said, “The contract has already been drawn up, and it should be sent to Dream Without Limits in a couple of days.”

“Really?” Lu Yiyao was surprised. After a few incidents, he had come to deeply trust Yao Hong’s information network. Often, she would find out things before the parties involved did. Yao Hong was a significant force behind his “bearer of good news” persona. “If it’s confirmed, I need to tell him right away.”

Yao Hong nodded. “The investor was originally fond of him, and after the audition, the director was also very satisfied.”

Lu Yiyao felt something was off.

Yao Hong’s voice was steady and neutral, not necessarily excited because of Ran Lin’s news, but it didn’t seem like her usual calm either, more like she was holding back.

“Hong Jie, just say what you want to say. We don’t need to consider so much between us,” Lu Yiyao said earnestly.

After a long pause, Yao Hong looked up and said, “Investor Ding Kai and Ran Lin had dinner together. It was through him that Ran Lin got the chance to audition, and… he probably conveyed some messages to Ran Lin.”

Lu Yiyao frowned. “What do you mean?”

Yao Hong looked at him squarely. “What you’re thinking. Trading certain things for the lead role.”

Lu Yiyao asked, “You mean Ran Lin agreed to Ding Kai’s terms, and that’s why he got the contract?”

Yao Hong hesitated before saying, “All we can confirm is that Ding Kai conveyed some message. As for the content of the message and Ran Lin’s response, only the two of them know.” After a moment, Yao Hong added, “Or maybe Wang Xi knows too.”

Lu Yiyao’s voice was calm and steady. “So there’s no solid proof?”

“But it is true that Ding Kai, like you, also likes men,” Yao Hong said. “Although not many in the circle know, and he’s quite low-key with not much gossip, there are no secrets in this world.”

Lu Yiyao nodded. “Alright, I understand.”

Yao Hong suddenly regretted bringing it up. She didn’t want to slander anyone, but she also couldn’t stand by and watch Lu Yiyao be deceived. “Perhaps it’s not as bad as I think. There might be things I don’t know. I’m just deducing from the norm that Ding Kai conveyed a message, and Ran Lin got the lead role, which naturally leads one to connect the two. But on the other hand, if there’s really nothing between them, time will reveal the truth. I believe time reveals a person’s heart.”

“No need, Hong Jie.” Lu Yiyao looked at his agent calmly. “I knew about the dinner between Ran Lin and Ding Kai, but I didn’t know about the things you mentioned. However, I believe if Ding Kai conveyed any message, the only possible response he would have gotten is rejection.”

Yao Hong was prepared to face Lu Yiyao’s anger, as no one in love likes to hear bad things about their partner.

But Lu Yiyao wasn’t in a hurry to refute angrily. He was calm, composed, and confident. He might be puzzled by the facts, but his trust in his partner was unwavering.

For the first time, Yao Hong felt her artist had grown up and was no longer the naive young man she thought he was.

“Do you trust him that much?”

“In this world, there may be no secrets,” Lu Yiyao said with a hint of pride curving his lips. “But Ran Lin is impervious to all poisons.”

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

Suddenly Trending Ch59

Kinky1 Comment

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 59

Ran Lin hadn’t done many impulsive things in his life: signing with Dream Without Limits to enter the entertainment industry was one, confessing to Lu Yiyao was another, and rashly coming over today was yet another.

Among them, the confession to Lu Yiyao had merely started with “I don’t just see you as a friend” before he retreated.

He really didn’t want to lead a perfectly good young man astray, which involved not just guilt but also a sense of insecurity about “the other person’s feelings”. Relationships between men are inherently unstable, and with Lu Yiyao having never liked another man before, part of the refusal was “wanting the best for him”, but another part was about “protecting oneself”.

The pressures of the entertainment industry and Lu Yiyao’s uncertain orientation made the prospects of this romance seem precarious. He didn’t want to find himself halfway through a relationship only to discover there was no path forward; that would be too painful. So from the very beginning, he subconsciously resisted taking the first step.

Ran Lin thought that if it weren’t for Lu Yiyao, there wouldn’t be a second person who would be so serious, patient, and unwaveringly dedicated to him.

“Other” people might get bored and stop contacting him due to his continual avoidance of sensitive topics; or they might have stormed off in a huff after being rejected in the villa’s backyard; or even earlier, “they” might never have confessed at all, because clearly in this relationship, “they” could easily take the initiative.

But Lu Yiyao chose the dumbest method.

He gracefully stepped back to a non-threatening distance and then warmly smiled at you, occasionally teasing you with a feather.

Being teased by a feather was quite pleasant, especially since he had already refused him; whatever came next, he could cleanly detach himself from—no responsibility, no burden, just pure enjoyment.

However, the longer it went, the less at ease Ran Lin felt.

Three months, ninety days; he had countless opportunities to repeat the “I’m sorry, I don’t accept” from that night in the backyard, but he never said it a second time. He still felt guilty, but beneath that guilt was selfishness.

He liked this person.

Liked him enough that he didn’t want to push him away a second time.

So he subconsciously kept him hanging, neither accepting nor rejecting, staying in a comfort zone where he felt most justified.

Until Huo Yuntao’s phone call.

The call was abrupt, reckless, extremely impolite.

But as soon as Ran Lin heard that it was Huo Yuntao who had called, he had an epiphany.

This was Huo Yuntao’s attitude.

As Lu Yiyao’s best friend, he was angry and indignant on Lu Yiyao’s behalf. If possible, he would prefer to bring the person face-to-face for a clear talk, proceed if it’s meant to be, and part ways if not. The situation was already crystal clear, so why pretend it was still ambiguous.

‘Actually, it’s quite pointless,’ Ran Lin thought. Not just pointless but also a waste of time.

Three months nearly flew by in the blink of an eye. If he continued to drag things out, before he knew it, a year would have passed.

Lu Yiyao was set to start filming a movie in July, and by the time it finished, the year would be over. For actors, time flies unnoticed, with days rushing forward like a stream.

No one knows what uncertainties the future holds, and the thought of missing this chance and possibly not seeing Lu Yiyao for the rest of the year unsettled him. That unsettlement heated his brain, and when the brain heats up, people tend to act impulsively.

Besides wanting to tell Lu Yiyao immediately that he liked him and wanted to be with him, he also carried a “not wanting to embarrass the person he liked” kind of fighting spirit.

He hoped that in front of Huo Yuntao, he would be seen as “someone worth Lu Yiyao’s affection”, not a coward too afraid to face Lu Yiyao’s friends.

So he had been building up his momentum all the way, and as soon as he entered, he made his stance clear. The words he just said were probably the most assertive he had been in his entire 24 years of life; his aura was not just 2.8 meters tall, but perhaps eight!

Ran Lin was quite pleased with his performance, and according to his script, the next part should be Lu Yiyao joyfully leaping over to give him a bear hug…

But the scene didn’t seem very optimistic.

Ran Lin swallowed nervously, looking at the bewildered Lu Yiyao. Teacher Lu’s expression indeed turned into that of a happy puppy, but his body seemed petrified, motionless like a flat screenshot, not at all the anticipated [gif] reaction.

In comparison, Huo Yuntao’s expression was much more vivid and animated. But after careful scrutiny, Ran Lin was sure it didn’t contain any hint of “young man, I admire you.”

The nervousness he had previously forgotten slowly crept back, and Ran Lin began to suspect he had messed things up, suddenly feeling a bit regretful.

The dressing room fell into a long and subtle silence. No one moved or spoke; viewed from above, it would resemble a dreadfully awkward scene.

But only those within could hear the storm brewing in the depths of their souls. And first to be swept up in the storm was Huo Yuntao.

His original intention in making the call was to stand up for his friend, so why did the main culprit rush over to declare his love? And was this really the Ran Lin that Lu Yiyao talked about daily? Wasn’t that Ran Lin supposed to be a minor transparent actor with little courage and a tendency to provoke without accepting the consequences? What’s with this commanding presence of a male lead?

This isn’t a pig; this is a damn lion, the kind that guards the gate!

Lu Yiyao wasn’t receptive to his friend’s silent protests and cries. His heart had exploded into popcorn at the moment of hearing “you succeeded”, buttery and sugary, transforming into a cloud carrying him through the stars.

“Maybe…” Unable to bear the silence, Ran Lin weakly proposed a retreat. “Pretend I never came?”

Huo Yuntao was frustrated and about to speak when Lu Yiyao interjected—

“Lao Huo, turn around.”

Huo Yuntao was confused and looked at Lu Yiyao. Lu Yiyao barely smiled. “Turn.”

Huo Yuntao felt a surge of exasperation, tempted to rush out and strangle the high-ranking executive of his entertainment company who had procured today’s invitation for him—why did you help me get the invitation for today!!!

Ran Lin, completely baffled, watched Huo Yuntao turn around, not understanding this game between brothers, but feeling a vague sympathy seeing his disconsolate face.

As he was pondering, a shadow suddenly loomed over him, blocking the light.

Instinctively, Ran Lin turned around to find his lips brushed by a quick peck. The action was so swift and light that by the time he focused on Lu Yiyao’s smiling face, he wasn’t sure if he had really been kissed or if it was an illusion.

Lu Yiyao stood right in front of him, close but not intimately so. Ran Lin heard the thumping of a heartbeat, unsure if it was his own or the other’s. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lu Yiyao beat him to it, reaching out to touch his face.

Like the kiss, Lu Yiyao’s touch was dangerously gentle, his fingertips grazing his cheek, lingering and reluctant to leave.

Ran Lin finally snapped out of his daze, bemused by Lu Yiyao’s focused expression, and asked softly, “Is this… quality checking?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t stop; his eyes were filled with contentment. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

Ran Lin chuckled, teasingly asking, “How does it feel?”

Lu Yiyao replied, “Marvelous.”

Ran Lin’s heart melted, feeling like he was falling for this man all over again…

Bang—

The loud door slam signified the indignant exit of Young Master Huo—these two love cheats sons of a bitches!

Ran Lin watched the dust settle from the closed door, suddenly worried about his reputation among Lu Yiyao’s friends. But Lu Yiyao relaxed completely, pulling Ran Lin into his embrace without any hesitation.

Ran Lin’s first instinct was to wrap his arms around Lu Yiyao’s back, a response almost instinctual. His eyes grew misty; he had never thought he’d fall for someone so outstanding, and by chance, that person also liked him back.

But Ran Lin’s embrace stirred Lu Yiyao into excitement.

He wasn’t a saint; ever since he realized his feelings for Ran Lin, he had been crazed with desire. He despised how cool he had to appear while chatting on WeChat, knowing full well the intensity of his feelings.

The current setting obviously wasn’t suitable for much, but collecting some interest was always due.

When Ran Lin found himself pressed against the wall, he hadn’t quite grasped the situation before Lu Yiyao’s lips descended, sweeping away all his thoughts with a kiss.

It was a passionate and oppressive kiss.

Ran Lin closed his eyes involuntarily, pressed tightly against the wall, wanting to reciprocate but lacking the strength to do so. The other’s almost aggressive demand took everything he could give.

By the time Lu Yiyao finally released his lips, Ran Lin’s legs nearly buckled. His body was still pressed by Lu Yiyao, their noses brushed against each other, eyes closed and filled with desire.

“Someone might come in…” Ran Lin knew it was a mood killer to say such things, but he was genuinely afraid. The more he liked Lu Yiyao, the more he feared him getting hurt because of him.

“No, they won’t,” Lu Yiyao murmured, his breath erratic and warm on Ran Lin’s face. “Lao Huo is guarding the door.”

Ran Lin felt exasperated. After being tricked like that, he was still standing guard for his brother. What kind of brotherhood was this!

But then, his heart warmed up, happy for Lu Yiyao. “He’s really good to you.”

Lu Yiyao gazed at him steadily, unable to resist, and kissed him again. “He will be good to you too.”

Ran Lin’s face felt like it was on fire, yet he feigned calmness. “Love for the house extends to the crows on its roof*?”

*(爱屋及乌) It’s an idiom referring to when you love a person, you will also care about the people or things related to them.

“No.” Lu Yiyao shook his head, speaking gently. “It’s more like he will discover how good you are, just like I did.”

Lu Yiyao’s lips were especially attractive, especially when he was saying sweet things. Watching him, Ran Lin got carried away and couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss.

Lu Yiyao’s eyes darkened, and he struggled to restrain himself, his voice low and husky. “Stop seducing me.”

Ran Lin protested innocently, “I just kissed you once, and you’ve kissed me…”

“I can kiss you,” Lu Yiyao interrupted, “but you can’t kiss me.”

Ran Lin widened his eyes. “What’s the difference?”

Lu Yiyao then buried his face in Ran Lin’s neck, murmuring, “When I kiss you, I can hold back, but when you kiss me, I just want to devour you…”

Ran Lin felt like he was about to ascend to heaven…

Foul!

That was cheating! With Lu Yiyao acting so coquettishly, Ran Lin wouldn’t mind being devoured to the last crumb…

Thump, thump, thump.

Seemingly calculated to prevent the situation from becoming unmanageable, Young Master Huo timely knocked as a warning.

Lu Yiyao gave Ran Lin a deep look, reluctantly let go, and turned to open the door, letting Huo Yuntao back in.

Huo Yuntao had already realized when he was outside. No, he didn’t need to think too hard; seeing Lu Yiyao’s silly look, he knew the case was hopeless. He wasn’t going to play the spoilsport; instead, if possible, he’d fully support this couple, providing a shelter from the storm… Lu Yiyao owed him one!

“Let’s reintroduce ourselves.” Huo Yuntao extended his hand in friendship after taking a deep breath. “Hello, I’m Huo Yuntao.”

Ran Lin somewhat awkwardly straightened his shirt before shaking hands. “Hello, I’m Ran Lin.”

“Sorry about the call earlier,” Huo Yuntao muttered. “Hope I didn’t cause you any trouble.”

“No,” Ran Lin denied quickly. “You were very discreet.”

Huo Yuntao felt awkward but quickly asked, “How did you explain your sudden visit here to your agent?”

Ran Lin replied truthfully, “I said a very good friend was also here, and I had to say hello.”

Huo Yuntao frowned. “A very good friend?”

Ran Lin glanced at Lu Yiyao.

Lu Yiyao nodded and turned back to Huo Yuntao. “You’re mine, I’m his, so you’re his too. It makes sense.”

Huo Yuntao no longer wanted to talk to these two.

He’d gone from a supporting actor to a complete antagonist, and now he just wanted to rush home and cuddle with his wife.

Though fraught with deep emotions, in the end, Ran Lin’s lips were only a little reddened, and his light makeup wasn’t obviously smeared. His shirt was neat after readjusting. Both he and Lu Yiyao had very little time, so staying until now was already pushing it.

“I have to go back,” Ran Lin finally said. Parting just after getting together always felt bittersweet.

“Go,” Lu Yiyao said, his eyes still fixated on Ran Lin.

Huo Yuntao watched the two and felt a pang of empathy; what seemed easy for others was fraught with difficulties for them. Sighing, he softened and suggested, “Don’t be like this. It’s not a farewell. We can arrange a safe four-person date another day.”

The word “date” seemed to have a magical healing effect. The couple finally smiled.

Then Huo Yuntao heard Ran Lin say, “See you tomorrow.”

Lu Yiyao responded, “Mm.”

After Ran Lin left, Huo Yuntao, a beat too late, realized something was amiss and turned to Lu Yiyao, “Tomorrow?”

Lu Yiyao nodded as if it were obvious. “Tomorrow’s premiere in Shanghai.”

Huo Yuntao prodded, “And then?”

Lu Yiyao: “Then there’s Suzhou and Hangzhou.”

Huo Yuntao narrowed his eyes, his voice turning dangerous. “So… you two are together for the next three days?”

Lu Yiyao suddenly hugged his friend. “Thank you for today.”

Huo Yuntao: “Don’t change the subject!!!”

……

When Ran Lin returned to the dressing room, Wang Xi finally relaxed. She wasn’t interested in Ran Lin’s private friendships; as long as they didn’t affect his career, she wouldn’t interfere.

Still, she offered a reminder. “You took quite a while there.”

Ran Lin replied with an easy smile, “Just had a few extra words.”

Wang Xi nodded, not prying further, only advising, “You can afford to do this now, cherish it. Once you become more famous and attract more attention, you’ll find even simple things can become complicated, and you’ll need to be careful about everything you do.”

Ran Lin’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I thought I was already quite famous.”

Expecting an eye roll from his manager, he was surprised when Wang Xi stood up and gave him a pat on the back. “Chest out, head up, look forward!”

Startled, Ran Lin reflexively adopted the posture, standing tall like a pine. Wang Xi nodded approvingly. “Keep this confidence from now on.”

Ran Lin couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t this a bit too much?”

Wang Xi didn’t respond but looked towards Liu Wanwan, who didn’t hesitate to say, “Not at all! Ran Ge, when you’re cocky, you’re incredibly handsome!”

Even as he got into the car, Ran Lin was still trying to figure out if that was a compliment or not.

Meanwhile, Lu Yiyao and Huo Yuntao had already parted ways. Like Ran Lin, Lu Yiyao was rushing to Shanghai, while Huo Yuntao continued with the premiere’s schedule, heading to the media screening.

The production team had arranged to show the first episode and the ultimate trailer of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> at the screening, allowing the media to see it ten days before the audience. In return, they were expected to write articles and generate buzz for the show.

When Huo Yuntao arrived at the screening, the first episode was almost over. In the dim light, he managed to find Li Ruifeng, the executive of his entertainment company, who had brought him there. Fortunately, Li Ge had saved him a seat, so he quickly sat down and immersed himself in the show.

But the first episode ended after just ten minutes, featuring only a few shots of Lu Yiyao and none of Ran Lin.

Huo Yuntao almost wanted to groan in frustration when the screen flashed—the ultimate trailer was starting.

The first scene was the three characters swearing brotherhood, their vow nearly shaking the plum garden.

Huo Yuntao’s attention was instantly captured, forgetting his surroundings and the fact that it was just a screening, completely engrossed in the world of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

The trailer was a whirlwind of intricate martial arts, undercurrents, youthful passion, and pure heartedness. Swords were stained with blood, hearts with emotion; as the blood cooled and the feelings broke, so did the swords…

Even after the trailer ended, Huo Yuntao was still deeply moved. The editing was so sharp and intense, leaving no room for breath until the final snowy gaze in the plum garden.

He found it almost impossible to connect the Fang Xian from the trailer with the Ran Lin he had just formally met. Though they shared the same face, they had completely different auras. If Lu Yiyao had fallen for Fang Xian, he would have understood better because the person on the screen shone so brightly.

The lights came back on, and the media clapped politely and sincerely.

“How come you’re so late?” Li Ruifeng, familiar with Huo Yuntao, chatted casually. “You almost missed even the trailer.”

Young Master Huo’s attendance was entirely driven by personal sentiment, and whether he saw the first episode, or the trailer wouldn’t impact anyone else but him. However, Li Ruifeng knew he was keen to get a taste.

Huo Yuntao, recognizing the tease, didn’t mind and directly asked, “Was the first episode good?”

Li Ruifeng thought for a moment and replied objectively, “The first thirty minutes were brilliant, but the ten minutes after you arrived were somewhat lackluster.”

Huo Yuntao: 囧. His luck was really…

“But you saw the trailer, right? It’s certainly eye-catching.” Li Ruifeng continued, “If the show can deliver even sixty percent of that, it’s sure to be a hit.”

Huo Yuntao felt better, as if the praise and anticipation were for himself.

“What do you think of the actors?” Huo Yuntao asked with anticipation.

Li Fengrui knew he’d inquire about Lu Yiyao and didn’t hesitate to praise. “Tang Jingyu is a difficult character to grasp, but Lu Yiyao did well. Among young actors, he’s one of the few who’s genuinely talented and dedicated.”

“What about Fang Xian?” Huo Yuntao casually inquired, trying to sound nonchalant.

Li Ruifeng was a bit surprised that Huo Yuntao took an interest in such a minor actor, but since Fang Xian’s performance had left a deep impression, he was prepared to speak honestly when someone else spoke up first—

“He will steal the show.”

Huo Yuntao was taken aback, turning to the speaker sitting next to Li Fengrui.

The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties, cultured, and elegant, with a smile in his eyes. However, Huo Yuntao instinctively disliked him, similar to how he disliked most people in his father’s business circle. This man shared something with those people: they all hid behind a mask of smiles, never revealing their true intentions unless they chose to.

Li Fengrui, however, seemed to know the man and was surprised by his interjection. After a moment of astonishment, he eagerly introduced them: “Yuntao, this is President Ding from Armor City Pictures. President Ding, this is our…”

“Young Master Huo,” Ding Kai extended his hand, polite and cordial. “I’ve heard much about you.”

Huo Yuntao frowned reflexively. “I’ve just returned to the country.”

Ding Kai’s eyes flickered with amusement, smiling. “But your legend has been circulating in the industry. Should I say that?”

Huo Yuntao could be sure he was being underestimated. It wasn’t the first time, and given his youth and inexperience, he was aware of his own naivety. Even if he could put on an act, it was only convincing to the likes of his peers, not to seasoned players like Li Fengrui. Most people tended to underestimate him subtly, trying to conceal it. But President Ding was openly dismissive, not bothering to accommodate him at all.

Li Fengrui wasn’t pleased either.

After all, Huo Yuntao was the chairman’s son, and while they might criticize him behind closed doors, it was another matter entirely for outsiders to mock him.

Unexpectedly, before he could say anything, Huo Yuntao surprisingly continued the conversation, seriously asking, “What did you mean by ‘stealing the show’ earlier?”

Ding Kai raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback, expecting a frosty response, not an academic inquiry. But appreciating the unconventional approach, he indulged in further discussion. “The actor playing Fang Xian has a strong screen presence. Lu Yiyao isn’t bad either, but whenever the two share a scene, Fang Xian naturally overshadows Tang Jingyu without even trying. He just needs to fully commit to his role, and his performance will continue to suppress Tang Jingyu’s.”

Huo Yuntao frowned, partly disliking the idea of Lu Yiyao being overshadowed and partly because he hadn’t noticed it himself. “I didn’t feel that way?”

Expecting Ding Kai to elaborate, Huo Yuntao was surprised when he merely shrugged and smiled lightly. “It’s just an opinion, Young Master Huo. Feel free to disregard it. It’s not a professional stance.”

Huo Yuntao mentally rolled his eyes so hard they could have flipped his bangs—if it’s not professional, why the long speech!

Applause suddenly erupted again.

Huo Yuntao looked back to the front, realizing the director and screenwriter had emerged.

The venue quieted down once more, and the discussion between Huo Yuntao and President Ding naturally concluded. But Huo Yuntao couldn’t help glancing at Ding Kai occasionally.

Since returning to the country, he had met many people in the business world, willingly or otherwise. His father wanted him to be ready to take over the family business as soon as possible, so he forced himself to learn and adapt quickly.

He didn’t like Ding Kai, but he had to admit that the man had a certain authoritative presence, not the kind that deliberately elevates itself, but one that is confident and capable, making him seem all the more formidable the more casually he carries himself—a person who could make or break deals in a moment of laughter.

Huo Yuntao didn’t buy into the man’s substance, but he could learn a thing or two from his poise.

……

Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao optimistically thought they could start a three-day “sappy love journey,” but the schedule in Shanghai and Hangzhou was relentless. By the time they returned to their hotel rooms late at night, the hallways’ surveillance made them wary, and the two couldn’t manage a secret rendezvous.

On the evening of the event in Hangzhou, the creative team moved to Suzhou. Seeing that they wouldn’t meet again after the Suzhou press conference ended and would return to Beijing, then Lu Yiyao diving into his packed schedule, they both felt a bit unwilling to part.

It’s one thing for the cheese to be locked in the cabinet, but quite another to be barred from it even when the cabinet is open. What young blood could stand that!

The one thing Ran Lin was grateful for was impulsively going after Lu Yiyao the day before yesterday, at least managing to kiss him once. Or perhaps a few times. Anyway, it left him with something to reminisce about.

[I want to come see you.]

Lying on the hotel bed, Ran Lin read Lu Yiyao’s message, feeling both sweet and bitter.

It was clear that they were unmarried men, so why were they acting as if they were having an affair?

[Wang Xi and Wanwan are right next door, too risky.]

[AHHHHHHHH.gif]

Ran Lin looked at the screen full of screaming gophers, chuckling to himself.

After laughing, a spark of inspiration hit Ran Lin. He typed back, trying to suppress his amusement—[How about calling Third Brother over too?]

Lu Yiyao, faced with this suggestion, was incredulous—[Are you sure?]

Ran Lin—[Three people in one room, no risk of rumors. Otherwise, I really can only interact with you at the press conference. 😭]

Lu Yiyao—[What if I can’t hold back?]

Ran Lin—[Then drive1, drive however you like.]

Lu Yiyao—[……]

Ran Lin—[Really, his presence won’t affect anything. I promise you can still drive1.]

Lu Yiyao narrowed his eyes, deeply skeptical of this tempting proposal. But Ran Lin sounded so confident that he felt an itch to try…

Ten minutes later, in Ran Lin’s room.

“Good thing your suitcase is big enough, or it wouldn’t fit all this haha—”

Tang Xiaoyu wheeled around on his hoverboard, his bell-like laughter filling the room.

Lu Yiyao watched him despondently, any desire to “drive1” completely extinguished.

1They’re playfully bantering. Driving in this case is referring to “drive a car (vehicle)”, which is referring to driving Ran Lin’s hoverboard. However, it’s also a euphemism for sex/explicit content. So in this case, there’s actually a double meaning. Note: They’re not literally saying they’re going to have sex with a third person in the room, but more like, “Maybe we can get away with a little this and that (kissing) even with him there.”

As Tang Xiaoyu clumsily made his way to the entrance, Ran Lin quickly kissed Lu Yiyao and then said righteously, “You said, ‘Next time we meet, you’ll teach me.'”

Lu Yiyao sighed helplessly. “I was just saying it casually…”

Ran Lin stared at him intently. “I take everything you say seriously.”

Lu Yiyao was stunned, then suddenly jumped up and headed toward the entrance. “It’s about time I took over—”

The three of them “drove” all night.

Ran Lin thought it would be torturous to look but not touch, but it turned out it wasn’t. Even though he still wanted to kiss and hug, just watching Lu Yiyao made his heart full. It seemed like any difficult obstacle could be overcome; any convoluted path could be straightened.

Ran Lin suddenly realized that falling in love with someone could also bring courage.

……

On May 28th, Beijing was drizzled with light rain all day, blurring the lines between the end of spring and the beginning of summer. The streets were washed clean and moist, and even the leaves were dusted off, revealing a long-missed green.

That night, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> premiered.

Ran Lin couldn’t watch it in front of the TV because Wang Xi had finally arranged a meeting with the most important investor for <Mint Green>.

“Aren’t we supposed to wait and see the reaction to <Sword of Fallen Flowers> first?” Ran Lin felt it was a bit sudden.

Unexpectedly, Wang Xi was also surprised. “I don’t know. His assistant called me and said they finally had time. I couldn’t just push away the opportunity. Many are eyeing this role.”

Ran Lin didn’t ask further. The investor’s time is always right. A chance from them is luck, and whether it’s sudden or not is your problem; on their side, there’s always a plan.

The dinner coincided with the official airing of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> at 7:30 p.m. As the drama began, Wang Xi and Ran Lin arrived at a modernly decorated club.

Unlike last time they met with Lei Baishi, whom they knew “pursued art and wine”, this time before leaving, Ran Lin asked Wang Xi about Ding Kai’s style. Other than “pragmatic”, she only had “inscrutable” to describe him. Ding Kai’s “pragmatism” was reserved for himself; it was hard for outsiders to guess his moves before he made them. What might seem risky at first often turns out to be the most prudent choice in hindsight.

On this late May evening, the air was warm with a hint of coolness. Ran Lin wore a simple but thoughtful white shirt paired with khaki trousers, slightly tapered at the ankles to accentuate his long, straight legs. His hair wasn’t overly styled; it was just washed and blown dry—formal but not stiff, fresh but not forced.

He and Wang Xi arrived at the booked room first, with Ding Kai yet to arrive. The room was spacious, but the round table wasn’t large, estimated for six people at most, which was sufficient—according to Wang Xi, it might only be Ding Kai and possibly an assistant attending.

“They won’t have much in common,” Ran Lin joked about Ding Kai and Lei Baishi in the privacy of the room.

Wang Xi laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely not. They’re from different worlds.”

Lei Baishi liked grandeur and was passionate about art and brotherhood.

In contrast, Ding Kai was a businessman through and through, concerned only with maximizing profits from his projects.

If these two sat together, Lei Baishi would surely find Ding Kai too philistine, while Ding might consider Lei Baishi naively idealistic.

Ran Lin suddenly wondered: if not Lei Baishi, but Ding Kai had invested in <Sword of Fallen Flowers>. Would he still have secured the second male lead? The more he thought about it, the more implausible it seemed because the <Sword of Fallen Flowers> project was actually risky. In the realm of TV dramas, martial arts stories were almost synonymous with failure, and even with the participation of Chen Qizheng and Song Mang, it was still their first foray into TV dramas. If Ding Kai was as pragmatic as Wang Xi described, he probably wouldn’t take the risk to invest.

“Sorry for being late.” Ding Kai entered the room himself, apologizing as soon as he stepped in. He was indeed late by four minutes according to the agreed time.

But this apology caught Wang Xi off guard, and she hurriedly stood up to respond. “Not at all. We arrived early.”

Ran Lin also stood up cautiously. “President Ding.”

Before understanding the situation fully, he dared not speak more.

“Ran Lin?” Ding Kai looked over mildly.

Ran Lin quickly nodded. “Yes, I’m Ran Lin.”

Although President Ding was in his thirties, he looked much younger. He had a well-maintained figure that fit perfectly in his tailored casual suit. He was understated yet stylish. His hair was short and neat, his demeanor relaxed yet astute, surprisingly handsome. If not for the occasional flicker of sharpness in his eyes, it would be hard to associate him with the profit-maximizing businessman Wang Xi mentioned.

After confirming Ran Lin’s identity, Ding Kai nodded and returned his attention to Wang Xi, carrying a polite smile. “I’ve been abroad recently and just got back.”

In fact, Wang Xi knew that the other party had already been back in the country for over a month. However, when someone extends a courtesy, there’s no reason not to accept it graciously. “To have a meeting with President Ding is our fortune. Please have a seat.”

Ding Kai took the principal seat, and Wang Xi had someone open a carefully selected bottle of red wine to let it breathe in the decanter—she remembered from last time that he had a preference for red wine. Soon, the dishes they had pre-ordered began to arrive. Throughout, Wang Xi kept making small talk with Ding Kai, who was neither cold nor overly enthusiastic, just listening and occasionally responding—enough to be polite.

Ran Lin watched this, feeling increasingly unsure. A person even Wang Xi couldn’t see through was even more inscrutable to him. At this point, he just hoped the dishes would come quickly and that President Ding would set a tone for the meal so he would know how to act and make a good impression. Otherwise, even someone as diplomatic as Wang Xi might run out of things to say.

Suddenly, Ran Lin found himself missing Lei Baishi.

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

Midnight Owl Ch59

Kinky2 Comments

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 59: New Goal

From the first day he entered the “Owl”, Wu Sheng had been pondering what form of existence the “Owl” was.

A stable parallel universe? An unstable space-time distortion? The embodiment of consciousness space?

The information currently available wasn’t sufficient to support any conclusions.

That was why he never discussed these with his teammates.

If he was working on a difficult problem and believed he could solve it, he would never stop halfway and show an ambiguous, half-finished product. Anything he presented would be a definite, clear solution.

Wu Sheng believed this to be a rigorous scientific spirit. However, in high school, Xu Wang pointed out that this was confidence turning into arrogance, arrogance into conceit, and conceit into paranoia—a complete set deserving a beating.

Wu Sheng didn’t humbly accept this criticism back then, and ten years later, he was still the same, until Xu Wang’s “memory recovery”.

A world that has existed for at least ten years, playing with the “chosen ones” at its whim.

Only when he realized the overwhelming strength of the opponent did Wu Sheng suddenly feel fortunate that he wasn’t fighting alone.

“All of the following are my hypotheses and guesses.” Wu Sheng cleared his throat and finally began. “Feel free to interrupt and discuss interactively…”

Xu Wang: “Why the sudden humility…”

“The emergence of a bug means there is a problem with the program itself.” Wu Sheng looked at Xu Wang. “The same applies to the Owl.”

Xu Wang began to understand. “You mean, that night, the Owl malfunctioned?”

“That explains the mismatch in coordinates and time.” Qian Ai connected the dots. “If there’s a malfunction, of course everything goes haywire.”

“But that’s not right,” Kuang Jinxin said. “The level challengers that the captain saw were still trying to submit their papers normally.”

Wu Sheng nodded. “So it’s not an internal fault of the Owl, but a problem with its ‘pathway’ connecting to reality.”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

Translator Xu took the stage. “The moment I was sucked in, the transmission path deviated.”

“Oh—” Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai suddenly saw the light.

“That time was midnight, the pathway between the Owl and the real world opened,” Wu Sheng continued. “Xu Wang shouldn’t have been on the chosen list, but for some reason, he mistakenly entered a secret passage and went in an unconventional way.”

Xu Wang was annoyed. “I was forced, okay? Why do you make it sound like I sneaked in secretly…”

“Sheng Ge, now I get it!” Kuang Jinxin raised his hand, but without waiting to be called, he couldn’t help but speak up. “The Owl is like a room, we are the guests, and the NPCs, the infected science building, and all the rest, are the furniture in the room, but we and the furniture don’t know that there’s a layer within the walls. The captain entered this layer and then watched us from behind the wall!”

Qian Ai: “Can you not make it even more terrifying…”

Wu Sheng: “There’s also the Owl in the layer.”

Qian Ai: “……”

He was joking. He didn’t actually want to ask for a more terrifying explanation!

Xu Wang suddenly understood. Kuang Jinxin’s metaphor and Wu Sheng’s supplement made the “phantasmagoric journey” from ten years ago fall from the clouds to the ground, becoming clear. “I entered a space belonging only to the Owl, so I could talk to it…”

“The problem is the Owl is the Owl, the levels are the Owl’s world.” Qian Ai’s brain, which had just cleared up a bit, was confused again. “Is there a space within a space?”

“In theory, a multiverse exists,” Wu Sheng said. “Otherwise, our being sucked into the Owl can’t be explained at all.”

“Is it possible that only our consciousness was sucked in?” Kuang Jinxin tilted his head in thought. “And our bodies are still somewhere in the real world?”

Xu Wang: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

Don’t naively suggest such a horrifying guess!

Wu Sheng: “It’s possible. Whether clearing levels or bringing back injuries to reality, it’s all a simulated illusion given at the consciousness level. In reality, we might be lying in an experimental pod…”

And you’re still fucking seriously discussing it!

“But.” Wu Sheng’s tone shifted, his gaze firm as he looked at each teammate. “Consciousness should never be confined to a shell. The deeper realms of the brain are worth our struggle and effort.”

The three teammates: “……”

In Wu Sheng’s eyes, they saw a person’s endless yearning and persistence in exploring the unknown.

But—

Qian Ai: “Shall we continue discussing why the captain’s crossing path deviated?”

Xu Wang and Kuang Jinxin: “Completely agree!”

A rainy night, thunder and lightning, magnetic field chaos, space distortion, Xu Wang’s own emotional fluctuations… The friends discussed for a long time, summarizing these “suspicious points”.

Especially at the moment of the incident, Wu Sheng turned back, only to see an empty corridor, but Xu Wang at that moment clearly saw Wu Sheng turn back, even discerning from his lip shape that he was saying “thunder”. This became an important basis for the “space-time misalignment theory”.

But in the end, it was all just speculation.

Among these conditions, which was the key? Were all the conditions necessary, or had they completely misconceived the direction, with the reality being totally unrelated to their thoughts?

No one had the answer.

Lastly, and most importantly, were the words spoken by the Owl.

Kuang Jinxin: “Captain, are you sure that the Owl that spoke to you later is the same as the one we usually hear in the announcements?”

Xu Wang: “Absolutely.”

Kuang Jinxin: “Then why did it say it was the first time someone heard it speak?”

“Damn, could it really be someone trapped inside?” The more he thought about it, the colder Qian Ai grew. “Usually only able to recite preset lines? Beaten up every time it tries to speak the truth?”

Xu Wang: “Can’t you think of a high-tech form of punishment…”

Kuang Jinxin: “I still think it’s like artificial intelligence. Every day, every level, there are teams trying to clear it. If it were a person, they couldn’t handle all that…”

Their discussion led nowhere, and the three friends naturally looked to their advisor.

Wu Sheng pondered for a moment and slowly raised his head. “Why did it say ‘help me’ instead of ‘save me’?”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

Xu Wang: “The point you’re focusing on…”

Although Advisor Wu’s perspective was unique, he ultimately didn’t come to a clear conclusion.

Brainstorming was energy-draining, and the exhausted friends, too lazy to move, ordered takeout and had dinner in the living room.

“Lao Qian Eats All Over China” wasn’t live streamed today. According to Qian Ai, his information intake was overloaded today. If he accidentally started discussing parallel universes with fans during the stream, he might lose followers.

After dinner, it was already past nine in the evening.

Since they were at someone else’s house and not a hotel, despite Xu Wang saying they could use any bedroom, Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai still insisted on curling up on the living room sofa.

Xu Wang didn’t insist, went back to his bedroom, and laid down on the bed, still in his clothes.

The box had been put back in the wardrobe. Once the gate of memory was opened, it was hard to close again.

Xu Wang put his arm over his forehead, blocking the excess light from above but still watching the dim yellow light on the ceiling.

He knew that staring for too long would strain his eyes, but he tried to look for as long as possible. This was him ten years ago.

He was actually grateful to Wu Sheng for that push.

Sometimes, one’s thoughts can’t be cut off by oneself.

Without that push, he might still be hesitating on the edge of ambiguity, fluctuating daily between hope and fear. Not to mention focusing on the exams, he might even have confessed impulsively in a moment of passion. If that had happened, the outcome wouldn’t just have been cold but brutal.

Reuniting with Wu Sheng after ten years?

Even if the Owl had matched them up, they’d have to break the team in minutes.

He was more grateful for Wu Sheng’s “silence” after that night.

This way, they had the chance to return to the “friendship line” and could reteam and walk side by side ten years later.

Did he like Wu Sheng?

Of course.

But having taken the souvenir of unrequited love, he couldn’t go back on it.

“There’s no space on the sofa.” Wu Sheng’s pitiful sigh came from the doorway. “Although you didn’t invite me, I came over on my own.”

“Are you subtly complaining…” Xu Wang laughed and rolled over, making room on the spacious 1.8-meter-wide bed.

Having shared a room in a hotel for a week, Xu Wang was relatively calm about sharing a room—even a bed—with Wu Sheng.

Wu Sheng lay down, meticulously keeping to the space Xu Wang left for him, relaxing his body, looking at the ceiling, and breathing out.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Both lay flat, motionless, staring at the ceiling, and silent. It was quite eerie.

Xu Wang couldn’t take it and extended an olive branch. “Did you suspect a parallel universe from the beginning?”

Wu Sheng: “Huh?”

Xu Wang: “When we first teamed up, the first day you stayed here, I saw your notebook’s web page.”

Wu Sheng: “Oh.”

Xu Wang: “Why didn’t you tell us then?”

Wu Sheng: “It was just a guess. The theory wasn’t mature yet.”

Xu Wang: “Is the theory mature now?”

Wu Sheng: “I am mature.”

Xu Wang: “…”

Turning to lie on his side, facing away from Wu Sheng, Xu Wang barely restrained himself from kicking the other off the bed.

Wu Sheng didn’t need to see to know Xu Wang’s current expression; he was probably narrowing his eyes and grinding his teeth, mentally kicking him eight hundred times.

The corners of Wu Sheng’s mouth lifted unconsciously as he looked at the dim yellow light, reminiscent of amber.

He had never forgotten what happened that night. Every image, every word, even the intensity of the rain at the time—he remembered it all crystal clear.

Before that night, he had never thought that his and Xu Wang’s relationship could be anything more than friendship.

So, when Xu Wang slowly approached him, his instinct was to panic.

No, he was anxious the entire night—first for not being able to find Xu Wang and then for not knowing how to respond.

He wasn’t even sure what Xu Wang, in that moment, was really trying to express or if he was just seeking solace in his confusion.

It took him nearly a month to understand himself.

But the next day, Xu Wang acted as if nothing had happened, even studying more focused and intensively than before.

That was the first time Wu Sheng realized that understanding people’s hearts was much harder than solving problems.

Xu Wang was preparing for his college entrance exams, and Wu Sheng’s family was busy arranging for his studies abroad. Their paths were diverging in clearly visible, completely different directions.

He didn’t disturb Xu Wang’s studies again and waited until after the exams to give him that book.

After that, there was no more to their story.

Several exchanges of letters, a confession rejected, and a first love ended swiftly and cleanly.

He had wondered if things would have been different if he hadn’t pushed Xu Wang away that night.

He didn’t know.

There are no ‘what ifs’ in life, let alone answers to what comes after them.

All he knew was that on that night, he had done the stupidest thing of his life and lost his heart.

……

The Midnight Owl Call in the Snowfield.

In the vast expanse, only their team was present, free from brutal competition and deceit, bringing a long-missed sense of ease.

Upon entering, the first thing they received were the rewards for submitting their 3/23 task and the coordinates for 4/23. The rewards were as usual: one stationery plus one weapon.

But right now, they had more important things to attend to.

Since it wasn’t the current level they were meant to clear, there were no threats like black bears. The four teammates comfortably found a cave to shelter from the cold wind, formed a circle, and stood waiting for the moment to witness a miracle.

Xu Wang held the keychain, hands together, eyes closed, concentrating.

After all the discussion and analysis, without this single piece of evidence, everything was mere speculation.

Three minutes later.

Qian Ai: “Um, are you sure this is how you summon it?”

Kuang Jinxin: “Maybe try a different pose?”

Wu Sheng: “Or throw it on the ground to see.”

Qian Ai: “Have you no humanity. That’s a cat…”

“Snap—”

The keychain fell to the ground, instantly raising a mist of black, orange, and white. As the fog dissipated, a small calico kitten appeared, diligently licking its paws and washing its face.

Qian Ai: “How did you know to throw it…”

Wu Sheng: “It’s how they do it in children’s fantasy shows.”

Qian Ai: “Your range of knowledge is too vast…”

“This is some magical stationery. It’s so cute!” Kuang Jinxin couldn’t resist any longer. His heart was melting as he reached out to cuddle the little calico kitten in his arms.

“It’s cute, isn’t it? When those people first used it, I wanted to pet it so badly but never got the chance. Later, they ran away, went home, and left it alone there, looking so pitiful.” Xu Wang approached and started petting the kitten’s ears and scratching its chin, making the little calico kitten feel very comfortable. While petting the kitten, he seriously asked, “How come you haven’t grown at all in ten years?”

“Cats are indeed devils…” Qian Ai watched the two “severe cat-petting addicts” and couldn’t help but remark. Then, seeing the little kitten’s head tilt and its blue-green eyes look at him innocently, he was inexplicably drawn to join them.

Five minutes later.

Qian Ai: “Is this a one-time-use stationery item? Will it disappear next time?”

Xu Wang: “I don’t know. Let’s see if we can bring it back to reality at five o’clock.”

Qian Ai: “If we can’t take it back, I’m going to the Endless Sea to open treasure chests and get a whole litter!”

“Does it have a name?” Kuang Jinxin asked.

The little calico kitten, now in Qian Ai’s arms, suddenly looked up. Its ears perked up as if it knew they were talking about it.

Xu Wang was stunned and shook his head.

“Then let’s give it a name now!” Kuang Jinxin said with a bright smile.

“Once you name it, you get attached,” Qian Ai said, feeling a twinge of sadness. “What if we can’t bring it back and it’s gone the next time we enter?”

Kuang Jinxin: “This is something special the Owl left for the captain. It must be different from ordinary magic tools!”

“Wangwang.” Wu Sheng, who had been quietly writing something on the ground with a stone, suggested, “The captain is called Wangwang, so the captain’s cat shall be called Wangwang*. It’s perfect.”

*Clarity: As explained before, Xu Wang’s WeChat is [Wàngwàng] (旺旺). The [Wàng] (旺) means prosperous, flourishing, ect. They are naming the kitten [Wāngwāng] (汪汪), which sounds similar to (旺旺) but it’s actually the onomatopoeia of a dog’s bark (woof woof/bark bark if translated)… which isn’t very apt for a cat’s name…

Qian Ai: “Solid reasoning.”

Kuang Jinxin: “Easy to remember!”

Xu Wang speechless. “You’re naming a cat ‘Wangwang’? Don’t you have a conscience?!”

Wu Sheng stood up, came over to Qian Ai, and respectfully asked the little calico kitten’s opinion. “Wangwang, do you like it?”

The cat looked at him for a long moment, blinked its small eyes, twitched its ears, and happily made its first ever sound. “Meow.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin, Xu Wang: “……”

[(Illusory) Soul Painter]. It’s true form was a small calico kitten, now named Wangwang, made a “meow”.

At five in the morning, the four teammates returned to reality, and Wangwang turned back into a keychain, resting in Xu Wang’s palm.

Qian Ai was relieved. “No need to fight sea monsters anymore…”

“Perhaps not,” Wu Sheng said.

Qian Ai didn’t understand, and Xu Wang was also confused. “What do you mean?”

Wu Sheng explained, “If we want to know what the Owl really is and what it truly wants us to help with, we can only continue to clear levels and collect more in-depth information.”

“Yeah.” Xu Wang was even more puzzled. “Isn’t that what we agreed on?”

“We don’t have enough stationery,” Wu Sheng said. “Think about how much stationery we used in the third level. With the current rewards, we won’t be able to clear 4/23, let alone future levels.”

Xu Wang understood, and his heart slowly settled. It wasn’t that he lost his passion and impulse, but the further and harder the goal, the more he needed to keep his cool and think clearly.

“Back to the Endless Sea.”

Wu Sheng looked towards the eastern horizon, where the first light of dawn was beginning to show.

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

Midnight Owl Ch58

Kinky2 Comments

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 58: Combing Through the Details

The voice seemed to come from a distant place, faint and intermittent, mixed with a vague, crackling noise. It was like an old radio, not properly tuned, struggling to transmit the few words it could catch.

Xu Wang couldn’t help but tremble.

The little calico kitten in his arms raised its head and gently rubbed his chin with its head.

The old doctor continued his cleaning work diligently, not lifting his head.

[Owl: You… Who are you…]

Before any response came, the voice persisted, asking a second time.

“Who… Who are you?” Xu Wang mustered all his strength to finally ask back.

[Owl: Owl…]

“Owl?” Xu Wang was momentarily confused but quickly remembered that the owl symbol was under the word “Owl” on the arms of those four people.

[Owl: No… This isn’t right… You shouldn’t be here…]

Xu Wang was speechless. He hadn’t even said who he was, and already he wasn’t supposed to be there? Moreover, it wasn’t like he wanted to be there!

“Right, I shouldn’t be here, so hurry up and send me back.”

[Owl: Twenty-three… submissions… and regain your freedom…]

“Submit? Submit what? Is this an exam?” Xu Wang couldn’t keep up with the other’s train of thought. What did twenty-three refer to?

[Owl: No… You’re not chosen… You can’t submit…]

“Stop talking to yourself.” Xu Wang felt like going crazy. “I’m good at studying. You don’t even need to give me a scope. Just tell me what twenty-three is. I’ll study it myself. I can definitely submit it!”

[Owl: Not chosen… You can’t…]

“…” Xu Wang was exhausted. This person simply didn’t make sense.

[Owl: Not chosen… Why… are you here…]

[Owl: You… Who are you…]

Great, after rambling nonsensically, it circled back to the beginning.

“You win,” Xu Wang surrendered and honestly gave his name. “Xu Wang, double ‘Xu’1, ‘Wang’ from hope2.”

1Clarity: [Xu] (徐) with double (双人). This is referencing the first radical (彳) of the character [Xu] (徐) to distinguish which type of Xu his surname is.
2Clarity: [Wang] (望) from hope [xiwang] (希望).

[Owl: Double ‘Xu’… ‘Wang’ from hope…]

“Now that I’ve told you who I am, can you tell me how to get home?”

[Owl: The first time… someone… can hear me speak…]

Great, back to the “I’m not listening, I’ll only say what I want” mode.

[Owl: Help me… Help… Help me…]

The sudden plea caught Xu Wang off guard. “What?”

[Owl: No… It’s no use… you will forget…]

“Don’t just jump to conclusions!” Xu Wang was fed up. “I won’t forget! What exactly do you want me to help you with?”

No response.

But suddenly, something lightened in his arms.

Xu Wang instinctively looked down. The little calico kitten he had been holding had disappeared, leaving only a curled-up little kitten keychain lying quietly in his palm.

Suddenly, his palm and the keychain flickered twice, creating a blur.

But Xu Wang hadn’t moved at all.

He looked up in panic, only to find the surroundings beginning to distort and warp, just like in the corridor earlier.

Was he… going home?

He was going home!

Perhaps because it felt so similar to the sensation when he arrived, his intuition was almost certain!

[Owl: Don’t… forget… me…]

This was the last sentence Xu Wang heard.

……

Class 7, Third Year.

A minute ago, Xu Wang disappeared. Turning around to find no one behind him, Wu Sheng was bewildered for half a minute. Never in his life had he experienced a moment of mental blankness, until tonight, twice in succession.

The first time was when he pushed Xu Wang away, lasting about five or six seconds. The second, when he realized Xu Wang was gone, lasted a full thirty seconds.

Half a minute later, he immediately started searching, with their just-vacated classroom, Class 7, Third Year, as his first stop.

Before he could do any searching, Xu Wang was standing next to his own desk.

At the sight of Xu Wang’s figure, Wu Sheng leaned gently against the doorframe, almost collapsing in relief.

Half a minute of anxious waiting, it felt like running 10,000 meters. He thought to himself in amusement that this must be the ratio of mental to physical exhaustion.

Taking a deep breath and calming his heartbeat, Wu Sheng walked into the classroom and approached Xu Wang from behind.

He didn’t try to step lightly, so his approach wasn’t exactly stealthy, but he was almost upon Xu Wang before he even stirred.

“Xu Wang?” Wu Sheng finally sensed something amiss.

The thunder drowned out most of his voice, but being close enough, Xu Wang slowly turned his head.

However, his gaze was vacant, taking a long time to focus on Wu Sheng’s face. “Huh?”

Wu Sheng was speechless. Shouldn’t he be the one saying, “Huh?” What kind of logic was Xu Wang following, mysteriously slipping back to the classroom with such an innocent look?

“Oh.” As if finally understanding the unspoken words in Wu Sheng’s eyes, Xu Wang reached for his phone on the desk and showed it to him. “I forgot my phone.”

Wu Sheng knew it. He must have left something behind.

As for running off without a word… On a normal day, he could have criticized him, but today, he really couldn’t blame him.

“The rain has stopped.” Xu Wang looked out the window.

Wu Sheng looked up, and indeed, the rain had ceased, and the night suddenly seemed much more peaceful.

“Let’s hurry back,” he said, worried it might start raining again.

“Yeah.” Xu Wang put his phone in his pocket.

Wu Sheng turned first, heading for the door.

Xu Wang followed but stumbled upon something with his toe.

Bending down, he picked up a small cat keychain.

This was his seat. This was after school, so he snuck back and sat there for half the night. He was certain this keychain wasn’t there before.

The only other person who had been there was Wu Sheng.

The keychain was still new, its color shining brightly even after falling on the floor.

“What’s up?” Wu Sheng turned back, alert, fearing he might lose Xu Wang again.

“Nothing.” Xu Wang quietly slipped the keychain into his pocket.

Having liked someone for so long and deciding to give up, he allowed himself this one act of caprice—a keepsake.

A memento of unrequited love.

He didn’t regret having liked Wu Sheng.

But from tomorrow on, he needed to focus on preparing for exams.

He would get into a good university, find a stable job, not seeking glory but self-sufficiency—it might sound unambitious, even mundane, but it was the only expectation his mother had for him.

……

Ten years later, Beijing, Xu Wang’s bedroom.

Confronted with the keychain, memories flooded in, unstoppable like a tide.

The “Owl” was right. As soon as he came out, he forgot everything about the “Owl”. His memories were cut and reassembled: one second, he was with Wu Sheng in the corridor, the next Wu Sheng was turning back to find him, and then, at the splice, a pretext of “returning for his phone” was inserted.

Seamless and plausible.

Back in Dongying, the banner in 3/23 only reminded him of following the team into the infection disease building. Only now, looking at the keychain, did the even more bizarre part of that memory resurface.

Unable to stay calm, Xu Wang got up and went back to the living room, sharing this “ten-year-old adventure” with his three teammates in its entirety.

Aside from the “lost love” part, which had no value for discussion, he openly shared everything else without reservation.

This wasn’t only because he wanted to be honest with his teammates but also because it involved the correspondence of the ‘Owl’ with reality, time, and other issues. Without linking it to reality, it was impossible to study.

His three teammates listened from beginning to end.

Throughout the process, Wu Sheng’s expressions varied greatly, yet he remained steadfastly silent; Qian Ai, in the first half, frequently wanted to ask questions, but by the latter half, was completely baffled, no matter what was said or heard; as for Kuang Jinxin, it was like listening to a story, becoming more and more fascinated as it went on, eyes shining so brightly that it would be embarrassing to tell it in a dull manner, requiring vivid and lively descriptions to be at ease.

After finishing within one breath, Xu Wang’s throat felt parched. He drank two full glasses of water and waited for questions.

Wu Sheng was definitely the quickest to understand and the fastest and most comprehensive in organizing questions. However, Xu Wang looked at him several times, and this teammate kept his eyes lowered, neither asking questions nor revealing the windows to his soul, quiet to the point of being mysterious.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Qian Ai burst out, pacing around the room with a belly full of questions. “The ‘Owl’ talked to you? Asked for your help? Without specifying what? This is maddening—”

“And that old doctor, why did he throw away the vaccine? What were we fighting for?!”

“That’s not right. If the ‘Owl’ can alter memories, how can you be sure your current memory is true?”

“I know there’s the keychain. You say it’s a phantom object, but it looks just like a keychain to me…”

With an almost inaudible sigh, Wu Sheng finally looked up. “Lao Qian, calm down.”

“Class Monitor, you can’t expect us ordinary humans to have your level of composure…” Qian Ai was still stuck in ‘ten years ago’, even reverting to youthful titles.

“I tend to believe Xu Wang,” Wu Sheng said. “Otherwise, there’s no explanation for how we suddenly aced the challenge last night.”

Wu Sheng looked at Qian Ai.

Xu Wang stared at Wu Sheng.

This ‘tendency’ tone of believe it or not was infuriating…

When they reunited, Xu Wang thought Wu Sheng hadn’t changed, but now, looking back, he realized the youthful Wu Sheng was much more adorable!

He knew Wu Sheng was stubborn, confronting him about lying late at night, even running back to the school building in the rain… Although the outcome was sad, time had passed, and the memory was more sweet than bitter.

“Wait.” Qian Ai, catching the most obvious branch in the ‘ten-year foggy forest’, turned to his advisor and asked, “When you saw Xu Wang disappear, you had no reaction? Or was your memory erased too?”

“I can’t guarantee that my memory hasn’t been tampered with,” Wu Sheng said rigorously. “But based on the data I currently have, I didn’t see him disappear. Instead, the first time I turned back, I saw him…” A twinge of pain pricked at the tip of his heart, and Wu Sheng restrained his gaze. “Watching the rain. The second time I turned back, he was gone. There was about a minute in between—enough time for him to silently return to the classroom.”

Xu Wang looked down, pretending to fiddle with the keychain.

He wasn’t watching the rain.

He was crying.

It turns out Wu Sheng had always known.

“Even if returning for the phone makes sense, shouldn’t he have said something?” Qian Ai still couldn’t understand. “Just ‘whooshing’ back to the classroom without a word, isn’t that strange?”

“There was no sound,” Kuang Jinxin chimed in. “If it really was a ‘whoosh,’ anyone would’ve turned back immediately!”

Qian Ai frowned. “I was just making an analogy…”

“Too much happened that day,” Wu Sheng explained carefully. “Him not wanting to talk to me was normal.”

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin naturally thought Wu Sheng was referring to “Xu Wang’s mother’s passing”.

So, the former blamed him for not being alert enough. “If it were me, I would have asked then. Maybe we could’ve discovered the ‘Owl’s’ secret ten years earlier!”

The latter gently admonished. “Sheng Ge, sometimes, you don’t need to rationalize everything yourself…”

Qian Ai settled back on the sofa, indicating the initial “shock phase” was mostly over.

“If there are no more urgent questions, let’s start analyzing from the beginning,” Xu Wang said firmly. “There are too many oddities here.”

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin agreed.

Xu Wang nodded and looked at Wu Sheng. “Please start your analysis.”

Suddenly being spotlighted, Advisor Wu was caught off guard, with a dumbfounded, cute expression.

Xu Wang’s lips curled upwards, slightly smug about his successful sneak attack, but the trust in his eyes was genuine and solid. “You must have already thought it through. Go ahead. We’re listening.”

Wu Sheng finally snapped back to reality, glancing at him with mixed feelings, then adjusted his mood and happily began Advisor Wu’s Mini-Lecture.

“First, the coordinates. The coordinates on 3/23 were in Dongying, which isn’t even in the same province as our school. There are two possibilities: either the coordinates of 3/23 ten years ago were at our school, or there was an issue with the Owl, mistakenly pulling Xu Wang into 3/23.”

“Second, the time. When Xu Wang entered the Owl, it was midnight Beijing time. According to the setting of 3/23, it should have been 6 p.m. inside, but it was actually late at night. Of course, this could be a normal change and adjustment of the content of the 3/23 level. However, Xu Wang stayed inside for at least forty minutes to an hour, but in reality, from the time I noticed he was missing to when I saw him back in the classroom, only one minute had passed. Now, when we’re clearing levels, time inside the Owl passes synchronously with real time, which is why we can use our phones to check the time.”

Classmate Qian raised his hand to speak.

Advisor Wu waved his hand, indicating that he understood. “The Owl could have tampered with my memory of time; that’s one possibility. But it’s also possible that there’s a problem with the Owl itself.”

“Third, Xu Wang’s own state.” Which was of most concern to Wu Sheng. “To the level clearers, he is ‘non-existent’, but to the buildings, objects, and NPCs inside the Owl, he ‘exists but is ignored’…”

Xu Wang, anxious to hear more, jumped in. “There are also two possibilities here. Go on.”

Unexpectedly, Advisor Wu changed tactics. “No, just one. The world of the Owl mistook you as one of its own, so you didn’t receive the Owl pattern that symbolizes the identity of a level clearer. In other words, if you could be seen, then you would be an NPC.”

Xu Wang: “But they can’t see me—neither the level challengers nor the NPCs.”

Wu Sheng: “So, you’re a bug.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Wu Sheng: “Next, I’ll focus on analyzing the conditions for the appearance of this bug and its future prospects.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “Sheng Ge, slow down. I’m taking class notes.”

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

Full Server First Kill Ch126

Kinky1 Comment

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

Chapter 126: Between Life and Death

[Player Teest, the system has detected that you have used “King of Sleep” 100 times.]

A female voice belonging to the system came through, sounding much steadier than before. [The skill “King of Sleep” has been detected as an illegal skill, causing numerous errors within the Player’s system. We request your cooperation for correction and to complete a test-type task.]

At such a time? 

Teest’s brows furrowed. Nol’s self-created skills were written haphazardly, and he even obtained the [Breath of a False God] right in front of Teest, but the system remained silent from beginning to end. Why was it that when it came to Teest, the system decided to cause trouble at a critical moment?

Teest had no way to forcibly shut down the system, so he had to continue patiently. The system’s blue pop-up window blurred in front of him, and the mission content was simple and crude.

[You have triggered a system patch quest: ????]

[Completion conditions: Within 30 minutes, use “King of Sleep” to slow down the Demon King’s actions and learn at least one of the Demon King’s spells.]

[Reward: System assistance in optimizing “King of Sleep”]

[Failure Penalty: Forced deletion of “King of Sleep” by the system]

[Quest automatically accepted]

Teest: “……”

He never thought there would come a day when the Mad Monk would be robbed by the system—the precious skill he had obtained now demanded to be relinquished.

Learning the Demon King’s magic was a task that seemed more suitable for a mage like Nol, so why did it become his quest? After all, why should he learn the Demon King’s magic?

Moreover, his succubus skill was obtained when he transformed into a Supplement Demon, indeed with dubious origins. Plus, exploiting loopholes to upgrade and break through the system, doubly dubious in origin. But it was just a supportive skill to weaken the enemy. Was it necessary to confiscate it?

Teest had many questions with nowhere to ask. He gritted his teeth and chose the method he was most accustomed to—doing his utmost to protect his precious possessions. Whether it was skills, treasures, or beliefs.

The “Festival of New Green” wedged into dragon scales and golden threads wrapped around the dragon’s horns. Teest leaped down from a high place while bombarding the Demon King with [King of Sleep].

The silver-white figure swept past him, startling Nol. In this dire battle situation, he wished he could literally hold Teest in his mouth to prevent him from being slapped to death by the Demon King. Yet, not only did Teest not avoid it, but he also leaped towards the Demon King.

Nol recognized the magic fluctuations of [King of Sleep]. The Demon King’s movements did indeed slow down—but it was just the difference between 1x speed and 0.9x speed.

The Demon King wasn’t known for agility, so such weakening was like a drop in the bucket. But Teest still crazily bombarded the Demon King with magic, leaping towards the Demon King like a light feather.

Nol hesitated for less than half a second before giving up the thought of asking. Teest wasn’t corrupted, so he must have his own ideas. Contacting him abruptly now might distract him and worsen the situation.

He focused his energy on contending with the Demon King. The “Festival of New Green” was delivered, and three people in the distance solved his urgent need. But as a price, on the land rampant with corruption, those three wouldn’t last long.

Near the head of the Demon King, figures of different shapes continuously emerged. They appeared lightly, were blocked by the “firewall”, and then suppressed by purification magic, only to freeze in place.

The Demon King seemed to realize the problem. It ignored the humanoid figures that flowed out of its head like blood and instead stretched out a hand, clasped it to its chest, and bent its body as if bowing.

It completely ignored Teest, who was fluttering like snowflakes. Unknown spells spread wave after wave, easily crossing the “firewall” and striking directly at Nol’s body.

In that instant, Nol’s brain boiled. It was as if his entire body was pressed into boiling water, instinctively wanting to curl up, almost losing consciousness.

In the first second of his mental shake, the surrounding “firewall” also weakened. In Nol’s blurry vision, the Demon King stretched out six arms towards him, grabbing at him. On its trajectory, there was a small white dot.

Teest.

Teest’s golden thread was probably tied to his dragon horns. Nol suddenly moved, affecting the Mad Monk’s trajectory. If this continued, Teest would be directly hit by the Demon King… He had to stop the Demon King…

In his chaotic thoughts, Nol made the most instinctive response—he decisively withdrew the “firewall” and actively pounced on the Demon King, biting the arm closest to Teest.

The corruption surged up, and Nol’s pitiful 100 HP nearly bottomed out. He barely saved his life by forcefully casting a healing spell and adding 60% lifesteal from [Crimson Plunder].

The taste of the Demon King was strange enough. Nol bit down hard on that arm, dazedly thinking. He remembered the old-fashioned cotton candy he had eaten as a child—seemingly large, but biting into it was utterly void, like air.

Ding.

[Fallen Death has been activated, successfully acquiring the following skills:]

[Lullaby: Full of loving thoughts, the beginning of all dreams, your dream will become reality.

※This skill is limited to the ‘Supreme Creator’ use only.]

[Do you want to save the above skill? [Saved Skills: 3/3]]

Nol didn’t have time to look closely, almost reflexively choosing ‘Yes’. His stats surged wildly, almost reaching the limit set for ‘dragons’. Watching the numbers jump, Nol realized a terrifying fact—

The skill [Fallen Death] only worked on corpses.

The Demon King was strong enough to interfere with the system to a certain extent, making the system’s judgment even stricter, leaving no room for loopholes.

The Demon King in front of him… was already dead?

Although Nol had a vague psychological preparation when he saw skills like [Lost Last Wish] and [Corrupted False God], when it came to confirming this moment, his chest still felt heavy.

Even so, he didn’t let go. The Demon King’s magical attacks were continuous, and the pain from the corruption damage fluctuated his health bar up and down.

[…Discovered a skill of similar origin. Would you like to merge ‘To My Compatriots’ and ‘Lullaby’?]

[Note: Merging can generate a new skill. The new skill will retain the skill’s origin; other changes are unpredictable. Please choose carefully.]

This time Nol didn’t hastily agree but instead used ‘Lullaby’ to overwrite the low-level skill [Sniff].

Before merging, he must first try this new skill. Now at a dead end, he couldn’t miss any possibility—although he wasn’t sure if he qualified as the ‘Supreme Creator’.

Nol activated [Lullaby].

The dim and gloomy blood night instantly lit up, and rugged blue-white grids and cursors appeared on the surface of everything. With Nol as the center, everything around him turned into a strange “editable mode” in his eyes. It was like sitting in front of a computer, directly adjusting the environmental details of “Tahe”.

At the same time, his MP value gushed out like a major artery had been cut. Nol painfully severed his tail, converting it all into mana to avoid being drained completely.

As the thick dragon tail rapidly disappeared, Nol’s scalp numbed, and he clumsily “moved” the Demon King, just trying to distance himself.

The moment the edit was completed, the Demon King really teleported dozens of meters away out of thin air.

Nol quickly adjusted his posture. Making sure Teest’s figure was still actively bouncing around, he restarted the “firewall” and cast several healing spells on himself, barely stabilizing the situation. The Demon King, puzzled by the sudden displacement, froze in place, and its headache-inducing spells also stopped.

Nol opened his mouth, stained with corruption, and took a long breath.

At this point, he could confirm three things.

First, the system recognized him as the “Supreme Creator”.

Second, [Lullaby] was undoubtedly a terrifying skill. Nol suspected that the continuously emerging shadows above the Demon King’s head and the abnormal terrain around him were the effects of this skill.

Third…

The power of the world that had passed away, skill descriptions filled with despair from corruption, the power of creation from nothing, the status of the “Supreme Creator” like himself…

The answer was clear.

“You, no, you…” Nol continued in his native language, trying to awaken the Demon King opposite him. “Are you the creators of those three worlds? I am like you. We shouldn’t be enemies!”

Hearing his words, the Demon King began to go mad again. Its body spasmed like a puppet, and from its pitch-black face came a blurred roar—or moan, Nol wasn’t sure.

[Regrettably, the cries for help have vanished, and you can only chase the echoes.]

[Lost Last Wish] once described it like this.

The Demon King was already dead, and what was active now, in a sense, was similar to an undead creature—almost as lost, almost as silent, almost as mad.

The sky was dim, and the Demon King almost merged into the night. Above its head hazily hung four moons, leaving only a halo of light.

The moon…

It was just a flash of inspiration. Nol held his breath and cast [Remembrance of the Dead] on the Demon King—

The spell he had made for the Death Knight, the magic that could restore the dead to brief lucidity.

Nol’s nose and mouth were bleeding profusely, but he kept staring at the six light spots on the Demon King’s head. “Don’t distort. It must work, please… Please, let him hear.”

A blue-green halo flickered from under the Demon King’s feet, spiraling upwards. The Demon King froze, its six head lights spinning chaotically, sometimes large, sometimes small.

“Ah… I…”

It emitted a cold, terrifying, noise-like sound, different from [Lost Last Wish] processed voice. That language, undoubtedly, was also the language of Country C.

It really was his compatriot. It had once been his compatriot.

“I don’t… I don’t want… to die like this… My family… is still waiting for me…”

“Can you hear my voice?” Nol asked, his limbs icy, squeezing out the words from his throat.

“Don’t hurt me… Don’t hurt me… Save me…”

“I won’t hurt you!” Nol quickly responded. “You… Can you go back across the sea first? I will find a way, I promise—”

“Kill me…” The Demon King, not knowing if it understood, stopped at a distance, extending its spider-like arms towards Nol. “Kill me… Kill me…”

These were the “last wishes” Nol had heard and made his heart sink. “Do you still remember your own name?”

“Kill me… Kill me… Kill me…”

The Demon King just kept repeating these words, its tone high and unvarying, like a looped voicemail.

“I will help you.” Nol set up a “firewall” with bitterness in his mouth. “Please… talk to me. Tens of thousands of our compatriots are trapped in my world. We all want to go home…”

Hearing the last word, the Demon King’s murmuring abruptly stopped.

“Home…” It confusedly lowered its arms.

Near its head, the swirling figures disappeared. The Demon King sat quietly on the dark ground, blankly staring at the four moons overhead.

“I can’t go back…” It let out a pitch-shifted sigh. “Over two thousand years… I can’t return…”

“Two thousand years… Mother…”

“Please… Kill me…”

The last sentence had less mechanical repetition but was filled with ash-like despair, like a dying old man in pain, wishing for a quick death.

“Please… kill me…”

“Take my… bones… home…”

After death, a person’s traces gradually disappear. If an undead knight could retain a bit of reason after two hundred years, then what was left of a person after two thousand years of loneliness?

“I want… to go home…”

“I want to go home…”

“Home…”

The Demon King kept repeating, in a language not of this land, echoing on a land where it shouldn’t exist.

Nol gazed blankly at his compatriot’s “corpse”, forgetting to flee in those brief seconds.

……

At first, Teest wanted to learn that shadow-emitting magic from the Demon King’s head—after all, it was the only magic the Demon King had shown, no matter how impractical.

But it was extremely complex, the power fluctuations more intricate than the gears in a clock. Teest tried to imitate it but couldn’t even grasp the basics.

With the mission countdown looming over his head, Teest dared not delay and continued to maintain [King of Sleep].

Soon, his opportunity arrived.

The Demon King used some kind of psychic shock on Nol, causing Nol’s “firewall” to destabilize. Teest desperately suppressed his desire to run back, focusing on the new spell’s fluctuations.

He wouldn’t be of any use if he went back, the Mad Monk coldly reminded himself. He needed to be more useful.

Fortunately, this attack spell was simple and brutal. Teest memorized its fluctuation characteristics and repeatedly tried to recreate it from scratch using his own power—

Failure. Failure. Failure.

Failure. Failure.

……

Still failure.

It was like trying to make a necklace from sand or forge a blade from solid ice. He could only mimic the form; the power dissipated in an instant, and he couldn’t get it to work. He knew the problem.

[Human beings can never reach the strength of monsters. It’s predestined.]

The teachings of the Eternal Church from his youth echoed in his mind. [Some rare magics can only be used by beings with specific physiques. No matter how strong a human is, he can’t breathe dragon fire or sing a siren’s song—God allows you to fuse with monsters, to become closer to them, to obtain this unique power…]

And Teest also knew the solution to this problem.

He needed to risk his life for this task.

You’re crazy, Teest’s rationality screamed in his head. Nol is busy fighting the Demon King and has no time to notice what you’re doing—you’re here risking your life against thin air, who knows? It’s just a weakened magic, if lost, then lost. Even if Nol knew about this, he would definitely tell you to abandon the task, knowing his soft heart.

Now he can’t see you, no one can see you, no one knows you have a solution. You just need to retreat, go back to his side…

“Ah,” Teest muttered to the murky night. “But if I lose the best support method, I, as a knight, would be too ashamed.”

He didn’t dodge the stiff shadows anymore. This time, Teest extended his hand and actively embraced the corruption.

There was a purification magic suppressing around, so the corruption spread slowly. The Mad Monk imitated the simple fluctuation again and again, the corruption devouring his fingertips, emitting a rotting stench.

This time there was a slight effect, he thought, but still not enough…

Teest swung forward, his arm passing through the gushing shadows.

The corruption devoured his arm, causing the flesh to rot alive, which made it a bit troublesome.

The unknown spell, like a newly oiled machine, gradually strengthened its fluctuation, running more smoothly while he was still conscious…

Teest plunged into the darkness again.

His limbs were completely engulfed by the corruption, only his head and chest remaining normal colored. Excruciating pain and weakness assaulted him from both sides, nearly causing him to faint. Realizing this, Teest desperately leapt in the air, pretending to be fine.

Practice, endure, practice again, endure again. The corruption brought pain unbearable for a normal person, but luckily, he had spent nearly ten years getting used to such experiences.

Finally, a magical fluctuation identical to the Demon King’s appeared, black light spreading between his rotting fingers.

At that moment, the corruption just reached his throat.

He succeeded.

The strength of the spell couldn’t compare to the Demon King’s, but they were identical.

Suddenly, a burst of static noise filled his mind. Teest tensed his body but didn’t hear the system’s “skill acquired” notification.

At the same time, the Demon King stopped moving. Nol was saying something to it, but Teest didn’t have the strength to listen anymore. His senses were almost gone, climbing towards the dragon’s head on instinct—the surrounding purification magic couldn’t suppress his corruption anymore. He needed to quickly touch the “Festival of New Green”…

[You have completed the system patch quest: ?????]

[You have met the task “?????” completion condition: Within 30 minutes, use “King of Sleep” to slow down the Demon King’s actions and learn at least one of the Demon King’s spells.]

[Quest Reward: System assists in optimizing “King of Sleep”.]

Teest, bearing the system’s somewhat belated notification, clumsily climbed up the dragon’s horn.

[Beginning optimization…]

[Circuit fusion in progress… Individual feature adaptation in progress… Skill modification in progress…]

[Quest reward processed.]

Teest’s trembling hand reached towards the “Festival of New Green,” stopping less than two fingers away.

His pain disappeared.

The corruption didn’t disappear with it; it became a part of him, deeply infiltrating his skin and bones—this feeling was bizarre, like becoming a monster again, but the process was much gentler.

[King of Eternal Sleep: You will lure all things towards destruction, granting enemies death.]

[Note, this skill has exceeded the system’s management authority. Actual effects may vary.]

Teest lay on the dragon’s head. “…Fuck.”

He couldn’t judge his condition, nor could he see how to use this skill. But Teest knew, no matter how powerful the skill seemed, it couldn’t just be “glare and they die”.

He placed his hand on the “Festival of New Green”, regaining some strength. Teest didn’t interrupt Nol and the Demon King’s conversation, swinging again along the golden thread, throwing a [King of Eternal Sleep] at the nearest shadow.

At the same moment.

“I will take you home.” Nol regained his senses, trying to soothe the Demon King. “Think… Can you remember your name? I need to know your name to take you back.”

A name represented part of a life. If the Demon King could remember more, maybe he could bring back more information…

The Demon King began to move again. Its six light orbs atop its head spun wildly, the cold hostility returning, even more intense than before.

Who would have thought, in just two or three minutes, the supposed half-hour effective [Remembrance of the Dead] had failed.

Nol gritted his teeth, erecting the barrier again.

This time, things didn’t go so smoothly. The Demon King went berserk with countless things erupting from its head—apart from endless crowds, there were also deformed high-rises, vehicles, and trees. It was like a city stuffed into an uncovered blender, debris crazily spewing out.

Those twisted silhouettes surged like a tsunami. Nol quickly scanned the surroundings, checking Teest’s condition.

In less than a second, Nol successfully located Teest. His little knight was hanging under his left front paw, face-to-face with a shadow.

Amidst the chaotic city debris, the child’s shadow stood still, looking up.

It waved at them obediently, as if greeting.

The author has something to say:

Not bad, not bad.

Laughing to death, while writing Teest’s skill. I thought of instant noodle packaging… actual product may vary! Not that much beef (.

Both got new skills!

But still being heavily attacked…

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

Suddenly Trending Ch58

Kinky4 Comments

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 58

After returning from Shanghai, Ran Lin first read the script of <Mint Green> and made some brief notes. Instead of diving deep into the intricacies right away, he decided to read the original novel.

The novel <Mint Green> wasn’t too long, totaling 170,000 words. Unlike the nostalgic school themes popular on the big screen these days, this novel was set in the present, characterized by the restlessness and loss unique to the information explosion era, as well as the self-awareness, bravery, and openness of the new generation.

The main storyline was about love, but it didn’t shy away from the various issues in current education, as well as the impact of family and society on young people who were just starting to experience the world. The authenticity of the environmental details made this love story more delicate and textured. Overall, it was more about a journey of self-growth than love. Without glossing over or wallowing in despair, it genuinely portrayed youth, resonating strongly with readers, especially the younger generation.

The author’s skilled writing was evident, and the screenplay adapted the essence of the novel brilliantly, capturing both the bittersweetness of first love and the courage to face the future. The former was delicate, the latter was passionate, and the screenplay also incorporated clever, fitting humor that didn’t overshadow the main story but added beauty like small, lovely waves.

While reading the script, Ran Lin felt it was a compelling story, but it was after reading the novel that he understood its popularity. Revisiting the script after the novel, he appreciated the solid, beautiful adaptation even more.

No wonder Wang Xi mentioned that many financiers and actors were interested, yet opportunities were scarce.

<Mint Green> isn’t a typical commercial blockbuster, but youth films have their advantages—they don’t burn money. Less financial risk means lower box office pressure, and if marketing and word of mouth are good, a small investment can yield a large return. Plus, the novel itself carries IP popularity.

For young actors, especially those who rely on looks and popularity, such films offer a chance to showcase acting skills. A decent performance that doesn’t feel awkward on the big screen can be marketed as a transformative effort. If the performance is particularly good, it can solidify a reputation for acting talent, standing out among peers who might not yet boast about their acting skills.

Just like after <Beihai Tree>, no one said Lu Yiyao relied only on his looks anymore. The narrative became, “Despite having the looks, he relies on his talent.” Regardless of how much truth or exaggeration there is, when repeated often enough, it forms a lasting impression.

And a youth commercial film with literary qualities like <Mint Green>, even more promising than pure art films like <Beihai Tree>, offers both prestige and the potential for box office success.

So, the only challenge Ran Lin faced was, according to the script, the male lead is a goofy youth who rides a hoverboard to class.

Goofy, Ran Lin could do.

Hoverboarding, however, left Ran Lin baffled and clueless.

So, throughout April, aside from reading the script, getting into character, practicing lines, and acting out scenes in the mirror, he was riding a hoverboard purchased online, zipping around the apartment building in the dead of night.

When buying the hoverboard, the store owner thoughtfully recommended a full set of protective gear—the kind kids wear when learning to roller skate—helmet, elbow pads, knee pads. Ran Lin thought his balance was good enough not to need them, but after a few falls that bruised his legs, he promptly left a heartfelt positive review for the store and then dutifully suited up as a safety baby.

When Lu Yiyao sent over a photo, Ran Lin was downstairs taking a breezy ride on his hoverboard.

He naturally stopped and, standing on the hoverboard, facing the cool April night breeze, opened the photo sent by Teacher Lu.

The photo showed two buddies, arms over each other’s shoulders. One was naturally Lu Yiyao, and the other was a youth Ran Lin didn’t recognize. The stranger had single eyelids, thin lips, and a healthy complexion. Interestingly, while each of his features looked quite ordinary alone—only his straight, handsome nose stood out—when put together, they formed an unexpectedly harmonious and roguishly handsome face.

Perhaps influenced by his friend, the Lu Yiyao in the photo didn’t have his usual upright and stern demeanor. Instead, he looked like a youth who had fallen in with the wrong crowd, intriguing Ran Lin.

It was a selfie that seemed casual yet was anything but.

The stranger was casual, laughing heartily and carelessly without even looking properly at the camera.

Teacher Lu was anything but casual, perfectly angled, with just the right shadows, a handsome smile, and expressive eyes.

[This is me and Huo Yuntao.]

Following the photo, Lu Yiyao sent a brief explanation.

Ran Lin guessed as much without needing the clarification.

Ran Lin—[You took it, right?]

Lu Yiyao—[You can tell even without seeing my arms?]

Ran Lin—[Don’t need to look at the arms; your face is enough. Obviously, it’s captured at your most beautiful moment.]

Lu Yiyao—[That’s not a sufficient reason. Even if he took it, the effect would be the same.]

Ran Lin—[…Please spare me some of your confidence, just a little, and I could soar to the skies.]

Lu Yiyao—[ 🤗]

Lu Yiyao—[Did you catch some immortal vibes?]

Ran Lin—[Are you still together?]

Lu Yiyao—[…Can you give a warning when you’re changing the subject?]

Ran Lin—[You didn’t give a heads-up when you took advantage.]

Lu Yiyao—[You win.gif]

Lu Yiyao—[He arrived by plane during the day, knew I was free, and came to see me in the evening.]

Ran Lin—[Your place?]

Lu Yiyao—[Yeah, my own apartment.]

Lu Yiyao—[[Map Location] Be careful when you come over. Three paparazzi are staking out regularly.]

Ran Lin—[…]

Lu Yiyao—[Save it, it’ll come in handy eventually. 😊]

Ran Lin—[You’re no longer the upright and stern Teacher Lu I knew…]

Lu Yiyao—[You might have had some unscientific misunderstandings about me from the very beginning.]

Ran Lin was utterly at a loss with Lu Yiyao.

Ever since he… well, seemed to have taken a different turn, he had been racing down the road of flirting with exceptional speed. The “naturally flirtatious” trait he once had was now fully evolved and upgraded. This evolution wasn’t very obvious face-to-face, but once in WeChat mode, it was as if his awkwardness and pressure were alleviated by “text communication”. Lu Yiyao’s skills were completely unleashed, striking right to the point.

Lu Yiyao—[Still practicing on the hoverboard?]

Lu Yiyao knew that if Ran Lin had no engagements, he would be practicing at this time every evening.

Ran Lin—[Yeah, I’ve basically mastered it now, striving for perfection.]

Lu Yiyao—[Be careful.]

Ran Lin—[Don’t worry.]

Lu Yiyao—[Next time we meet, you’ll have to teach me.]

Ran Lin unconsciously smiled, a vague warmth flowing through his heart, as if what was agreed upon wasn’t just about teaching hoverboard, but a promise—[Okay.]

……

In the blink of an eye, April passed, but Wang Xi still hadn’t managed to meet with investors. Ran Lin, however, had become extremely proficient in riding his hoverboard, darting between flower beds, green belts, cars, and bicycles below the building as if he was in a realm of his own—although occasionally, the hoverboard’s battery would run out halfway, leading to the awkward situation of “going with the vehicle carrying the person, returning with the person carrying the vehicle.”

Wang Xi was unaware of Ran Lin’s hoverboard practice and assumed he was diligently working on scripts at home. So, on May Day, when she called, she said, “Put the script aside for now. I’ll take you for some facial treatments and maintenance the next few days. The publicity for the show is about to pick up.”

The “publicity” she referred to was for the official promotion of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

On May 1st, the official Weibo of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> posted—

[<Sword of Fallen Flowers> is officially scheduled for release and will premiere on May 28th on @XX Television @XX Television! Long missed chivalrous tenderness, poetic and picturesque of the martial world, plots and intrigues, all succumb to a flourishing sword in the end! The ultimate poster is coming, and the Fallen Flowers group awaits you in the martial world! @Chen Qizheng @Song Mang @Lu Yiyao @Xi Ruohan @Ran Lin @Tang Xiaoyu @…]

The Weibo post included nine posters, featuring main and supporting characters like Tang Jingyu, Zhao Bu Yao, Fang Xian, Xu Chongfei, and Li’er, among four other significant supporting roles.

The post wasn’t just about releasing the ultimate posters; it marked the end of the pre-heating phase and the official launch of the promotional campaign for <Sword of Fallen Flowers>!

Shortly after the poster was released, the production team released a short trailer.

The trailer they chose features three characters taking a brotherly oath, showcasing Fang Xian’s carefree character questioning why they chose a plum garden yet see no plum blossoms, followed by the trio swearing an oath to heaven and earth with dramatic, rapid cuts. The juxtaposition of light-hearted moments and intense blood-pumping scenes created a significant contrast, fully capturing the audience’s attention and setting high drama tension.

Consequently, the discussion around <Sword of Fallen Flowers> really heated up. The drama’s promotional efforts and the trailer’s texture brought positive word of mouth. By mid-month, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> had become one of the most anticipated and promising shows in the pre-summer release slot.

By May 18th, with ten days until the premiere, all the main actors had gathered in Beijing to attend the premiere ceremony. This so-called “grand ceremony” was essentially a major press conference. Since there were multiple press events planned in different locations, this first one was designed to be the most grandiose and large-scale, featuring the full cast and crew and inviting the most industry and media personnel.

Ran Lin was groomed by Wang Xi a week in advance, looking fresh and handsome, and arrived at the ceremony venue a few hours early. The process and content of the press conference, including questions the host might ask and games to be played, had already been sent to the artists’ teams to avoid any mishaps, given the large media presence.

Most of the creators lived in Beijing and arrived on time. By the time Ran Lin reached the backstage lounge, only two significant supporting characters had arrived.

The creators who would be on stage were the eight actors from the nine drama photos released on the official Weibo, with one male supporting actor absent due to commitments with another drama. The producers, director, scriptwriter, and others would also be present to discuss their creative intent and artistic pursuits, as the audience and media were primarily interested in star interactions.

When the lounge door opened again, Ran Lin’s heart involuntarily raced, only to see a “fish head” poking in.

“Long time, no see!” Tang Xiaoyu’s voice entered even faster than his body.

Ran Lin and two other actors stood up to greet him, and Tang Xiaoyu warmly hugged each one. However, the hugs for the other two were more polite, while the one for Ran Lin was more indulgent, to the point that Ran Lin always felt his shirt would get wrinkled.

Tang Xiaoyu was also wearing a more formal shirt today, but unlike Ran Lin’s light solid color, it was striped. It showed respect for the event while still retaining vibrancy, matching his usual public image.

“What have you been busy with lately?” Even though he said it had been a long time, there was no sense of alienation in Tang Xiaoyu’s words; it was as if they had just parted.

His agent was obviously used to it, nonchalantly sitting aside to rest, letting his artist freely chat around.

Ran Lin glanced at the door where Wang Xi was chatting warmly with some staff member, seemingly unconcerned about him. That’s when he whispered to Tang Xiaoyu, “I’m sad because I can’t get busy.”

Tang Xiaoyu glanced at him and lowered his voice. “Come on, didn’t <Mint Green> approach you?”

Ran Lin raised an eyebrow, not hiding anything. “You’re quite well-informed, aren’t you?”

Tang Xiaoyu looked at him unbearably. “How can you still be so naive? There are no secrets in this circle.”

Ran Lin felt silly, wondering who was actually the naive one between them.

“If you were really that well-informed, you’d know it’s not certain yet,” Ran Lin honestly replied.

Tang Xiaoyu nodded. “Indeed, many people are eyeing that one. If it wasn’t for my schedule being full, I might have competed with you.”

“Oh.” Ran Lin smirked with a bit of malice. “You, I’m not afraid of.”

Tang Xiaoyu was frustrated. “Can you not? It’s been months since you wrapped up. Can you move on from your ‘Second Brother’ persona? I’m not Xu Chongfei who you can easily bully.”

Ran Lin believed that.

Tang Xiaoyu was indeed more easily bullied than Xu Chongfei.

“But there’s still <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.'” Tang Xiaoyu brought the topic back. “If this drama explodes, your <Mint Green> is almost a sure thing.”

Ran Lin sighed, with a bit of hope yet not too optimistic. “I hope so.”

“I think it’s about right. Not to mention the drama, Lu Yiyao’s popularity alone is enough to heat up the ratings,” Tang Xiaoyu remarked, then suddenly remembered. “Oh right, I saw Lu Yiyao when I came here.”

Ran Lin was surprised. “He has arrived?”

“Yeah,” Tang Xiaoyu replied naturally, followed by a light sigh. “But he has his own separate lounge. I only saw his silhouette. Didn’t get to speak to him.”

Ran Lin was momentarily stunned.

Having chatted with Lu Yiyao so enthusiastically recently, he’d blurred the lines of their status difference. Being so suddenly reminded—even knowing it was a fact—a slight, indescribable bitterness emerged in his heart.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated twice.

Without any reason, Ran Lin knew it was Lu Yiyao. The vibration transferred from his palm to his heart, accelerating his heartbeat.

This was different from before; earlier conversations were just simple long-distance chats—no pressure, no awkwardness, no nervousness—because he knew the other person wouldn’t suddenly appear. But now, with the spatial distance so close, even if he couldn’t see the other person, just thinking about him being nearby made him feel unusual.

Ran Lin felt that this reaction could be summarized in one word—cowardly.

[I’m here. It’s inconvenient to come over. See you on stage later 😳.]

Ran Lin stared at the shy red-faced emoticon, his face a mixture of emotions, and his erratic heartbeat miraculously returned to normal.

After a while, the staff came to inform them that the ceremony was about to begin, and they should head to the stage.

Ran Lin took a deep breath, adjusted his clothes, and followed the main creative team to the “battlefield.”

……

Lu Yiyao mentioned “see you on stage”, but actually, they saw each other while waiting to go on stage.

And it wasn’t through any dramatic coincidence or accident; just as Ran Lin finished adjusting his clothes and turned his head, his gaze met Lu Yiyao’s straight on.

Lu Yiyao stood two steps away, with Tang Xiaoyu in between them. Lu Yiyao’s gaze crossed over Tang Xiaoyu and just looked at him with a smile, seemingly for a while, so when their eyes met, the smile deepened naturally at the corners of his mouth.

It had been three months, yet there was no feeling of a long-awaited reunion. The confession in the backyard of that villa felt as if it had happened just yesterday.

Ran Lin was so captivated that he didn’t come back to reality until Tang Xiaoyu nudged him—it was time to go on stage.

“Please welcome the ‘Fallen Flowers Group’ to the stage—”

As the host called out, the eight actors took the stage in a single file.

Before them, the producer and director had already appeared to open the ceremony. When the actors took the stage, everyone lined up in a single file, with the producer, director, and lead actors in the middle, the second and third male leads to the left and right, followed by the other supporting actors.

The stage lights were bright, dazzling, and hot. Ran Lin stood right next to Lu Yiyao, but when the host interviewed him, Lu Yiyao, who was speaking eloquently to the host, seemed to be a great distance away.

“In this drama, I play ‘Tang Jingyu’. This character actually has a dark attribute, as he bears the revenge of his family’s annihilation, so…”

Even though Ran Lin always teased Lu Yiyao for being narcissistic, he had to admit the man was really good-looking.

Even just seeing the side profile under the stage lights revealed a beautifully contoured face.

“Whether ‘Tang Jingyu’ is dark or not, I think besides our leading lady, ‘Fang Xian’ has the most say…”

In a moment of distraction, the host had already finished interviewing Xi Ruohan and passed the topic to Ran Lin.

Ran Lin steadied himself, forcing his mind out of the scattered thoughts. With a smile and a deep breath, he took the microphone and half-joked, half-teased, “Tang Jingyu is really too dark.”

Ran Lin’s complaints came out very naturally, as if all his grievances could fly right out of the speakers.

Laughter erupted from both the stage and the audience.

After his lament, Ran Lin became more serious, his voice clearer. “In the drama, I play ‘Fang Xian’, the young master of the Fang Clan. ‘Tang Jingyu’ and ‘Xu Chongfei’ are my sworn brothers. Initially, we shared the same ideals and pursued a conspiracy together, but later…” Ran Lin glanced at Chen Qizheng and restrained his laughter. “Later the director wouldn’t let us reveal too much, so all I can say is if ‘Tang Jingyu’ has 70 points of darkness, 69 of those points are on me.”

The host smoothly passed the question to Lu Yiyao. “What do you think about ‘Fang Xian’s’ accusation, ‘Jingyu’?”

Lu Yiyao thought for a moment, then suddenly sighed deeply. “I can’t make up for it in this lifetime. Maybe in the next one.”

Before the host could speak, Xi Ruohan, who had been holding a microphone, sighed. “I suddenly feel like I’m a third wheel.”

Tang Xiaoyu, ever ready for humor, moved closer to Xi Ruohan’s microphone and said, “That should be my line…”

Laughter erupted from the audience once again.

This back-and-forth banter was much more interesting than the previous dry interview, finally heating up the atmosphere.

After the interview was the game segment. Seeing that the props on stage were almost ready, the host announced loudly, “Let’s begin our game segment. Please welcome our ‘Fallen Flowers Group’ back to the stage!”

This time, only the eight actors returned to the stage without the producer and director. The host, holding a draw bucket, announced the rules. “The first game is a classic ‘You Describe, I Guess,’ but before we start, we need to draw lots to form teams…”

The draw bucket was actually a colorful paper box with a hole on top. Lu Yiyao was the first to reach in and pulled out a ball labeled “2”.

Xi Ruohan was the second to go and drew a “1”.

Ran Lin was the third and also drew a “2”.

Seeing the number, Ran Lin froze for a moment, only realizing what had happened when the host congratulated the “Love-Hate Duo” for being formed—he and Lu Yiyao were in the same team!

Well, with only four teams, the odds weren’t too low.

Ran Lin put down the ball and walked over to Lu Yiyao, whose smile was as bright as the colorful box.

Soon, the teams were formed, and the first pair, Xi Ruohan and Tang Xiaoyu, began.

The game’s concept was simple: one partner describes a word without using the word itself or any part of it, and the other guesses. They had 90 seconds to guess as many words as possible, with the team guessing the most words declared the winner.

Xi Ruohan and Tang Xiaoyu turned out to be a black hole for this game; the former explained, and the latter guessed, managing only four words in 90 seconds. Towards the end, Xi Ruohan was nearly frantic, and if not for the audience and media watching, Ran Lin suspected she might have bitten Tang Xiaoyu.

“It seems the score wasn’t very ideal.” The host added fuel to the fire, eager to keep the competitive atmosphere lively. “Now, let’s welcome the second team!”

“You describe, I guess.” Without using the microphone, Lu Yiyao whispered to Ran Lin.

This kind of whispering was quite normal; Tang Xiaoyu and Xi Ruohan had also murmured to each other before going on stage, as it was typical to discuss strategies with your teammate in a group game.

But guilty conscience made Ran Lin’s ears inexplicably hot, and he dared not look into Lu Yiyao’s eyes. He nodded in a fluster and entered the game zone.

Compared to him, Lu Yiyao was much more composed and in a very good mood.

Because even if he and Ran Lin ended up together, the opportunity to interact so openly in a public setting might not come often, so he treasured it.

In a single breath, Lu Yiyao felt the world quieten down, and all he could see and hear was Ran Lin standing in front of him.

Ran Lin was wearing a light-colored shirt that day, looking particularly gentle and refined, coupled with his pale, youthful face.

But Lu Yiyao knew it was deceiving.

This guy was far from harmless; in fact, he had quite the impact.

“The timer starts now—”

With the host’s words, his arm swung down forcefully!

Ran Lin immediately focused on the word board above Lu Yiyao’s head, his mouth already moving. “It’s a four-character idiom, describing the relationship between two people…”

Lu Yiyao almost immediately responded, “Love stronger than gold!”

Ran Lin: “Not love, but friendship!”

Lu Yiyao guessed again, “Go through fire and water for each other!”

Ran Lin: “Listen to me! It describes a very mild friendship…”

Lu Yiyao: “Fair-weather friends?”

“The last two words are correct! But it’s not ‘fair-weather…'” Ran Lin looked at his “heartthrob” expectantly.

Lu Yiyao: “Friends through life and death!”

Ran Lin collapsed. “Mild!”

Lu Yiyao finally got it. “A friendship between gentlemen!”

Ran Lin felt like crying when he heard those four words.

The phrase wasn’t difficult at all; the real challenge was having such a lack of coordination between them!

The audience was already in stitches, especially when “Love stronger than gold” came out, making numerous media people want to rush up and interview Lu Yiyao about his thought process.

With just three words guessed in 90 seconds, and after mocking Xi Ruohan, Ran Lin could almost hear the sound of his own face being slapped.

The entire premiere ceremony lasted about ninety minutes and ended warmly with all the creators singing the theme song together.

Next was a smaller “media screening” for the press, which the director and screenwriter would attend while the actors wouldn’t, meaning the end of their duties once they stepped off the stage.

But this was only the first day.

Tomorrow, the day after, and the day following, there would be three more premiere press conferences in different cities. Both Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao would be flying continuously.

Although there had been plenty of interactions on stage, the two hadn’t had much opportunity for private conversation. Moreover, Ran Lin hadn’t seen Lu Yiyao since coming off stage, feeling somewhat lost.

Just as he returned to the dressing room, Liu Wanwan handed him a phone, saying, “Ran Ge, someone called for you just now. They didn’t say who they were, just that you should call them back.”

Ran Lin took the phone, looking at the unfamiliar number in confusion.

Wang Xi, thinking he might recognize it, was surprised by his reaction. “You don’t know who it is?”

Ran Lin genuinely didn’t know, but intuition told him it wasn’t a spam or scam call. He casually walked to a corner of the dressing room and redialed the number.

It was picked up after one ring, but no one spoke.

Ran Lin, puzzled, greeted with a “hello.”

Finally, a voice came through. “It’s me.”

Ran Lin was stunned. It was unmistakably Lu Yiyao’s voice on the line, but why was he using a different phone? And even if Liu Wanwan couldn’t immediately recognize Lu Yiyao’s voice, she should have found it familiar.

Ran Lin glanced at Wang Xi, who was curiously looking his way, and restrained himself from responding out loud.

The other side seemed to sense his hesitation, whispering, “Is it safe to talk?”

Ran Lin immediately understood what Lu Yiyao was really asking about the safety of the conversation.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Ran Lin tried to sound and act as naturally as possible.

Lu Yiyao seemed relieved and continued, “This phone belongs to Huo Yuntao. He was the one who called you earlier, without any legitimate reason. He just wanted to see you because he was here today. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve already dealt with him.”

Ran Lin cringed a bit, thinking that “dealt with” sounded ominously like a crime.

But Huo Yuntao was cautious. Hearing that the person answering wasn’t Ran Lin, he didn’t even reveal his name. Though even if he had, Wang Xi would probably have been thrilled to connect with him.

But putting himself in Huo Yuntao’s shoes, he’d also want to meet the person his friend had praised so highly, especially now that they were so close.

Aside from curiosity, there was probably worry too. Who knows if this guy is reliable or not, especially since he’s already led a friend astray.

To be honest, Ran Lin didn’t want to meet Huo Yuntao, partly because of the awkwardness of the situation and partly because he was afraid. This feeling was akin to a boyfriend meeting his girlfriend’s circle of friends—a kind of “inspection” pressure.

Lu Yiyao knew he wouldn’t want to meet, probably having been informed by a friend backstage, and had taken action first, now waiting on the phone to explain himself.

Suddenly, Ran Lin felt especially remorseful.

Lu Yiyao didn’t owe him anything. Being the one loved first, then becoming the pursuer, was already difficult enough, and now he had to “deal with” his own friend for him.

If he were Lu Yiyao, he’d also want to proudly show off the person he liked to his friends, hoping they’d see the good in them as well.

But if he were Huo Yuntao, he’d definitely shake Lu Yiyao by the shoulders, questioning what was so good about someone who couldn’t even dare to face up and support him!

……

“It’s over. You’re beyond salvation.” Huo Yuntao let go of Lu Yiyao’s shoulders and slumped into the sofa in despair. “You’re practically bewitched right now.”

Lu Yiyao tilted his head, pondering, then responded lightly, “Someone told me a long time ago that love is indeed like being bewitched.”

Huo Yuntao came to the premiere ceremony today with a formal invitation from the organizers. Originally, the invitation was for the executives of his entertainment company, but Huo Yuntao managed to snag an extra spot for himself. Before coming, he had even touched base with Lu Yiyao, essentially coming to support his friend.

Lu Yiyao appreciated it, so as soon as he came off the stage, he made a call to his friend and, following directions, navigated to this private lounge to meet his old friend before flying to the next city.

The room was secure, so as soon as he closed the door, his friend confessed to calling Ran Lin with an unannounced number.

Lu Yiyao wanted to kick him.

“I’ve told you so many times, he’d feel awkward seeing you now.” Lu Yiyao understood Huo Yuntao’s curiosity but felt making an unsolicited call to Ran Lin was inappropriate.

Huo Yuntao rolled his eyes in exasperation. “It’s been three months since you confessed, and you’ve been chasing him for three months. He’s not totally uninterested in you, so why keep you hanging? Is it fun for him?”

Lu Yiyao patiently explained, “I’ve been busy, and we haven’t had a chance to meet in these three months.”

“Please.” Huo Yuntao scoffed. “You have time to meet me but not to ask him out?”

Lu Yiyao frowned reflexively and fell silent.

Huo Yuntao, never one to mince words with his old friend, bluntly said, “You’re just trying to let time dilute his guilt, right? But it’s unnecessary. He was the one who led you astray. Even if you were deeply closeted, you wouldn’t have come out without him. His guilt is sealed for life. If he’s a real man, he should be doubly good to you, not avoiding you.”

Lu Yiyao was getting a headache from Huo Yuntao’s relentless approach, which typically involved overpowering you with sheer forcefulness, whether he was right or wrong.

“And me,” Huo Yuntao continued passionately, standing up. “Am I so fearsome or harmful? I just wanted to see him; such a humble request. I’ve gone out of my way to meet him, why can’t he satisfy me…”

Ring, ring, ring—

Huo Yuntao’s distinctive monotone ringtone sounded in Lu Yiyao’s hand.

Lu Yiyao, seeing the familiar number, paused for two seconds before answering. “What’s up?”

Huo Yuntao was confused, wondering why Lu Yiyao answered his own phone so smoothly.

“No problem? What did you tell Wang Xi? Oh, oh… Our location is a bit hard to find… Just keep walking inside, turn left at the end… Yes, don’t hang up, I’ll guide you. Otherwise, you’ll definitely get lost…”

For the first time, Huo Yuntao saw his friend being so gentle and suddenly felt a pang of sorrow, as if his decade-long friendship was overshadowed by someone else’s year.

After about a few minutes, while Lu Yiyao was still on the phone, there was a knock on the lounge door.

Huo Yuntao darted ahead of Lu Yiyao to open the door, and there stood Ran Lin, phone in hand.

“Hello.” Ran Lin hung up the phone and smiled at Huo Yuntao. “I’m Ran Lin.”

Huo Yuntao was stunned for a few seconds before inviting Ran Lin in and securing the door. Once assured of privacy, he turned around, coughed lightly, and introduced himself. “I’m Huo Yuntao.”

Before Ran Lin could speak, he raised an eyebrow and muttered, “I thought you weren’t coming?”

Ran Lin had only seen photos of Huo Yuntao and was surprised to find his real-life presence less intimidating than anticipated. In fact, he seemed less imposing than the photos suggested.

Huo Yuntao, being a friend of Lu Yiyao, couldn’t be that daunting, Ran Lin thought—probably just another naive guy.

“I never said I wouldn’t come,” Ran Lin countered calmly, pointing to Lu Yiyao. “It was him who immediately said on the phone that I shouldn’t bother coming, that he’d ‘taken care of you’ already.”

Lu Yiyao was speechless, feeling like his sincere efforts had backfired spectacularly.

Huo Yuntao was displeased and sided with Lu Yiyao. “Can you have a little conscience? It’s not him who’s afraid of me. It’s you stopping him.”

“It’s last month’s me who was afraid of you, not this month’s me. So it was fine for him to block me last month, but not this month.”

Huo Yuntao had never seen such a stubborn defense. “Is there any difference between last month’s you and this month’s you?”

“Yes,” Ran Lin clarified more clearly than ever since liking Lu Yiyao. “Last month’s me was a jerk who would flee after causing trouble, but this month I’m a good man.”

Huo Yuntao challenged, “Good in what way?”

Ran Lin stood tall. “Responsible.”

Huo Yuntao pressed, “Responsible how?!”

“Hey,” Ran Lin suddenly turned to Lu Yiyao without warning and asked softly, “Do you still want to pursue me?”

Lu Yiyao, already dazed, felt a pang of sadness at the question, “I’ve always been pursuing you.”

Ran Lin’s lips slowly curled into a smile, giving Lu Yiyao a look filled with charm. “Congratulations, you succeeded.”

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

Suddenly Trending Ch57

Kinky7 Comments

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 57

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yao Hong felt she might be cursed by Cupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not just about looks…”

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

“……”

“Am I wrong?”

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

You two have gone off-topic!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long can that seriousness last?”

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

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

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

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

The car was plunged into a long silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, all that was left was to wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wang Xi: “Keep dreaming.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A smiling fox.

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

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

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

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

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

In this regard, Ran Lin had more courage.

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Let’s meet up when you get back.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lu Yiyao—[Why?]

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

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

Ran Lin—[……]

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

Ran Lin—[Good that you know.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lu Yiyao—[Little money-lover.]

Ran Lin looked at those words, feeling mixed emotions.

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

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As expected—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…”

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

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

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

Silence followed from Han Ze’s end.

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

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

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

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

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

Wang Xi: “Do you want the truth?”

Han Ze: “What do you mean?”

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

The call abruptly ended.

Wang Xi sighed, feeling helpless and a bit saddened.

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

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huo Yuntao despaired. “You really are…”

Lu Yiyao: “Pathetic.”

Huo Yuntao: “…I admire your honesty.”

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

Midnight Owl Ch57

Kinky1 Comment

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

Chapter 57: Go Together

Under the pale blue night sky, a boy in a school uniform stood motionless at the eerily silent entrance of a hospital. His face bore the tracks of dried tears, indicating he had been crying just moments before. Yet, at that moment, an unknown fear was slowly eroding his heart.

Was it a hallucination born out of his extreme exhaustion from crying?

Had he followed behind Wu Sheng and walked until he was too weak and fainted, so he started dreaming?

He tried to rationalize this terrifying and unusual sight but failed to convince himself.

Too unsettled to analyze these events deeply, he just wanted to return to his school—to the familiarity of his surroundings.

“Wu Sheng…” he uttered softly, clinging to a last bit of hope.

No one responded.

Under the strange night sky, there was only the hospital, him, and the rustling sounds from the depths of the tree shadows.

The rustling was eerie, unlike the sound of birds, insects, or even the wind through leaves. It was more like a small animal scurrying in the shadows.

At the end of the road, a car was slowly approaching.

Hearing the sound, Xu Wang instinctively turned around.

Under the moonlit street, a car without dazzling headlights moved, making its body faintly visible.

It was a taxi, painted in a myriad of colors.

Xu Wang had never seen such a flamboyantly decorated taxi, as if splashed with various colors of paint—bright red, yellow, blue, green, and purple—creating a crisscross on the body of the card. At first glance, it was chaotic, yet it had an oddly harmonious and lively pattern on the car.

The only thing confirming its identity as a taxi was the “TAXI” sign on the roof.

After the initial visual shock, panic set in.

Should he hide? Or call for help? Were the people in the car friends or foes?

Countless thoughts flooded Xu Wang’s mind, yet he was unable to decide.

In his hesitation, the car reached the hospital entrance.

But the driver showed no intention of stopping!

Xu Wang jolted and quickly moved aside, but in his haste, he tripped and plunged towards the roadside.

Fortunately, this move cleared the way.

The car passed by slowly, entering the hospital as if it had never noticed an obstruction.

Xu Wang scrambled up, his heart pounding out of his chest. The extreme fear of a near-death encounter washed away his prior fear of being in a strange place.

The car, which seemed to completely ignore his presence, stopped after entering the hospital, next to a signboard.

Three men got out of the taxi, carrying bags, and approached the signboard as if studying something.

Soon, one of them spoke in a deep voice. “Infectious Diseases Building.”

The other two grunted in agreement, showing no objections.

As if hearing their consensus, a fourth voice from the taxi urged, “Get in.”

The three men turned and headed back to the taxi.

Seeing them about to leave, Xu Wang became desperate and timidly called out, “Hello—”

One of them had already gotten into the back seat, and the others were bending to enter the car, none responding to his call.

Xu Wang, stunned, ran out from behind a tree and yelled louder, “Hello—”

They should have heard him this time, even from dozens of meters away.

But still, there was no response.

Could they not see or hear him?

A sudden panic made Xu Wang’s limbs go cold.

He couldn’t think straight and dashed towards the colorful taxi, slamming his hand on the trunk!

“Bang—”

The frail trunk lid made a loud noise under the impact.

Xu Wang’s hand went numb.

The last person yet to get in the car paused, looking around warily.

Encouraged, Xu Wang banged the trunk lid twice more.

But the person showed no reaction, still looking around cautiously.

Xu Wang moved to the side of the car and tried to slap the man’s back!

His hand hit nothing.

To be precise, it passed right through the man’s body.

Xu Wang was stunned and was in disbelief. He tried a few more times, but his hand, like a ghost, couldn’t touch the man.

Yet he could touch the car!

Xu Wang felt like going mad, not knowing what to do to make them see him, hear him, and acknowledge his existence!

Suddenly, a gust of wind hit him from behind.

Xu Wang reflexively turned around, and a person covered in blood rushed towards him!

Xu Wang was petrified, too shocked to react or even scream!

With a loud “bang,” he collided solidly with the “bloodied person”.

Losing his balance, he fell through the body of the only person who hadn’t gotten into the car, tumbling to the ground in pain.

However, the “bloodied person” didn’t fall with him; instead, he crashed into that man.

As if waiting for this moment, the man quickly slapped the “bloodied person” twice, and the “bloodied person” slid off him, collapsing to the ground.

Xu Wang suddenly realized that the man’s alertness wasn’t due to him banging on the car but because he heard the “bloodied person” approaching.

“What’s wrong?” The man who killed the “bloodied person” didn’t get into the taxi, prompting a query from inside. “Any problem?”

The man stared at the “corpse” on the ground, muttering to himself, “When the zombie lunged, it seemed to hit something…”

The word “zombie” sent a shiver down Xu Wang’s spine.

The person inside the car didn’t hear clearly. “What?”

“It’s nothing.” The man shook his head and got into the car.

The taxi started up again, continuing its journey, gradually disappearing into the depths of the hospital complex.

Xu Wang looked down, seeing the “bloodied person” clearly for the first time.

The corpse had a ghastly face with eyes wide open, showing no black pupils—only a pale red over white.

He stood there, frozen.

Zombies, which he had only seen on TV, had become a reality.

A sudden wave of nausea hit him, and he bent over, dry heaving, leaning against the signboard.

At that moment, he was strangely grateful that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.

A strange place, with people who couldn’t see or hear him, his ghost-like existence, and the ferocious zombies… When Wu Sheng pushed him away, he thought his day couldn’t get any worse.

Now, he wished Wu Sheng would push him again.

At least, he could still help him up.

“Ow—”

From deep within the hospital, perhaps from a certain building, a piercing howl echoed.

The hoarse indistinct howl sent shivers down his spine.

At the same time, the rustling sounds around him intensified. Before Xu Wang could react, countless shadows emerged from the ground like ghosts, rushing towards the source of the howling like a tidal wave!

Xu Wang couldn’t dodge in time and was staggered by several zombies brushing past him!

But as they bumped into him, those zombies didn’t spare him a glance, as if they had just hit a transparent wall and simply continued running.

The continuous collisions numbed his fear and made it fade away. In contrast, the eeriness intensified.

As the horde of zombies ran off into the distance, the night quieted down once again.

Xu Wang looked up, seriously examining the signboard for the first time. It was a map of the hospital, from the outpatient to the emergency department, to the specialized buildings and inpatient wards, all clearly marked.

The Infectious Diseases Building.

Xu Wang carefully memorized its location. He turned around and quickly made his way deeper into the hospital.

Zombies belonged to this bizarre world, but those four men, both in appearance and speech, seemed no different from ordinary people.

Following them—Xu Wang instinctively felt—was his only hope of getting home.

……

Infectious Diseases Building, First Floor.

A dense mass of zombies nearly filled half of the corridor, rushing forward relentlessly like a swarm of bees that had lost their hive, viciously chasing after the culprit.

“I told you not to touch him—”

“What was I supposed to do? Gently catch him as he lunged at me—”

“What do we do now?!”

“Find somewhere to hide—”

As Xu Wang entered the building, he witnessed this chaotic scene.

The four men, no longer shielded by the taxi, were frantically fleeing forward, with an angry horde of zombies thunderously chasing behind them.

He just happened to be standing in the only quarter of the corridor that was empty. The four fleeing men were heading straight towards him, and he effortlessly blended in, running with them.

Just when they seemed to be running into a dead end, the four found a storage room and hurriedly took refuge.

Xu Wang also rushed in with them, fearing that if he was too slow, he would be left outside. On his way here, he had already confirmed several times that he couldn’t pass through walls, doors, or fly. To put it clearly, apart from the four men whom he could pass through at will, everything else in this bizarre world was solid to him. Even though the zombies didn’t react to him, there was still physical collision and obstruction between them.

“Quick, the cabinet—”

They tried to use a storage cabinet to block the door, so two of them braced the door while the other two pushed the cabinet. Unfortunately, the cabinet was too heavy. Despite their pushing and shoving, the cabinet tilted precariously, and items inside clattered down.

Xu Wang dodged left and right, but still, an object hit him squarely on the head. Fortunately, it wasn’t too heavy. After hitting him, it fell to the ground and rolled forward, unfurling to reveal itself.

It was a pennant.

On a red velvet background with bright yellow characters, it read: “Hanging a pot to help the world. Magical hands relieve pain and bring spring”.

“[Flaming Mountains] or [The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple]”?

“Dragon King Temple.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can swim in a flood, but how do you escape a fire!”

In a flash, the four men seemed to have made a decision.

One of them raised his arm and firmly pressed down.

Xu Wang moved closer to see what was on his arm, but as soon as he took a step, he heard the sound of water.

Water?

In an instant, all four men were on the windowsill, gripping the window handles as if bracing for battle.

Xu Wang’s heart tightened, and he quickly jumped up too, grabbing the same handle as one of the men. It was a strange sensation. Although he and the man could hold the same object, it was as if they existed in separate spaces.

A flood burst open the door of the storage room, soaking them for about fifteen seconds before slowly receding, disappearing completely after about two minutes.

The four men jumped down from the windowsill and peeked outside, only to be surprised.

“Are they all gone?”

“Maybe all the zombies on this floor are afraid of water…”

After a brief discussion, the four men moved out swiftly, and Xu Wang hurriedly followed them up to the second floor.

There was only one zombie on the second floor, pacing back and forth as if guarding the central staircase.

After a discussion, one of them again pressed his arm.

This time, Xu Wang saw clearly. There was an owl pattern on his arm, which opened up options when pressed, looking quite magical.

With another press, a bamboo dragonfly flew into the second-floor corridor. A nurse pushing a cart stopped, approached the dragonfly, and admired it, tilting her head. The four men took this opportunity to pass behind her and ascend to the third floor.

The third floor, like the first and second, had many offices lining the corridor. The four men seemed to be searching for a specific epidemic research lab. Xu Wang didn’t understand their conversation but began to feel like they were playing a real-life game, reaching specific locations and completing corresponding tasks with props at their disposal.

Yet, their expressions were terrifyingly serious, as if they were engaged in a life-and-death battle.

Finally, they zeroed in on two “suspicious offices,” both with thick iron doors, each with a red buzzer.

“50% chance.”

“Choose right, we’re done. Choose wrong, we go home.”

“Flip a coin?”

“Don’t rush. Know your enemy, and you will win every battle.”

The others looked puzzled at the last speaker. Xu Wang also moved closer to him. He saw the man lift his arm and dismiss an icon from the [Stationery Box]—[(Illusory) Soul Painter].

Suddenly, a calico kitten appeared before them, seemingly about two months old. Its little face was clear and white, with black and orange patches evenly distributed on its forehead, like two little bangs. It had one blue eye and one green eye, which made it exceptionally beautiful.

Xu Wang couldn’t help but reach out to pet it. Just as he touched its ear, the kitten swiftly turned and dashed through one of the two iron doors.

That iron door was airtight, with not even a slit, yet the calico kitten passed right through it!

In less than a minute, the kitten returned, patting its paws on the ground several times, leaving a bunch of dusty paw prints.

The four men gathered around, studying the prints intently, like a scientific research team.

Finally, the one who used the tool gave up, closed his eyes, and meditated again.

The [Soul Painter] kitten immediately twitched its tail and darted through the other iron door.

This time it returned even faster, in just about fifteen seconds, and without any soul painting. It just tilted its head and blinked innocently at the four men, looking both beautiful and endearing.

After a long moment of staring at the kitten, the user had a realization. “The first office.”

The other three didn’t feel very confident. “Are you certain you figured it out?”

“We don’t need to see what it painted, but where it painted,” the user explained. “There’s something in the first office, so it could paint what it saw inside. There was nothing in the second one—maybe that office doesn’t even exist, which is why it didn’t paint anything.”

The others had a sudden realization.

The kitten, as if sensing the problem was solved, tilted its head and gently rubbed against the user’s leg, seemingly seeking a reward.

Unfortunately, it was too small, and its touch was too light. The user, oblivious to its affection, stood up with his companions and walked to the first office, pressing the red button.

The iron door opened in response.

The four men immediately entered, followed by the obedient kitten.

Xu Wang naturally followed them in.

This was the epidemic research lab they were looking for. Inside, an older doctor and a young male doctor, with reddened eyes, greeted them.

The lab was filled with various equipment, arranged in a way that matched the kitten’s paw prints.

The four men handed over a metal box to the older doctor.

Listening to their conversation, Xu Wang finally understood that they were escorting a vaccine.

Then, something unexpected happened.

The young male doctor suddenly lunged at the nearest person.

The other three were stunned for a while before realizing what was happening and immediately joined the fight.

However, all four of them together couldn’t subdue the male doctor!

“Shit, is this guy the fucking zombie king—?”

Suddenly, the male doctor exerted strength, throwing everyone off him and, with lightning speed, grabbed the nearest one and bit into his arm!

A few minutes later, the bitten one became infected and went mad.

Xu Wang’s mind went blank, unable to distinguish if this was reality, an illusion, a game, or a fight to the death.

The battle ended with the victory of the zombie king.

Of the four-person team, only two remained—one turned into a zombie after being bitten and the user of the little calico kitten, who managed to escape the research lab.

Xu Wang watched helplessly as the zombie king bit the other two’s necks, and then, in a flash, they disappeared.

Xu Wang’s mind was in complete disarray, but suddenly the iron door was opened again by four completely new people.

They entered and swiftly dealt with the zombie king, who was mostly exhausted, and the infected individual.

Xu Wang stood in the middle of the battlefield, untouched except for occasional bumps by the zombie king.

The new group, just like the others, couldn’t see, hear, or touch him.

Despondent, Xu Wang’s eyes fell on the little calico kitten in the corner.

Its user had disappeared, and it hadn’t followed, crouching fearfully in the corner and watching everything in the epidemic room like a homeless stray, devoid of the earlier vigor when it was leaving paw prints.

Xu Wang walked over and gently picked it up.

The kitten suddenly lifted its head, looking around warily as if searching for the reason for its sudden levitation.

Like the zombies, it could touch Xu Wang but couldn’t see him.

Xu Wang raised his hand and gently scratched its forehead.

At first, the kitten shivered in fear but then seemed to sense kindness and comfort, gradually relaxing in the invisible embrace, purring contentedly.

As the new group handed their metal box to the old doctor, no one cared about the previous vaccine anymore.

The old doctor took out the vaccine brought by the newcomers and placed it into the machine.

The machine’s lights lit up, and Xu Wang clearly heard a voice—

[Owl: Congratulations on passing the 3/23 test and handing in your papers! See you tomorrow~~]

As the voice faded, the new four people disappeared.

In the epidemic research lab, only the old doctor, Xu Wang, and the little calico kitten in his arms remained.

The air suddenly quieted down, becoming eerily silent and cold.

Xu Wang hugged the kitten tightly, lost in thought.

The old doctor, seemingly accustomed to this, first threw the metal box brought by the first group into the trash, then turned off the running machine, opened it, took out the vaccine that had just been placed inside, and likewise threw it into the trash.

Xu Wang’s eyes widened in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Wasn’t that the vaccine? The city’s hope?

The old doctor, who had earlier tearfully thanked them for bringing hope, and the one now nonchalantly wiping the lab table after discarding the vaccine—were they the same person?

Yes, the same person.

This was the most terrifying part.

Xu Wang felt that nothing he had seen or heard that night was as horrifying as this moment.

[Owl: You… Who are you…]

As a chill seeped into his limbs, Xu Wang heard a voice in his ear, intermittent and faint.

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