Kuang Jinxin: “Why did you order something so bland for me? I want to eat meat!”
Qian Ai: “Those who have been foolishly tricked by others, fell into a wine pool, and recovered from a severe coma have no right to be picky eaters.”
Kuang Jinxin: “…”
There were two small square tables filled with Shandong cuisine—one for Lao Qian’s live broadcast area, with Kuang Jinxin hiding opposite, eating a patient’s meal consisting of rice and vegetables but no meat; the other for the team leaders, with Xu Wang resting his chin on one hand, despairingly looking at Wu Sheng across from him.
“Ginger.”
Just as Advisor Wu was about to continue picking up food, he paused with his chopsticks. “Huh?”
Xu Wang sighed. “I said the piece you just ate was ginger.”
Wu Sheng frowned and recalled, quite indignant. “It looked so much like chicken, a master of disguise.”
“You can’t even taste the difference!” Xu Wang collapsed. “What on earth have you been thinking about all afternoon?”
Wu Sheng refocused his mind and became serious. “Two things.”
Xu Wang didn’t expect there to be serious matters and quickly sat up straight, obedient like a model student. “Let’s hear them.”
“The first is about the save points,” Wu Sheng said. “Since there’s more than one save point, there could be three or four. If we can find them and Yue Shuai’s team too, then the more experienced Chi Yingxue’s team naturally will also, right?”
“You’re not going to tell me that we’ll meet them tonight, are you…” Hearing such bad news during a meal was a critical hit.
“If yesterday was their first day of this 3/23 scenario,” Wu Sheng added a star anise to the captain’s plate to match the current conversation’s atmosphere, “then the probability of a happy encounter today is basically one hundred percent.”
Xu Wang looked at the star anise, feeling like it had extended two thin arms, holding a drone controller, and laughing devilishly at him.
“The second thing…” Wu Sheng continued.
Xu Wang quickly looked up at him.
Wu Sheng said, “Yuan Zi…”
Xu Wang: “…”
Yuan Zi and the save point—what’s the difference between these two things? =_=
“Or, to put it another way,” as if seeing Xu Wang’s speechlessness, Wu Sheng changed his approach, “NPCs. I’ve been thinking about the NPCs in the ‘Owl’.”
This piqued Xu Wang’s interest. “What about them?”
“Do you remember those airport ground staff from 2/23?” asked Wu Sheng.
“Of course.” Xu Wang tried but couldn’t forget them. “Repeating the same few lines, looking bewildered when asked anything else, especially the one issuing our boarding passes, who spoke in a tone that didn’t sound human at all. It was very mechanical and creepy.”
“Right.” Wu Sheng felt the same. “But the passengers on the plane were different, like Xu Erling and Shen Yisi. Each one seemed so real.”
Xu Wang said, “It’s the same for this level. Ding Xiaoche—I forgot he was an NPC from beginning to end, and Yuan Zi, even knowing he’s a save point, I still feel he’s a living person.”
“That’s it!” Wu Sheng looked at Xu Wang with bright eyes. “The complexity of NPCs in the ‘Owl’ varies.”
Xu Wang received the intense gaze but not the point, anxiously saying, “Can you explain in simpler terms?”
Wu Sheng: “Sure. For instance, if every NPC has its own independent program…”
Xu Wang: “……”
He decided to try to understand it himself. TAT
Wu Sheng: “Then the more realistic NPCs must have more complex algorithms, and these algorithms must closely mimic the human brain to respond to us so naturally.”
“Artificial intelligence?” No matter how Xu Wang heard it, it all boiled down to these two words.
“Something like that.” Wu Sheng couldn’t be certain, but Yuan Zi’s appearance made him start seriously considering this matter.
Xu Wang pondered for a while and shook his head. “No matter how advanced the algorithm, an NPC is still an NPC. Ding Xiaoche didn’t think there was anything wrong with a zombie apocalypse, and Yuan Zi doesn’t even know there are other levels. He probably doesn’t understand the true meaning of a save point. Those words are just settings.”
“That’s exactly the problem!” A flame that refuses to swim freely in the sea of knowledge and insists on stirring up a storm ignited fiercely in Wu Sheng’s eyes. “They have highly advanced algorithms but are only given extremely limited information, like a supercar forever limited to 20 km/h.”
Xu Wang leaned back slightly in his chair to avoid being burned by the flames of inquiry. “Please boldly state your plan.”
Wu Sheng slightly raised the corner of his mouth. In his restrained smile, it contained an unrestrainable spirit of scientific research. “What if we consciously and systematically feed these NPCs external information?”
Xu Wang: “……”
Forced to engage in intellectual and physical battles every night, already exhausting body and soul, likely to encounter fierce opponents tonight, darkening the path ahead, and now, his advisor, wants to teach NPCs how to be human in addition to overcoming challenges.
Life, why are you so hard? TAT
……
At midnight, as the Owl’s hoots sounded as the four companions entered a purple vortex. Unlike the usual dizziness, they zoomed through a time tunnel, finding themselves back in the restroom of a 4S car dealership.
A Lightning Gun, a chainsaw, a screwdriver, and a rocket launcher with only three bomb balls left all returned to their hands.
Oh, right, and an electric shaver.
Wu Sheng handed the rocket launcher back to Kuang Jinxin and picked up the screwdriver himself—last night Kuang Jinxin had just awakened from unconsciousness, and although he seemed fine, carrying the rocket launcher was still a bit of a strain. Moreover, having witnessed the strength of the zombies in the north of the city, they couldn’t afford to let Xiao Kuang only have a screwdriver now.
After swapping weapons, Wu Sheng immediately went to the stall to look for Yuan Zi, ready to implement his “educational philosophy”.
Xu Wang had already briefed Qian Ai and Xiao Kuang on Advisor Wu’s “sharp idea.” Although they felt it was a bit strange to study how to develop artificial intelligence in a magical world, they couldn’t help but feel a subtle sense of anticipation.
However, the stall was empty.
“I should have thought of this,” Wu Sheng lamented.
Even the distribution of zombies changed daily, let alone such important NPCs as save points.
“There will be plenty of opportunities in the 23 levels. You just focus on writing your lesson plan.” Xu Wang patted his advisor’s shoulder, while in his heart, he lit a candle of “study hard and make progress every day*” for the NPCs they would meet in the future.
With Yuan Zi gone from the restroom, the hall now had several more cars and a salesperson shivering in the finance office.
Only then did the four companions truly appreciate the cleverness of their save point here.
Yesterday, they were greeted by a 4S shop ravaged by other teams, with only one car left and the salesperson missing.
Today, they were first on the scene, with a variety of car models to choose from!
They didn’t hesitate, picking the most spacious and sturdy luxury 7-seater SUV—the deluxe edition.
Once everyone was seated, Wu Sheng started the car. The SUV left the 4S shop, entered the spacious road, and truly sped off, unstoppable and dominant, like a lord of the land!
Advisor Wu finally understood the joy of Mr. Thirteen of the Middle Ring.
In a blink, they were back on the elevated road, heading west, according to the map.
This time, without any hindrance, they smoothly left the elevated road, passed the art museum, and besides hitting a few zombies, they didn’t encounter any other teams.
“Ten more minutes, and we’ll be at the hospital.” Wu Sheng had the map memorized.
Qian Ai checked his phone. “Today is going too smoothly… Why do I feel uneasy…”
“Our save point is well-chosen.” Kuang Jinxin had always been one to embrace luck, finding constant doubt too taxing. “Having a car right at the start and getting on the viaduct straight from the 4S shop, we must be ahead of all the teams.”
Xu Wang agreed with this view. “In such a short time, teams from the south of the city couldn’t have crossed the river yet, and teams from the north may not have had such convenient conditions as us.”
“What about Yue Shuai’s team? And the ones from the amusement park…” Ever since receiving the warning of a possible encounter tonight, Qian Ai had been constantly thinking about it and quite conflicted at that. Regarding Yue Shuai’s team, he hoped not to meet them, not because of friendship but to avoid combat risks. But for Chi Yingxue’s team, it was the exact opposite; he couldn’t wait to meet them.
“Their save point is elsewhere,” Wu Sheng said. “Even if they’re heading to the hospital, there’s a time difference with us. It’s normal not to encounter them on the way.”
Wu Sheng used the term “time difference”, avoiding a clear statement of “who’s ahead and who’s behind.”
Xu Wang caught the nuance. “Do you think they might be faster than us?”
Wu Sheng replied, “From the Sunshine Theater to the hospital, the distance is about the same as from our side. If Yue Shuai’s team saved after finding a new car, then today they could hit the road in a car like us.”
“If Chi Yingxue’s team also saved, their save point might be even closer.” Xu Wang calmed down. The overly smooth journey had made him unconsciously optimistic, forgetting that crisis is the norm in the “Owl”.
“There might already be several teams at the hospital.” Kuang Jinxin first acknowledged the concerns of the captain and the advisor, then added, “But it’s also possible that no one’s there, just waiting for us!”
Xu Wang smiled, always fond of such positive energy from this little sun. “Let’s hope your words bring good luck.”
Ten minutes later, the road indeed came to an end.
What greeted them was a European-style villa with an exquisite wrought iron railing surrounding the front yard, which was crowded with zombies. The two-meter-high hollowed-out courtyard door had been pushed to the point of collapse.
“Is this… the hospital?” Qian Ai leaned forward from the back seat, peering through the windshield. “Isn’t the decoration a bit too extravagant?”
“No,” Wu Sheng said. “The hospital is behind this villa.”
Reminded by him, the companions noticed the edge of a red cross barely visible above the villa’s roof.
The villa almost completely obscured the hospital. If not for the slight difference in height, it would have been very difficult to spot.
“There’s no villa on the map.” Wu Sheng thought for a moment. “It must be a hidden location, like the amusement park on the river island.”
Qian Ai felt frustrated, like getting a food delivery only to find no chopsticks, wanting to eat but having to wait. “This thing’s blocking the front of the hospital. What do we do?”
“Charge through.” Xu Wang unbuckled his seatbelt.
This villa blocked the last two hundred meters to the hospital. Regardless of which team and from which direction, there were only two choices: go through the villa or give up.
With the captain deciding the strategic direction, the advisor naturally began to devise tactics. “Lure the tiger out of the mountains, enter the tiger’s den, keep an eye on all sides, act according to circumstances.”
The captain then reviewed and deployed. “Okay. Xiao Kuang, later you’ll launch a bomb ball towards the back. When the zombies at the gate are drawn away, we’ll quickly enter, then adapt to the situation inside based on what we encounter.”
Kuang Jinxin: “Why launch it towards the back?”
Xu Wang: “If there are people inside the villa, an explosion too close would alert them. A little farther away is more advantageous for our infiltration.”
Qian Ai: “How did you infer so much from just a few words…”
Half a minute later, Beijing time, Owl time—the SUV quietly parked by the roadside, hidden under dense trees.
A rocket was launched from the rear window, and in the last glimmer of the setting sun, it exploded into a dazzling spectacle.
The crowd of zombies pressing at the iron gate suddenly quieted, then, the next second, a few zombies on the outer edge turned and rushed toward the explosion. Soon, the entire horde scattered, rushing in the opposite direction like a swarm of locusts.
As the last zombie ran past on the road, Xu Wang immediately said, “Get out of the car!”
The four quickly left the SUV, crouching low and sticking to the roadside, swiftly approaching the villa under the cover of tree shadows, reaching the gate in the blink of an eye.
The gate, long tormented by the horde of zombies, was already half-open. Had it not been for their rocket, the villa might have already been hosting a zombie party.
They agilely slipped through the gate, with Wu Sheng bringing up the rear and gently closing it behind them.
Once inside the gate, they faced the main door of the villa itself. Now, that thick wooden door was wide open, revealing a long corridor whose end was obscured, but the sounds of fighting from inside were audible.
Someone had indeed arrived before them.
Just as Xu Wang thought this, his arm suddenly rang with a “ding—”
When their captain, gasping for breath, ran up to the second floor to find them, Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin thought something had happened to Wu Sheng. However, they were informed that not only was there no issue, but there was also a big surprise.
With only 9 minutes left until the 5:00 a.m. deadline for the Beijing time challenge, they discovered a save-point NPC in the men’s bathroom.
Seeing all four members gathered, the round-headed NPC got straight to the point and introduced himself. “Just call me Yuan Zi.” He clung to the doorframe, only showing his head, and explained succinctly, “Once the save is successful, you will appear here tomorrow with all the stationery you currently have. The saved record will then disappear. But you can only save once a week.”
“So, you mean that after this save, even if we find a save point again, we can’t save if it’s not been a week?” Xu Wang sought clarification.
“Those who don’t meet the criteria won’t have a chance to save, even if they see me,” Yuan Zi clarified, always referring to himself instead of a ‘save point’.
“What if we submitted our paper on the same day we save? Do we still have to come back here the next day and do it all over again?” Wu Sheng immediately asked, thoughtfully adding follow-up questions, “If we need to repeat, does the same apply if we fail? And if we don’t need to repeat, does that mean the save record for this level wasn’t read or has automatically disappeared? Then, can we save again at the next level within a week?”
Xu Wang had just grasped Yuan Zi’s rules when he was dragged into a forest of ‘hypotheses’ and ‘ifs’ by his logic-strong advisor, making it hard to see the path clearly.
He thought, luckily Yuan Zi is an NPC; if he were a real person, it would probably take half a day to untangle Wu Sheng’s questions.
To their surprise, Yuan Zi also looked confused, with his mouth half open and his eyes blank.
“What do you mean by the next level?” he asked.
This unexpected response silenced Wu Sheng.
Xu Wang realized he was mistaken. Yuan Zi didn’t need to understand Wu Sheng’s questions because even the basis of Wu Sheng’s queries was a blank slate to Yuan Zi.
“Ugh, you guys are so slow. Do you want to save or not?” Yuan Zi grew impatient, stretching out another hand from the stall. “To save, give me your hand; to refuse, say it out loud!”
The four teammates exchanged glances and unanimously stepped forward.
No one would oppose a hidden reward.
Four hands, one on top of the other, fell into Yuan Zi’s plump palm. The save NPC was insistent on not stepping out of the stall. He stood in front of the toilet, holding their hands, closed his eyes, and started chanting.
“Save the present, continue the tied fate. Though the path is thorny and dangerous, may the road ahead be safe.”
As his words ended, a faint golden light emitted from the owl tattoos on all four arms. The light converged into a beam, turning from pale gold to gold, shooting upwards before dispersing like golden raindrops hitting the ceiling.
Kuang Jinxin’s [Stationery Box]: Acquired [(Illusory) Kong Rong Giving Up Pears*]
*(孔融让梨) Idiom derives from a story about Kong Rong. The story goes that when he was a child, he would always pick the smallest pear and give the bigger ones to his siblings. When asked why, he said as an older brother, he should let the younger siblings have the bigger pears, and as a younger brother, he should respect his older siblings and let them have the bigger pears. The story is used to illustrate moral common sense, so people should abide by public order and good customs.
“Ding—”
[Cheat Sheet]: Save successful.
After the last drop of “golden rain” fell, the bathroom returned to the night, but the four teammates were still reeling from the surprise.
They were prepared for the save success notification, but receiving a piece of stationery each was unexpected. Was this a reward for finding the save point?
Just as Xu Wang was about to ask Yuan Zi, the third and fourth “dings” rang in unison on all four arms.
The arrival of two new messages was almost seamless.
[Report Card]: [Total Scoreboard] This week’s rewards have been distributed.
[Report Card]: [Total Scoreboard] Please open and check promptly.
Xu Wang was somewhat dazed by the barrage of notifications.
Since leaving the first challenge, they hadn’t received any notifications from the [Report Card]. More importantly, even in the first challenge, the information they received was only about other teams’ submissions. The two sub-options under the [Report Card], [Total Scoreboard] and [Submission Speed Board], had been unclickable and grayed out since they entered the “Owl.”
Now, unexpectedly, the [Total Scoreboard] opened up, and that too just 2 minutes before the 5:00 a.m. deadline.
A test of quick memorization skills!
Xu Wang had no time to ponder further and quickly opened the leaderboard.
[Total Scoreboard]
Top 1 – Fan Peiyang, Teng Ziyan, Wan Fengmang, Zhang Qian, Zheng Luozhu (11/23)
Top 2 – Fang Jin, Fei Fan, Li Deng, Shao Jingyi, Yin Hengjia (10/23)
Top 3 – Chen Guan, Gu Nian, Jiang Dachuan, Kong Lizhe, Wang Duanran (10/23)
Top 4 – Fu Wenqing, He Lianshan, Qin Rui, Wu Yanchao, Zhao Muchen (9/23)
Top 5 – Feng Rang, Ji Yunlei, Wei Menghan, Zhu Mo, Zou Jun (8/23)
The leaderboard was simpler than imagined, displaying only the top five teams receiving rewards, ranked by their real-time scores at the moment of the announcement.
Just as Xu Wang skimmed through the names, the challenge deadline arrived.
After a dizzying spin, they found themselves back inside the scenic area.
At the Yellow River’s mouth in the early morning, dawn was about to break. In the far distance where the water met the sky, a faint yellow light was emerging.
Peaceful, comfortable, with a cool morning breeze.
The apocalyptic city, stained with blood and filled with howls, seemed like a world away.
However, though they had returned, the teammates’ minds were still hanging on that last-minute leaderboard.
Kuang Jinxin was the first to speak up, always asking when he didn’t understand. “Why are there five people in each team on the leaderboard?”
“Maybe we need more team members in the later stages,” Qian Ai guessed, not sure himself.
“And what about the ‘weekly reward’?” Kuang Jinxin asked again. “Does it mean that every week the top five teams get a reward?”
“Yes, once a week,” Qian Ai replied, and then realized something was off. “Haven’t you seen it before?”
Kuang Jinxin was puzzled. “Have you?”
Qian Ai suddenly remembered he had entered the “Owl” earlier than his three teammates and quickly explained, “Before teaming up with you, I saw the leaderboard once. At that time, the first place had a score of…” He pondered, finally catching a fragment of memory. “Right, 10/23.”
Kuang Jinxin frowned. “But Mao Qiping said the strongest team had reached the thirteenth stage. The first place we just saw was only at 11/23.”
“They must have failed in 14/23 and fallen back,” Qian Ai said.
Xu Wang didn’t speak, but his mind was clear.
He, Wu Sheng, and Kuang Jinxin had entered the “Owl” on the same day, and it had been exactly seven nights—a full week. For Qian Ai, who entered a few days earlier, the last time he saw the leaderboard must have been the night before they were sucked into the “Owl”.
Seeing Kuang Jinxin still frowning, Xu Wang, having thought it through, continued Qian Ai’s explanation: “What we saw on the leaderboard are the current top five real-time scores. The level they reached before isn’t the standard for awarding rewards.”
Kuang Jinxin still felt it was unfair. “If I’m in the top five for a week but fail at the last moment before the reward is given, fall back three levels, and drop out of the top five, wouldn’t that be unjust?”
“It’s because the scores are always changing, and there’s no absolute fair standard, so they just cut it off,” Wu Sheng said, lifting his head from his thoughts. “Since the reward time is fixed, if you’re afraid of missing out, you could just go to the Endless Sea and enjoy the breeze that day.”
Kuang Jinxin’s eyes lit up with admiration. “Sheng Ge, you’re so cunning.”
Wu Sheng: “……”
Sincerely praising with a derogatory word indeed left the recipient with mixed feelings.
Exhausted and weary, the four teammates were in no mood to wait for the sunrise. After a brief chat, they headed back.
Unexpectedly, they had walked until dawn towards the sunrise over the Yellow River, yet they hadn’t left the scenic area.
The journey from the south of the city to the north of the city wasn’t in vain.
So they changed from hurrying to a leisurely walk, stopping now and then to admire the sunrise, the wetlands, and various waterbirds—a mix of labor and leisure to avoid leg fatigue the next night.
Sometimes, fate arrives, and it’s unstoppable.
During their carefree walk, passing through a reed marsh, they encountered “old friends”.
Yue Shuai with his buzz cut, Su Mingzhan with his student haircut, Tao Anan in his fisherman’s hat, and Wei Tianhang with his braids. The lineup was orderly, but compared to when they parted, they looked much more haggard.
Even so, Xu Wang instinctively halted, preventing his teammates from moving forward.
Seeing their reaction, Yue Shuai was speechless. “It’s not the ‘Owl’ anymore. Even if I wanted you guys to keep jumping, it wouldn’t comply with scientific laws.”
For Yue Shuai and his team, encountering opponents from the “Owl” in the real world was common, but for Xu Wang and his team, it was a first-time experience. It was a peculiar feeling, as if the boundary between the “Owl” and reality had blurred.
Xu Wang shook his head to clear it, adjusting his mindset to return to reality before taking a fresh look at the four “old friends”. He tentatively asked, “Didn’t complete your submission?”
Wei Tianhang huffed angrily. Yue Shuai raised an eyebrow in annoyance. “What makes you think that?”
Xu Wang shrugged and shook his head. “Well, messy hair, dirty faces, blood all over… You don’t exactly look like ‘victorious soldiers’.”
Yue Shuai, irritated, retorted, “Before talking about others, maybe you should take a picture of yourselves with your phone…”
“Did you guys successfully submit?” Su Mingzhan sharply caught the hint of triumph in Xu Wang’s eyes.
Xu Wang paused, then composed himself with an air of regret. “No, time was up, and we got ejected.”
Su Mingzhan looked at him skeptically.
Xu Wang stood proudly, his posture screaming innocence.
Su Mingzhan then observed the others.
Wu Sheng, hands in pockets, gazed at the sunrise at a 45-degree angle, exuding an air of unmatched handsomeness.
Qian Ai picked up a blade of grass and teased Kuang Jinxin with it.
Kuang Jinxin, tickled by the grass, laughed while retaliating with another blade.
Su Mingzhan suddenly didn’t want to admit that their team had nearly missed the boat yesterday because of these four.
“We did too.” Yue Shuai spoke up again, as his teammates didn’t notice any flaws. “Time was up, and we were forced out.”
Xu Wang sighed. “So you guys are going back three stages?”
Yue Shuai raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”
Xu Wang admitted, “Yes.”
Yue Shuai shrugged. “Then that’s that.”
Xu Wang: “……”
Yue Shuai: “……”
Xu Wang: “Why are you looking at the reeds?”
Yue Shuai: “Appreciating nature’s beauty.”
Yue Shuai: “Why are you watching the sunrise?”
Xu Wang: “Absorbing the energy of the universe.”
Xu Wang: “……”
Yue Shuai: “……”
Xu Wang: “Shall we trust each other one last time?”
Yue Shuai: “I think so.”
Su Mingzhan: “One, two, three.”
Xu Wang, Yue Shuai: “Actually, we didn’t leave.”
Xu Wang, Yue Shuai: “You found a save point too?!”
Su Mingzhan: “Why don’t you two team up?”
Wu Sheng: “Absolutely not.”
The compatibility of auras is a mysterious thing.
In the “Owl”, they had formed a deep enmity over a single jump, but back in reality, seeing each other’s equally disheveled state, the past seemed distant. After all, no one had taken it easy on anyone, and no one had reaped benefits without suffering.
With the discovery of the save point, there was nothing they couldn’t discuss. The two teams mixed and walked together along a path, avoiding the main road, heading towards the exit of the scenic area.
Throughout their journey, the two team leaders chatted, naturally touching upon the 59-minute mark at the Sunshine Theatre and the battle at the amusement park.
Xu Wang: “59 minutes is just heart-wrenching! What happened afterward?”
Yue Shuai: “Ever played with beach balls?”
Xu Wang: “The punishment for failing is to play with them?”
Yue Shuai: “Replace the ocean balls with zombies.”
Xu Wang: “……”
Yue Shuai: “And you guys? Really made it through those psychos?”
Xu Wang: “Genuine.”
Yue Shuai: “……”
Xu Wang: “What’s that look?”
Yue Shuai: “Jealousy.”
Xu Wang: “……”
Yue Shuai: “You said you’ve only been here for a week?”
Xu Wang: “Right.”
Yue Shuai: “Then you guys are really impressive.”
Xu Wang: “Your sudden honesty and straightforwardness is a bit unsettling for me…”
Learning that Yue Shuai’s team had saved their game at the Sunshine Theatre, Xu Wang was genuinely surprised. “There’s more than one save point?”
“It seems so,” Yue Shuai said.
Xu Wang noticed the uncertainty in his tone and looked at him questioningly.
Yue Shuai conceded, speaking truthfully. “It’s also our first time discovering this save thing.”
“And before that…”
“We fell back when we failed.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? What kind of reaction is that?”
“Deep sympathy.”
“……”
“But not every stage might have a save point,” Wu Sheng interjected assertively. “Based on my observation, this stage is very time-consuming. If I were the designer, I would also set a save point here. But like the previous stage, which was entirely on a plane and had 5 hours to figure out a password, the time was sufficient. In my opinion, there’s no need for a save point there. Otherwise, the difficulty of submitting would be too low.”
“Based on my observation? In my opinion?” Xu Wang turned his head to look at Wu Sheng, who was now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them. “Can you provide some objective evidence?”
Wu Sheng tilted his head. “Isn’t my deduction convincing enough?”
Xu Wang: “……”
The way Wu Sheng emphasized “my” sounded too much like “this king”. =_=
Yue Shuai was about to discuss Wu Sheng’s deduction when Su Mingzhan suddenly pulled him aside.
“What’s up?” Yue Shuai was confused.
Su Mingzhan glanced at him. “One should know oneself.”
Yue Shuai was even more baffled.
Su Mingzhan sighed. “In a group of three, there’s always a third wheel.”
Yue Shuai was startled, then looked down at himself. “Me?” Then he looked at the two still bickering ahead. “Them?”
Su Mingzhan nodded approvingly. “Correct division.”
Yue Shuai suddenly understood. “No wonder I always felt that Wu guy was glaring at me.”
Su Mingzhan: “You’re welcome.”
Yue Shuai: “I haven’t even thanked you yet…”
Following the four were Tao Anan and Wei Tianhang, walking side by side, and Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin, who were immersed in enjoying the scenery.
Wei Tianhang: “Do you think the captain has realized that A’Su always has his arm around him?”
Tao Anan: “Probably not. Our captain thinks in a single thread; he can’t focus on ‘talking’ and ‘noticing an arm’ at the same time.”
Wei Tianhang: “How did we even choose our captain…”
The eight of them, dirty and blood-stained, finally made their way out of the scenic area via a back route. Fortunately, it was still early, and there were few pedestrians outside. However, the taxi driver who was called by the taxi app was scared stiff. After much persuasion and explanation, they managed to avoid being refused service.
Back in Huanghekou Town, the two teams went their separate ways, each returning to their hotels without any warm dinner plans.
There might be a confrontation again in the evening—getting too emotionally involved wasn’t a good idea.
The “Happy New Year” message wasn’t a mass text from Ran Lin. But indeed, Lu Yiyao wasn’t the only one who received it.
Xia Xinran, Gu Jie, Tang Xiaoyu, Liu Wanwan, and others all received Ran Lin’s New Year wishes. He typed each message word by word, feeling that this way, the intention of the blessing would genuinely attach to the text and be sent along with it.
Of course, the recipients might not feel it, but Ran Lin liked doing it this way; it was his little personal conviction.
The first to reply was Xia Xinran, instantly. Clearly, at the turn of the new year, this friend was holding his phone.
“I thought you’d forget about me after your trip to Hengdian!”
Xia Xinran usually sent voice messages when possible—he found typing too troublesome.
Ran Lin also responded with a laugh. “I’m back from Hengdian now.”
“I know you wrapped up shooting. I even liked your Weibo post, didn’t you see?”
“……”
With nearly ten thousand likes on each post, especially the wrap-up one, which garnered over fifty thousand due to other actors’ popularity, how could he specifically look for one named Xia Xinran? Ran Lin felt almost wronged to tears.
Then, the voice on the other side of WeChat was even more aggrieved—
“You could look at my Weibo. You’d see my like instantly!”
“……”
“You definitely never visit my Weibo…” 😭 😭 😭
Voice messages and emoticons together constitute a dramatic narrative on WeChat. Ran Lin never thought of himself as a dishonest person, but he really wanted to laugh.
[My mistake. I’ll make sure to check your Weibo frequently from now on!]
“Why are you suddenly texting… You’re laughing, aren’t you!”
[If I weren’t at my parents’ house, I’d suspect you installed a pinhole camera in my room.]
“You have the nerve to admit it…”
[Hahahahaha]
Unable to hold back, Ran Lin needed to express his mood. Xia Xinran, of course, was riled up again.
But after a bit of banter, Xia Xinran got serious and suggested, “Let’s meet up sometime. It’s been a year in a blink; I’ve almost forgotten what you look like.”
Xia Xinran had always been carefree, far from melancholy, so his sigh took Ran Lin by surprise. It turned out that even the most jovial people have a delicate side.
“Sure.” Ran Lin agreed readily.
It had been almost a year since the recording of “Drifting Story” ended in March last year, and since then, he really hadn’t seen Xia Xinran. Looking back, it had almost been a year. If you go back further to the airport incident with Lu Yiyao, which was actually in October, the year before the reality show, if you consider that day as the start of their acquaintance, it had now been a year and over three months.
The badge collection seemed like yesterday, and time flew so fast when it sped up—it was frightening. No wonder Xia Xinran would sigh; Ran Lin could empathize. A year flew by, and even the best of friends could drift apart without contact amidst the relentless pace of work.
After chatting with Xia Xinran, Ran Lin finally saw Lu Yiyao’s reply—[Happy New Year.]
It seemed so unoriginal, as if he just copied and pasted his greeting.
Outside, firecrackers thundered. Ran Lin quietly watched the avatar that had stirred his whole year, secretly blessing him again in his heart—Happy New Year, bad guy.
He was initially planning to stay home until the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, but on the fourth day of the new year, Wang Xi called him back. His parents didn’t object. In fact, they were happy for their son—being busy meant his career was flourishing.
This time it was for a Valentine’s Day special issue of a magazine. Initially, only Han Ze was invited for the shoot, but the magazine heard that a rival publication—actually a competitor—planned to feature a more popular new-generation male star on the same issue’s cover. A direct comparison seemed unfavorable, so the magazine’s planning team decided to use a “double-boyfriend” theme.
Changing from a solo cover to a duo wasn’t exactly ethical, but the magazine was prestigious, and so-called shooting invitations were often eagerly sought by stars’ agents. So when they said they wanted to change, Wang Xi, despite her reluctance, agreed.
Fortunately, the magazine acknowledged Wang Xi’s flexibility and, after several alternative stars couldn’t be booked—either genuinely busy or feeling Han Ze wasn’t high-profile enough to share a cover—agreed to Wang Xi’s recommendation of Ran Lin.
Ran Lin knew getting this opportunity was half due to Wang Xi and half to luck. Valentine’s Day wasn’t far off, and any more delays would leave the magazine with a gaping hole.
The day before the shoot, he returned to Beijing, and the next day was scheduled for shooting. The location was in a remote wilderness on the outskirts of Beijing, almost deserted. But there was a particular wide field there, covered with dry, frosty grass, offering a desolate cinematic feel—precisely what the photographer wanted.
Ran Lin got up early, quickly got ready, and headed to the company. After waiting for about half an hour, Wang Xi and Han Ze arrived together. Wang Xi’s phone was incessantly buzzing, and after an apparently exciting call, she stepped out, leaving Ran Lin and Han Ze staring awkwardly at each other in her office.
While Wang Xi was there, Han Ze was all smiles. But as soon as she left, he took all traces of friendliness with her. It was the first time Ran Lin had seen someone’s face change so quickly—so fast that he didn’t feel insulted but rather found it amusing.
“Long time, no see.” Han Ze’s face was cold, but his opening line was mild.
“Long time, no see.” Ran Lin reciprocated the courtesy.
Han Ze wore a light gray cashmere coat that day, beautifully tailored to accentuate his lean and handsome figure. Ran Lin looked down at his down jacket—not bad-looking, but next to Han Ze’s, it clearly showed the difference in status.
There was a styling team in the company, but not exclusively for Ran Lin, so unless there was a high-profile event, he wore his own clothes.
“When does <Sword of Fallen Flowers> air?” Han Ze suddenly asked casually.
Ran Lin hadn’t expected Han Ze to initiate conversation and honestly replied, “The production team is aiming for a June premiere, so they’re currently working hard on post-production.”
Han Ze nodded and then curiously raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen your acting yet. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”
Ran Lin internally rolled his eyes. This was clearly a dig, as he might not have played many significant roles, but he had been in several minor ones. Han Ze’s comments were undoubtedly meant to be a slight.
“You’ll know when it airs,” Ran Lin replied with a slight smile, meeting his gaze directly, unflinching.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Han Ze’s eyes, but he said no more.
Ran Lin suddenly regretted his reaction. Han Ze had a point to be upset; even though the switch to a duo cover was the magazine’s idea, he ultimately benefited from it. It was normal for Han Ze to be a bit sour and sarcastic and Ran Lin didn’t need to provoke him unnecessarily.
Ran Lin lowered his eyes, furrowing his brow, seriously reflecting whether he had grown more temperamental in the new year.
When Wang Xi walked in, she found two quiet, handsome men and was quite pleased. “Handsome guys, the car’s here.” She didn’t need them to be close as brothers since they were in competition over resources. Being polite and courteous was enough.
Ran Lin knew they were going to shoot in the wilderness, but when they actually arrived at the location, the sight still took his breath away.
An expanse of desolate land, only a small farmhouse stood solitary amidst the wilderness, accompanied only by a few trees. The roof and branches were laden with remnants of snow, and the wind scattered fine snowflakes around.
The photographer invited by the magazine was already there, busy capturing various angles of the small house as if it were the day’s star.
Tian Mai was one of the most renowned male star photographers in the industry, not because he only shot males but because his male portraits were always outrageously handsome. Unfortunately, his female portraits were rather ordinary. Over time, he was no longer sought after for female shoots.
Ran Lin had only heard his name and was seeing him in person for the first time today. The photographer turned around at the sound of the car; his semi-long, wavy hair, deep eyes, and thoughtful stubble, holding a camera, looked like a brooding male god from an art film.
Ran Lin genuinely thought he should be the one photographed.
The magazine’s styling team was already on site, and both Ran Lin and Han Ze went into the makeup van to be dolled up, emerging as the warm male idols perfect for Valentine’s Day.
Tian Mai was pleased with the styling and lifted his camera to signal that it was time to start. “Let’s get moving now!”
Ran Lin and Han Ze glanced at each other, and finally, Han Ze asked, “Move how?”
Tian Mai blew a lock of hair from his forehead and smiled. “Climb the roof.”
The farmhouse had been long abandoned but was refurbished and decorated in advance, giving it a retro vibe reminiscent of photos from the 80s. They managed to get on the roof, and Tian Mai—or rather, “Cheerios*” as Ran Lin nicknamed him—had them embrace the wilderness wind on the roof.
*Clarity: His name is Tian Mai (田麦). Ran Lin changed it around to [Tian Maiquan] (甜麦圈), substituting the (田) with (甜) as they are homophones, making his nickname Cheerios (the literal translation would be sweet wheat rings, referring to any cereal that’s round).
After a recent snowfall, although much had melted, there were still patches of snow. The photographer had the crew build a snowman and bring it to the roof to join them for the shoot.
The winter wind was harsh, and the temperature low. By the end, both men were nearly unable to smile, but Cheerios was finally satisfied and called it a day.
That evening, the magazine released behind-the-scenes footage on Weibo, showing both men posing stylishly on the roof. During the shoots, they looked cool, but in the intervals, they appeared to be pleading to be let down. The background was always filled with the photographer’s satisfied laughter, clearly enjoying the shoot immensely. The video immediately trended on Weibo, especially for the photographer’s infectious laugh, which netizens found addictive.
Ran Lin’s PR team had already re-posted it for him. By the time he checked Weibo, there were already over a thousand comments. During the airing of the reality show, his Weibo was bustling with activity, with fans and haters alike leaving nearly ten thousand comments. But as the show ended and discussions cooled down, especially since he hadn’t been exposed much after, sticking to filming in Hengdian, his Weibo comments stabilized at one to two thousand.
Most detractors had left, and aside from the company-paid commenters, his feed was now filled with genuine fans. Some were daily regulars, others dropped by every few days. While it wasn’t bustling, it was harmonious and warm.
[This courtyard feels so nostalgic and vintage. Can I have the location please? 🤩]
[Ahhh both of them are so handsome!!!]
[Are you still looking for a snowman? One with a college degree?]
[Why am I feeling this CP vibe? I’m a loyal Green Forest member. I don’t want to switch sides 😭]
[……]
Ran Lin scrolled through the top comments, accidentally blinded by the “Green Forest” reference. He wasn’t sure who coined the CP name, but even after so much time, Ran Lin still resented it, feeling like he wasn’t doing it justice without a large golden hoop around his waist.
While internally mocking, his lips curled into a smile.
But before the smile fully formed, he froze.
[Love Yao For Life: After hyping up God Lu, now it’s Han Ze’s turn. A masterstroke indeed. I salute you 👋.]
Ran Lin remembered this ID, not out of will but because this user was deeply devoted to him, visiting more punctually than a true fan from last year to this.
Amidst his fans’ domain, seeking attention, especially when almost all the detractors had left, Love Yao For Life naturally became a target. Ran Lin clicked on the replies to this comment, and indeed, the tone shifted dramatically into a storm of blood and fury.
Among the many irrational true fan voices, there was one ID that remained calm and restrained throughout, and interestingly enough, Love Fao for Life only conversed with this one ID.
Ran Lin recognized it—Lin’s Family Burning Noodles.
The first reply was—[Han Ze and Ran Lin are artists from the same company. Collaborating for a duo cover is normal. There’s no hype involved. Plus, you can tell from the behind-the-scenes that they had a lot of fun.]
Ran Lin then witnessed a “magical conversation”—
Love Yao For Life: [Same company?]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Yes, and they share the same agent. Next time before you speak, maybe you should do your homework.]
Love Yao For Life: [I don’t like your tone!]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [What a coincidence, neither do I.]
Love Yao For Life: [Doesn’t matter, in my eyes, Ran Lin can never be cleared of guilt. I will always be against him!!!]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Welcome to the opposition, but please make it intelligent.]
Love Yao For Life: [Expletive] [Expletive] [Expletive]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [😊😊😊]
Love Yao For Life: [Ahhhhhhhh!]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Hahahaha!]
Love Yao For Life: [You’re sick!]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Very sick 😳]
Love Yao For Life: Please stop replying to me and go get treatment!
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Only you are my antidote ❤️]
Love Yao For Life: [Fans’ behavior will be paid for by the idol. You’re bringing hate to your master!]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [No one is anyone’s master. All are born equal.]
Love Yao For Life: [Can’t bother talking to a crazy person. I won’t reply to you anymore 👋.]
Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [👋 Don’t forget to check your private messages.]
Love Yao For Life: [Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!]
After reading the last comment, Ran Lin laughed so hard his stomach hurt, and he still felt unsatisfied, so he refreshed the comments to see if there were any new developments in the past ten minutes.
Indeed, there were—
Lu Yiyao: [Have you considered the snowman’s feelings…]
Ran Lin was momentarily stunned. It seemed like he was suddenly brought back from the world of Weibo to reality, and the light-hearted mood slowly settled down, grew roots, and began to develop other indescribable emotions.
If the snowman could speak, it would surely curse him and Han Ze for accidentally knocking it over during the shoot, which was clear in the behind-the-scenes footage.
But Lu Yiyao surely wasn’t really coming to defend the snowman. He was standing up for him.
Because right after his comment, someone immediately @Love Yao For Life—[Your God Lu has commented. Awkward much?]
Actually, this tagging was a bit spiteful, but Love Yao For Life replied—[Don’t tag me. Hanging my head in shame, reflecting on my life…]
Though it was overly wishful to imagine Lu Yiyao scrolling through his comment section to then reply directly to defend him, considering that he once sent dozens of Weibo message screenshots in one breath, it might not be impossible.
But after all they had gone through, would he still look at his comment section?
Ran Lin shook his head. He was probably overthinking again.
……
Lu Yiyao looked at Ran Lin’s reply with a [😂] emoji, feeling utterly dismissed.
The crying while laughing emoji is the most versatile expression in the world. Whatever emotion you interpret it as, it embodies it, making it the perfect response for any situation.
Lu Yiyao sighed, watching the behind-the-scenes footage again, confirming once more that he indeed disliked it. Watching Ran Lin have fun with another person made him want to pull the other person out of the screen, replace them with himself, or even replace the snowman standing there would be fine!
He never considered himself a possessive person, but now he just wished Ran Lin would laugh with him.
He wanted the whole world to know how great Ran Lin was but didn’t want Ran Lin to share his greatness with the whole world. Lu Yiyao felt he wasn’t far from becoming a possessive freak.
One step forward was an abyss.
One step back was heartbreak.
Should he try the abyss…
“Huh?” Suddenly, a questioning sound came from Yao Hong across from him.
Lu Yiyao looked up bewildered. “Huh?”
Yao Hong frowned slightly. “I just asked you what you were looking at. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Oh, I heard.” Lu Yiyao tried to maintain a natural expression, shaking his phone. “Just browsing Weibo.”
Yao Hong studied him for a long while, finally shaking her head. “No, you’ve been off these past few days, often daydreaming and laughing for no reason.”
Lu Yiyao looked innocent and naïve. “Really?”
Yao Hong stared at him seriously and said, “If there’s anything, you must tell me. Only when we are honest with each other can we do our work well.”
Lu Yiyao pondered for a moment, nodding solemnly. “I understand.”
Yao Hong seemed to want to say more, but just then, a staff member came to notify Lu Yiyao it was time for him to go on stage for a talk show he was guesting on.
As the dressing room door closed again, Yao Hong turned to look at Li Tong.
Li Tong, as if anticipating, promptly raised his head and proactively said, “Hong Jie.”
Yao Hong cut to the chase. “Did anything happen in Hengdian while I was away?”
Li Tong hesitated briefly but quickly recovered. “What do you mean by ‘anything’, Hong Jie?”
Yao Hong bluntly said, “Your Lu Ge.”
Li Tong promptly replied, “It was just filming and rushing work every day. Nothing particularly notable.”
Yao Hong: “Did he get particularly close to any female actress on set?”
“No.” Li Tong didn’t even need to think. “He’s avoiding the female lead as much as he can, let alone the second or third female leads.”
Yao Hong was silent, just staring intently at Li Tong, not missing any subtle expression on his face.
Li Tong swallowed nervously but didn’t divert his gaze, standing upright and proud.
Finally, Yao Hong believed him, sighing and instructing, “Pay more attention. Whatever the situation, you must report to me in time.”
Li Tong’s tense nerves gradually relaxed, but he asked knowingly, “Hong Jie, are you worried Lu Ge will fall in love?”
Seeing him ask this, Yao Hong dismissed a bit of her suspicion and said, “I’m not worried about him falling in love. Of course, it’s best if he doesn’t, but I know at his age it’s impossible to control, and it’s inevitable. What I’m worried about is him secretly dating and not telling me.”
Li Tong could tell Yao Hong genuinely cared for Lu Yiyao, which only intensified his guilt.
But this was something he couldn’t reveal, or the sky would fall.
Watching Yao Hong slowly close her eyes to rest, Li Tong put on his earphones and continued playing the song he had paused earlier, right at the chorus—
“The young man under the sun~~ Has your dream come true~~ In this cold world~~ Have you changed~”
Scouring the internet with bits and pieces of lyrics he remembered, he finally found the song Lu Yiyao was humming that day.
Looking at the name in the artist column, Li Tong felt utterly hopeless.
The song was pleasant, the person was good-looking, and Lu Ge was indeed heading for trouble…
……
The day after the magazine shoot, Ran Lin got a script from Wang Xi—<Chronicles of Winter>. It was an ancient fantasy drama based on a novel. The original novel wasn’t a super popular IP, but it had a decent fan base. The investment was moderate, and the cast was all young newcomers. The role given to Ran Lin was the male lead.
Wang Xi sat in Ran Lin’s apartment’s living room sofa, smiling at him, saying, “Ran Lin, you’re going to be the lead.”
Ran Lin felt like he was dreaming.
After Wang Xi left, he spent all night reading the script. To be honest, the script was just okay—more like a martial arts and romance story dressed in a fantasy guise. But the male lead was indeed the center of all the main and subplots, with all conflicts and emotions revolving around him. It could be said that the director gave the most splendid part to the male lead, including the female lead, who was also second to the male lead.
And if it were a big IP, big investment, and a high-quality script, Ran Lin knew it might not necessarily be his turn.
According to Wang Xi, the production company was interested in him because of his role in <Sword of Fallen Flowers> believing that he would gain significant popularity once the drama aired, so they were willing to take a risk on him. After all, his current price was very cheap. If <Sword of Fallen Flowers> really hit big, then they would have gotten a jade for the price of cabbage. By the time <Chronicles of Winter> aired, it would no longer be a cast of newcomers but a popular rising star leading a group of young talents.
Though he didn’t need to audition, Ran Lin still read the script whenever he had free time, trying to get into the character, as the male lead’s personality was too different from his own, necessitating constant reflection.
Before he could fully grasp the character, Valentine’s Day quietly arrived. With no schedules that day, Ran Lin slept in and woke up to countless @ mentions on Weibo. Upon checking, he found out that the magazine’s official account had released the special issue.
The cover feature was a separate post with a grid of nine pictures of him and Han Ze, including posed and candid moments on the rooftop. In the desolate wilderness background, he and Han Ze looked brilliantly warm and radiant in the photos.
Looking at himself in the photos, Ran Lin felt very unfamiliar. Even though the features were familiar, no matter how he looked, he seemed to have become a much more handsome version of himself.
The PR team had already shared it for him. With nothing of his own to repost, Ran Lin simply went to the photographer Tian Mai’s Weibo and liked one of his posts.
Just as he finished liking, his phone rang. It was Xia Xinran.
Ran Lin curiously answered, and the voice on the other end immediately said, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Ran Lin chuckled. “Same to you.”
“Do you have time tomorrow night?” Xia Xinran was straightforward.
Ran Lin teasingly replied, “Depends on what kind of gathering you’re organizing. I’m not attending if it’s unhealthy.”
Xia Xinran protested, “I’m so healthy, I could be the entertainment industry’s positive energy ambassador!”
Ran Lin laughed, then said, “I’m free tomorrow, where do you want to meet?”
Xia Xinran, a man of his word, had mentioned meeting up over the phone, so Ran Lin knew it would definitely happen. “Let me clarify first. It’s not just the two of us. There will be others too,” Xia Xinran hurriedly explained, sensing Ran Lin’s misunderstanding.
Ran Lin’s heart sank momentarily, his first thought being Zhang Beichen, but then he remembered Xia Xinran’s attitude towards Zhang Beichen and realized he was probably worrying over nothing. He guessed, “Gu Jie?”
“No.” Xia Xinran didn’t keep him guessing and disclosed. “It’s like a friends’ circle gathering. Mostly people we get along with, including artists, designers, etc. We’re planning an old-fashioned Republic of China-themed party. You don’t need to wear a costume; you can change when you get here.”
Ran Lin had heard of such private industry gatherings where close friends got together for drinks and chats, a way to maintain relationships. Everyone was relaxed since it was just among friends. Sometimes friends brought other friends, and it was a good way to expand one’s social circle.
Xia Xinran said, “Don’t overthink it. It’s just a private gathering. Getting to know more people is only good for you, and it’s also a chance for us to catch up. Otherwise, I’ll be going into another drama production next week, and you’ll forget my stunning beauty.”
Ran Lin was dumbfounded but warmed by the thought.
Xia Xinran was from a talent show background and had fought hard for his current status. His success wasn’t only due to his agency but also his efforts. He was sociable, clear-headed, and well-regarded by investors and directors he worked with. Although not every artist he worked with liked him, those who did become his friends were genuine friends. Thus, his social circle was indeed valuable.
And now, Xia Xinran wanted to introduce these friends to him.
“Hello?” Beauty Xia was getting impatient again. “Hello?”
“Just send me the time and place,” Ran Lin finally said.
“That’s more like it.” Xia Xinran was satisfied. “I’ll send you a WeChat once it’s all set.”
Ran Lin was exasperated. “So it’s not set yet?”
Xia Xinran said, “The time is set. The place is still being discussed. The competition for hosting rights is fierce. Two guys are even ready to PK with their house deeds.”
Ran Lin asked, “PK what?”
Xia Xinran explained, “Who has a larger construction area.”
Ran Lin: “……”
After hanging up, Ran Lin thought it over and sent a heart emoji to Xia Xinran.
Xia Xinran replied with a face-holding emoticon, with seven dynamic glowing words on it—The bashful beauty of a glorious era.
As Ran Lin was internally rolling his eyes at the emoticon, his phone rang again. It seemed like his phone had turned into a hotline today.
“Xi Jie.” The caller ID showed it was Wang Xi, and Ran Lin greeted her as he answered.
“Mm.” The voice on the other end didn’t sound very energetic.
Ran Lin frowned slightly and asked proactively, “Xi Jie, is something the matter?”
There was a long silence on the phone before the reply came, “Chronicles of Winter… there might be some changes.”
Ran Lin was stunned, not quite knowing what to say.
“The male lead.” Wang Xi’s voice was low. “The production company might still prefer Han Ze for the role.”
Ran Lin blinked, feeling as if something flashed through his mind but couldn’t quite grasp it.
“Xi Jie, this is the male lead role. Once it’s gone, it’s gone*.” Ran Lin wasn’t sure what he was trying to express. Was it his importance to the role or his inability to accept the sudden change?
*There’s no shop like this after passing this village (过了这个村，就没这个店) Proverb that means opportunities are rare and cannot be missed casually.
“I know.” Wang Xi’s voice sounded troubled. “But the investors have the final say. If they want a change, there’s nothing anyone can do.”
At this point, Ran Lin felt he should just say, “Okay, I understand,” to fit his easy-going nature. Yet, he couldn’t say it; something in his chest felt like it was urging him to fight back, to try one more time.
“Isn’t it the same as last time with Lei Baishi? He didn’t agree with me playing Fang Xian at first, but didn’t he change his mind later? Xi Jie, can you arrange another dinner like last time—let me have one last try? Or ask the director if I can audition. At least give me a chance to compete fairly with Han Ze…”
“Ran Lin,” Wang Xi interrupted him, “it’s already decided. After all, you’ve never carried a leading role; the production company has to consider the risk.”
“But you just said they are leaning towards Han Ze, didn’t you?” Ran Lin’s heart slowly calmed down, vaguely understanding.
In fact, he should have realized right away. When a production company changes a decided role, it’s usually because the newcomer has done better work; it’s not that the investors suddenly have an epiphany while sitting at home.
Wang Xi was silent for a long while before saying, “Maybe we can still fight for the second male lead.”
There was no “we”, only himself. At this moment, Ran Lin could clearly feel the difference in closeness between him and Han Ze in Wang Xi’s eyes.
“No one becomes a male lead overnight. Many have ground away for years in secondary or even smaller roles. You’ve been quite lucky already.”
“Yeah,” Ran Lin replied, no longer pushing, just saying, “I’ll think about it…”
However, Wang Xi seemed somewhat dissatisfied with his response, her tone inadvertently rising. “Now you even have to ‘think’ about taking a secondary role?”
Ran Lin quietly looked at the wall, took a deep breath, and, after a long while, said clearly, “Xi Jie, I really appreciate you getting me this opportunity. If you had offered me the second lead from the start, I would have happily accepted it. But now, under these circumstances, if you offer it to me and I tell you I’m happy, do you think that would be the truth?”
“Xi Jie, you don’t have to worry about me not accepting it. Even if you say the production company leans towards Han Ze,” Ran Lin never thought he would talk to Wang Xi like this, but now that he did, he felt calm and composed, “I am being outcompeted for the role, and I accept it because I understand my place. But I see you as my sister, which is why I’m being honest with you. I’m not happy, and I don’t want to play second to him.”
Wang Xi, who usually didn’t respond well to hard approaches, immediately got upset hearing this. “When did you become so willful? I always thought you were smart, but now look at you, giving up even the secondary role because of some temporary pride. Where’s your sense?”
“So I said I would think about it.” Ran Lin’s tone was full of innocence, patiently explaining to Wang Xi. “The subtext is that I need to settle my feelings about being usurped first, then I can sincerely tell you how much I value this opportunity.”
Wang Xi was left speechless by Ran Lin’s flexibility. You couldn’t say he was being difficult; he was discussing openly with you. You couldn’t say he was illogical; he was selling you his woes, and you couldn’t even call him unreasonable because his logic was clear as he obviously lost his role, which she felt somewhat guilty about.
Between choosing Han Ze or Ran Lin, her answer was almost without hesitation. But looking back, Ran Lin had become harder to handle than when she first took him on, and what was worse, she didn’t think it was a bad thing but rather felt it might be… star-like?
Wang Xi wondered if she might have some misunderstandings about what “star-like” meant.
Lu Yiyao had never considered his fondness for Ran Lin to be anything beyond friendship.
This unwavering belief persisted until yesterday.
At the start of the wrap party, he was still agonizing over “finding a way of interaction comfortable for both.” Out of consideration for Ran Lin’s feelings, he thought he should actively avoid his gaze. However, distancing himself would likely lead to a fading relationship, which he clearly didn’t want.
Thus, whether to prioritize Ran Lin’s feelings or his own became an almost unsolvable problem.
Until Ran Lin said, “I like you.”
When Lu Yiyao first realized Ran Lin’s feelings, he worried countless times that Ran Lin would impulsively confess, because he couldn’t think of a way to respond. Once things were made explicit, even the nicest rejection is still a rejection, and friendship would truly become impossible.
Later, as both tacitly understood each other, the situation stabilized, and this “troubling what-if” slowly dissipated from Lu Yiyao’s mind.
But unexpectedly, his worst fears became reality.
After a brief moment of mental blankness, Lu Yiyao found his mind divided into two.
One part of him said, “The worst-case scenario has happened. What are you doing standing around? Think quickly about how to handle this without making things more awkward.”
The other part didn’t speak, just sat there quietly, smiling slightly. The smile was shallow but sweet, sweet enough to melt into the blood flowing to his heart and, with every heartbeat, spread to every corner of his body.
Before he could decide which voice to follow, Ran Lin unilaterally declared, “After this drink, let’s turn a page on all this mess.”
The reactions of the two parts of his mind were almost instantaneous.
The first part was throwing confetti and setting off firecrackers in celebration; the second part’s smile disappeared, bewildered.
Lu Yiyao only knew the first part of himself, never considering the existence of the second.
He had always thought Ran Lin’s confession would be a difficult situation to manage. But unexpectedly, when he heard those words, the only clarity in the brief mental shutdown was a hint of sweetness.
He liked hearing Ran Lin say those words.
This was the conclusion he came to on the way back to the hotel after replaying the events in his mind.
But at that moment, the two parts of his mind were already fighting, and the phrase “to a friendship that lasts forever” was somehow desperately pulled out amidst the chaos.
If not for Zhang Beichen’s timely WeChat message, the situation might have become even more awkward.
Because at that time, he couldn’t mediate between the two conflicting parts of himself, and to make matters worse, a third part emerged. This one didn’t join the fray but stood outside the battlefield, arms crossed and frowning, scolding, “You have time to fight each other, why not team up and ask Ran Lin what ‘turning the page on all this mess’ means? How did liking us become a mess!”
Lu Yiyao didn’t know whose advice to follow.
So, he decided not to listen to anyone but continue listening to Ran Lin.
Listening to Ran Lin talk about his debut, his family, everything.
Lu Yiyao couldn’t clearly remember what he contributed to the conversation, only feeling that not thinking about anything and just chatting was very comfortable, so much so that he wished it could go on forever.
His mind, like mashed paste, slowly cooled down on the way back to the hotel.
Perhaps also thanks to Li Tong.
To make his question sound less odd, he substituted Ran Lin with “a girl” in his hypothetical scenario.
His assistant was decidedly enthusiastic—it would be the first time a girl liked him, and he would definitely go for it!
Amused yet exasperated, Lu Yiyao whimsically applied the hypothetical to himself.
What if Ran Lin were a girl? How would the problem change?
Instantly, all the problems seemed to dissolve.
He admired this girl, enjoyed her company, and if she happened to like him back, he would become Li Tong #2, joyfully reaching out to embrace her.
Li Tong asked, “Lu Ge, do you actually want to avoid her or not?”
Lu Yiyao didn’t need to think to answer that question.
If he wanted to avoid, he wouldn’t have been so conflicted for so many days; if he wanted to avoid, he wouldn’t have felt so lost and reluctant when Ran Lin said it was time to turn the page.
At that moment, he realized his feelings for Ran Lin were more than just friendship. It was the kind of liking that could potentially evolve into love.
He had misunderstood the premise from the beginning, which was why everything became so complicated.
But misunderstanding this premise was inevitable.
Lu Yiyao had never thought it possible for him to fall for another man.
This self-awareness of his sexual orientation was as firm as his self-awareness of his gender.
But when his assistant assumed the person troubling him was a female celebrity, and when he himself stepped out of the “friendship” perspective, everything made sense.
The same rejection had no impact on his life when it came from Xi Ruohan but rejecting Ran Lin had consumed years’ worth of mental energy over a few months.
The same turning of the page from Xi Ruohan was a relief, whereas from Ran Lin, it left him feeling empty and lost.
That WeChat message was the final test Lu Yiyao set for himself.
Ran Lin cooperated, not replying until the next morning.
Even if Lu Yiyao was slow to notice, he could feel the changes in himself before and after receiving the message. If a person’s ordinary message can cause such fluctuations in your mood, then continuing to consider it “just friends” is truly self-deception.
He didn’t know if he was gay.
But he had definitely fallen for Ran Lin—after Ran Lin had completely turned the page.
Lu Yiyao had never encountered such a vexing script in his life and suspected even this was written by Song Mang.
“Lu Ge, I think caution is good, but you should know that good girls don’t wait around, and sometimes being too cautious can make you miss good opportunities.”
Li Tong, helping his boss pack, observed, sensing the boss, who had seemed to have a sudden clarity upon opening the door, was fading, replaced by a beautiful man once again wrapped in worries.
It’s like, after a long wait, finally catching a big fish. For the first few minutes, you’re so happy you want to sing, but then you realize that you neither know how to cook nor how to keep it, so you can’t eat it or keep it alive. Reluctant to release it back into the water, you just stand awkwardly in the wind, holding the fish, filled with sorrow and trouble.
Upon hearing this, Lu Yiyao gave him a deep look and sighed. “You don’t understand.”
“…” Li Tong couldn’t take it anymore and decided to speak his mind. “Lu Ge, no offense, but based on the questions you asked me last night and your behavior now, I really think I understand… No, I’m sure I understand more than you.”
Lu Yiyao was amused by his assistant’s earnest righteousness and ended up laughing, then shook his head, explaining, “I fully trust your expertise in matters of the heart. If I really do pursue someone, you’ll be the first one I consult.”
Li Tong was stunned and puzzled. “Does that mean you haven’t decided whether to pursue her or not? I thought you were sure you liked her. Why not go after her?”
Lu Yiyao lowered his head, continuing to pack his luggage. “Because I don’t know how long this liking will last. What if it’s just a temporary illusion caused by working closely together during filming? That’s not uncommon. What if I chase her and then realize it’s not right and I don’t feel the same way anymore? Breaking up then would be irresponsible.”
Li Tong opened his mouth in surprise and, after a while, said, “So it’s that female actor from the group…”
Lu Yiyao’s folding paused for half a second, mentally crumpling up that talkative part of himself and throwing it into Niagara Falls!
Li Tong didn’t expect any response from his boss. With such high security, even accidentally revealing something was like a blessing from the gossip gods for his curious heart.
Lu Yiyao’s method of folding clothes was a bit complicated, but indeed, as he methodically folded them, they ended up neatly arranged and easily stored in the luggage.
Li Tong always thought it could be filmed and put online as a storage video tutorial.
The suitcase indeed became tidy and orderly. If it were up to him to create such a systematically packed suitcase with such laborious work, he’d rather keep the suitcase messy.
Li Tong thought, this was their difference—Lu Yiyao lived too earnestly.
Being too earnest leads to hardship.
Who cares if it’s just acting or a temporary delusion? Instead of overthinking, why not just date and see?
But he couldn’t say that, and his boss wouldn’t do that either. If he did, he wouldn’t be Lu Yiyao anymore.
Being earnest is difficult, so those who stick to it are precious.
“Li Tong…” After folding the last piece of clothing, Lu Yiyao slowly looked up and unexpectedly asked, “Why are you called Li Tong1?”
Li Tong swallowed and truthfully explained, “My parents were classmates, so…”
Lu Yiyao asked, “Then why not call you Li Xue1?”
Li Tong scratched his head, realizing he had never asked his parents about this and ventured a guess. “Maybe they both didn’t like studying1…”
1Clarity: [Tong] (同) means same, while Xue [学] means study.
Lu Yiyao suddenly realized his question was incredibly nonsensical.
The shock of potentially being gay was more intense than he had anticipated and had a delayed impact. Once the sweetness of the realization “I like Ran Lin” passed, the upheaval of his sexual orientation became clearer, even making him slightly paranoid.
Accepting he might be gay was harder than accepting his feelings for Ran Lin.
But if he wasn’t gay, just as he told Li Tong, he wasn’t confident that his “liking” would last long.
Ding-dong.
Just as Li Tong was about to remind him, Lu Yiyao quickly grabbed his phone and lit up the screen.
Li Tong was nearly startled and couldn’t help asking curiously, “Is it that person?”
Lu Yiyao knew he meant the “actress”, so he played along. “It’s Ran Lin. He’s already left and just let me know.”
Li Tong didn’t think anything of it, pulling out his phone to check for new messages and then grumbled, “Not cool, leaving without saying anything.”
Lu Yiyao was puzzled. “Are you talking about Ran Lin?”
“No.” Li Tong quickly clarified, “I mean Liu Wanwan.”
Lu Yiyao asked, “Who’s that?”
Li Tong explained, “Ran Ge’s assistant, the girl with really fair skin.”
Lu Yiyao recalled her, but asked, “What’s her name?”
Li Tong replied, “Liu Wanwan1, like the crescent moon1.”
Lu Yiyao: “……1“
1[Wan] (弯) means bend. Her name derives from crescent moon (月牙弯弯). The joke here is, Lu Yiyao just discovered he is bent (gay), which elicits this response.
Li Tong asked, “Lu Ge, what’s wrong?”
Lu Yiyao replied, “Nothing, just a bit nostalgic for the past.”
When everything was straightforward, the world seemed simple. But with a shake, suddenly everything seems ambiguous.
Lu Yiyao thought, the perspective from which you view the world is indeed crucial…
……
Lu Yiyao went home for his twenty-eighth visit—to Xicheng, the home of his mother and sister.
It wasn’t the maid who opened the door, but his sister.
“Brother—”
Her delighted call hadn’t even finished before she had already thrown herself into Lu Yiyao’s arms.
Lu Yimeng, at 171cm, usually wore high heels and carried an imposing presence, preferring trousers and bold red lips, looking even more like a female CEO than their mother.
But only in front of her brother did she instantly turn into a cutesy girl.
Lu Yiyao, resigned to having his sister cling to him like a koala, walked into the living room, asking, “Where’s Mom?”
“You really timed your return.”
Before Lu Yimeng could answer, Fan Li had already come downstairs, looking snidely at her son.
Seeing their mother, the first to react was actually Lu Yimeng, who immediately hopped off Lu Yiyao and sat obediently on the couch, distancing herself from the impending “mother-son reunion”.
Lu Yiyao always thought “wearing loungewear with the flair of a business suit” was his mother’s unique skill. For instance, now, the comfortable material and light color of her attire didn’t hide her imposing aura, forcing Lu Yiyao to comply by saying, “Happy New Year President Fan.”
Fan Li’s expression fell, the aloof demeanor breaking as she commanded irritably, “Come here.”
Lu Yiyao dared not delay, hurrying up the stairs to stand before his mother for inspection.
Fan Li scrutinized him for a while, frowning unhappily. “Why have you lost weight? Aren’t they feeding you properly on set?”
“I’m eating well. It’s just that the role required me to be thin,” Lu Yiyao quickly explained. Otherwise, the confirmed narrative of “hardship on set” would make his mother nag until the end of the year.
Fan Li was half-convinced, but seeing her son still looked vibrant, she reluctantly accepted his explanation.
Lu Yimeng pretended to watch TV but kept glancing over. The thinness was just the appetizer; her mother’s real concerns hadn’t even been addressed yet. So, for safety, she decided it was best to remain invisible.
Lu Yiyao entered the home at 7 p.m., and within half an hour, the family of three was sitting down for dinner, which was why his mother commented on his timely return.
However, after secretly inquiring with the maid, Lu Yiyao relaxed, knowing his mother had only returned home twenty minutes before him. Choosing to return in the evening was right, given Ms. Fan Li’s level of busyness rivaled his own as an A-list actor.
“Eat more.” Fan Li served her son a shrimp, her tone gentle and caring. However, her expression remained cold, leading to a mismatch between her tone and facial expression.
Lu Yiyao, puzzled, glanced at Lu Yimeng.
His sister refused to meet his gaze and focused on eating.
Lu Yiyao got the hint.
He leisurely peeled the shrimp, and just as he finished peeling one without eating it, Fan Li’s patience ran out—
“Da Chu told me everything.”
Without thinking, Lu Yiyao knew it had to be about this; otherwise, there wouldn’t be any other reason for him to upset his mother during his months in Hengdian.
Putting down the shrimp, Lu Yiyao sighed helplessly. “I knew I couldn’t trust Da Chu.”
Before Fan Li could speak, Lu Yimeng couldn’t help but interject, “Brother, you’re so naive, thinking Da Chu could keep a secret for you…”
The rest of her words were swallowed under her mother’s stern gaze.
Lu Yimeng shrank back, remaining silent.
Fan Li was satisfied and continued to look at her son, saying indifferently, “Tell me, why did you feel the need to hide it?”
“It’s all resolved,” Lu Yiyao said. “I didn’t want to upset you with it again.”
Fan Li raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You’re afraid I’d get involved, aren’t you?”
Lu Yiyao put on a flattering smile that said, “Mom, you’re so clever.”
Lu Yimeng rolled her eyes at him—Bootlicker.
Lu Yiyao glanced back—It’s called survival skills.
Indeed, in front of her son’s smile, Fan Li’s expression remained tight, but her eyes slowly softened.
Lu Yiyao knew his mom didn’t really want to do anything to Zhang Beichen; otherwise, she wouldn’t have waited months to ask him about it—the disloyal Da Chu must have reported everything as soon as it happened.
What bothered his mom was that her son was bullied and didn’t retaliate. But while she might be displeased, she still respected his decisions.
This was where his mother differed most from his father.
In fact, if it had been his father, he might not have intervened directly, but even without intervening, he would have given a thorough lecture to feel content.
“Brother.” Sensing the tension easing, Lu Yimeng’s curiosity resurfaced. “Is that Zhang Beichen the one you filmed the variety show with?”
Lu Yiyao was a bit surprised. “You remember quite clearly.”
“Of course,” Lu Yimeng said with some displeasure. “I don’t miss any of your shows. I’m your number one fan!”
A smile touched Lu Yiyao’s eyes.
Lu Yimeng, however, was indignant on behalf of her brother. “You’ve been on a variety show together; even if not friends, you’re acquaintances. He shouldn’t be the one to backstab you.”
“In your brother’s circle, no one but themselves is off-limits.” Fan Li huffed lightly.
Lu Yiyao frowned. “Mom…”
“Alright, alright, I’m biased,” Fan Li admitted quickly. She and her son always agreed to disagree. “But through this incident, you should understand that while you mustn’t harbor ill will towards others, you also can’t be naive. Just because you are sincere with others doesn’t mean they will reciprocate.”
“I understand.” Lu Yiyao felt overestimated. “But I haven’t been sincerely sincere with everyone, nor do I expect heartfelt sincerity in return. I just do my job and earn my rightful income.”
Fan Li lifted her eyelids. “Then your input-output ratio is too low.”
Lu Yiyao 囧: “Being a star has a low input-output ratio?”
“Of course.” Fan Li didn’t hesitate. “If you were in business, who would have the time to insult you online? Do you think your investment is only in labor? Being a celebrity requires fulfilling the fantasies of the audience; the hidden costs are immeasurable.”
“Mom,” Lu Yiyao said somewhat moved, “you sound exactly like my agent.”
“Hmm.” Lu Yimeng nodded. “An agent who’s eager for you to quit the industry.”
Fan Li glared at the two heartless kids and decided to stop talking. Otherwise, she’d be too aggravated to finish her meal.
Just when Lu Yiyao thought the dinner might pass peacefully, towards the end, his mother suddenly said, “I don’t care about anything else, but you absolutely cannot find a girlfriend in the entertainment industry. That’s my bottom line.”
Lu Yiyao felt an internal twist.
It was a long-standing attitude from his mother, one Lu Yiyao was accustomed to. Usually, he would just nod along; after all, without a specific person in mind, there was no point in arguing about hypotheticals.
But today, he felt an urge to argue.
“The entertainment industry isn’t as chaotic as you think. I’m also part of it. Am I chaotic?”
Fan Li’s eyes flashed with insight, but she didn’t speak immediately, just steadily observing her son.
Lu Yimeng aligned with her mother on this issue. “Brother, you’re the exception, okay? There aren’t many as naïve as you—not just in the entertainment industry but the whole world.”
Lu Yiyao looked at her complexly, unsure whether to be annoyed by her exaggeration or comforted by her perpetual support for her big brother.
“Do you… have a girlfriend?” Fan Li suddenly asked, her tone neutral, emotion hard to gauge.
Lu Yiyao gathered himself and innocently looked up at his mother, trying to keep his expression and voice unblemished. “I work 360 days a year. I’d like to date, but where would I find the time?”
Fan Li scrutinized her son’s expression for a moment, finding it 70% believable but 30% suspicious.
Lu Yimeng didn’t doubt at all. “Mom, don’t be so suspicious. With Brother’s peculiar standards, I’d be surprised if I met my sister-in-law before I turned 30.”
Fan Li remained silent.
Lu Yiyao reassuringly patted Lu Yimeng’s head. “Those who know me best are my own sister.”
Lu Yimeng felt something was off, and after Lu Yiyao withdrew his hand, she suddenly widened her eyes, “Brother, did you even wash your hands after peeling the shrimp?!”
Lu Yiyao burst into laughter.
Lu Yimeng lamented her freshly washed hair.
Fan Li watched her “loving” children with a sense of satisfaction but insisted on her bottom line. “Regardless, someone from the entertainment industry is out of the question.”
Lu Yiyao didn’t mind, but Lu Yimeng was annoyed. “Mom, not every relationship leads to marriage. You don’t need to worry so much.”
Fan Li really didn’t understand how she gave birth to two such oblivious children. “Others might not marry who they date, but if your brother dates someone, he’s certain to marry them.”
Lu Yimeng: “…That’s actually a good point. I’m speechless.”
Lu Yiyao held his forehead, suddenly missing the East City residence with its gloomy and oppressive atmosphere. At least it was… quiet.
Lu Yiyao stayed in West City for a day and two nights and left early on New Year’s Eve to return to East City.
When he arrived home, his father Lu Guoming hadn’t returned yet; only Auntie Zhou was there. Lu Yiyao ended up helping her in the kitchen.
Auntie Zhou initially refused, but relented. The two of them chatted and worked together, creating a warm atmosphere.
It was almost 8 p.m. when Lu Guoming finally came home. His greeting to his son was neither warm nor cold.
The dinner was dry, and after staying up until midnight to wish his father a happy new year, Lu Guoming nodded and retired to his room.
Lu Yiyao sighed, resigned. Every year was the same; despite having little to talk about, father and son would stay up to welcome the new year. Only then would New Year’s Eve feel complete.
But looking at the empty house, he wanted to stay longer, at least to bring some life to the place.
Back in his room, Lu Yiyao hesitated whether to send Ran Lin a new year’s message, but while he hesitated, he received one—[Happy New Year.]
Lu Yiyao didn’t know if it was a mass message or individual, but he manually typed a reply—[Happy New Year.]
There was no further reply from the other side.
Lu Yiyao stared at the phone screen, unable to find anything beyond a cordial new year’s wish in the exchange.
Ran Lin had truly turned the page.
As Li Tong said, good girls don’t wait around; hesitation can lead to missed opportunities.
Lu Yiyao could now clearly feel the door of opportunity slowly closing.
He needed time to think clearly, but Ran Lin was under no obligation to wait for him.
Jumping out of bed, Lu Yiyao found Huo Yuntao’s contact and called him.
It took a while to connect, but the voice that answered was lively. “Hello, Lao Lu, how come you’ve decided to give me a midnight new year call? That’s rare.”
It sounded noisy on Huo Yuntao’s side, like he was surrounded by many people. Lu Yiyao realized Huo Yuntao always went home for the new year. But it was only for two or three days, and he was always busy being the distinguished “Young Master Huo”, so Lu Yiyao preferred to visit him in England rather than encroach on his precious family time during the new year.
“Are you at home?” Lu Yiyao still wanted to confirm.
“Of course.” Huo Yuntao seemed to have moved to a quieter room. “If my great-grandmother doesn’t see me, she’d fly to England herself, believe it or not.”
Lu Yiyao believed.
The Huo family was large and had a tradition of longevity. Conservatively estimated, at least thirty family members would gather for the new year, and Huo Yuntao was undoubtedly the jewel of the family.
“Getting sidetracked,” Huo Yuntao cleared his throat, becoming serious. “Happy New Year, Lao Lu.”
“Yeah, Happy New Year.” Lu Yiyao was genuinely grateful to have such a friend. “Lao Huo, I might be gay.”
“……”
“……”
“Is this really the news you want me to process in the first hour of the new year!!!”
……
When Huo Yuntao snuck out to the garage, he bumped right into his cousin, who had just finished setting off fireworks with the kids.
The cousin, an honest and kind man, asked, “Where are you off to?”
Huo Yuntao gestured for silence, whispering, “A friend’s in trouble. I have to go check on him.”
Huo Yuntao’s expression was so sincere that his cousin immediately showed concern. “What happened? Can I help?”
Huo Yuntao shook his head gravely. “It’s an accident, a sudden one. No one can help him. I’m just going to offer some emotional support.”
The cousin, holding his child’s hand, full of righteous kindness, asked, “Lu Yiyao?”
Huo Yuntao, caught off guard, stepped back. “How did you know…”
The cousin adjusted his glasses naturally. “You only have that one friend in China, don’t you?”
Huo Yuntao swallowed, feeling a bittersweet resignation.
Driving his sports car along the deserted second ring, he began to reflect on whether his life was a failure.
While Huo Yuntao slipped out, Lu Yiyao also stealthily drove off.
On New Year’s Eve, not many places were open, so the two arranged to meet at Lu Yiyao’s apartment.
When Huo Yuntao arrived, Lu Yiyao was already waiting. The room was warm, the lighting cozy, and even the lemon soda was ready.
After a long time apart, the two needed no pleasantries. As soon as Huo Yuntao entered, he urged, while changing his shoes, “Hurry up and get to the point. I want to hear all the details. Everything.”
While his words still sparkled with curiosity, Huo Yuntao’s demeanor was devoid of his usual playfulness and as serious as he could be, rivaling Lu Guoming.
Lu Yiyao understood; when it comes to sexual orientation, nothing is trivial. Everything can be joked about, but not this.
Half an hour later.
Lu Yiyao’s soda was half-finished, and Huo Yuntao’s was already empty; one might think the latter was the one recounting the story.
“So that’s it. I’m sure I like him now, so I suspect I’m gay.”
Huo Yuntao, who had hurriedly donned a cashmere sweater in his haste to leave, was now sweating in Lu Yiyao’s warm apartment.
“Find me a T-shirt first.” Huo Yuntao felt he might overheat. No, perhaps he already had.
Lu Yiyao rolled his eyes, waiting for a while only to hear “I need to change,” which was definitely something only a close friend would say.
Their sizes were similar, so Lu Yiyao found a new T-shirt he hadn’t worn yet for Huo Yuntao.
Without any hesitation, Huo Yuntao stripped off his cashmere sweater in front of Lu Yiyao and put on the T-shirt, instantly feeling cooler. His mood seemed to lighten a bit as well.
After downing Lu Yiyao’s soda water in one gulp, Huo Yuntao got straight to the point. “I just have one question for you: Do you want to sleep with him?”
Lu Yiyao froze, his mind instantly flooded with a tumult of censored images.
“Ahem,” Lu Yiyao regained his composure, cleared his throat, and said in a deep voice, “Your question is too crude.”
Huo Yuntao looked at him disdainfully. “Not nearly as crude as what you’re imagining.”
They stared at each other in silence.
After a while.
Lu Yiyao was the first to look away, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
Huo Yuntao held his forehead, resigned to the fact that his friend was beyond saving.
“But why have I never liked men before?” Lu Yiyao pondered, a question that had been bothering him.
At this point, as a friend, Huo Yuntao could only help his friend in his self-exploration. “Have you ever liked any woman before?”
Lu Yiyao frowned, dredging his memory but coming up empty.
“But when you changed clothes in front of me just now, I didn’t feel anything.”
“Thanks for confirming our rock-solid friendship,” Huo Yuntao said irritably. “Just because I like women doesn’t mean I’m attracted to every woman.”
Lu Yiyao fell silent.
Huo Yuntao sighed, suddenly feeling a bit sympathetic.
This was the result he least wanted to see, but it often happens that the more you don’t want something, the more it comes.
“Do you think,” Lu Yiyao suddenly looked up as if he had found the ultimate answer to the universe, “it might be because my dad sent me to an all-boys school?”
Huo Yuntao, also a graduate of an all-boys boarding school, thought, ‘It’s not fair to blame your father for this…’
……
Before the dawn of the new year, the two friends said their reluctant goodbyes.
Actually, apart from the initial struggle with sexual orientation, most of the night was Huo Yuntao listening to Lu Yiyao complain about “how full of pitfalls life’s script can be.”
Fate is an eternal theme of mismatches: you like me, I don’t like you; you don’t like me, I end up liking you. People meet, pass by, get to know each other, and forget each other amidst these crisscrossing paths.
Huo Yuntao understood Lu Yiyao’s frustration—what could have been mutual affection turned into unrequited love.
However, as they parted, as a friend, he still had to remind him one more time. “Whatever decision you make, I support you, but don’t forget, you’re both in the entertainment industry.”
Zombies lurking in the dark were stirred up by the explosion. They rushed onto the elevated bridge with unimaginable speed, only managing to catch a whiff of gunpowder smoke.
The howling of the zombies on the bridge only made the area below it seem eerily quiet.
The Beetle, having just experienced a brush with death, stood silently in the middle of the road, basking in the night breeze, pondering its existence.
“Ding—”
A crisp notification sounded thoughtfully.
The three bewildered companions in the backseat immediately lifted their arms to check.
[Cheat Sheet]: Purple Qi from the south, as if aided by the gods, the Ghost Door locks before the Gate of Hell, granting a safe path under the peace talisman.
“What does this mean?” Qian Ai recognized every word and found it smooth to read but couldn’t understand it at all.
“The lock before the Gate of Hell probably refers to the recent explosion. We were almost sent home but narrowly escaped death.” Xu Wang stared at the latter half of the cheat sheet, frowning. “But this peace talisman…”
“Maybe it’s a hidden Easter egg,” Wu Sheng guessed tentatively. “Perhaps we unknowingly completed some side quest, like giving the blanket to Shen Yi in the red-eye flight, earning us a chance to survive a critical moment. It will automatically be triggered.”
“The problem is, on this journey, apart from killing zombies, we’ve only been killing each other. We haven’t done anything good, right?” Xu Wang realistically summed up their achievements.
Kuang Jinxin: “Could it be because we sent Ding Xiaoche home?”
Ding Xiaoche, the Beetle driver, loved his name so much he repeatedly reminded them to remember it*.
*Clarity: Xiaoche (小车) means small car.
After pondering for a moment, Xu Wang could only think of this possibility… Wait, who was talking just now?
Suddenly looking up, he saw a clean, round face with clear eyes like a clear autumn sky. Other than Classmate Kuang, who else could it be?
The teammate, who had woken up at some point, turned around and leaned on the passenger seat, seamlessly integrating into the “team discussion” without realizing how close he was to going home.
“You’re finally awake!” Qian Ai was immensely relieved, but soon became worried again, bombarding him with questions. “Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? Headache, fever? Numb limbs? Chest tightness, shortness of breath? Cold hands and feet?”
Xu Wang was speechless. “Are you caring or cursing?”
“I’m fine.” Kuang Jinxin scratched his head awkwardly, feeling a bit guilty for his teammates’ concern. “I feel like I just had a good sleep, so I’m not sleepy anymore. I’m quite refreshed and clear-headed.”
Qian Ai: “……”
Kuang Jinxin wasn’t pretending to be strong, as it was obvious he looked revitalized, with a healthy blush and bright eyes, indeed full of energy.
But because it was so apparent, it only made Qian Ai, who had been anxious throughout the journey, feel more complicated.
“It’s mainly because you protected well.” Xu Wang patted Classmate Qian on the shoulder, offering some comfort.
Qian Ai, resigned to his fate, flicked Kuang Jinxin’s head irritably. “Next time you meet someone who looks crazy, stay away.”
“Oh,” Kuang Jinxin responded, but his mind was still filled with flashbacks of Chi Yingxue. “Why did he insist on dying with me?”
Qian Ai was speechless. “If he could make you understand, he wouldn’t be called a psycho.”
Hearing that Kuang Jinxin was unharmed, Wu Sheng got out of the car to switch to the driver’s seat.
The Beetle hadn’t turned off after landing, but the gear was in park. It was unclear whether it was the last bit of conscience left by the fleeing Mr. Thirteen.
Wu Sheng fastened his seatbelt, shifted into drive, and gently pressed the gas pedal.
“Clank!”
It sounded as if an internal part of the car was misaligned.
The Beetle shook slightly and completely turned off.
Wu Sheng was puzzled. His operation was flawless; how come it survived the fall off the bridge, but now failed as soon as he took over?
As if hearing his inner doubts, a stereo sound echoed inside the Beetle—
[Astral Projection Mode, activated.]
Wu Sheng: “……”
“What was that sound?” Xu Wang was still talking with Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin and didn’t catch on immediately.
Wu Sheng turned around. “The car won’t start.”
Xu Wang: “Wasn’t it fine just now?”
“This is a Beetle with a soul.” Wu Sheng never thought one day he would say something so poetic. “And now, its soul has ascended.”
Xu Wang: “……”
“There seems to be a 4S shop* over there.” Kuang Jinxin looked out the car window, towards a towering car billboard in the distance. The building below was hard to make out, but the car logo on the façade shone silver in the moonlight.
*It’s basically a car store that encompasses a 4-in-one model (Sales, Sparepart, Service, and survey—thus the 4S in their name).
Qian Ai checked the time on his phone. “Even if we find a car, it’s too late now.”
Kuang Jinxin: “But we can’t just wait here.”
Qian Ai: “You’re fully revived now, aren’t you? Do you know how we three broke out of the amusement park… Wait, why are you staring at me with such big eyes?”
Kuang Jinxin: “……”
Qian Ai: “Fine, let’s go to the 4S shop to find a car!”
Sometimes, Qian Ai felt that Kuang Jinxin was the real invincible one. Wu Sheng might want to kill with a glance, but he’d need stationery. Classmate Kuan, on the other hand, came with the innate skill of “Righteous Death Stare”—indestructible and could directly interrogate your soul.
Regarding the visit to the 4S shop, Wu Sheng and Xu Wang were all for it.
Despite slim chances of success, they had been saved by the talisman and couldn’t waste this extra time they fought for. Exploring more wouldn’t hurt.
The distribution of zombies changed daily, but the city map did not.
Walking under the cover of night, the four avoided major roads and took back alleys to reach the front of the 4S shop.
The shop door was wide open, without lights or sound, and was eerily quiet inside. The floor-to-ceiling glass was smeared with stains, resembling blood, but it was too dark to tell.
“Everyone be careful.” Wu Sheng, carrying the rocket launcher, led the way into the shop almost noiselessly.
Xu Wang followed closely, holding the Lightning Gun.
Kuang Jinxin’s scythe, swapped with Wu Sheng, was lost on the Ferris wheel, so now he held Qian Ai’s screwdriver.
Qian Ai walked at the end, holding his chainsaw. He initially wanted to give the chainsaw to Kuang Jinxin, but the latter thought it was too cruel and couldn’t use it.
Qian Ai, heartbroken, wished time could reverse. At least then, his unconscious teammate seemed a bit cuter.
It was a mess inside the 4S shop. By the moonlight, they could see documents and car model brochures scattered on the ground. The sofas and coffee tables for customers were toppled over.
Almost all car display spots were empty, except for a lone white sedan in a corner.
The four tiptoed to the car. When Wu Sheng reached for the door, he gently tugged on it.
Locked.
Wu Sheng glanced at the empty display spots and whispered, “We’re not the first ones here looking for a car.”
Xu Wang understood his meaning. “If other cars were driven away, the keys for this one must also be here.”
“We don’t have much time,” Wu Sheng said. “Let’s split into pairs. If we encounter zombies, fight if you can, run if you can’t, and try to keep noise to a minimum to avoid attracting more.”
Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin nodded in agreement: “Understood.”
Xu Wang swallowed, raising his Lightning Gun. “Once I start fighting, I can’t be low-key.”
Wu Sheng gave him a resigned look. “Then just stand still and leave the zombies to me.”
Xu Wang glanced at his rocket launcher confusedly. “Are you sure your weapon is ‘gentle’?”
“Dealing with zombies doesn’t always require weapons.” Wu Sheng tapped his head with a finger. “We can also outsmart them.”
Xu Wang: “……”
Without any deliberate pairing, who teamed up with whom seemed naturally decided; they just needed to divide the areas.
Keys like these were unlikely to be left in the lobby, so the focus was on the office area. Xu Wang and Wu Sheng were responsible for the first-floor office area, while Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin took the second floor.
After watching their teammates go upstairs, Wu Sheng asked Xu Wang, “Where do you want to start?”
Xu Wang didn’t hesitate. “The bathroom.”
Wu Sheng: “……”
Xu Wang looked at his advisor with an experienced eye. “Think about where we got our original weapons. Believe me, the ‘Owl’ have a mysterious affection for places of grain reincarnation.”
Wu Sheng: “So you think a salesperson deliberately hid the car keys in the toilet tank?”
Xu Wang: “Why are you so rigid? Couldn’t it be a salesperson with keys who got bitten in the bathroom and now wanders there forever, waiting for challengers to discover?”
“……” With clear arguments, Wu Sheng found it surprisingly reasonable.
Perhaps for convenience, the bathroom was located at the junction of the office area and the front hall, close to the stairs they were at, modestly luxurious in decor.
The two heightened their alertness and quietly approached.
The closer they got, the clearer the sounds inside became.
Drip.
Drip.
The bathroom was designed with men’s on the left and women’s on the right. The dripping sound was on the left, chilling in the night’s silence.
Xu Wang and Wu Sheng exchanged a glance, with the latter silently turning on his phone’s flashlight.
Shoulder to shoulder, they entered the men’s room on the left.
Without the moonlight, the bathroom was pitch dark. Wu Sheng used his phone’s flash to scout ahead.
The sinks were empty, with one apparently clogged. The water was overflowing as the tap wasn’t tightly closed, which was the source of the dripping sound.
They passed the sinks and finally reached the inner part of the bathroom.
It was a narrow area, with urinals on one side and stalls on the other.
Wu Sheng stopped Xu Wang from going further, then raised his phone, illuminating the narrow bathroom’s end.
There, a person in a suit was squatting with his back to them, munching on something unknown.
Judging by the attire, it was likely a salesperson.
But given the situation, a peaceful negotiation seemed out of the question.
Wu Sheng nodded to Xu Wang.
Xu Wang got the hint. Using the light from the phone flashlight, he whispered a faint “Hi” to the other person.
The munching stopped.
The suited zombie maintained its squatting position, slowly turning its head.
Its face was ghastly green, its mouth smeared with filth, and its eyes devoid of pure black. They weren’t the deep red or blood red of the zombies in the south of the city, but a pale red membrane on a white base.
“Do you think if I ask him where the keys are, he’ll understand?”
Xu Wang’s voice was barely audible.
Yet it seemed to be caught. The suited zombie slowly stood up, turned around, and faced them head-on.
Xu Wang felt a chill run down his scalp.
Wu Sheng also felt a wave of nausea.
The zombie wasn’t holding anything in its hands; it was gnawing on its own arm.
Caught in shock, the suited zombie suddenly lunged at them without warning, incredibly fast, and knocked Wu Sheng down in an instant!
Wu Sheng hardly saw how it approached. His rocket launcher and phone clattered to the ground as he was tackled!
The zombie pinned Wu Sheng down and lunged to bite his face!
Wu Sheng could no longer worry about his weapon; he grasped the zombie’s neck with both hands, trying to push it away. Unexpectedly, the zombie was extraordinarily strong, and after a few seconds of struggle, Wu Sheng began to falter!
The rocket launcher had rolled to the wall, but the phone continued to cast light dutifully.
In the cold, white light, the zombie’s teeth were almost touching his face!
Suddenly, a mop handle descended from above, pressing against the arm Wu Sheng was using to hold the zombie, and then tightened around the zombie’s neck from behind!
Taking advantage of the situation, Wu Sheng released his grip, and Xu Wang, who succeeded in his surprise attack, used the mop handle to drag the zombie off him!
Quickly getting up, Wu Sheng ran to the nearest stall, flung open the door, and yelled, “Push it in here!”
Xu Wang, exerting all his strength in the struggle, was wondering how to end the fight. Hearing this, he immediately let go of the mop handle and shoved the zombie from behind!
The stall Wu Sheng had chosen was well positioned, and Xu Wang was able to push the zombie straight in.
The zombie, caught off guard, charged into the stall like a bullet, stumbling over the toilet.
Seizing the moment, Wu Sheng slammed the stall door shut, holding the handle tightly to prevent the zombie from breaking out, and quickly strategized to Xu Wang. “Climb up and drench it—”
Xu Wang immediately understood.
He climbed atop the stall in just a few quick moves, poised and agile. Aiming at the suited zombie, which was also struggling to open the door, he unleashed a direct stream of water.
When the dynamic song started, the suited zombie seemed unaffected, different from those from south of the city, as if the water stream did no harm. Even the stall door had been cracked open by the zombie.
However, underestimating the enemy always comes with a price.
Exposed and unprotected, the zombie’s eyeball was finally pierced by the water stream when the chorus began, hitting its brain.
The zombie collapsed to the ground, and Xu Wang released the trigger.
The clear, but not too loud song continued for about ten seconds before stopping.
Then, the bathroom returned to silence.
Xu Wang jumped down from the stall and joined Wu Sheng in holding their breath for a while, listening to confirm there were no other zombies approaching. Only then did they breathe a sigh of relief.
Back in the amusement park, Xu Wang discovered he could control the volume of the music from his Lightning Gun. The loudest was like when he summoned zombies on the Dumbo ride, and the softest was just now, about 80% of the volume of music played through a phone speaker.
In such a silent environment, it was still quite loud, but thankfully, the depth of the bathroom helped.
Picking up the phone from the ground and returning it to Wu Sheng, Xu Wang looked at the corpse in the stall, feeling a sense of empathy.
The zombies north of the city definitely made a qualitative leap in terms of speed, strength, and resistance to attacks.
“Um…” The second-to-last stall door suddenly opened, and a round head peeked out. “Is it dead for good?”
Xu Wang hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the bathroom and was nearly scared out of his wits.
Wu Sheng was slightly better, but it took him a while to locate the source of the voice. “It’s dead. Who are you?”
“A poor young man trapped in the bathroom by zombies.” The round head didn’t fully emerge, seemingly fond of the safety of the stall, and spoke to them with just his head showing. “You killed the zombie, so I want to repay you.”
The word “repay” brightened Xu Wang’s eyes, and he saw a halo of treasure chests behind the round head.
After calming his heartbeat a bit, he realized he was still clutching Wu Sheng’s clothes, showing how impactful the appearance of the round head was.
Casually withdrawing his hand, he cleared his throat and asked, on behalf of the still-pondering Wu Sheng, “Do you have a car?”
“No,” the round head answered crisply.
Xu Wang: “……”
Why would you make such a cool entrance if you’re an NPC that can’t even help in a pinch?!
“But I can save the game.” Round Head blinked. “Do you want to try?”
Since Wu Sheng got this stationery, he had been pondering over the words “deep*”. Is it the effect of the stationery, or a condition for using it? Unsure of the answer, he hesitated to use it, fearing that once a connection with the stationery was established, the response would be to gaze deeply at the person you wanted to kill, a confidence he didn’t possess.
*Clarity: Deep here is referring to deep affection. So fully broken down, it would be like: A Deeply Affectionate Gaze of Death.
His caution persisted until he was struck by [Cupid’s Arrow].
The perfect alignment of time, location, and sentiment made it real.
“Does your whole body hurt, unable to move?” Wu Sheng gazed intently at Han Buting, soothingly saying, “Don’t worry, this is love.”
Han Buting’s face was pale, but his eyes couldn’t move away from the gaze. As if he was ensnared by Medusa, his body became petrified, unable to even lift a finger. Then came the pain, like thousands of insects gnawing at him.
“Get in the car quickly, both of you.” Wu Sheng, having the upper hand, remained cautious, but his voice was husky and full of deep affection due to the lingering effects of the stationery.
Xu Wang shuddered upon hearing this; his emotions were complex.
He thought that the “deeply affectionate Wu Sheng” was a rare occurrence in this lifetime and shouldn’t be given to outsiders, like precious water flowing into a stranger’s field.
Han Buting missed the envious gaze of the enemy team’s captain as Xu Wang entered the passenger seat. In front of him, entering the driver’s seat with grandeur, was Mr. Thirteen of the Middle Ring.
As Wu Sheng confirmed his teammate was in position, he finally focused on delivering Han Buting his last journey. “In twenty seconds, you’ll be free.”
Speaking was the only thing Han Buting could do now, but the pain had silenced him since the onset. So, in these final moments, Wu Sheng didn’t expect a response.
Yet, Han Buting replied, “No need for twenty seconds. Five will do.”
The bone-deep pain didn’t bring a grimace to his face; instead, he managed to give a faint smile after these words.
Wu Sheng sensed something amiss!
“Watch your back—”
Xu Wang suddenly shouted from inside the car, leaping towards him like a black tiger pouncing on food and shooting a sharp stream of water from the driver’s window!
Wu Sheng didn’t waste time looking back. Trusting Xu Wang’s cover, he dashed to the rear door in a single stride!
He opened the door, got in, and completed the action seamlessly.
The moment their eyes separated, Han Buting immediately tried to stop Wu Sheng. However, though the stationery’s effect had worn off, the pain didn’t ease that quickly. Barely moving, he gasped in pain and had to let Wu Sheng slam the car door.
“Sit tight—”
As Mr. Thirteen touched the steering wheel, the engine roared fiercely. Regardless of a car key or the model, they were irrelevant in the face of the king of cars.
With the press of the accelerator, the pink Beetle zoomed off like an arrow released from its bow!
Li Zijin, who was wounded on the wrist, ignored the pain, quickly pulling the still-standing team captain to safety to avoid being scraped.
Chi Yingxue didn’t go to the captain to show loyalty but gazed in the direction of the departing pink Beetle, curiously muttering, “That Beetle sounds like a Ferrari when driven…”
……
The Beetle, now seemingly possessed by a Ferrari’s soul, reached the vicinity of the jumping machine in no time under Mr. Thirteen’s skilled driving.
Qian Ai was still entangled with Li Xia—one wielding a chainsaw, the other a screwdriver with a broken tip. Both looked as if they had just emerged from a vat of blood, drenched in it, causing a pang of fear in onlookers.
Mr. Thirteen brought the car to a screeching halt at the edge of the battlefield. Wu Sheng, armed with the rocket launcher, aimed at Li Xia. “Lao Qian, get Xiao Kuang in the car!”
Li Xia, holding the screwdriver, paused mid-air, then slowly retracted it. Wu Sheng couldn’t see his face hidden in the shadows but felt his reluctance and discontent.
Qian Ai re-shouldered the chainsaw, scooped up Kuang Jinxin from the bench, hurried to the car, and with Xu Wang’s help, secured him in the co-pilot seat and fastened the seatbelt. Then both Qian Ai and Xu Wang settled in the back seat.
Wu Sheng retracted his weapon and got into the car.
As the accelerator roared to life, Li Xia quickly became a tiny speck in the colorful lights. The pink Beetle raced towards the amusement park’s north gate, speeding away.
Xu Wang was initially worried that Han Buting and his team had set up traps at the gate, but three minutes later, as the Beetle sped out of the north gate, crashing through zombies with rocket fire, he finally relaxed.
With his nerves eased, he remembered the dire state of his teammates and quickly turned to ask, “Lao Qian, how are you?”
Qian Ai tossed another blood-soaked alcohol swab, revealing a face finally discernible, and sighed wearily. “Captain Wangwang, if I were seriously injured, you’d only remember to ask when it’s time to burn paper offerings in my memory.”
“Where exactly are you hurt?” It sounded like a minor injury, but the sight was terrifying, as if two buckets of blood had been spilled.
Qian Ai pointed to a cut above his eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Xu Wang replied, “I saw that, but what about the rest?”
Qian Ai was speechless. “Isn’t this enough? This cut alone will ruin several days of my live streaming!”
Xu Wang was even more speechless. “Just for this cut, you’re covered in blood? What about the other guy…”
“The other guy’s just as tough. The blood is from the zombies. We had just cleared the zombies when you guys drove up, and then we started to battle again.” Qian Ai was grinding his teeth, upset about not having the chance to beat up that bastard properly.
Xu Wang glanced at Kuang Jinxin, the “passive spectator”, who was clean and white-faced, obviously well-protected. The zombies hadn’t touched him at all, and even the splattered blood from the fight hadn’t stained him. It was only when he was picked up and put in the car that his clothes got some of Qian Ai’s blood on them.
“Why hasn’t he woken up yet?” Seeing Xu Wang leaning over from the back of the chair to look at Kuang Jinxin, Qian Ai asked worriedly.
Xu Wang checked and said, “His breathing is normal, heartbeat is normal, and his forehead temperature is okay, too. He should be fine.”
“If he was seriously injured, he would have been forced back to reality,” Wu Sheng said.
“I’m worried he might have gotten a concussion when he fell.” Qian Ai recalled the moment with a shadow of worry in his eyes and a cold tone. “Next time I see that guy who pushed him, he’d better not let me catch him.”
The double assurance from the captain and the advisor somewhat reassured Qian Ai.
Only then did he remember that his wound was only half-treated.
He looked down, took a piece of gauze with tweezers from the half-open first-aid kit on his leg, soaked it in iodine, placed it on the already alcohol-wiped eyebrow, then covered it with a second layer of dry gauze and secured it with four pieces of tape in a “well” pattern.
His method was rough, but the professional first-aid supplies made it look decent.
“Your equipment is too comprehensive,” Qian Ai commented, securing the first-aid kit and handing it back to Wu Sheng sitting by the window. “Isn’t it heavy to carry?”
This wasn’t a simple first-aid box but a metal case almost as big as a backpack, barely fitting inside. It was filled with saline solution, alcohol, gauze, bandages, triangular cloths, safety pins, cotton swabs, round-headed scissors, pliers, and the like.
“It’s manageable,” Wu Sheng said, reopening the first-aid kit instead of putting it back in the backpack.
“That’s not right.” Xu Wang looked at the rejuvenated first-aid kit with confusion. “Last time you treated me, it was just a plastic box, wasn’t it?”
“I had a premonition that an idiot would frequently get injured, and the entry-level kit wouldn’t suffice,” Wu Sheng said without looking up, carefully dipping a cotton swab in iodine.
Xu Wang, not understanding his intention but catching the implication, rolled his eyes. “So you upgraded to a standard version?”
Wu Sheng finally looked at him. “Mini luxury version.”
Xu Wang: “……”
“Class Monitor,” Qian Ai protested. “I took down so many zombies and only got this scratch from a branch. You don’t have to praise my bravery, but you can’t call me an idiot…”
Wu Sheng: “……”
“He’s talking about me.” Xu Wang massaged his forehead, realizing that in this world, there are those who solicit work and money, while his team members would solicit complaints.
After correcting his team member’s misunderstanding, Xu Wang felt embarrassed and glared at Wu Sheng. “If you’re so capable, try not getting injured.”
Wu Sheng sighed regretfully. “Indeed, I wasn’t injured.”
“You’re just lucky. There’s a long road ahead.”
“Luck favors the capable.”
“……”
He couldn’t go on talking with Wu Sheng, or he’d end up injured on the inside!
“Here.” Wu Sheng handed over the carefully prepared, iodine-soaked cotton swab.
Xu Wang was still not over the conversation. He was stunned for a moment and didn’t answer. “What?”
Wu Sheng said, “Disinfect.”
Xu Wang was even more confused. “I’m not injured.”
“Is that streak on your arm a crayon drawing?” Wu Sheng raised an eyebrow.
Xu Wang looked down at his arm and finally remembered.
There was a bloodstain under the owl tattoo, previously wounded by Chi Yingxue’s crossbow arrow.
“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.” He felt Wu Sheng was overreacting. Compared to Qian Ai’s cut, his was barely a scrape.
Wu Sheng glanced at him and, without further words, reached over and began disinfecting the wound himself with the cotton swab. Even if the wound wasn’t deep, the rough and ready method wasn’t pleasant, and each dab was decidedly forceful.
“Ow, ow, ow—” Xu Wang snatched the cotton swab to do it himself. In terms of gentleness, he was light years ahead of Wu Sheng, who might as well be in a dry well in the basin.
“Since you know that it hurts, stay back next time.” Wu Sheng eyed the wound, still finding it distressing.
Xu Wang disagreed. “I’m the captain.”
Wu Sheng was too agreeable. “Great, captains belong in the central command tent.”
Xu Wang: “……”
He realized that when Wu Sheng was arguing with him, his speech was crystal clear, full of metaphors, witty remarks, and references. If only he would use his eloquence for proper matters, there wouldn’t always be a need for a translation!
Qian Ai silently looked out the window.
It was just a simple wound disinfection. Did it need such a deep conversation? Were they going to delve into poetry and philosophy next?
“We’re down to just three bomb balls?” Xu Wang had just finished disinfecting his wound when he received this bad news.
“There’s even less time left.” Wu Sheng reloaded the rocket launcher.
Beijing time 4:13, with only 47 minutes left until the end of the night.
“We’ve used up almost all our stationery.” Qian Ai sounded pessimistic. “Can we still make it?”
“Let’s take it as it comes.” Xu Wang had accepted the situation. “Even if we fail, it’s good to know the way.”
Outside the car window, the night was vast and obscure.
Occasionally, they would see “colleagues” fighting zombies by the roadside, but the car was moving too fast, and the scenes flashed by, leaving the outcome unknown.
“We’re approaching the overpass.” Mr. Thirteen confirmed the route again. “We’re taking the viaduct, right?”
Wu Sheng: “Yes.”
According to the map, crossing the viaduct over the river was the necessary route to reach the hospital.
Receiving a firm order, Mr. Thirteen no longer hesitated, accelerated decisively, and rushed onto the overpass. Due to the uphill climb, he pressed the accelerator even harder, exuding a momentum of “thousands of troops and horses cannot stop my furious speed”.
Xu Wang was optimistically thinking that if they maintained this speed, they could possibly finish their task before 5 a.m. Suddenly, Mr. Thirteen muttered, “Something’s not right…”
“What’s not right?” Xu Wang and Wu Sheng asked almost simultaneously, alert.
In the rearview mirror, Mr. Thirteen’s brow furrowed with confusion, even distorting the little owl on his forehead. “Seems like… we have company.”
……
Amusement park, by the pirate ship.
Chi Yingxue sat alone in the pirate ship, swaying back and forth with the mechanical arm’s movement, solitary yet seemingly enjoying himself.
“Since we can’t complete the task anyway, come up and play,” he called out for the 101st time to his three teammates standing below, trying to be a “team player with positive energy”.
Unfortunately, his teammates weren’t in the mood.
Han Buting sat on a bench, deep in thought, with an expressionless face.
Li Zijin and Li Xia leaned against the railing at the entrance of the pirate ship, chatting sporadically—mainly Li Zijin complaining while Li Xia’s attention was uncertain.
“We were careless, definitely careless.” No matter how many times Li Zijin recalled, he couldn’t believe the outcome of their battle. “How could we let them get away?”
“Remember, they didn’t ‘get away’. They broke through.” Chi Yingxue, enjoying the pirate ship’s ride, interjected, “They made their way through—”
Li Zijin glared at him, unable to refute.
“I’m afraid, though they might have escaped, they’ll fail to submit their papers.” Li Xia, who had been silently listening, suddenly looked up, glancing towards the north of the city.
Li Zijin was taken aback.
Chi Yingxue raised his eyebrows in surprise, a bit excited. “Did you tamper with their car?”
“It wasn’t me,” Li Xia said. “It was the captain.”
“It’s all the same.” Chi Yingxue, satisfied with the answer, leaned back, swaying with the pirate ship, gazing at the starry sky as if it were the cleanest and most beautiful place. “You villains are always so cunning.”
Li Xia: “……”
Li Zijin: “……”
……
On the viaduct.
Xu Wang asked, “What do you mean by ‘company’?”
Mr. Thirteen: “Stationery.”
Xu Wang: “There’s stationery on the car?”
Mr. Thirteen: “It seems we’ve been hit by a delayed-action stationery—an explosive type. I can sense it.”
Qian Ai: “Why didn’t you sense it earlier?!”
Mr. Thirteen: “I’m a defense type. It’s an offense. Same school, different paths.”
Qian Ai: “…Then stop the car!”
Mr. Thirteen: “We’re going too fast. It’s too late. I’ll take my leave first. See you later!”
With a “whoosh”, Mr. Thirteen disappeared into a streak of light, under the watchful eyes of the others.
Xu Wang: “……”
Wu Sheng: “……”
Qian Ai: “Does he not have any professional ethics at all—”
“Boom—”
Just as Shilang disappeared, a violent explosion occurred under the pink Beetle!
Almost simultaneously, the three heard a mocking voice in their ears.
[Owl: Dear~ I’m giving you an early holiday. Sending…]
The message cut off after “sending.”
They thought the deafening explosion had drowned out the rest of the message, but they soon realized something was off.
The Beetle was indeed thrown off the viaduct by the explosion, but it didn’t plummet dozens of meters to the ground. Instead, it floated down like a feather, gently and slowly, landing smoothly under the bridge.
Aside from their ears ringing from the explosion, the passengers seemed largely unharmed.
They didn’t feel the impact or heat wave they expected from the explosion; instead, they landed safely along with the Beetle.
……
Inside the Temple of Three Religions.
A peace talisman in mid-air spontaneously ignited, burning to ashes.
The long-haired young man watched the falling ashes, lamenting, “It’s not an auspicious time to borrow a car if you encounter demons…”
The original plan for “The Great Beetle Retrieval Operation” was for Xu Wang and Wu Sheng to lure their opponents on Dumbo while attracting zombies from the south and north of the city. Qian Ai was on standby at the switch, ready to cut the power when the situation was right, helping the captain and advisor ambush near the Candy House in the dark. They were waiting for the zombies to arrive so that Han Buting and the others, caught in the chaotic sea of zombies, could be ambushed. Wu Sheng and Xu Wang would then jump out from the shadows to retrieve the Beetle. The final step involved going to the switch and the Ferris wheel to connect with Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin.
From start to finish, Kuang Jinxin’s role was to hide at the base of the Ferris wheel. As the user of [Candy House], he couldn’t afford any mistakes. Han Buting would surely leave someone to guard the car. If the zombies hadn’t arrived yet and the Candy House disappeared, the guard could drive away and pick up the team, rendering Xu Wang’s plans and efforts futile.
However, as the old saying goes, plans are meant to be improvised.
Qian Ai was the first to spot Kuang Jinxin and Chi Yingxue riding the Ferris wheel together, prompting him to abandon his post and rush towards the Ferris wheel with the chainsaw in hand, almost instinctively.
After disembarking from Dumbo, Xu Wang and Wu Sheng discreetly made their way towards the Candy House, not even considering looking back at the Ferris wheel.
But some things are inevitable, whether you believe in them or not.
Just as Kuang Jinxin’s gondola reached the highest point of the Ferris wheel, Xu Wang had a sudden premonition and instinctively looked up to see two people plummeting from the wheel.
Below the Ferris wheel was a rest area with a clear, hard surface surrounded by long benches.
The two fell rapidly. Kuang Jinxin was tightly embraced by Chi Yingxue, making it hard to distinguish who was who. Knowing that their teammate was hiding near the Ferris wheel, Xu Wang couldn’t afford to take any chances.
[(Defense) I Urge You to Have One More Drink].
Xu Wang used the last piece of defense stationery from his [Stationery Box], intently watching the two people falling. The urgency of the moment didn’t even allow him time to “communicate” with the item; he could only strongly project his one-sided intention—to save them. He must save them!
In an instant, a gigantic, tri-legged wine jar appeared on the empty, hard ground. Adorned with animal-shaped handles and entirely gilded, it resembled an ancient, golden pool of wine, catching the two people as they fell.
With a “thud,” the froth of the wine splashed up, its fragrance intoxicating.
In this thrilling moment of life and death, which lasted only a few seconds, Wu Sheng, who had been stealthily advancing, only turned back bewilderedly at the sound of the splash. The sight of the huge, out-of-place wine jar under the Ferris wheel left him even more baffled.
“People have fallen from the Ferris wheel. It might be Xiao Kuang,” Xu Wang said urgently, without time for a detailed explanation. “I must go check. You go ambush near the Candy House alone!”
“[I Urge You to Have One More Drink]?” Initially stunned by the shock, Wu Sheng looked again and, adding Xu Wang’s words, quickly understood.
“Right.” Xu Wang, already mentally at the Ferris wheel, responded casually and was about to leave.
Wu Sheng immediately grabbed his wrist. “Deactivate it.”
Xu Wang was taken aback. “Huh?”
Wu Sheng, exasperated, said, “First, deactivate the stationery. Otherwise, by the time you get there, they would have either drowned or died from intoxication.”
The smell of the wine was so strong that he felt dizzy even from a distance.
Xu Wang suddenly understood, and his thoughts became clear in an instant. He focused on the tri-legged wine jar, controlling it while softly saying, “Hurry to the Candy House.”
Wu Sheng understood; if the person who fell was indeed Kuang Jinxin, the effect of the Candy House might not last long.
Letting go of Xu Wang’s wrist, he shouldered his rocket launcher, crouched down, and slipped back into the bushes.
“Remember, just as you’re afraid of the car breaking down, so is Han Buting.”
This was the last piece of advice from Xu Wang.
Wu Sheng didn’t understand, but he kept every word in mind.
……
Qian Ai, hurrying as fast as he could, was still a step too late. He watched helplessly as Chi Yingxue fell out of the Ferris wheel while holding his teammate. At that moment, his mind went blank. He crazily ran towards the base of the Ferris wheel, preparing to catch them with his bare hands.
And then—
A wine jar emerged from the ground, catching the two falling people in its fine brew, stirring up waves of intoxicating aroma that spread far and wide.
Of course, this is a somewhat poetic description. In Qian Ai’s mind, it translated to just one thought: Damn, can the captain’s defense stationery be any more extravagant? =_=
Thinking of defense stationery related to wine, he could only think of his own captain’s. Relieved but not slowing down, he rushed to the wine jar and started to climb up one of its legs!
Falling into water wouldn’t kill them, but drowning in wine would!
He had to rescue them as quickly as possible!
With this belief, he managed to climb to the top of the leg in one go. Just as he was about to grab the jar’s handle to climb further, it twisted strangely, like a distorted TV signal.
This was a sign that the stationery’s effect was about to be deactivated.
Qian Ai held tight to the jar’s leg, resignedly accepting his fate—Captain, you’re playing me to death. TAT
A few seconds later.
The wine jar vanished, and the wine within cascaded down like a mighty waterfall!
Qian Ai held his breath and got thoroughly drenched in the wave of wine. Fortunately, the ground around was flat, and the wine quickly dispersed. The moment he could breathe again, he got up and started searching frantically. The first person he saw was Chi Yingxue, lying half-dead in the center of the plaza, and then Kuang Jinxin, his teammate, who had been washed to the edge of the small plaza.
He rushed over and helped them up, only to find his soaking wet teammate unconscious, eyes tightly closed.
Serious injury or death would mean an immediate return home. If they hadn’t returned, it meant the injuries were still within a manageable range.
But that was just a possibility.
Facing such a state of Kuang Jinxin, Qian Ai couldn’t stay calm to deduce the “Owl’s” logic. He anxiously held the person, saying, “Xiao Kuang, don’t scare me…”
Just as he was at a loss, unsure whether to pinch the philtrum or slap the cheeks, Qian Ai suddenly heard footsteps approaching from afar.
Li Zijin and Li Xia were rushing over.
Chi Yingxue had already sat up but didn’t go to meet his teammates. Instead, he looked at the area where Qian Ai was, and their eyes met across the distance.
Chi Yingxue slightly raised his eyebrows and sighed silently, seemingly regretting not being able to bring the person back home.
Qian Ai looked at him deeply, as if trying to memorize his face down to the ashes, then picked up Kuang Jinxin and left silently and swiftly.
“I’ll go after them. You check on Chi Yingxue,” Li Xia said, then quickly crossed the plaza, following Qian Ai’s trail.
Li Zijin was eager to pursue the enemy but was held back by his new, sickly teammate, who sat there without moving.
“What’s the matter with you?” After a long look, Li Zijin couldn’t figure out where the other was injured.
Chi Yingxue sighed faintly. “What a pity.”
Li Zijin was confused. “A pity for what?”
“A pity for a good lesson missed.” Chi Yingxue looked at the departing backs of the two, disappearing amidst the colorful lights of the amusement park.
Such teachable kids are hard to come by.
Tsk.
Li Zijin couldn’t understand his cryptic words and went back to his own concerns. “The captain sent you to bring someone back, and you tried to kill yourself along with him. Are you crazy?”
“Suicide?” Chi Yingxue withdrew his gaze, looking innocently at his teammate. “Who?”
“Who else but you, the psycho?” Li Zijin said exasperatedly. “I saw you jump down with him!”
“Oh.” Chi Yingxue finally seemed to understand, clarifying seriously, “I slipped.”
“……”
That agile movement, that swift speed, that firm direction, almost as if he was about to fly—that’s called slipping?!
Li Zijin had a bellyful of solid evidence ready to spill, but looking into Chi Yingxue’s eyes, he swallowed it back down.
Those eyes appeared innocent at first glance, but upon closer inspection, one could see the darkness within, like an endless swamp that could devour a person whole, including their soul.
This man is actually crazy.
From the moment he saw him kill the first zombie, Li Zijin had thought so. Hence, with a psycho, one must never argue about right and wrong. If he says the sky is purple and the water is red, then it is.
“If you’re okay then…” Li Zijin was about to suggest getting up, but before he could finish, Chi Yingxue suddenly pounced towards him!
Li Zijin, terrified, instinctively dodged to the side!
Chi Yingxue brushed past his shoulder and tackled a zombie preparing to ambush from behind. He grabbed its neck with one hand, pressing it to the ground, while with the other, he pulled out a dagger from behind his waist and plunged it straight into the zombie’s eye socket!
The blade sank in completely.
The zombie, which had been struggling violently, suddenly stopped moving, going limp as if dead.
Chi Yingxue pulled out the dagger and, without hesitation, struck again.
A second time.
A third time.
A fourth time.
A fifth time…
Dark red blood beads splashed onto his cheeks with each thrust of the knife, creating a strangely enchanting scene under the candy-colored lights of the amusement park.
Li Zijin couldn’t appreciate such beauty.
He only felt chills running down his spine.
“That’s enough.” He tried to keep his voice steady. “They must have gone to steal the car. We need to meet up with the captain quickly…”
Chi Yingxue finally stopped. He casually wiped his face and looked at the “blood and wine mix” on his hands, still feeling irritated. “The lingering aroma of good wine, all ruined by it.”
Li Zijin was on the verge of a breakdown. Did this guy actually enjoy the opponent’s stationery?!
“Jimmy~~ Aaja~~”
The already peaceful amusement park was suddenly filled with musical notes again.
“Jimmy~~ Aaja~~”
“Aaja, re mere saath~~ Ye jaagi jaagi raat~~ pukare tujhe sun~~~~ suna de wahi dhun~~~*”
*These are the lyrics to “Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy, Aaja (Come On)” by Indian female singer Annette. The lyrics are in pinyin that sounds out the Indian lyrics (so I put the Indian equivalent). It roughly translates to: Come with me, this waking night. Listen to me when I call you, let me listen to the same tune.
This time, it’s fucking Indian style!
“These people are sick—” Li Zijin couldn’t take it anymore. Why was his drone gun destroyed so early!
“Don’t expect to meet up with Han Buting.” Chi Yingxue stood up. His watermelon-pink shirt clung to his body due to being soaked, so he pinched the corner of his shirt and shook it rhythmically to the music. “Let’s just try to survive here for now.”
Underneath the Indian music were the chaotic footsteps of a large group of approaching zombies.
……
Next to the Ferris wheel, near the drop tower.
Qian Ai, running frantically with Kuang Jinxin in his arms, bumped into the team captain, who was on his way to the Ferris wheel. This moment of distraction allowed Li Xia to catch up.
“You go help Wu Sheng. I’ve got this!” Qian Ai immediately sent the captain away and then stood guard with his buzzing chainsaw, defending against Li Xia by the benches.
Kuang Jinxin, still unconscious, was on the bench, so Qian Ai only defended, not leaving his side.
Xu Wang wanted to stay and help, but firstly, using his Lightning Gun would continuously attract zombies, making it harder to escape with the unconscious Kuang Jinxin, especially since Li Xia could run away. Secondly, they had almost exhausted their stationery in this struggle, all for the Beetle or, more accurately, to compete with Han Buting’s team. Even if there was no time for the hospital afterward, they couldn’t lose this battle.
This was their team spirit!
“Captain.” Qian Ai suddenly lowered his voice, glancing quickly towards the Candy House. “I still have Mr. Thirteen.”
“Okay.” Xu Wang nodded, saying seriously, “Wait for us to come get you.”
Seeing Xu Wang leave, Li Xia couldn’t hold back and tried to follow.
Qian Ai immediately stepped sideways, blocking his view from a few meters away. “Come over if you’re not afraid of becoming tomato sauce and minced meat!”
Li Xia: “……”
Qian Ai: “Glaring at me won’t help!”
Li Xia: “Can you change the way you make threats?”
Qian Ai: “Sweet and sour pork?”
Li Xia: “Great, you’ve just ruined two of my favorite dishes.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Li Xia slid to Qian Ai’s side with incredible speed, as if he had ice blades under his feet!
Qian Ai could talk tough, but actually using a chainsaw to cut someone? That would drive him crazy!
Li Xia seemed to sense his fear. He suddenly attacked face-to-face, thrusting his murderous weapon forward!
Qian Ai dodged backward just in time, narrowly avoiding it, and then saw that Li Xia was holding a screwdriver.
The same screwdriver that was a deadly weapon in someone else’s hands was useless in his for even fixing a toilet door!
Where’s the fucking justice in that?!
Missing the first strike, Li Xia suddenly retreated, sliding back swiftly!
Qian Ai, though slow to realize, understood that his opponent had used a defense stationery!
Distracted for a moment, Li Xia advanced again—not towards him but towards the bench where Kuang Jinxin lay!
In a blink, Li Xia was at the bench, his screwdriver unhesitatingly aiming downward!
The chainsaw suddenly extended from behind the bench, its teeth cutting horizontally across the screwdriver!
The intense cutting caused a strong vibration, numbing Li Xia’s palm and sending the screwdriver flying!
Li Xia quickly retreated, looking up to see Qian Ai standing behind the bench.
The man who had just been hesitant and bluffing was now resolute, with no sign of wavering.
“If you touch him again, my chainsaw will go back to its old ways and crave flesh. Let’s see if you dare.”
……
At the pink Beetle.
Wu Sheng and Han Buting had been in a standoff for thirteen minutes.
One in front of the car, the other on top, silently “staring” across the height and distance, neither daring to make a move.
Thirteen minutes earlier, shortly after Kuang Jinxin fell into the water, the Candy House disappeared.
Han Buting, who had been guarding the Candy House roof, suddenly found himself on top of the car. He quickly realized it was related to the noise from the Ferris wheel and happily accepted this gift, ready to drive away.
It was then that Wu Sheng arrived, firing a shot near the car.
The explosion’s heat wave dizzied Han Buting, and it took him a while to identify the “culprit”.
“You wouldn’t really dare to blow me up because if you did, the car would be ruined too.” That was Han Buting’s first statement upon seeing Wu Sheng. He stood on the car roof in the night breeze, confidently in control.
Wu Sheng had no advantage in a war of words.
But he had the captain’s advice.
[Remember, just as you’re afraid of the car breaking down, so is Han Buting.]
At this moment, he understood Xu Wang’s meaning.
Centuries ahead, foreseeing that the Candy House might not hold, his captain had already written the script for the ensuing battle, smooth and precise, simple and easy to execute.
“I dare not touch the car, but that’s based on the possibility that I can get it back. If you insist on driving away, then I have no choice but to fight to the death.”
Shouldering the rocket launcher, Wu Sheng shrugged and spread his hands.
Every emotion and action were calculated to make the opponent worry he might lose control.
So, the standoff continued.
Wu Sheng didn’t advance because he wasn’t confident he could defeat Han Buting without destroying the car.
Han Buting didn’t come down because once he left the car, Wu Sheng wouldn’t hesitate to fire, and that would be enough for him.
This delicate balance could only be broken by an external force.
Both were waiting for their teammates.
In the end, Wu Sheng won.
A squirt gun hit Han Buting on the back of the head, signaling Captain Xu’s arrival.
The pain made Han Buting shake and instinctively turn around.
Wu Sheng seized this moment, rushing forward and grabbing Han Buting’s ankle, pulling hard!
Han Buting lost his balance and was yanked down from the car roof by Wu Sheng!
Close combat meant no rules; Wu Sheng pressed down on Han Buting, searching his pockets for the keys, urging Xu Wang, “Hurry, get in the car—”
Despite being ambushed, Han Buting was calm, smiling under Wu Sheng. “Don’t bother. The keys aren’t on me.”
Wu Sheng paused, staring into his eyes, trying to discern truth from lie.
Meanwhile, Xu Wang, who had arrived, tried the car door. It was locked.
“How could I possibly leave the keys with the car?” Han Buting sighed as if certain they wouldn’t “kill” him. “Only you would be so naive.”
Wu Sheng glanced back at Xu Wang.
Xu Wang, as if making a final decision, took a deep breath and called loudly into the woods. “[Mr. Thirteen of the Middle Ring]—”
Wu Sheng wasn’t sure if their last card would work, but at least for now, he couldn’t let Han Buting gloat.
“Who said you need keys to start a car?”
His question was soft but full of scorn.
Han Buting’s expression changed slightly.
From the depths of the woods, a man in a racing suit, his head adorned with two leaves, ran out, heading straight for the Beetle as if it was the only thing in his eyes.
Xu Wang stepped aside to give him room to work.
Mr. Thirteen immediately tried the car door.
Once.
Twice.
Then turned to tell Xu Wang, “It’s locked.”
Xu Wang was speechless. “I know it’s locked. Didn’t you say you could open it?!”
Mr. Thirteen looked at him innocently. “I said I could try.”
Xu Wang was on the brink of praying. “Then please, try quickly, Ancestor.”
……
This person wasn’t a “colleague” or an “NPC”, but Qian Ai’s [(Defense) Mr. Thirteen of the Middle Ring].
Right after Kuang Jinxin used [Candy House] to trap Han Buting’s team, they decided to meet up, not to steal back the Beetle, as it was too difficult, but instead use this defense stationery.
They had imagined that a flashy sports car would descend from the sky, and if they were lucky, it would come with a driver. They would then zoom around the Central Ring in just thirteen minutes, reaching the hospital in style.
This beautiful fantasy made them hesitant to use the stationery, saving it for a more critical moment.
At that time, they felt it was the right moment.
Unexpectedly, after using the stationery, no car arrived—only a driver with a small owl mark on his forehead that glowed faintly, matching the symbols on their arms.
“Can you start a car without the keys?”
“Of course, who am I? Mr. Thirteen of the Middle Ring!”
“Can you open the car door without a key?”
“……”
“You’re silent.”
“I’m the king of cars, not the king of locks!”
“The car door lock is an inseparable part of the car!”
“I… can try.”
“Hide well. Wait for our call.”
……
Seeing the mark on the newcomer’s forehead, Han Buting understood.
He had used similar stationery that could summon “special characters” before, with perfect user experience.
Losing his last bit of composure, Han Buting’s expression darkened.
Wu Sheng kept a vigilant eye on him, smiling slightly. “Your teammates probably won’t make it. The Ferris wheel is in a straight line from both the north and south gates. They’re probably dancing an Indian dance with the zombies by now.”
Han Buting looked at him quietly. “Do you know why I’m the team captain?”
Wu Sheng, feeling wary, didn’t respond.
Han Buting smiled back. “Because even if they all attacked together, they couldn’t beat me.”
[Owl: Someone used [(Illusory) Cupid’s Arrow] on you~~]
The playful notification sound made Wu Sheng’s breath hitch.
He didn’t even know when or how Han Buting activated the [Stationery Box] on his arm.
Xu Wang, also hearing the notification, saw a burst of holy golden light in the sky.
A chubby little boy angel with wings, holding a bow and arrow, flew in the light.
Wu Sheng and Xu Wang looked up, and without giving them time to react, the angel shot an arrow, hitting Xu Wang in the chest, right at the heart, then turned and shot Wu Sheng in the back, also corresponding to his heart.
The golden arrow turned into tiny golden particles upon entering their bodies, leaving no trace and not even a hint of pain.
Xu Wang held his chest, confused about what was happening.
Meanwhile, Wu Sheng was flipped over by Han Buting. Although he quickly got up, he showed no intention of stopping Han Buting!
Seeing Han Buting approaching, Xu Wang aimed his squirt gun at him and pulled the trigger!
Huh?
Xu Wang was stunned; his fingers wouldn’t move. No, it wasn’t that his fingers wouldn’t move, but his heart wouldn’t allow it.
He couldn’t bring himself to shoot Han Buting, even feeling as if his heart fluttered a bit as the other man approached. Was this Cupid’s Arrow?
[(Illusory) Cupid’s Arrow].
He had just been shot by… the arrow of the god of love?
What kind of stationery is this without any morals?!
“Sorry, I didn’t want to use this.” Han Buting gently pushed Xu Wang aside. “But you left me no choice.”
Next to the Beetle, only Mr. Thirteen was left, busily working.
“Click—”
The car door unlocked.
He, oblivious to the surroundings, looked up happily. “It’s open!”
Then he realized that the person in front of him had changed.
Han Buting raised his hand.
Mr. Thirteen quickly dodged aside, giving up the car door faster than a rabbit. It wasn’t that he gave up resistance; he had no intention of resisting.
Xu Wang widened his eyes. “Can defense stationery also be affected by illusory stationery?”
Mr. Thirteen looked up blankly. “No.”
Xu Wang: “Then why didn’t you resist?”
Mr. Thirteen: “I have no combat value, and we racers always advocate Love & Peace.”
Xu Wang: “…Why are you so racing if you’re so Zen?!”
Han Buting was amused by their conversation, leisurely listening for a while before bending down to enter the car.
Suddenly, an arm stretched across the car door, blocking his way.
Han Buting frowned and looked up at the blocker, who had appeared at some point. “You can’t lay a hand on me.”
Wu Sheng said, “I know.”
Han Buting tilted his head. “So?”
Wu Sheng leaned in, looking deeply into his eyes. “Thank you for giving me Cupid’s arrow. Now I can brew emotions.”
Han Buting felt a chill.
In the gaze full of emotion from his opponent, he heard the farewell song of going home.
[Owl: Someone used [(Offense) Deep Gaze of Death] on you~~]
Han Buting knew that if they left, they wouldn’t be able to come back in again. But it didn’t matter; they couldn’t drive out from inside anyway.
The opponents had plotted against them, and they too wanted to send the opponents back home by disabling the stationery.
It was a mutual understanding, fitting perfectly.
“Hey brat who flew the drone, are you scared without your machine gun, hiding inside eating candy—”
The shouting outside was persistent. Having only seen Li Zijin and Chi Yingxue, the shouter cleverly chose the most easily provoked target.
Han Buting smirked slightly, gripping the doorknob. This time, he pulled it open directly.
He had been worried that with only an hour left, the opponents might despair, refusing to turn in their papers and using the stationery to trap them instead. Now it seemed that the overconfident were always amusing.
Chi Yingxue followed at the end of the line, and at the last moment before stepping out, he couldn’t resist scooping a bit of “wax” from the wall candle flame and sneakily tasting it.
Sweet.
Chi Yingxue’s lips curled for a moment; he knew it was syrup.
But, it was overly sweet.
First taste to judge the nature, the second to judge the quality. Not all syrups are created equal.
Taking advantage of the sound of the candy house door closing behind him, Chi Yingxue spat out the tasted substance without hesitation.
When he turned back, he was stunned.
In the bright light, the exterior of the candy house dazzled him.
Completely different from the interior’s simplicity, the gingerbread house from the outside was vivid, lively, deliciously whimsical, and romantically enchanting, fitting harmoniously in the illuminated amusement park, like a native.
The variety of candies was also rich: the roof was chocolate with cream frosting, windows made of brittle sugar, fairy lights like gummy candies, walls of crystal hard candy, countless wreaths hanging outside made of donuts, the door of coffee nougat, and a row of trees outside made of colorful lollipops.
The frustration from a second ago vanished.
Pulling off half a gummy candy lantern, Chi Yingxue eagerly tasted it.
The first bite nearly broke his teeth. It was as hard as tires, almost flavorless, even more counterfeit than the syrup.
Feeling betrayed, Chi Yingxue no longer believed in this “sugary world”. He secretly discarded the lantern, moved forward two steps to blend in with his three teammates, finally returning to the group and getting a clear view of the heckler.
Just beyond the carousel in front of them, on Dumbo’s raised trunk, two people stood shoulder to shoulder. The one holding a strange gun, responsible for the shouting, was the one who had used the illusory stationery on him, standing silently by, though the scythe he had previously been carrying had somehow turned into a rocket launcher.
Where had the guy who originally carried the rocket launcher gone?
This fleeting doubt was like a breeze over water, disappearing quickly as Chi Yingxue focused, not on the heckler but on the silent adversary, his gaze growing colder.
Whether they turned in their papers or not, he didn’t care.
He only held grudges.
“Aren’t you the ones who insisted on calling us out?” Han Buting, after waiting for a while without pleasantries, had to take the initiative. “Now we’re out. Why the sudden lack of enthusiasm?”
“I have a feeling it will end in disagreement.” Captain Xu on Dumbo scratched his head with the gun muzzle and seemed troubled. “So I’m hesitating whether to bother with the idle talk.”
[Han Buting is on the pirate ship. Li Zijin and Li Xia are under the Ferris wheel.]
That was the information Chi Yingxue provided under the influence of [Don’t Lie To Me].
But Xu Wang couldn’t match any of the names to the corporate elite-looking captain in front of him.
“Good, I dislike pleasantries too.” Han Buting smiled faintly at the floating captain. “Shall we start the fight?”
Xu Wang was about to give the order to start the fight but was stopped by Wu Sheng. “Wait.”
After observing his captain’s arm wound for a while, the advisor, who had been quietly supporting his captain from the start, suddenly called out to the culprit in front of the candy house. “Chi Yingxue—”
This call surprised Han Buting, Li Zijin, Li Xia, and they all turned to look at the newest member of their team tonight.
Chi Yingxue was perplexed and frowned at Wu Sheng, sensing ill intent.
Wu Sheng didn’t believe in pleasantries; he preferred getting straight to the point. “What do you think of your new team—”
Chi Yingxue narrowed his eyes; his first instinct was “there’s a plot”, followed by “be cautious”. Yet, despite this double warning, words strangely escaped his lips—
“Their ability is fine, but from the captain to the team members, everyone’s too serious, as if it’s a matter of life and death, which is very dull. It’s just a game. Having fun is the most important thing, right? Besides, no one can guarantee that finishing 23 levels is the end. What if, after all the struggle, it turns out to be different from what you expected? How pitiful that would be…”
Halfway through listening, Li Zijin wanted to smack him and was held back by Li Xia from behind. Still, he managed to kick Chi Yingxue. Li Xia, hidden in the shadow of his hoodie, couldn’t be seen clearly, just trying his best to restrain his teammate as usual.
Han Buting’s face still held a smile, but the laughter in his eyes was gone.
Chi Yingxue didn’t have time to worry about these things.
The moment his eyes met Wu Sheng’s, he sensed something was amiss. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t break free from the bewitchment of that gaze.
It wasn’t until he took out a dagger and cut his own palm that clarity returned amidst the searing pain.
But the words he’d said, like water spilled, couldn’t be taken back. Chi Yingxue couldn’t be bothered to look at his teammates’ reactions. He simply looked up lightly at Wu Sheng. “[Don’t Lie To Me].”
He repeated the name of the stationery lightly, his eyebrows carrying a trace of amusement, but his eyes frosted over.
Wu Sheng returned the smile, but it was warm. “Such cute, illusory stationery. What a pity to use it only once.
Murder, heart-wrenching. Xu Wang had never thought Wu Sheng’s brain full of codes could be so ruthless.
Chi Yingxue and this team, by the count of time, were only harmonizing for the first time tonight.
The person who freely criticized his teammates in the Endless Sea, even facing drowning with equanimity, was considerably restrained this time. The only reason could be one—he wanted to stay in this team, and beneath those complaints and disdain, there was an unperceived appreciation and emphasis on his new partners.
[Don’t Lie To Me] might force him to speak his true feelings, but it couldn’t dig out those subconscious thoughts he hadn’t even clarified himself.
Xu Wang saw through it. Without the contrast of “Chi Yingxue in the Endless Sea”, Han Buting and others found it hard to comprehend.
No longer giving the opponents time to “resolve internal conflicts”, Xu Wang raised his Lightning Gun and loudly declared, “You like thrills, right? Let’s all have fun together—”
The already dispirited Han Buting, Li Xia, and Li Zijin, at this inexplicably declared start, instinctively looked up.
They saw the opponent in a very cool posture, pulling the trigger skyward. Instantly, a column of water shot up!
Li Zijin momentarily forgot the grudge he had just harbored against Chi Yingxue and stared at the water gun on Dumbo, baffled. “Fun…?”
His “fun” drifted in the night breeze. The water gun that had been squirting suddenly sparkled with colorful lights.
At the same time, the entire amusement park—no, the entire ten-mile radius—heard deafening dance music. The volume was like a hundred square dance speakers blaring in unison!
“Quack quack quack quack, I’m gonna get eight-pack abs~~~~”
“Quack quack quack quack, I’m gonna get eight-pack abs*~~~~”
Li Zijin stepped back in horror, stepping on Li Xia’s foot. Li Xia remained oblivious, only wishing for silence.
Curious, Chi Yingxue pulled out his phone, opened the music recognition app. After a long while, he remembered there was no network, feeling quite disappointed.
Han Buting, seemingly unaffected by the disturbance, calmly assessed. “They’re trying to attract zombies with the noise and chaos to steal the car.”
Li Zijin and Li Xia became serious.
“Then let’s send them back home before the zombies come.” Han Buting directed his gaze at the two people on Dumbo, raising his voice to ensure his teammates heard. “I’ll guard the candy house to prevent them from stealing the car. Li Zijin, Li Xia, you two go to Dumbo.”
“Chi Yingxue.” Han Buting looked at the new teammate. “You’re responsible for finding the other two. No need for idle talk, just send them back.”
“The main force is on Dumbo.” Chi Yingxue, not wanting to search for anyone other than Wu Sheng, countered, “I should go there.”
“You’re more capable than Li Zijin and Li Xia when serious.” Han Buting paused for two seconds, gently shaking his head. “But I don’t trust you right now.”
……
“Quack quack quack quack, my glutes and pecs~~”
The invasive music made Li Zijin, crawling through the bushes, feel dizzy. From a distance, it was already maddening; up close, it was sheer hell.
“Remember, once, we, get, up, there, first, stomp, the, gun, into, pieces.” Li Zijin voiced his ambitious goal through gritted teeth.
“Okay,” Li Xia rarely agreed with his juvenile teammate.
As they were about to act, the lights in the amusement park suddenly went out again. All the rides stopped, and the park plunged back into darkness. The gun on Dumbo with its flashing lights was gone too.
But the music continued.
The two struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness, blinking hard but still unable to see anything. The music seemed to be moving away, but it was so loud that even a slight decrease wasn’t noticeable.
As they hesitated, the music abruptly stopped.
The lights in the amusement park flared on again!
But the people on Dumbo were gone.
Li Xia and Li Zijin realized then that the opponents had someone controlling the main switch from afar!
Near the eastern wall of the amusement park.
Qian Ai, who had just flipped the main switch back on, picked up his chainsaw again, looking up at the sky with a sense of grandeur.
The wind howled and the river was cold; the brave man who pulled the switch controlled the entire situation.
According to the plan, the captain and the advisor would take advantage of the darkness to slip away, while Kuang Jinxin would hide near the Ferris wheel, waiting for the captain or advisor who managed to steal the car to pick him up.
With no one on Dumbo, Qian Ai glanced towards the Ferris wheel, knowing he wouldn’t see his teammate hidden below but somehow feeling reassured by the look.
But that look revealed Kuang Jinxin wasn’t hiding under the Ferris wheel as planned; he was actually sitting on the Ferris wheel. And he was with the opponent.
Qian Ai’s face darkened as he swore. “Is this a fucking date?!”
After scolding, without even thinking, he hoisted his chainsaw and headed towards the Ferris wheel.
……
The Ferris wheel.
The open “hanging baskets” shaped like bathtubs, slowly ascended as they rotated. Kuang Jinxin and Chi Yingxue sat opposite each other in the same winged little bathtub, barely a meter apart.
Kuang Jinxin gripped the scythe he had exchanged from Wu Sheng. Although seated, he was on high alert, sweat forming in his palms.
“What are you nervous about?” Chi Yingxue flicked his empty hands. “I threw away the crossbow and arrows. Isn’t that sincerity enough?”
“You should be talking to your own teammates.” Kuang Jinxin remained unfazed. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then why did you push me off with the handle of your scythe when I was about to climb up just now?” Chi Yingxue tilted his head to look at him, his eyes clear, appearing very sincere.
Kuang Jinxin met his gaze without any evasion. “I won’t kill someone just because ‘they won’t die’.”
Chi Yingxue laughed. “You guys have only been here a few days, right?”
Kuang Jinxin pursed his lips and kept silent.
Chi Yingxue seemed to have a trace of faint envy in his eyes. “The longer you stay here, the colder your heart gets. Cherish it now.”
Kuang Jinxin’s defenses wavered slightly, and somehow, looking at Chi Yingxue, he was reminded of Mao Qiping.
“When did you come in?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Five months ago,” Chi Yingxue answered.
Kuang Jinxin was stunned. “Then how come you’re only at the third level?”
“My personality isn’t good, so no team wanted me. It was hard to form one, and even then, it didn’t last long.” Chi Yingxue smiled lightly, with a hint of bitterness. “I thought I finally didn’t have to float around anymore when I joined this team.”
Kuang Jinxin remembered his attitude towards his teammates in the Endless Sea and compared it to today; the difference was indeed stark. “Do you like them?”
The nuanced question caught Chi Yingxue off guard, and then it amused him. “Not that deep.” He slightly turned his head, looking into the vast night sky with a gentle gaze, as if lost in not-too-bad memories. “When I joined, Han Buting said they didn’t mind my difficulty, as long as the ability was enough…”
“So, it’s rare to find a reliable team. I also want to continue with them.” Chi Yingxue looked back at Kuang Jinxin, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “All ruined by you guys.”
Kuang Jinxin was confused. “What do you mean?”
Chi Yingxue watched for a long time, finally confirming that the other side really didn’t understand, and sighed. “Don’t lie to me. If it wasn’t for your teammate using that damned stationery on me, I wouldn’t have offended everyone.”
“Are they angry?” Kuang Jinxin finally caught up, but then thought. “Didn’t they say they didn’t mind your difficulty? So why would they be angry if you spoke the truth?”
“……” Chi Yingxue found himself speechless in the face of such logic.
“And even if Wu Sheng used the illusory on you, if you didn’t have so many grievances inside, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Kuang Jinxin reasoned with him. “They said they could accept your bad temper, but they didn’t manage to do it; that’s their fault. You have grievances against them but don’t communicate honestly, keeping more and more resentment inside; that’s your fault.”
“Is Wu Sheng completely blameless?” Chi Yingxue, remembering the name, asked bitterly.
“You shot our captain, and he used the illusory on you.”
“A scratch also counts as a shot?” Chi Yingxue extended his hand. “Look clearly. This is what counts as a wound.”
There was a deep cut across his palm. The old blood had clotted, but fresh blood still oozed out.
“When did you do this?” Kuang Jinxin winced, but he distinctly remembered that Chi Yingxue was uninjured when they first encountered him, and afterward, it had all been them attacking and their team fleeing; there had been no further real contact.
“I did it myself.” He spoke frankly.
Kuang Jinxin was bewildered. “Why?”
“I have to thank your so-called good teammate. The moment we locked eyes, I had to spill the truth about everything.” Chi Yingxue retracted his arm, shaking off the blood. “If I didn’t do this, I wouldn’t know how much more truth I would have to say.”
The emphasis on “truth” was deliberate, filled with mockery.
Kuang Jinxin’s eyes again showed strong disagreement. Chi Yingxue glanced and felt a headache coming, so he took the initiative. “Kid…”
The other side suddenly spoke earnestly, and Kuang Jinxin instinctively listened.
Chi Yingxue leaned forward a bit, getting closer. “Everyone has a dark side, but reason can control it, so we have white lies. If everyone spoke the truth, the world would no longer have unity and friendship, no deep bonds.”
Kuang Jinxin disagreed with his statement, but the current Chi Yingxue, serious, sincere, and calm, was a stark contrast from the one who attacked them on the carousel.
This made Kuang Jinxin willing to communicate with him, despite their different perspectives. “I don’t know what kind of teammates you’ve encountered before, but in our team, we speak openly and deal with each other honestly. As a result, we made it from the first level to here in just seven days, even visiting the Endless Sea in between.”
“Which Endless Sea?” Chi Yingxue asked.
“Shaanxi’s.” Kuang Jinxin gave him a straight answer. “We’ve met there before on the sea. You just forgot.”
“I remember.” Chi Yingxue’s eyebrows lifted with a teasing smile, as if he had succeeded in his ploy. “Before I fell into the sea, I even greeted you.”
Kuang Jinxin was taken aback.
“Actually, I wanted to find Wu Sheng.” Chi Yingxue suddenly switched to a seemingly unrelated topic, “But the captain wouldn’t let me, so I had to come to you.”
“What do you want with me?” Kuang Jinxin asked without much thought, just following the conversation.
“Quick battle, quick decision, send you back home,” Chi Yingxue said. “But after chatting with you, I changed my mind. That’s why we’ve been able to talk so pleasantly until now.”
Kuang Jinxin tentatively asked, “You want to negotiate peace?”
Chi Yingxue couldn’t help but laugh at this train of thought. “No, no, no.” He waved his hand, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. “I want to make you understand this cruel world.”
Their little bathtub-shaped seat had reached its highest point. Kuang Jinxin hadn’t even realized what was happening before Chi Yingxue hugged him and took him out of the bathtub.
In the moment of falling, Kuang Jinxin’s confusion surprisingly outweighed his fear.
There were a thousand ways for this man to send him back home. Why choose mutual destruction?
In the rapid descent, everything around them blurred, except for the darkness in Chi Yingxue’s eyes, which Kuang Jinxin saw clearly.
It bizarrely harmonized with the brilliant smile still on his face.
Suddenly, Kuang Jinxin had a strong notion.
This man wanted to kill him.
And also wanted to kill himself.
“Xiao Kuang, hold your breath—”
In the sharp wind whipping past his ears, he faintly heard his captain’s voice. Before Kuang Jinxin could react, he and Chi Yingxue plunged into the water together.
The massive shock to the body from falling from a great height into water was unimaginable. Chi Yingxue’s arms loosened instantly. Kuang Jinxin felt a dull pain strike his body the moment he hit the water, like being hit with a blunt object, and then, he lost consciousness.
He didn’t get the chance to hear the delayed alert in his ears—
[Owl: Someone used [(Defense) I Urge You to Have One More Drink] on you~~]
At the moment of wrap-up, Ran Lin had imagined feeling a variety of emotions—excitement, reflection, exhilaration, reluctance, and more.
But he never anticipated feeling so wistful, as if a part of his soul had been taken away. It was an emptiness he had never experienced before, a feeling he first encountered with <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.
Perhaps it was because this was his first major role, with significant screen time over a long period and deeply immersed, that when Fang Xian ceased to exist in the world, a piece of his heart left with the character.
This mood persisted at the wrap party.
As Chinese New Year approached, the post-production phase of the entire shoot was a race against time. Finally, thanks to the heavy snowfall, they managed to wrap up a day earlier than planned, saving the time and effort it would have taken to create a snowy scene.
For a large-scale production like <Sword of Fallen Flowers> this one-day advance meant saving at least hundreds of thousands in basic expenses, not to mention the costs for actors, locations, and other logistics. Often, film crews don’t just fail to finish early; they delay for various reasons, leading to soaring expenses in venue rentals, actor salaries, and day-to-day costs.
Comparing the two scenarios, the producer, who had been stressed about controlling the budget throughout the shoot, was so moved by the turn of events that they felt like offering incense in gratitude.
In appreciation of the cast and crew’s hard work, the standard wrap party was upgraded to a luxurious feast. Everyone headed straight to the hotel after wrapping up, and before they even warmed their seats, a variety of delicious dishes started flowing in, each one more tempting than the last.
With delicious food set in front of them, who would care about other things? After months of hard work, everyone dived into the feast with the intent to make up for all the hardships, eating and drinking merrily.
Within an hour, everyone loosened up, chatting loudly, urging each other to drink, eating heartily, and taking joyful group photos. It was hard to distinguish between directors, producers, lighting crew, and crew members in the jovial atmosphere.
Ran Lin was happy, but his joy was shadowed by a sense of emptiness, making his happiness seem quiet and subdued. He didn’t share Tang Xiaoyu’s excitement of wanting to drink with everyone; instead, he quietly watched everything, enjoying the moment in his own subdued way.
Thankfully, in the hustle and bustle of the party, no one seemed to notice his mood.
“What are you thinking about?”
Well, except for Lu Yiyao, his tablemate.
The main actors were seated with the producer, director, and scriptwriter, but at that moment, the producer and director were engaged in conversations elsewhere, and the scriptwriter and the third male lead were deeply engrossed in a discussion about poetry and philosophy, completely forgetting the others at the table.
That left the first and second leads, one who didn’t care for the drinking culture and was politely declining drinks, and the other who had finished his social duties and was now leisurely enjoying some more dishes.
Lu Yiyao, after changing out of his costume, was dressed in a high-neck sweater and a wool coat, looking dashing and refined. Now, with the coat off, his demeanor softened. High-neck sweaters aren’t easy to pull off; they can make one look neckless and frumpy. But on Lu Yiyao, it looked perfect, enhancing his polite and dignified demeanor. His hair was casually styled; most of it was swept back with a few strands falling over his forehead, making his attractive eyes even more captivating.
Fortunately, he seemed to have turned off his charm, his gaze clear and calm. Ran Lin was able to respond after a moment’s thought, smiling. “Just thinking that I’ll have to set my alarm later from tomorrow on. Kind of don’t want to.”
Lu Yiyao chuckled, teasingly suggesting, “Well, you wake up in stages anyways. Just set the last alarm.”
Ran Lin playfully retorted. “Then there’s no need to get up at eight if he starts the first phase at four.”
Lu Yiyao laughed, revealing his white teeth. Ran Lin was dazzled by the sight and suddenly asked, “Do you have a toothpaste endorsement?”
Lu Yiyao was stunned, blinking in confusion, and shook his head.
As Ran Lin stuffed a snow cotton red bean pastry into his mouth, he seriously and earnestly suggested, “You should have your agent discuss one for you. Really, it’s a waste not to endorse something with those teeth of yours.”
The friend’s suggestion was sincere and serious, but as he continued eating, puffing his cheeks like a hamster, it lacked any persuasive power.
Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but laugh and feel helpless, casually picking another pastry for him.
Ran Lin, never one to refuse, puffed his cheeks out again, graciously munching away and politely saying, “Don’t just feed me. Have some yourself… It’s really good…”
There were a few dishes on the table that Lu Yiyao hadn’t tried, and this pastry was among them. However, having his appetite piqued, he picked one up and took a bite, only to feel a bit awkward.
The pastry was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, sweet and rich—the chef’s skills were impeccable. But for him, the dish was just too sweet.
“Is it not good?” Ran Lin immediately understood Lu Yiyao’s expression, somewhat surprised. He chewed a few more times, finding his piece delightful.
“It’s a bit sweet,” Lu Yiyao said tactfully.
“Snow cotton red bean is supposed to be sweet.” Ran Lin, thinking he was criticizing, instinctively defended the chef. “And this red bean paste must be homemade by the hotel, not greasy at all, and not overly sweet…”
“It’s not that.” Lu Yiyao knew there was a misunderstanding and explained, “It’s not the dish’s problem. I’m just not very fond of sweets in general.”
“Oh…” Ran Lin felt a bit embarrassed and fell silent, not wanting to babble any further. After a while, feeling he had to express himself, he still muttered, “Maybe you should eat sweets occasionally. They can make you feel better.”
Lu Yiyao tilted his head to think for a moment, then said seriously, “No worries. I seldom feel down.”
Ran Lin glared at him. “Are you bragging?”
Lu Yiyao laughed and openly admitted, “Probably.”
Ran Lin wanted to kick him. But that was just a thought. Starting tomorrow, it would be difficult even to see him, and he couldn’t bear to part with even a few kicks.
“After the drama, what are your work plans?” Lu Yiyao asked casually.
Ran Lin shook his head. “I don’t know. Xi Jie hasn’t told me yet. I guess there are no arrangements. I’ll go home for the New Year first. What about you?”
“The same, going home first,” Lu Yiyao’s eyes softened. “But I have to start working on the fourth day of the lunar year, flying to Changsha.”
Ran Lin noticed that when Lu Yiyao mentioned home, there were two completely different styles: sometimes tender as water, sometimes with deep bitterness. He was actually very curious, but he always restrained himself from asking. Initially, it was because he felt it was inappropriate to pry into others’ privacy, but now he felt he simply wasn’t in a position to ask.
Lu Yiyao no longer invited him for meals or talked about true friendship. Their interactions in the last week of the drama group were as plain as water.
“Being busy is good,” Ran Lin said politely. “Like me, wanting to be busy but having nothing to do.”
Lu Yiyao said, “Once this drama is aired, you’ll be extremely busy.”
Ran Lin looked up at him. “Really?”
Lu Yiyao nodded. “Yes, you’ll find yourself suddenly overwhelmed with endless invitations, non-stop work, fervent fans, and… a skyrocketing bank balance.”
Ran Lin swallowed, his eyes shimmering with the light of currency. “Actually, you could have just mentioned the last part…”
Lu Yiyao knew he was joking, but he still couldn’t help but ruffle his hair. “Money-grubber.”
It was meant to be a ruffle, but the touch was brief, as Ran Lin dodged it subtly.
Lu Yiyao’s hand paused mid-air, feeling somewhat awkward, then saw Ran Lin shaking his head and humming a tune. “They say money is a bastard~~ but it looks so good~~~”
He hummed just a couple of lines, deliberately off-tune, but the awkwardness suddenly dispersed.
Lu Yiyao withdrew his hand naturally and suddenly remembered a leaked shampoo outtake, so he asked, “Did you study music?”
“No, just a hobby.” Ran Lin smiled at him. “You know, during school days, being able to play and sing adds to the charm.”
Lu Yiyao leaned on his arm and looked at Ran Lin objectively. “You’re naturally good-looking. You don’t need to sing.”
Ran Lin no longer felt joy from compliments and mimicked him, resting his chin on his arm, turning his face to meet Lu Yiyao’s eyes.
“Are you planning to always chat with me forever while holding me in high esteem?” Perhaps the atmosphere was too tranquil and peaceful, or perhaps the few drinks had warmed his head. Ran Lin suddenly felt that it wasn’t a big deal to be open since they understood each other without words, why continue to pretend ignorance?
Lu Yiyao was caught off guard by Ran Lin’s question. Instinctively, he wanted to explain that he wasn’t deliberately flattering him; he was just speaking the truth, but he knew it wasn’t entirely so. Because of his refusal, there was a sense of guilt for hurting someone, which made him restrain impulses that he would have previously teased about.
It turned out he wasn’t the only one who felt it was very dry.
Seeing Lu Yiyao’s hesitating expression, Ran Lin knew he was playing out scenarios in his head again.
Sometimes Ran Lin felt tired for Lu Yiyao, wondering why he had to live so uprightly, as if he were a signboard in the Forbidden City, unable to tolerate a slight misalignment. But what was charming about Lu Yiyao was exactly this.
“Hey.” Ran Lin glanced around, noticing no one paid attention to their table in the bustling environment, then looked at Tang Xiaoyu and Song Mang, who were almost under the table from drinking, and whispered to Lu Yiyao, “Come here.”
Lu Yiyao doubted he heard right.
They were already sitting close, barely an arm’s length apart. In such proximity, how could he “come over” further?
Ran Lin sighed. If the mountain won’t come to him, he’d go to it. He moved his chair closer to Lu Yiyao, leaning in as if they were villains in a TV drama, whispering plots. Lu Yiyao didn’t move away, but facing the second male lead so close, he felt an ominous sense.
Finally, Ran Lin spoke, his voice low but his expression open and honest, contrary to their sneaky “plotting” behavior.
“Do you know what I admire and envy most about you?”
Asking questions was Lu Yiyao’s favorite but most failed tactic.
But with Ran Lin, it flowed smoothly. Lu Yiyao didn’t need to answer; he just needed to listen attentively.
“It’s that no matter what, you can discuss anything openly because you don’t hide any darkness in your heart, so you’re willing to pull others to bask in the sunlight with you.”
Ran Lin spoke frankly, his gaze steady and clear.
Lu Yiyao was stunned.
At that moment, he couldn’t tell if he was facing Ran Lin or Fang Xian; Ran Lin wasn’t this laid-back and suave, and Fang Xian wasn’t this gentle and calm.
“Today, I’ll learn from you,” Ran Lin said. He took a deep breath and looked around like a thief to ensure safety, then turned back to Lu Yiyao, whispering as softly as his breath. “I like you.”
Lu Yiyao’s mind went blank, forgetting to breathe.
Ran Lin exhaled, feeling as if a cool breeze had blown through his heart, refreshing and pleasant.
Speaking the truth wasn’t hard.
If it were someone else, he wouldn’t have said it, but somehow with Lu Yiyao, he felt reassured even after speaking the truth, as if certain Lu Yiyao wouldn’t betray his trust.
Like he once told Xi Ruohan, falling in love with you is a happiness.
“Surprised or not, happy or not?” With a mischievous lift of his eyebrows, Ran Lin murmured with a smile.
Lu Yiyao didn’t know what to say. Facing an unconventional friend was truly exhausting. At this moment, he felt the neatly arranged thoughts in his head had turned into a tangled mess due to a cat’s paw.
Seeing Lu Yiyao’s bewildered look, Ran Lin’s lips curved up, deciding not to tease him anymore. He softened his voice and said, “I know, and you know, so let’s not both gingerly protect that thin layer of paper. It’s tiring for you and for me. But I still need to say sorry for troubling you…”
Lu Yiyao’s heart slowly calmed down. He seemed to know what Ran Lin was about to say, but for some reason, he didn’t really want to hear it.
“I respect you.” Ran Lin suddenly raised a glass of wine, his smile bright. “After this drink, let’s turn a page on all this mess.”
Lu Yiyao touched the bottle of liquor but hesitated to move. Ran Lin thought he still had concerns, so he decisively took his own bottle to pour for him. As he poured, he said, “You don’t need to worry. I’ve truly given up. No, I never really intended anything. Actually, if you hadn’t noticed, this could have just passed without anyone being the wiser. So you need to look inward; being too intuitive isn’t always cute, you know…”
After his rambling, Lu Yiyao’s cup was full. Putting down the bottle, Ran Lin picked up his own cup, staring intently at him. Lu Yiyao felt a moment of daze before realizing he had already raised his cup.
Their glasses clinked, emitting a crisp and pleasant sound. Ran Lin downed his drink in one go, feeling relieved and as if clouds had lifted from his brow.
“Hey,” Ran Lin said, putting down his cup and sensing something amiss. “It’s all been me talking. You should say something at least.”
Coming back to his senses, Lu Yiyao, unsure of what to say, finally strained to offer, “To a friendship that lasts forever.”
Ran Lin watched Lu Yiyao drink, thinking that the man was really unfortunate. A proper star had been dragged onto a bumper car ride by him, bumbling and tumbling around until finally realizing he’s a road hazard but still insisting on continuing as a passenger.
Contemplating breaking up with a straight man to this extent could almost send one to hell, Ran Lin thought. Even if he hadn’t done it, just the thought was enough for Lu Yiyao to have a thousand reasons to break ties with him. Yet, not only did he not do so, but he also went out of his way to care for his feelings and give him a way out. Facing such a Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin couldn’t feign ignorance or wish to see him troubled because of himself.
After tonight, Lu Yiyao wouldn’t need to worry about this trifle anymore, no longer feeling the need to make amends, continuing as the busy star he was, shining in his own world.
Lu Yiyao didn’t like drinking, but he didn’t despise it to the point of being unable to swallow. However, today’s drink was an exception. He finished it in three attempts, thinking the whole time that he wanted to put it down and say, “I’m not drinking this. I need more time to think, and you can’t just decide to turn the page on your own.”
However, the cup he finally put back on the table was empty.
Ran Lin looked at the empty cup, feeling utterly relieved. The drama wrap was complete, and so was this awkward little issue. Nothing could be more satisfying as a conclusion.
Lu Yiyao watched Ran Lin’s face light up with newfound freedom, watched him pick the last two sweet bean paste buns with his chopsticks, eating heartily and carefree. He inexplicably wanted to pinch those puffed cheeks.
How could it just be over?
How could it end like this?
How could it be that just because you say you like me, then you like me, and when you say you give up, you give up, without even consulting the “victim”?
But then he thought, wasn’t it his wish to “pretend like nothing ever happened”? Now that the outcome wasn’t just in line with but far exceeded his expectations, what was there to be unsatisfied about?
Ding.
The familiar sound of a WeChat notification interrupted Lu Yiyao’s tumultuous thoughts.
It was from Ran Lin’s phone on the table.
Ran Lin stopped eating and picked up his phone with a puzzled look. Within seconds, his face changed from “just escaped from Wuzhishan” to “once again under a tight spell.”
Before Lu Yiyao could ask, Ran Lin looked at him and whispered, “Zhang Beichen.”
Lu Yiyao immediately became alert, forgetting all about likes, dislikes, and turning pages. “He’s looking for you?”
“Or rather, for both of us,” Ran Lin said. “He knows we wrapped up today and asked when we are leaving Hengdian, wondering if we could have a meal together.”
Lu Yiyao’s lips pressed into a line, pondering for a long time before asking, “What do you think?”
“Could it be…” Ran Lin said hopefully, “He wants to come clean with us?”
Lu Yiyao didn’t confirm or deny, simply saying, “Then he’s been dragging this out for quite some time.”
Ran Lin understood Lu Yiyao’s implication. In fact, he didn’t harbor much hope for this dinner with Zhang Beichen, feeling it was more of a probe than a confession. Besides, the return tickets provided by the crew were for early tomorrow morning. They could change them, but it would be a hassle. Moreover, if Zhang Beichen truly intended to confess, whether through a meal, a call, or even a simple WeChat message, it could be done.
Seeing Ran Lin stand up, Lu Yiyao asked in surprise, “Where are you going?”
“To make a call,” Ran Lin said.
“To him?”
“Yeah.”
“What will you say?”
“Depends on what he says.”
“Make the call, but don’t be foolish…”
“Elder Brother,” Ran Lin suddenly used his character’s name for Lu Yiyao. “I’m a thousand times smarter than you, okay?”
Lu Yiyao was taken aback, not only by the address but also by the attitude.
Unconsciously smiling, he said, “Go on, Young Master Fang.”
Ran Lin took his phone to a relatively quiet corner, calmed his mind for a moment, then dialed Zhang Beichen’s number.
The other side picked up quickly. “Ran Lin?”
“Yeah,” Ran Lin tried to sound natural. “The wrap party is still going. It’s a bit noisy.”
“No problem,” Zhang Beichen said. “Did you get my message?”
Ran Lin replied, “Got it, but we probably can’t make it. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”
“Oh…” Zhang Beichen sounded slightly downcast.
Ran Lin felt a strange twinge, unclear if it was discomfort or hope.
“Do you have something to say?” he asked. “If there’s something, you can say it over the phone.”
There was silence on the other end.
It might have been a moment or an eternity, Ran Lin waited intently, losing track of time.
Finally, the voice on the other end brightened, as if even the initial downcast tone had disappeared. “Nothing much, just that after spending several months here, it’s a pity we only got together once.”
Ran Lin’s eyes dimmed, and after a long while, he said, “Yeah, it’s a pity.”
They chatted a bit more about inconsequential things, mostly about their experiences filming. Ran Lin inexplicably didn’t want to continue the conversation and ended the call hastily.
Turning around, he found Lu Yiyao had come up behind him at some point.
“What did he say?” Lu Yiyao asked.
Ran Lin sighed, forcing a smile.
Lu Yiyao understood and shrugged. “As expected, don’t worry too much.”
Ran Lin shook his head, sincerely saying, “It’s fine.”
It was really okay.
Some time had passed, and the busy work had already diluted the discomfort. The only reason for making the call was holding onto that last bit of hope.
Perhaps Zhang Beichen wasn’t the mastermind in this matter. To assume more extremely, he might not have even been aware at the beginning. But once the situation erupted, even he could suspect Zhang Beichen, so he didn’t believe Zhang Beichen himself wouldn’t have doubts. And an agent would almost never do anything without informing their artist; even if they did, they would need to face the questioning later. Otherwise, the artist would explode, potentially causing irrational actions that would lead to mutual destruction, a loss for both sides.
Therefore, Zhang Beichen might be the planner, or at least aware, but definitely not innocent.
Just like he himself once tacitly allowed his team to hype things up.
Zhang Beichen’s WeChat message interrupted the previous conversation, making it impossible to continue. Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, who had returned to their seats, somehow started talking about the arduous journey in the entertainment industry. It was probably Ran Lin who started the conversation, intending to say that from another perspective, he could understand Zhang Beichen. It’s not easy to make a name in this circle, and even harder to maintain it, so any minor issue would cause significant tension, sometimes leading them to extremes.
But as the conversation continued, he began to share their own hard-fought histories, how he became popular from a photo, signing with an agency, and the minor roles he played after debuting. It was almost like a personal autobiography.
Feeling like he was veering into self-pity, Ran Lin stopped and said to Li Yiyao, “Don’t just listen to me. Talk about yourself.”
Lu Yiyao had never revealed his debut story to any colleague, not even to Yao Hong. Initially, she knew a little, under the company’s instructions, but her knowledge was more speculation than solid fact.
He had often thought that perhaps one day in the future, he would make a close friend within the circle, and they would chat about their pasts in an idyllic setting.
The reality was far from this ideal. There was no cool breeze, only air conditioning; no moonlight, just electric lights; no sound of waves, only the noisy clinking of glasses and a mess of dishes and cups, with two drunken colleagues sleeping across the table.
But he spoke anyway, earnestly and in detail, afraid of deviating even slightly from the truth.
“I went to England for high school, and by my sophomore year, it had been eight years. People talk about the seven-year itch, but I hit my breaking point in the eighth year and was determined to return home. I was studying drama, and a friend whose family was involved in the entertainment industry introduced me to Pentium Times. My first role was the third male lead, then the second male lead, and then the lead…”
Realizing how bland his story seemed, Lu Yiyao couldn’t continue and sincerely looked at Ran Lin, concluding, “That’s it.”
Ran Lin felt deep envy and frustration. “That’s it? What more could you want…”
Even the so-called anti-Japanese dramas wouldn’t allow such a flawless protagonist!
After the banter, Ran Lin remembered something and asked, “Don’t you regret not finishing college?”
“If a journalist asked, I would say I do,” Lu Yiyao replied.
“What about when I ask?” Ran Lin inquired.
Lu Yiyao’s eyes softened, like petals in the breeze. “If you’re asking, then the honest truth is, it’s okay.”
Previously, Ran Lin dreaded Lu Yiyao’s smile, as it would make his heart race. But now, he felt an odd calm, simply finding the man good looking—a pure appreciation of his looks. With a smile, all other sounds seemed to vanish, leaving only a gentle breeze and the faint scent of flowers and grass.
“Does your family not mind?”
“They’ve wanted me to go to business school from the beginning; I chose drama just to rebel.”
“So your choice wasn’t because you like acting?”
“Not really. It’s more like a slight interest.”
“……”
“What’s that look for?”
“I feel like representing all the people who love acting but never had the chance and want to throw a cake at you.”
“Why a cake?”
“Because you don’t like sweets.”
“……”
Only Ran Lin could “attack” someone so gently. Lu Yiyao, almost as if possessed, took another bite of the sweet bean paste bun. It was a bit cold now, making it taste sweeter, but somehow… it wasn’t too bad.
Ran Lin really wanted to ask why Lu Yiyao so casually chose such a significant life decision as his major just to oppose his family. But then he thought about how he studied Spanish and how it hadn’t really affected his life significantly.
Besides, he always felt Lu Yiyao was reluctant to discuss his family, so it might be safer to continue envying the seemingly effortless career of this male god…
“Keep it a secret.”
While he was lost in thought, Lu Yiyao’s request came to his ears.
Ran Lin didn’t react for a while and asked, “Keep what secret?”
Lu Yiyao looked around cautiously, confirming it was safe, then whispered, “I’m a connection-based hire.”
Ran Lin 囧*: “Even for later roles?”
*Clarity: While the character means something along the lines of oops, in this context, it’s mainly how it looks (a shocked face).
Lu Yiyao replied, “Not for those. After the third male lead role, I gained some popularity and never lacked opportunities.”
Ran Lin looked at him in despair. “If I didn’t know you well and understand you’re just stating facts, I’d really be angry.”
Lu Yiyao laughed at this but then became serious again, sighing softly. “My dad always said that too much smooth sailing isn’t a good thing. If life is too smooth, there will definitely be hurdles ahead.”
Ran Lin suddenly remembered his own father saying something similar, though it seemed to differ from Lu Yiyao’s more philosophical father…
“I remember now.” Ran Lin tapped the table lightly. “My dad said, ‘When you encounter smooth sailing, it’ll continue smoothly.'”
Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but smile. “So whose advice should we follow?”
After thinking seriously for a moment, Ran Lin offered a solution. “Listen to both and combine them.”
“Did your dad ever say what to do when facing difficulties?” Lu Yiyao suddenly asked.
Ran Lin was surprised because his father indeed had advice. “If it’s too hard, just quit and come back to run the bun shop.”
Lu Yiyao was taken aback. “Your family is in the catering business?”
Ran Lin, slightly embarrassed, coughed lightly. “Not so glamorous, just a bun shop. It’s small, but my mom’s fillings are unmatched, and my dad’s kneading skills are exceptional…”
Lu Yiyao was enticed by the talk of food, but still asked with a scientific spirit, “How do you define dough with excellent ‘texture and strength’?”
Ran Lin thought about it and gave up. “That’s what my dad says. You’ll have to ask him.”
Lu Yiyao: “……”
Of course, Lu Yiyao wasn’t going to ask Ran Lin’s father for clarification; in fact, he didn’t even know why they were discussing such topics. But he found himself enjoying the conversation, even wishing that the wrap party would never end.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. At midnight, the wrap party finally concluded. Tang Xiaoyu and Song Mang were both dragged back to their hotel, fortunately before they got too drunk. The third male lead had the foresight to take a photo with the first and second male leads and promptly sent it to Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao after it was taken.
In the car back to the hotel, Ran Lin posted a Weibo about the wrap party of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> along with a collage of nine pictures, including the group photo of the entire crew, a photo of the three of them, and photos with the director, scriptwriter, other actors, and crew members.
The moment the Weibo was posted, all the memories of the past few months flashed before his eyes, as if sending off the memories to be archived once the post was published.
Liu Wanwan sensed Ran Lin’s melancholy and asked, “Ran Ge, are you a bit reluctant to let go?”
Ran Lin shook his head, put down his phone, and said word by word to his assistant, “Beautiful memories are meant to inspire us to keep moving forward.”
Liu Wanwan quietly watched him for a few seconds and asked, “Brother, do you have a burner Weibo account where you repost motivational quotes* every day?”
*Chicken soup. Refers to things, normally writings or articles, which affect motivation and make you feel good reading it, just like how chicken soup will warm your soul.
Ran Lin laughed, suddenly remembering something, and patted his assistant’s shoulder. “Wanwan, I did something really cool today.”
Liu Wanwan perked up. “What did you do?”
Ran Lin shook his head. “Can’t say.”
Liu Wanwan, frustrated but still hopeful, asked, “Can you at least say how cool it was?”
Ran Lin grinned, showing off a set of teeth as white as Lu Yiyao’s. “So cool that I was 2.8 meters tall today.”
In the end, Liu Wanwan had no idea what heroic feat her boss had accomplished. But she could clearly sense that the Ran Lin who finished this drama was different from a few months ago. It wasn’t specific changes, but occasionally, in his smile or the look in his eyes, he seemed less cautious and more boldly expressive, almost like… Fang Xian?
Perhaps it was telepathy, but on the way back, Lu Yiyao also posted a Weibo about the wrap, and after posting, he immediately went back to the homepage and saw Ran Lin’s post.
Without hesitation, he liked it and left a comment, then switched to WeChat, thinking of asking if Ran Lin had made it back to the hotel.
He typed halfway before realizing that it might not be necessary. Ran Lin would definitely have returned to the hotel; it’s only a few minutes’ drive, and it’s unlikely something happened. So this question seemed more like an excuse to talk.
The troubling part was, he really wanted an excuse to talk.
But he couldn’t. Not only had Ran Lin said they had turned the page, but even if Ran Lin hadn’t made things clear today, he had decided not to stir things up further. Although he didn’t consider it flirting, he wondered why he didn’t ask Tang Xiaoyu, Song Mang, or Chen Qizheng, and instead specifically wanted to ask Ran Lin.
“Lu Ge, are you okay?” Li Tong didn’t want to interrupt but seeing Lu Yiyao frowning and muttering under his breath without clarity, he couldn’t help but express concern.
“Li Tong…”
“Yes, Lu Ge, go ahead.”
“……”
Good, the assistant can now cue himself for the process.
With no Yao Hong around, only he and Li Tong were in the car, making it easier to ask—
“If a girl likes you, but you don’t like her back, what would you do?”
“Chase her like crazy,” Li Tong replied without hesitation. “Happiness is something you have to fight for. If you give up after being rejected…”
“Wait,” Lu Yiyao interrupted his assistant’s impassioned speech, unsure if he had misunderstood. “I mean, it’s not you who likes the girl. It’s the girl who likes you.”
Li Tong was stunned. “How could that happen?”
“It does,” Lu Yiyao said, feeling a pang of sadness, and patted his assistant’s shoulder, repeating the question. “If a girl likes you, but you don’t like her, what would you do?”
Li Tong thought for a moment and seriously replied, “It depends on whether she has confessed to me or not.”
The discussion was finally on the right track, and Lu Yiyao sat up straight. “What if she hasn’t confessed? And what if she has?”
Li Tong: “If she hasn’t confessed, I’d hint at her to confess. If she does, I’d try dating her. If she’s too shy to confess, we men can also take the initiative!”
Lu Yiyao: “……”
Li Tong: “Lu Ge?”
Lu Yiyao: “No, it’s fine. You have a clear thought process.”
Leaning back into his seat, Lu Yiyao mentally hit himself with a cake a hundred times for the question he asked three minutes ago.
“Lu Ge.” Li Tong suddenly turned completely around, kneeling on the seat, leaning over the back to face Lu Yiyao directly. “Is it someone from the industry?”
Lu Yiyao didn’t understand. “What industry?”
Li Tong said, “The millions of followers V. Is she the one chasing you?”
Lu Yiyao: “……”
Seeing his boss’s expression, Li Tong knew the answer. Sighing, he felt like his sympathies were aligning with Yao Hong’s, deeply worried for Lu Yiyao. “Lu Ge, next time you ask me something, don’t let me be myself. Let me be you, then I’ll know how to think about it.”
Lu Yiyao looked at him, unwilling to trust easily.
Li Tong continued regardless, “If I were you and the girl who likes me is a colleague, then I would need to be very careful. Since you don’t like her, don’t even touch it because there will be 100% rumors. If it were a real relationship, it might be worth it, but if you don’t like her and still get caught up in rumors, then it’s unnecessary.”
“What if I’ve already rejected her?”
“Did she confess?”
“Sort of.”
“Then it’s even more awkward; you can only try to avoid her as much as possible.”
“Do I have to avoid her?”
“Not necessarily.” Li Tong rested his chin on the backrest. “But if you’ve already rejected her and still linger around her. What if she keeps hoping there’s a chance with you?”
Lu Yiyao frowned. “Does that mean we can’t work together anymore? Avoid her at press conferences, filming, interviews, parties, and celebrity gatherings?”
“If it’s for work, then there’s no helping it, but…” Li Tong leaned closer to Lu Yiyao. “Lu Ge, do you actually want to avoid her or not?”
Lu Yiyao avoided his assistant’s probing, seemingly calm as he looked out the window but actually not focusing on anything. “I just feel like, now that everything’s out in the open, there’s no need to avoid her deliberately, right?”
Li Tong looked at his boss’s profile and mustered up the courage to ask, “Lu Ge, don’t be mad at me for being nosy, but is she chasing you, or are you chasing her?”
Lu Yiyao was taken aback, asking instinctively, “Why would you have that doubt?”
Li Tong felt his suspicion was very normal. “Because you look more like the one who was rejected.”
Lu Yiyao’s gaze finally focused on the car window, ignoring the fleeting darkness outside. The reflection showed a face marred by worry.
It certainly didn’t look like the face of someone being pursued.
“Li Tong.” Lu Yiyao withdrew his gaze and looked at his assistant with a sigh. “It’s too hard to be a good person.”
Li Tong shrugged. “Then be a bad person.”
Lu Yiyao was confused. “Huh?”
“No,” Li Tong clarified. “I mean, just be yourself. Celebrities should date if they want to, but of course, you should first inform Hong Jie, and public relations need to keep up. Otherwise, fans will definitely react…”
“There’s no need to think so far ahead,” Lu Yiyao said, frustrated, interrupting his assistant’s planning. “I need to find myself first.”
Li Tong didn’t quite understand. Finding oneself seemed too profound for him.
Lu Yiyao picked up his phone again and finished the message he had interrupted before—[Have you reached the hotel?]
Even as his own car arrived at the hotel, Ran Lin hadn’t responded.
Lu Yiyao was in a subdued mood all the way to his room.
He took a subdued shower, went to bed subdued, and even his dreams were heavy.
In the dream, Li Tong immediately guessed, “It’s Ran Lin, right? You’re chasing Ran Lin!”
He explained in Chinese, English, and some other unknown language countless times to Li Tong that it wasn’t him chasing Ran Lin but Ran Lin chasing him. But his assistant kept covering his ears, chanting, “I’m not listening. I’m not listening,” and even started singing—
The young man under the sun~~ Has your dream come true~~ In this cold world~~ Have you changed~~
He only knew it was Ran Lin’s ringtone, but it was during the wrap party while listening to Ran Lin’s struggle story that he learned it was his first single after debuting.
Li Tong sang so terribly that he woke up before the song even finished. It was only 4 a.m., which had recently become his usual wake-up time.
Reluctantly, Lu Yiyao got up to freshen up and began packing his luggage while listening to the morning news.
Li Tong would come later to help him, but he preferred doing what he could on his own. Besides, there wasn’t much else to do at this time.
The pervasive sense of gloom from last night continued into his dreams and lingered until the morning. Even when the first rays of sunlight entered through the window, the first thing Lu Yiyao noticed was the dust floating in the light.
Then there was a knock at the door. It was Li Tong. And his phone rang, it was Ran Lin.
Lu Yiyao checked his phone first while still crouching.
[Sorry, I went to sleep as soon as I got back yesterday and didn’t check my phone. Is something up?]
[No, just checking if you made it.]
[It’s just a two-step distance, and we took a car. Are you too distrustful of our harmonious society? 😂]
Lu Yiyao, looking at that laughing-crying emoji, felt his heart suddenly clear and sunny.
Li Tong, not receiving any response for a long time, was about to call when the door opened. His boss, with dark circles under his eyes, was all smiles.
Then he heard Lu Yiyao declare, “I’ve found myself.”
Li Tong swallowed hard and asked, “Do we need to inform Hong Jie first? You’re dating now, the public relations…”
“No need to inform her. This matter can’t be PR’d.” Lu Yiyao pulled his assistant in and shut the door firmly.
Li Tong stood at the entrance, not wanting to venture further, fearing being pulled into some dark organization.
Lu Yiyao didn’t push him and just stood at the entrance, almost in a “wall slam” pose. “So, you have to help me keep this a secret. You can’t tell Hong Jie, and certainly can’t tell anyone else.”
Li Tong had never felt such an important duty before, his blood boiling. “Lu Ge, trust me, even if it rots in my stomach, I won’t utter a word.”
Lu Yiyao looked at him for a long time, nodded approvingly, then turned back to his room to continue humming a tune while packing his luggage.
Li Tong hurriedly followed. “Lu Ge, who is it?”
Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”
Li Tong: “Is it an internet celebrity or an actor?”
Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”
Li Tong: “Where are they from?”
Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”
Li Tong: “What song are you humming?”
Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”
Li Tong: “……”
As if sensing his inner turmoil, Lu Yiyao stopped his tune and looked up. His usual smile was gone, replaced by a rare hesitation. “This is complicated and involves a lot. It has to be handled carefully.”
Li Tong: “Didn’t you say she likes you?”
Lu Yiyao shook his head gently. “You don’t understand.”
Li Tong: “……”
How could he not understand? He knew the question from last night was a facade, about being pursued by a girl and not liking her back. Clearly, his boss was longing for something unattainable!
After finishing the call with Huo Yuntao, it was already past 1 a.m. With a heavy day of filming ahead, Lu Yiyao knew he should go to sleep immediately; otherwise, he wouldn’t even enjoy the three or four hours of sleep left.
But he wasn’t sleepy.
He was more awake than ever before, with various thoughts tumbling in his head, interspersed with replayed snippets of Huo Yuntao’s advice. It was all so muddled that he couldn’t distinguish what were his thoughts and what were Huo Yuntao’s anymore.
Since you don’t want to develop feelings for him, does it matter whether he likes you or not?
It didn’t matter. But he just wanted to know.
And what difference would it make knowing?
Not wanting to accept someone’s feelings, not wanting to hurt them, yet hoping they behave as they always did—it’s simply…
“Beast!”
Lu Yiyao buried his face in the pillow, feeling self-loathing for the first time.
In the English countryside villa under the winter sky, Huo Yuntao carefully assembled the baked gingerbread into a house, ending with tears streaming down his face at his creation.
The finished product barely resembled the original sweet Christmas gingerbread house concept. The walls were crooked, the roof askew, and most importantly, the gingerbread was overbaked. The intended warm brown biscuits were tinged with patches of black, making the whole piece seem more suitable for Halloween than Christmas.
He sighed, took down a wall, and started crunching it.
Chewing helps with thinking.
He hadn’t had to use his brain this much in a long time.
Despite the solid advice he gave Lu Yiyao, he was merely theorizing from the sidelines. After all, during his early dating days, he was naive enough to believe that boys and girls could make babies by lying together. So, Lu Yiyao’s so-called doubts and hesitations—he could understand but couldn’t truly empathize.
Liking someone means wanting to talk to them, be close to them, or simply feeling happy just seeing them. How hard can it be to figure that out?
If Ran Lin were a girl, Huo Yuntao could have directly thrown this reasoning at Lu Yiyao. No, if that were the case, Lu Yiyao probably wouldn’t have called him, being clear about his feelings.
The problem is Ran Lin is a man.
When Huo Yuntao first received the call from his old friend, he didn’t think much of it, just helping a friend fend off an unwanted suitor. But this time he realized Lu Yiyao’s concern for this matter, or rather for that person, far exceeded his imagination.
Over a decade of friendship, and he’d never seen Lu Yiyao so fixated on anyone, regardless of gender.
Liking and loving might be hard to distinguish, but caring is definite.
Could Lu Yiyao possibly be gay?
That’s something Huo Yuntao had never even considered.
Having studied in England for so many years, it’s not unusual to be swayed by the culture, but Lu Yiyao never showed the slightest inclination in that direction.
Clearly, Lu Yiyao thought the same, hence his assertive denial every time the topic arose.
With this in mind, Huo Yuntao knew he couldn’t be the one to push the wave and add to the billow.
Sexual orientation is no small matter. Whether one likes men or women can profoundly impact or even change one’s path in life. Lu Yiyao might be standing at a crossroads—a slight push could lead him left, a gentle pull right. Huo Yuntao could fully support whatever choice his friend made, but he couldn’t let his preferences influence or interfere.
Personally, he hoped Lu Yiyao would remain the same straightforward person, bright future and all. Because if Lu Yiyao chose the left path, it would mean tackling a very tough road, at best sacrificing his career and popularity, and at worst ruining the already unstable family relationships.
But as a friend, if Lu Yiyao indeed chose the hard mode, Huo Yuntao would have to pick up an ax and accompany his friend on the journey. What had he done in his past life to deserve this!
Having one true friend is enough.
Any more, and you really might worry yourself to death.
……
Lu Yiyao thought all night, staying awake until dawn.
As the eastern sky turned white, he made a decision—to be a good person.
What does it mean to be a good person?
It means being kind, understanding, restraining oneself, being like the Disney character who quietly accompanies Ran Lin “preparing” for the scene.
Hoping someone continues being an intimate friend without reciprocating their feelings is like wanting the impossible. Not acting on whims, restraining the so-called “pure friendship”, is the greatest consideration and respect for the other person.
Regarding whether to wear the same clothes or strip someone’s clothes off, Huo Yuntao’s crass words had some truth.
Once one side falls in love, friendship is no longer possible.
He accepted that.
But if possible, he wished he could go back to the moment Ran Lin’s heart was stirred and strangled whatever he was doing but definitely shouldn’t have been doing in the flowing time.
……
“Cut! That’s a wrap—”
As the director’s voice echoed through the loudspeaker, everyone on the set applauded.
Beautiful flowers were presented. Zhao Buyao, who had just been “arguing” with Tang Jingyu, was beaming—Xi Ruohan’s scenes were wrapped.
This was the predetermined schedule, starting a week late and ending a week early.
“Thank you for your hard work.” Director Chen stood up and went to the set as usual to give affirmation and encouragement to the actor finishing their shoot.
“I really want to say it wasn’t hard, but Director Chen…” Xi Ruohan’s pretty face crumpled with a mix of mischief, sincerity, and a hint of teasing. “In these four and a half months in your crew, I lost over ten pounds.”
Chen Qizheng tilted his head to observe for a moment, jokingly retorting, “Doesn’t seem very obvious…”
Xi Ruohan: “Any thinner and I’d look unrecognizable.” She finally turned serious, paused, and sincerely said, “Thank you, Director.”
A drama can stagnate an actor or push them to break through and be reborn. Only the actors themselves understand the taste and gain.
Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu were sitting in the rest area outside the “Liuhua Palace”, as their scenes were scheduled for later. They could only watch Xi Ruohan and the director talk through the open doorway, unable to hear the conversation but noticing that Xi Ruohan was more docile than ever before, the director was unusually amiable, and Lu Yiyao, as always, was gentle.
“Her scenes are wrapped, huh? That must feel good,” Tang Xiaoyu said enviously.
Ran Lin comforted him. “We’ll be done soon too.”
“Thank goodness this series is only forty episodes.” Tang Xiaoyu sighed deeply, filled with emotion, “Otherwise, with such high standards and strict demands, even the martial alliance leader couldn’t last for sixty episodes.”
Ran Lin chuckled, about to join in, but Tang Xiaoyu suddenly changed the topic in a lower voice. “Have you noticed that Xi Ruohan seems a bit different from when she first joined?”
Ran Lin glanced at the leading actress again and nodded. “Yeah, she’s definitely lost a lot of weight.”
Tang Xiaoyu clarified with frustration. “I’m not talking about her figure, but her personality, personality!”
Ran Lin, momentarily confused, was about to apologize to his own orientation when Tang Xiaoyu didn’t notice and continued, “When she first came, her nose was almost in the air, and I was invisible to her…”
Before he could finish, he stopped abruptly as Xi Ruohan, who had finished saying her goodbyes to the director and crew, came out.
Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu immediately stood up and congratulated the lead actress on finishing her scenes.
Xi Ruohan responded formally and politely.
Just when they thought everything was smooth and it was time for goodbyes, Xi Ruohan suddenly threw out, “I hope we have the chance to work together again,” and then ran off without looking back.
Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu were left looking at each other in bewilderment.
After a moment, Ran Lin burst into laughter.
Tang Xiaoyu, catching on, said with a dejected face, “That’s not hope, that’s a curse… When a lady becomes gentle, she’s still a lady—one of the most difficult types of women for me in this lifetime. Even as just a partner, of course, I’d prefer the gentle ones!”
After the tumultuous Tang Jingyu and Zhao Buyao’s scenes at the Liuhua Palace, it was time for the deep-in-enemy-lines scenes of Fang Xian and Xu Chongfei.
By this time, Fang Xian and Tang Jingyu were at odds, and Xu Chongfei, having rescued Tang Jingyu from the Fang Clan, discovered the mastermind behind the shadows was Abbot Haikong.
It was indeed Fang Huanzhi who orchestrated the bloodbath of the opposing sects, but the one who used Fang Huanzhi’s plot to eliminate the sects and then used Tang Jingyu to eliminate Fang Huanzhi was the Liuhua Palace. They desired the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual and aimed to dominate the martial world.
Zhao Buyao, as the daughter of the Liuhua Palace’s leader, naturally disbelieved this and had a fierce argument with Tang Jingyu. In a fit of anger, Zhao Buyao stormed off and disappeared. Tang Jingyu, determined to uncover the truth, sneaks into the Liuhua Palace only to be captured, his fate uncertain.
Xu Chongfei, helplessly, seeks Fang Xian’s help to rescue his elder brother together.
Then, surprisingly, Fang Xian agreed.
“I’ve always felt there’s a plot hole here…” As the setup for the next scene was somewhat complicated, the director’s assistant hadn’t come to notify them to start filming yet, so Tang Xiaoyu casually discussed the upcoming plot with Ran Lin. “If Fang Xian wants to kill Tang Jingyu to avenge his father, why would he agree to rescue him with Xu Chongfei?”
Before Ran Lin could answer, a puzzled voice suddenly spoke up from not far away. “I also think this is a problem that needs to be studied.”
Lu Yiyao, unnoticed until now, stood at the doorway, smiling as he watched them.
Ran Lin’s heart fluttered slightly but didn’t show it on his face.
Tang Xiaoyu spoke first. “Right? It’s just so weird.”
Lu Yiyao nodded and then turned naturally to Ran Lin, asking, “What do you think?”
Ran Lin frowned slightly, feeling today’s Lu Yiyao was different; the pressing intensity from before seemed to have disappeared, and he was back to being the polite Teacher Lu.
It was a bit disappointing, but mostly comforting.
Ran Lin took a deep breath and then patted the empty chair beside him, motioning for Lu Yiyao to come over. “Come, sit here, and let Fang Xian analyze for you the heart-wrenching journey.”
Lu Yiyao smiled and complied, taking the seat.
Tang Xiaoyu grumbled, “Hurry up, Second Brother.”
Seemingly joking, but when he started speaking, Ran Lin became serious. “Fang Xian’s attitude towards Tang Jingyu can be summed up like so: ‘I must kill you, but I can’t let others kill you.'”
Tang Xiaoyu was puzzled. “I can’t understand this mindset…”
Ran Lin looked at Lu Yiyao. “What about you?”
Lu Yiyao thought for a moment and said, “I can somewhat understand, but certainly not as deeply as you.”
Ran Lin felt a bit flattered by his response.
Suddenly he thought that if Lu Yiyao couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, occasionally praising him like this wasn’t bad either.
“In fact, it’s quite simple.” Ran Lin began his explanation. “Fang Xian wants to kill Tang Jingyu because he must avenge his father, but he can’t let others kill Tang Jingyu because Tang Jingyu is his brother.”
Ran Lin sighed, pointing to his heart. “The oath may be broken, but this can’t just change on a whim.”
After saying this, Ran Lin realized how familiar this gesture was and suddenly remembered the time he and Lu Yiyao had dinner alone, discussing how to be friends. Lu Yiyao had pointed to his heart and said the ultimate reason lay there…
Feeling a bit awkward, Ran Lin instinctively looked at Lu Yiyao.
Their eyes met, and Lu Yiyao naturally said, “I agree with you. No matter how harsh or decisive Fang Xian’s words are, his brotherly bond with Tang Jingyu of over a decade can’t just be broken like that.”
Ran Lin finally realized what was different today. “Why have you been praising me all day…”
Lu Yiyao feigned innocence. “Have I?”
“Yes,” Tang Xiaoyu quickly agreed, providing objective third-party evidence. “Although you and Second Brother always had a good relationship, you liked to tease him when chatting. Today there wasn’t a single tease—all praises—very suspicious.”
Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected his behavior to be so obvious.
He had just reassessed his attitude, feeling like he might have been too casual before and also somewhat remorseful for not being able to reciprocate Ran Lin’s feelings. So, combining these factors, he ended up acting the way he did now.
Well, not only did Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu find it strange, but he also felt a bit awkward.
“You…” Ran Lin leaned in to scrutinize him and asked earnestly, “Are you trying to ask me for a favor?”
Lu Yiyao, not feigning anymore and slightly annoyed, replied, “Yes, I hope in tomorrow’s forest battle scene, you can go easy on me.”
Ran Lin sadly discovered his own masochistic tendency; he enjoyed it when the conversation wasn’t flattering and preferred seeing Lu Yiyao roll his eyes at him.
“Brother, are you stealing my lines?” Tang Xiaoyu finally relaxed; this was the normal atmosphere among the three brothers. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be sacrificed tomorrow?”
Lu Yiyao laughed at the joke and was about to respond when the director’s assistant came over to announce that they were ready to start shooting.
The three of them, refreshed, headed for the “Liuhua Palace”.
The entire day’s filming went very smoothly, wrapping up successfully at 10:30 p.m.
This was the most relaxed day Ran Lin had experienced in a while—mentally, at least. Lu Yiyao seemed to have suddenly forgotten about their failed dinner plans, discussing nothing but the script and acting during breaks. After removing makeup, he headed back to the hotel, never mentioning anything else.
Ran Lin didn’t know what had happened, or perhaps nothing had happened at all, and Lu Yiyao simply got tired of insisting and gave up.
It wasn’t possible to be lovers or best friends; stopping at ordinary friends was the most appropriate.
This was the outcome Ran Lin had foreseen, so he accepted it calmly, like still water.
Although the wind was comfortable, it didn’t belong to him and would always blow elsewhere.
That night, back at the hotel, Ran Lin asked Liu Wanwan to bring back a small cake. He closed the door and ate it piece by piece, marking the end of this period of unrequited love—if it could be called that.
After all, to feel sweet inside, one doesn’t necessarily need to pretend to have someone; eating cake is quite nice.
……
The next day, at the Dongyang Forest in Hengdian.
Here, the three brothers, Tang, Fang, and Xu, would engage in a life-and-death battle.
This was a critical scene, second only to the dramatic split between Fang and Tang. Though not as large in scale, it was equally important in terms of plot significance and emotional conflict.
With Writer Song Mang, once again present—dressed in a shiny silver down jacket and accompanying the crew to the small forest—the significance of the scene was evident.
The temperature in Hengdian had dropped sharply in the past two days, nearing freezing, necessitating heavier clothing.
But the actors had it harder.
The three men, about to engage in a fierce battle, sat together, wrapped in heavy coats, facing a box of ice cream and ice cubes, looking utterly despairing.
Ran Lin: “I haven’t even started eating, and my teeth already hurt.”
Lu Yiyao: “Great responsibilities lie ahead for those who eat ice…”
Tang Xiaoyu: “Really, can’t we negotiate with the writer to change it to a winter blood battle?”
All three handsome faces turned to look at Song Mang, not far behind the monitor.
As if sensing their gaze, the writer looked up and back at them.
The three sighed and braced themselves, tossing aside their coats to start eating.
Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu chose ice cream for its flavor.
Lu Yiyao went for the ice cubes, crunching away.
The script set the three men’s decisive battle in the height of summer, but now they were shooting in winter. To prevent the actors’ breath from showing and causing inconsistencies, they had to cool their mouths like this.
The director, feeling pity for them, announced the start of filming as soon as they were almost done eating.
As if understanding the day’s dramatic need, the sky was overcast and gloomy, with thick clouds hanging low. The weather couldn’t be worse.
Fortunately, the location was a densely wooded area that obscured the winter desolation, giving a semblance of summer lushness. Even if there were sunlight, it would be blocked by the forest canopy, with all lighting dependent on the crew’s equipment, so the actual weather didn’t matter.
With a click from the clapperboard, everything else faded away except for the rustling leaves.
Ran Lin, portraying Fang Xian, wore a dark, streamlined outfit that made him look less like a noble son and more like a bounty hunter or assassin. The wind lifted his hair, leaving only a stern and solemn aura, devoid of any frivolous elegance.
Not far off was Lu Yiyao’s character, Tang Jingyu, whose clothes, having been trapped in Liuhua Palace, were tattered and torn, and his face bore wounds. Yet, his gaze remained calm, firmly fixed on Fang Xian.
Standing between the two was Xu Chongfei, clad in a pale moonlight white outfit.
Tang Xiaoyu, deviating from his usual playful demeanor, appeared with furrowed brows and a stern countenance, his usual grace now eclipsed by the looming conflict between his brothers.
“Xu Chongfei, step aside!” Fang Xian suddenly bellowed with force.
“How can I just step aside?” Xu Chongfei roared back, almost bellowing. “To step aside and watch my two best brothers tear each other apart?”
Fang Xian retorted, “If you don’t step aside, then I can’t be brothers with you!”
Xu Chongfei exclaimed in desperation, “Ran Lin, have you gone mad—”
Ran Lin: “……”
The entire crew: “……”
Director Chen: “Cut!”
Tang Xiaoyu’s face was filled with regret as he wished he could bite off his tongue for his slip.
He half-expected Ran Lin to laugh at him, but upon glancing over, he found Ran Lin still glaring furiously at him, his chest heaving with intense emotion.
Tang Xiaoyu suddenly felt the urge to joke fade away.
Turning to Lu Yiyao, who, although not as deeply immersed as Ran Lin, still had a serious, thoughtful expression, not even shifting his position.
Ice cream was passed around, and Tang Xiaoyu grabbed it and devoured several bites, numbing his entire mouth before handing the rest back.
Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin did the same, cooling down their mouths.
As the clapperboard snapped again, Tang Xiaoyu suddenly felt an eerie silence, as if even the wind had stopped blowing. The atmosphere was tense, filled only with Ran Lin’s… no, only Fang Xian’s furious roars, which echoed painfully in everyone’s ears and hearts.
He shouted, “Xu Chongfei, step aside!”
For the first time, Tang Xiaoyu felt as if another soul had entered his body. He didn’t need to deliberate on how to respond or how to act; he simply had to entrust his body to… Xu Chongfei.
“How can I just step aside! To step aside and watch my two best brothers tear each other apart—”
Fang Xian stared at him with eyes red from excitement and other unspeakable reasons, warning, “If you don’t step aside, then I can’t be brothers with you!”
Xu Chongfei was in complete disarray, unsure how to untangle the emotional knots between them. He knew he couldn’t move; one wrong move and all would be lost!
“Why would you save him from Liuhua Palace if you intend to kill him?” Xu Chongfei’s voice was hoarse and strained from shouting, a bitter sorrow in his tone.
Fang Xian gritted his teeth, not really answering Xu Chongfei, but rather convincing himself. “I saved him because I want to be the one to kill him!”
“Then you’ll have to step over my dead body!”
“Don’t force me!”
“It’s you who’s forcing me!!!”
“Chongfei…” Tang Jingyu, who had been silent all this time, suddenly spoke up. His voice was low, laden with suppressed emotions, and yet indifferent. “Step aside.”
“Elder Brother?!” Xu Chongfei looked at Tang Jingyu incredulously.
Tang Jingyu simply shook his head with a hint of a smile, a stark contrast to Fang Xian’s rage.
He said, “Chongfei, step aside. Let him kill me. I’ve avenged myself and have no regrets.”
“So…” Fang Xian trembled. “If Haikong hadn’t poisoned, you would’ve killed my father…”
“Yes,” Tang Jingyu replied without hesitation. “For a vendetta as deep as ours, we cannot coexist under the same sky.”
“…Even if it means using me?” Fang Xian’s voice trailed off, as if he dared not ask the final question, the last word almost inaudible.
Tang Jingyu suddenly laughed—a genuine laugh unlike any before. It was carefree and unguarded; his usual furrowed brows smoothed out, and for once, he seemed light and joyous.
He spoke more clearly. “No need to ask one by one. I’ll tell you everything. If Haikong hadn’t poisoned, I would’ve found my own way to take revenge. Using my identity, using you, using whatever means necessary. I actually hate Haikong for robbing me of the chance to take my own revenge.”
“Tang—Jing—Yu!”
“Elder Brother?!”
Both Fang Xian and Xu Chongfei exclaimed in unison, though with different emotions, one in extreme anger and the other exhausted in body and spirit.
“Why would you say such things!” Xu Chongfei yelled with all his might, then suddenly froze, murmuring to himself as if realizing something. “You want Second Brother to kill you, don’t you? That’s why you’re provoking him…”
Tang Jingyu held back his urge to look away, nonchalantly meeting Xu Chongfei’s gaze, and continued, “You’re overthinking. I’m just telling the truth.” As he spoke, his eyes met Fang Xian’s, and his voice became louder and prouder. “I’ve never regretted using you, Fang Xian. Being used by me is your own folly—”
Fang Xian could no longer listen, drawing his sword with murderous intent towards Tang Jingyu!
Tang Jingyu’s smile faded, his gaze becoming calm, and as if content, he closed his eyes, not moving an inch, as the wind brushed past.
Suddenly, Xu Chongfei leapt forward!
Fang Xian thought he was trying to stop him, his eyes narrowing in intensified rage!
But Xu Chongfei, seemingly wielding a weapon, actually used his body to intercept Fang Xian’s sword!
Fang Xian realized too late that the sword was unstoppable…
“Cut!”
The director’s voice halted the scene, and Ran Lin, who played Fang Xian, stood straight, sword tip touching the ground, head lowered, gathering emotions for the next scene.
Lu Yiyao watched him, feeling a sourness in his heart, unsure if it was for Fang Xian or Tang Jingyu.
Tang Xiaoyu was taken aside by the makeup artist for touch-ups.
Soon after, with a bloodstained chest and a sword protruding gruesomely, he looked both realistic and tragic.
Ran Lin’s sword was taken away, as Fang Xian had already plunged his into Xu Chongfei’s body, leaving no sword in hand.
Tang Xiaoyu quietly approached Ran Lin and softly said, “Hey, it’s your turn to hold me.”
Ran Lin finally looked up, eyes red and moist but tearless, filled with a sorrowful gaze that made Tang Xiaoyu feel equally pained.
“I’m alright,” Tang Xiaoyu assured. “I will always live in both of your hearts, which is great.”
Ran Lin tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
After a while, he hoarsely said, “When I first got the role, I knew, of the three of us, you were the most foolish.”
Tang Xiaoyu understood Ran Lin was referring to the initial acceptance of the role of Xu Chongfei but couldn’t discern whether the words were meant for him or the character. His voice was filled with tenderness and sorrow—genuine emotions—not just an act.
As filming resumed, “Xu Chongfei” lay in “Fang Xian’s” arms.
His blood smeared on Fang Xian’s hand, staining his clothes and seeping into his heart.
Tang Jingyu stood at his usual spot, unable to maintain his composed demeanor. He had wanted to die by Fang Xian’s hand as a repayment, but never envisioned it ending like this.
The clapperboard snapped shut, startling a nearby sparrow.
The bird flew through the dense forest, towards the sky, lively and free, like a soul breaking free from its shackles.
Fang Xian couldn’t hold back any longer; a tear fell onto Xu Chongfei’s nose.
He shakily reached out, as if searching for something.
Fang Xian immediately grasped his hand tightly.
“Second Brother…” Xu Chongfei’s voice was intermittent, strained, and weak. “If I can repay the life that Elder Brother owes you, would that be alright…”
Fang Xian shook his head vigorously, his voice trembling fiercely. “Don’t talk nonsense. You won’t die. I’ll take you to Divine Doctor Xue right away…”
“Second Brother.” Xu Chongfei managed a weak smile and a glimpse of his usual mischief in his eyes. “Do you want me to leave with no peace of mind…”
Taking a deep breath, Fang Xian’s tears blurred his vision as he nearly shouted, “Fine! You’ve repaid it! The life of my third brother is most precious. No need to die. Just a wound is enough to repay. Hold on, I’ll find…”
“Bullshit!” For the first time in his life, Xu Chongfei swore. “You only speak nicely when you’re lying…”
“Xu Chongfei, listen well,” Fang Xian declared solemnly. “I, Fang Xian, swear to the heavens that my feud with Tang Jingyu ends here. If I break this oath, I shall meet a terrible end!”
Xu Chongfei, satisfied, couldn’t muster a smile due to the pain, but a smile reflected in his eyes, clear and pure like a lake on a spring day.
“Elder Brother…” Xu Chongfei strained to look at Tang Jingyu, saying with a hint of triumph. “Did you hear that… Second Brother said, the three of us are still brothers…”
Fang Xian didn’t say that—he only mentioned ending the feud.
But Tang Jingyu looked at him firmly and nodded gently. “Yes, still brothers. We did say we’d be brothers for life.”
Their vow was to erase all feuds and grudges—not just the animosity but also the brotherhood.
Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian both knew they could never be brothers again.
But if lies could bring back Xu Chongfei’s life, they were willing to tell them for a lifetime.
“Chongfei—” The person in his arms slowly closed his eyes, and Fang Xian called out in grief.
“I’m, I’m okay…” Xu Chongfei mustered the last bit of his strength, looking at the increasingly blurred Fang Xian. “I want to go back to the Plum Garden…”
The Plum Garden, the place where they swore brotherhood, was where, despite the plum trees, they never had the chance to see the plum blossoms bloom.
In his arms, Xu Chongfei closed his eyes forever.
Fang Xian held him tight, his voice choked with sobs. “Second Brother will take you back…”
……
“Cut!” Chen Qizheng made a deep breath before loudly announcing, “Pass—”
Song Mang was crying silently; if he wasn’t the scriptwriter, he would’ve sent blades to the writer for creating such a heart-wrenching story. How could he have come up with such a plot!
In the monitor, Ran Lin was still holding Tang Xiaoxu.
However, at the moment of “cut,” he immediately opened his eyes but didn’t move; he just looked up at his “Second Brother”.
Ran Lin wasn’t crying anymore, but the tears he shed before lingered in his eyes, about to fall.
Tang Xiaoyu reached out and gently touched his face, earnestly asking, “How do you manage to cry so handsomely…”
Ran Lin was defeated by his words and broke into laughter.
Tang Xiaoyu clambered out of “Second Brother’s” arms and hurried towards “Elder Brother”, wanting to share post-performance thoughts.
Lu Yiyao was still replaying the moment Tang Xiaoyu touched Ran Lin’s face. By the time he snapped out of it, Tang Xiaoyu was already near.
Lu Yiyao quickly extended a hand in a “please stop” gesture.
However, the enthusiastic third male lead was about to crash into him.
Lu Yiyao quickly stepped back, loudly cautioning, “Your sword1—”
Tang Xiaoyu stopped abruptly, hurt disbelief in his eyes. “I’m cheap1?”
1Clarity: Lu Yiyao said sword [jian] (剑) while Tang Xiaoyu thought he was calling him cheap [jian] (贱). They’re homophones..
Ran Lin, feeling something was amiss the moment he ran off, followed and swiftly pulled off the “sword” sticking to Tang Xiaoyu’s chest, showing it to him. “You’re carrying the ‘sword’, Third Brother.”
Realization dawned on Tang Xiaoyu, and he felt the world brighten again.
Lu Yiyao, after this disturbance, completely stepped out of Tang Jingyu’s somber mood, the sorrow slowly fading.
Ran Lin felt a sudden urge to keep this lively “fish” in a glass tank as a mascot.
As he was pondering this, his nose suddenly felt cold.
Ran Lin froze, looking up instinctively.
Through the dense branches, the sky seemed darker than before. The wind had stopped, making everything even more eerily quiet.
His nose felt cold again.
Ran Lin widened his eyes in surprise, belatedly realizing—it was snowing.
……
Snow was rare in Hengdian in winter, and even when it did snow, it wasn’t much.
But this snowfall was different, starting as small flakes and growing into larger ones, creating a scene reminiscent of the north.
The next morning, the sky was clear, but the snow hadn’t stopped. Without any wind, the snowflakes quietly drifted down, slow and graceful.
This delighted the entire crew.
The final scene in the Plum Garden, which was supposed to be set in snowy weather according to the script, was now blessed with real snow. The crew had prepared lime and foam to create fake snow effects—usually the way to go for snow scenes in Hengdian.
But nature had granted them a perfect setting!
The scenery of the Plum Garden wasn’t yet complete, but to catch the snowfall, the crew worked overnight, making the plum blossoms bloom throughout the garden, creating a dreamy and surreal mix of reality and fiction.
The shooting schedule was adjusted, and the final scene was moved up to this day.
When Ran Lin entered the set after makeup, he was mesmerized by the garden’s scenery.
Lu Yiyao was already seated in the garden, his back bearing Tang Jingyu’s solitude and melancholy.
This scene didn’t include Tang Xiaoyu—after all, it was a grave-visiting scene, and the person in the grave showing up would turn the finale into a ghost story—but the dedicated third male lead still followed the crew to watch.
The dawn was breaking, and the snowflakes were getting smaller.
The crew didn’t dare delay and hurried to prepare. As the snow covered the Plum Garden brightened like daylight, all cast and crew took their places, the clapperboard snapped crisply!
Three years ago, in the height of summer, Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian buried Xu Chongfei here.
It seemed they were never destined to see the plum blossoms in bloom, whether during their brotherhood oath or while erecting the tomb, always surrounded by verdant greenery.
After that, the two went their separate ways, never to meet again.
Even when they came to mourn, they avoided Xu Chongfei’s actual death anniversary, one choosing the day before, the other the day after, unspoken yet perfectly in sync.
Today wasn’t any special day, just a regular winter day.
Yet, Fang Xian suddenly realized that the place which held their most cherished and sorrowful memories, he had never once seen the real plum blossoms in bloom.
Once the thought occurred, he couldn’t let it go.
So, Fang Xian came here.
Traveling day and night, for many days, just to see the plum blossoms.
As soon as he arrived at the Moon Gate, he was greeted with the fragrance of the blossoms. The scent was refreshing, as if stirring the deepest memories within one’s heart…
[Fang Xian: Why choose here?]
[Tang Jingyu: A gentleman is like a plum blossom, standing proud and unyielding in frost and snow. What, doesn’t that suit you, Young Master Fang?]
[Xu Chongfei: My fault, my fault, I should have chosen a winter day to bring you two here for the oath.]
[Tang Jingyu: Ignore him. I think this place is good. Chongfei, light the incense.]
That year, surrounded by lush greenery with no plum blossoms in sight.
He, calm as water; he, reckless and free; he, gentle as jade; the three young men swore brotherhood amidst heaven and earth and the mountains and river as their witness…
Fang Xian shook his head, stopping himself from reminiscing further.
Stepping through the Moon Gate, the scent of plum blossoms was stronger, the light snow adding to the vibrant red of the blossoms.
For the first time, Fang Xian saw the garden in full bloom.
It was truly beautiful.
He walked slowly towards the deepest part of the garden, where the largest plum tree stood, under which lay his dearest brother.
Suddenly, Fang Xian stopped.
The largest plum tree came into view, but he stood frozen, unable to move forward.
Beside the stone table under the tree, someone was pouring and drinking by himself.
Amidst the falling snow, he seemed to be murmuring, talking to someone.
He was alone.
But Fang Xian knew he was talking to Xu Chongfei, speaking, and Xu Chongfei listening—because he did the same.
As if sensing an intruder, Tang Jingyu put down his wine cup and looked up warily.
Their eyes met.
In the moment he recognized the visitor, the sharpness in Tang Jingyu’s eyes dissipated, replaced by a faint surprise.
Fang Xian stood there, quietly watching him.
The martial world is vast, so vast that mountains and rivers can separate them forever, yet it’s also small, small enough to fit within a courtyard garden.
A gust of wind came from nowhere, and suddenly, the falling plum blossoms fell like rain.
Kinky Translations 