Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 41

In early autumn, the plum garden was verdantly filled with greenery with no flowers in bloom. Three young men entered through the Moon Gate, their figures slowly disappearing into the lush plum trees.

The scene shifted, and the trio stood in an open area of the garden. The youth in dark clothes, usually stern, now smiled warmly. The young man in moonlight white attire looked satisfied, while the nobleman in fine clothes frowned, looking around.

“Why choose this place?” Fang Xian, not content, looked around with a critical eye.

Tang Jingyu, unable to bear it, pulled him back. “A gentleman is like a plum blossom, standing proudly amidst frost and snow. What, isn’t that worthy of you, Young Master Fang?”

Fang Xian irritably shook off Tang Jingyu’s hand, looking mournfully at the greenery. “If it’s a plum garden, it should be in bloom. Now, we only see green branches, not a hint of proud, frost-resisting plum blossoms.”

Xu Chongfei, amused and helpless by their constant bickering, quickly took responsibility. “My fault, my fault. I should have chosen a winter day for this brotherhood ceremony.”

“Don’t mind him.” Tang Jingyu, used to Fang Xian’s quirks, believed such people shouldn’t be indulged. “I think this place is perfect. Chongfei, bring the incense burner.”

Xu Chongfei, well-prepared, quickly set up the incense burner and offerings, creating a makeshift altar on the open ground. Fang Xian’s criticisms were just for fun; he wouldn’t really wait until winter.

Under the open sky and kneeling on the earth, the three bowed their heads to the ground, forming a bond stronger than kin. Unaware of the future conspiracies, entanglements, and grudges that awaited, they were simply themselves, bonding with the brothers they resonated with the most.

“Pass!”

Director Chen shouted, and the set erupted in laughter.

Everyone was surprised that such an important scene passed in one take. Makeup artists rushed to touch up the actors’ foreheads, marred by kneeling, while other crew members busily prepared for the next scene.

Director Chen remained behind the monitor, but the assistant director secretly gave the three actors a thumbs up. They notice and feel a rush of excitement.

Acting can be exhilarating, especially when deeply immersed. Ran Lin had felt this before, but opportunities to experience it were rare. For Lu Yiyao, this feeling was new and thrilling.

From this day, the three were mainly involved in scenes together, mostly dialogue-driven. The main plot revolves around Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian, under Fang Huanzhi’s orders, coming to Liuma Town to investigate the whereabouts of the “Sword of Fallen Flowers” and eventually forming a brotherhood with Xu Chongfei, the young master of Hidden Sword Tower.

Other than that, some subsequent scenes were also filmed, but as the female lead hadn’t joined yet, these were minor transitional scenes.

Every evening, the trio rehearsed together, reminiscent of dormitory study sessions before exams. Thanks to their professionalism, the shooting progressed smoothly.

A busy week flew by, and on the evening of September 12^th, the female lead, Xi Ruohan, arrived at the hotel.

Xi Ruohan was slightly less popular than Lu Yiyao, but her fame and experience were no less. She rose to stardom as a leading actress when Lu Yiyao was just entering the entertainment industry.

From the beginning, Xi Ruohan was hailed for her natural acting ability. Now a woman, her aura had matured, and her acting skills had solidified. Despite rumors of diva behavior, she stood out as a naturally beautiful and talented actress in a sea of surgically enhanced faces.

Speaking through one’s work was an eternal truth in the industry. The drama that linked her and Lu Yiyao was <Yun Zhang>.

When the leads were announced, Xi Ruohan’s fans lamented the choice of Lu Yiyao, a popular but less skilled actor, instead of a male star matching their idol’s talent. At that time, Lu Yiyao’s <Ten Years of Rainy Nights> had just finished filming, and <Baihei Tree> wasn’t even completed. No one expected him to later be nominated for Best Actor. He took on the role of Yun Zhang amidst much skepticism.

The result was clear for all to see. <Yun Zhang> was a huge success, and Lu Yiyao, sharing the screen with Xi Ruohan, not only held his own but also shone brightly, different from his past roles. The audience praised the script, the actors, and the film’s quality.

Only Lu Yiyao knew that good acting was nurtured.

He learned a lot about acting from Xi Ruohan, a fact he was well aware of. Acting with her was different from Ran Lin. With Xi Ruohan, he was acutely aware of acting and observed her performance to learn and apply. However, with Ran Lin, he would forget the existence of Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, as if they were meant to be Tang Jingyu and Fang Xian.

Xi Ruohan and Ran Lin were great partners, the former perhaps a bit too aggressive.

“How come you’re guarding like against a thief? I’m not going to eat you.” Xi Ruohan, carrying a pretty paper bag, stood at Lu Yiyao’s door. The host didn’t move after opening the door, so she hesitated to enter, frowning sadly.

Xi Ruohan looked thinner than before, enhancing her already delicate features. Dressed in comfortable casual wear, she seemed freshly arrived and not overly calculating.

“I’ll accept your gift.” Lu Yiyao extended his hand warmly, asking for the bag. “But I won’t invite you in; the room is too messy.”

Xi Ruohan narrowed her beautiful almond eyes, holding the gift but not handing it over. Lu Yiyao watched amusedly, unmoving.

He had experience dealing with Xi Ruohan and now could handle it with ease. Xi Ruohan, frustrated, shoved the gift bag into Lu Yiyao’s hands and stormed off to her room.

The top floor of the hotel was quiet, so her angry footsteps left a clear, muffled sound on the carpet.

Watching Xi Ruohan swipe her card and slam the door at the end of the hallway, Lu Yiyao felt relieved and closed his door.

Frankly, he didn’t dislike Xi Ruohan. She was talented and beautiful, but more importantly, she was serious and professional about acting. This alone scored high with Lu Yiyao. Moreover, she was straightforward; her pursuit of him almost caused a scandal with the paparazzi—knocking on his door at night and being turned away. For him, it was positive news, but for Xi Ruohan, even as a single woman, such news could be damaging. After all the fuss, only a few speculative gossip articles emerged, and they didn’t push hard, so Lu Yiyao’s attitude towards his fellow actress had always been polite and mild.

Inside the gift bag was a selection of exquisite Jiangnan pastries, along with a handcrafted mandarin duck comb. Xi Ruohan’s late arrival to the set was due to her busy schedule filming another major female lead role in a drama set in a town in Jiangnan. The story revolves around a family that has passed down the art of comb-making for generations. This tale is based on a real family, whose collateral branches still live in that town today. The thoughtful and detailed gift Xi Ruohan chose showed her meticulous care.

Sighing, Lu Yiyao repackaged the comb but didn’t put it back in the original paper bag. Instead, he switched it to an opaque makeup bag, making it look like a newly purchased cosmetic product. He then called over Li Tong, handing him the pastries and the makeup bag containing the comb.

“The pastries are for you to eat. Give this bag to Xi Ruohan’s assistant to pass on to her, and say it’s from me,” Lu Yiyao instructed clearly.

Li Tong was confused. “Where do I find Xi Ruohan’s assistant?”

Lu Yiyao gave him a sideways glance.

“Alright, I got it.” Li Tong stopped playing dumb but still had a question. “Lu Ge, weren’t you always… Have you changed your mind now?”

Lu Yiyao looked at his assistant with exasperation. “With your gossiping skills, it’s a pity you’re not a paparazzo.”

Li Tong took the hint and went downstairs with the gift bag. He certainly knew Xi Ruohan’s assistant. In fact, during the <Yun Zhang> period, she approached him first, trying to get information about Lu Yiyao.

Later, he realized that it was Xi Ruohan who was interested in Lu Yiyao. A handsome man and a beautiful woman—if they could be together, it would make a good match. But since Lu Yiyao showed no interest in Xi Ruohan, Li Tong didn’t really act as an undercover agent.

However, Xi Ruohan was persistent, so her assistant occasionally contacted him to probe Lu Yiyao’s intentions. Both working in the same industry, Li Tong understood her and maintained a cordial relationship without revealing any useful information.

Now that Xi Ruohan had just arrived, her assistant had already contacted him. He thought Lu Yiyao was unaware, but his boss had seen through everything without pointing it out.

With admiration for Lu Yiyao, Li Tong arranged to meet the assistant on the same floor and handed her the makeup bag as instructed. The assistant, aware of Xi Ruohan’s preparation of the gift, didn’t connect the makeup bag with the returned gift.

She assumed Lu Yiyao had finally reciprocated and excitedly ran upstairs to Xi Ruohan’s room, delivering the “gift of love.”

Lu Yiyao, listening at the door, timed his WeChat message perfectly—[The pastries were delicious 😊.]

Xi Ruohan’s frustrated scream echoed through the hallway, clearly having received the returned gift and WeChat message before even closing her door. Lu Yiyao exhaled, feeling returning the comb was a wise decision. Had it been a regular comb, he might have kept it, but a mandarin duck* comb… he didn’t want to give Xi Ruohan any false hope.

*Clarity: In China, mandarin ducks are believed to be lifelong couples and hence are regarded as a symbol of conjugal affection and fidelity. Such a gift would have too many undertones (whether intentional or not).

When Lu Yiyao initially saw Xi Ruohan’s name on the proposed cast list, he did have his concerns. However, on one hand, she was indeed a skilled and professional actress, and on the other, they hadn’t been in contact for a long time, leading him to optimistically believe that Xi Ruohan had given up on pursuing him.

After all, he had explicitly and implicitly rejected her advances many times before, and Xi Ruohan did seem to quiet down for a while.

Little did he know how tenacious and persistent she was, much like the character Zhao Buyao, the daughter of the Liuhua Palace’s master, whom she was set to portray in this role.

As the screams in the hallway gradually subsided, Lu Yiyao began to worry about their future scenes together. There were many scenes between Tang Jingyu and Zhao Buyao, including several intimate ones. It seemed that waiting for Xi Ruohan to lose interest in him would be a long and challenging task.

His phone suddenly rang, startling him. He thought it was Xi Ruohan calling to confront him, but it was Ran Lin, his die-hard fan.

“Hello?” Lu Yiyao didn’t realize it, but the moment he saw the caller ID, his worries about Xi Ruohan vanished, replaced by a warm, melting feeling.

“Are you resting?” Ran Lin asked.

“No. What’s up?” They didn’t have a rehearsal planned for the night since tomorrow’s scenes were mostly with the female lead.

Ran Lin, now more casual in his calls and messages with Lu Yiyao, got straight to the point. “Zhang Beichen has arrived and wants to invite us out for late-night snacks.”

Lu Yiyao then remembered seeing in a group chat that Zhang Beichen was coming to Hengdian for filming. He had seen it but hadn’t paid much attention.

Lu Yiyao’s feelings towards Zhang Beichen were lukewarm—not very close but not distant either. Their most familiar time was during the reality show, but after the show ended, they gradually lost contact. Even with occasional interactions in group chats, they maintained a polite distance.

Zhang Beichen must have sensed this, which was why he approached Ran Lin and not Lu Yiyao directly.

Thinking of this, Lu Yiyao curiously asked, “Did he invite both of us?”

Ran Lin, amused, replied, “What else? Oh, he only invited me, and then I dragged you along for a free meal.”

Lu Yiyao laughed but still playfully said, “If he invited both of us, why did he only contact you and not me?”

Ran Lin was exasperated. “Then I’ll have Zhang Beichen call you right now, saying you’re upset because he didn’t personally invite you, our proud God Lu.”

Lu Yiyao felt refreshed and satisfied amidst Ran Lin’s “I can’t stand you” tone.

Fifteen minutes later, Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin met at the hotel’s side entrance under a dark, windy night.

Ran Lin wore dark gray sweatpants and a navy blue hoodie, completely covering his face with the hood. Lu Yiyao was in black pants, a black T-shirt, a black cap, and a black mask, revealing only his eyes, which were also black.

Ran Lin couldn’t help but tease him. “Why didn’t you bring sunglasses? That would have been foolproof.”

Lu Yiyao shrugged, seriously explaining, “It’s too dark.”

Thus, two suspicious-looking young men stood under a streetlamp, trying to hail a taxi. After being ignored by several cautious drivers, one finally stopped.

Zhang Beichen’s hotel was close to theirs, and the restaurant wasn’t far either. A ten-minute taxi ride later, they arrived.

The restaurant was small but looked clean. Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin told the waiter their reserved private room number and were led inside. The waiter glanced at Ran Lin a few times, seemingly recognizing him but unable to place where from. As for Lu Yiyao, with only his eyes visible, identification was impossible.

However, encountering celebrities was a common occurrence for those working in Hengdian’s catering industry. The waiter, unable to recall Ran Lin’s identity, didn’t press the matter and simply brought them to their room before going to fetch tea.

Ran Lin was surprised that Zhang Beichen hadn’t arrived yet. After sitting down, he sent a WeChat message—[We’ve arrived.]

He looked up after sending the message to find Lu Yiyao staring at him curiously.

“What’s up?” Ran Lin asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the gaze, and instinctively checked himself for anything amiss.

“It’s just a bit strange,” Lu Yiyao said honestly. “I didn’t feel like you two were that close during the show, so it’s surprising he contacted you as soon as he got to Hengdian.”

Ran Lin, thinking Lu Yiyao was still in his “tsundere” mode, quickly reassured, “He invited both of us, okay?”

Lu Yiyao smiled and shook his head. “The invitation was just a formality. I know what my relationship with him is like.”

Ran Lin didn’t expect such directness from Lu Yiyao. His surprise gave way to a different feeling. If Lu Yiyao merely considered him a collaborative partner or a familiar colleague, there was no need for such openness.

In the industry, many relationships were superficial; even amidst intense behind-the-scenes competition, they had to maintain a courteous facade. Lu Yiyao had no need to openly share his true feelings about Zhang Beichen.

The fact that he did, and so naturally, suggested one thing—Lu Yiyao not only considered him a friend but a completely unguarded one. Wang Xi said Lu Yiyao was naïve and sweet. Ran Lin agreed only with the last part.

Lu Yiyao was neither naïve nor innocent; he understood the stakes and saw through the industry’s facade, but he was sincere with friends he valued. Even if the person wasn’t gay, Ran Lin thought, being friends with Lu Yiyao was his good fortune.

“You can’t avoid the topic by looking at me with such admiration.” Lu Yiyao tapped the table lightly, noticing Ran Lin’s dreamy gaze.

Ran Lin shook his head, snapping out of his reverie, and objectively explained his relationship with Zhang Beichen. “We’ve been in touch since the reality show ended. Our relationship is pretty good.”

Lu Yiyao frowned, recalling details of the reality show, and reserved judgment. Ran Lin didn’t want to delve too deep, fearing he might inadvertently mention Dubai and land in hot water. He quickly changed the subject. “I heard Xi Ruohan arrived today.”

The waiter arrived with tea at that moment. Lu Yiyao took a cup, blowing on it lightly. Once the waiter left, he casually mentioned, “She’s already arrived and came to greet me.”

Ran Lin, having seen their rumored relationship articles online, took Lu Yiyao’s casual demeanor as confirmation of their professional relationship. He commented, “That’s the treatment of a male lead.”

Lu Yiyao sipped his tea, setting down the cup with a light sigh. “Ah, it’s hard being so popular.”

Ran Lin, unimpressed, joked, “We should invite the media to see you now.”

Lu Yiyao immediately shook his head. “No way.”

Ran Lin felt somewhat reassured. “So you know you’re being arrogant?”

Lu Yiyao seriously replied, “I’m not photogenic without makeup.”

Ran Lin: “…”

Where the hell is Zhang Beichen?

Lu Yiyao didn’t hear Ran Lin’s internal scream, but he too hoped Zhang Beichen would arrive soon. For some reason, he didn’t want to discuss Xi Ruohan with Ran Lin, as he avoided lying to friends and feared being asked about Xi Ruohan’s pursuit of him.

Being pursued by a girl isn’t shameful; it could even be seen as proof of charm. But firstly, Lu Yiyao didn’t need such things to boast about his appeal, and secondly, it involved a girl’s reputation. Regardless of her feelings, he wouldn’t divulge more than necessary.

Perhaps hearing their calls, Zhang Beichen finally arrived—

“Sorry for being late. Today’s meal is on me. Order whatever you want. Don’t be shy.”

His voice arrived before he did. The tall, handsome young man entered the private room. Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin stood up—a sign of respect for the host, regardless of their respective statuses.

But as soon as they saw each other, all three paused. Zhang Beichen was wearing grey sweatpants and a deep blue hoodie, almost identical to Ran Lin’s outfit, looking like a uniform or couple’s attire at first glance.

What could have been a light, passable joke somehow led to a moment of awkward silence among the three.

Fortunately, it didn’t last long. Ran Lin broke the ice with a laugh. “Matching outfits aren’t scary. It’s only embarrassing if you’re the uglier one.”

Zhang Beichen didn’t find it awkward; his pause was more out of amusement.

“Who said it’s matching? This is called a couple’s outfit,” Zhang Beichen said naturally, so casually that it couldn’t be taken as anything but a joke.

But Ran Lin knew Zhang Beichen was just seizing the opportunity for a quick jab. With Lu Yiyao there, he couldn’t react too strongly and simply poured a cup of tea for Zhang, offering it seriously. “Here, have some tea.”

Zhang Beichen didn’t really have any ulterior motives. His invitation to Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao today was simply to foster good relations. With Ran Lin’s role as Fang Xian already confirmed, there was no point in dwelling on the past for Zhang Beichen; it was important to look forward. Moreover, he wasn’t directly replaced by Ran Lin. Although there might be some feelings of reluctance and jealousy, he couldn’t really blame Ran Lin for it. It was better to maintain their relationship, as having more friends meant having more paths open.

Moreover, he hadn’t expected Ran Lin to actually bring Lu Yiyao along. Indeed, the scent he had picked up on in Dubai wasn’t an illusion.

Did the two get together?

It didn’t seem so, at least from Lu Yiyao’s natural demeanor and gaze.

But as for Ran Lin…

“Did you invite us for supper or to read our fortune?” Ran Lin, both annoyed and amused, handed the menu to Zhang, who was still intently observing them.

Zhang Beichen regained his composure and confidently said, without even glancing at the menu, “I used to eat here all the time when I was filming in the area. I know what to order with my eyes closed.”

Ran Lin laughed. “Then let’s see you do it.”

Zhang Beichen, of course, didn’t actually close his eyes but ended up calling the waiter and smoothly listing several dishes.

Once the waiter left and they were alone in the private room, Zhang Beichen casually asked, “How’s filming been this past week? Tough?”

His question seemed directed at both friends, but his gaze was fixed on Lu Yiyao.

Lu Yiyao understood the implication and responded nonchalantly, “It’s been okay, mostly shooting dialogue scenes.”

Ran Lin chimed in with a bit of teasing. “Of course, he’s not struggling. In the drama, he doesn’t have any martial arts or inner force. All his character does is scheme and plot—a real mastermind.”

Lu Yiyao disagreed. “How can you call it scheming? It’s just taking revenge and settling scores, a common practice since ancient times.”

Ran Lin didn’t bother to argue and turned to Zhang Beichen, saying seriously, “In the drama, I’m the one who gets outsmarted by him.”

Zhang Beichen smiled lightly. “I know.”

Ran Lin suddenly realized he had misspoken.

Of course, Zhang Beichen knew—he had auditioned for the role of Fang Xian… Ran Lin, you fool!

“If you want to praise me, just say it. No need to beat around the bush,” Zhang Beichen joked, helping Ran Lin out of the awkward situation and casually ruffled his hair.

They were seated around a round table, which normally would mean they sat some distance apart. However, Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin had casually taken seats next to each other with an empty chair between them, and Zhang Beichen had directly taken the spot next to Ran Lin, close enough to easily ruffle his hair without it seeming out of place.

Lu Yiyao subtly frowned.

It wasn’t about Ran Lin’s hair being touched; he wasn’t Ran Lin’s guardian after all. But Zhang Beichen’s display of affection seemed out of place for mere friends, more flirtatious and clingy, making him uncomfortable.

Especially since Ran Lin clearly didn’t like it. He didn’t move away, but his smile wasn’t natural.

Zhang Beichen only ruffled Ran Lin’s hair briefly, but his gaze lingered between the two, finding the situation more interesting than he had anticipated. This meal was proving to be worth it.

The waiter began serving the dishes. They were mostly snacks, small in quantity but exquisite, fitting for a late-night meal. Lu Yiyao didn’t seem to have much appetite. Despite Ran Lin’s genuine praise for the dishes, Lu Yiyao only picked at his food, spending most of the time listening to him and Ran Lin chat.

Zhang Beichen’s intention wasn’t just to chat with Ran Lin; he wanted to connect with Lu Yiyao. But that was his original plan, and now he was more curious about something else…

“Teacher Lu.” Zhang Beichen suddenly called out to Lu Yiyao, a habit from their reality show days which made them feel closer.

Lu Yiyao raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

Zhang Beichen tilted his head, asking uncertainly, “The female lead in your drama is… Xi Ruohan?”

Lu Yiyao sensed a trap and didn’t respond immediately.

Ran Lin, not understanding the silence, thought Lu Yiyao didn’t want to talk to Zhang Beichen and answered to avoid awkwardness, “Yes, it’s Xi Ruohan.”

“I remember she worked with Teacher Lu before in <Yun Zhang>, right?” Zhang Beichen continued.

Ran Lin nodded promptly. “Yes, she’s a great actress and very beautiful.”

He had watched <Yun Zhang> even before he developed feelings for Lu Yiyao and revisited it twice after. The drama’s story and quality were genuinely good, independent of his feelings for Lu Yiyao, leading to a positive impression of the female lead.

Seeing Lu Yiyao not responding and Ran Lin being so proactive, Zhang Beichen turned to Ran Lin. “I also heard… she pursued Teacher Lu?”

Ran Lin was momentarily stunned.

Zhang Beichen watched him calmly, not seeming in a rush for an answer. Ran Lin blinked slowly, coming back to his senses, and looked at Lu Yiyao unconsciously.

Lu Yiyao sighed inwardly, further solidifying his lack of rapport with Zhang Beichen. But now, with one asking and the other waiting, he had to acknowledge with a brief smile that barely lingered. “Yes, she did.”

Ran Lin almost blurted out, “Why didn’t you mention this when we were just talking about Xi Ruohan?” but stopped himself in time.

He had no right to demand Lu Yiyao to share such things. Even as friends, there was no obligation to disclose everything.

“Everyone says it’s easy for a woman to pursue a man, so how come you didn’t take a liking to her, Teacher Lu?” Zhang Beichen still seemed genuinely curious.

Ran Lin quickly looked down and took a sip of tea to avoid the ongoing conversation. The tea was light but tasted bitter in his stomach.

Zhang Beichen glanced subtly at Ran Lin, noting his subtle emotional fluctuations. Then he looked back at Lu Yiyao, whose face no longer showed discomfort but rather a colder, more pronounced smile. “It’s just a matter of fate, I guess. If you find her attractive, I can introduce you.”

Zhang Beichen’s expression soured slightly. “We know each other.”

Despite the difference in their status, Zhang Beichen’s popularity wasn’t inferior to Xi Ruohan’s. They had crossed paths at various events, even without direct collaboration. Lu Yiyao’s suggestion seemed a bit disdainful, almost like a subtle jab, which he regretted a bit after saying it.

After all, Zhang Beichen was just being nosy, a trait that, while annoying, wasn’t a major fault.

“Today I’ve been honest with you both. If any rumors come out, I’ll know who to blame,” Lu Yiyao suddenly joked, his face and eyes alight with humor.

Zhang Beichen’s tension eased.

If he had annoyed Lu Yiyao just to satisfy his trivial curiosity, it would have been a poor trade. Things were just right now—he hadn’t really offended Lu Yiyao and had confirmed Ran Lin’s feelings for him.

Although Lu Yiyao hadn’t realized it yet, there was always time. As a melon eater and colleague, Zhang Beichen always enjoyed watching drama unfold.

“I’ll keep it a secret.” Ran Lin’s voice, still full of energy but somewhat forced, rang in his ears.

Zhang Beichen inwardly understood, raising his glass to Lu Yiyao with a loud voice. “Here’s to you, and if anything leaks, it’s on me.”

He then downed his drink.

Lu Yiyao didn’t really care whether they spread rumors or not; he was just giving Zhang Beichen a way out, so he cooperatively raised his glass, smoothly transitioning the late-night meal into the next inconsequential topic.

They dined until half past eleven. Lu Yiyao was the first to suggest leaving, citing an early filming schedule the next day as a valid reason.

Zhang Beichen promptly settled the bill without any intention of prolonging the evening. The dinner had achieved more than its intended purpose—not only did it help build relationships, but it also led to an unexpected discovery, which was enough for him.

Ran Lin, meanwhile, was still pondering over Xi Ruohan. He wasn’t sure why he was so preoccupied with the actress, who had pursued Lu Yiyao but hadn’t succeeded. But he couldn’t help it; his mind was filled with images of Xi Ruohan from <Yun Zhang> and her scenes with Lu Yiyao.

Ran Lin realized he was still bothered that Lu Yiyao hadn’t mentioned her pursuit. It didn’t matter whether Lu Yiyao should have told him or not.

The sudden realization that someone you thought you had connected with was keeping things from you was still a bit painful. But then again, he hadn’t told Lu Yiyao that he was gay either. Pretending to be just a friend while earnestly treating someone, when compared, he seemed more at fault.

“What’s wrong?” In the taxi, Lu Yiyao finally found the opportunity to speak with Ran Lin alone.

“What do you mean?” Ran Lin asked, puzzled.

Lu Yiyao sighed. “You haven’t said a word since we left the restaurant.”

Ran Lin realized he might have been overly gloomy and quickly made up an excuse. “Maybe I’m just tired from eating too much at the late-night meal.”

Lu Yiyao was incredulous. “How strenuously can one eat?”

Ran Lin chuckled and then looked out the window.

Theoretically, this was a signal that he wanted some quiet, but Lu Yiyao didn’t pick up on it because he was preoccupied with a question, “Did you find Zhang… uh, him, a bit strange?”

Ran Lin glanced at the taxi driver, who was focused on driving with the window down, the radio on, and completely oblivious to their conversation. Still, it was better to be cautious.

Without mentioning Zhang Beichen’s name, he asked, “What do you mean?”

After a moment’s thought, Lu Yiyao said softly, “I think he might be… gay.”

He said the last word quietly, but Ran Lin heard it clearly. He couldn’t hide his shock and disbelief as he looked at Lu Yiyao.

Lu Yiyao thought Ran Lin’s shock was about the revelation itself and further explained his reasoning. “I’ve met many in England, and I have a few friends like that, so I’m usually not wrong in my judgment.”

Ran Lin swallowed hard, expressing his deep skepticism about this. But what concerned him more was, “Do you… have an issue with it?”

“Of course not,” Lu Yiyao replied without hesitation. “It’s a personal choice, and I fully respect that.”

A still confused Ran Lin hurriedly nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I respect it too.”

Lu Yiyao gave him a look of exasperation. Ran Lin, feeling cornered yet defiant, asked, “Since we both respect it, is there any other issue?”

Lu Yiyao looked at him with a mix of frustration and disappointment, lowering his voice. “There’s no one more oblivious than you. He’s interested in you. Didn’t you notice?”

Ran Lin was stunned for the second time. His mind went blank. Lu Yiyao had figured it out? But then, if Lu Yiyao could even discern Zhang Beichen’s interest in him, then…

“I’m telling you this so you can be more cautious,” Lu Yiyao said earnestly after taking a deep breath. “Men are generally insensitive to these things. Don’t be naive and let yourself be taken advantage of.”

Looking at Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin felt a surge of emotions. Finally, he firmly grasped Lu Yiyao’s hand, saying sincerely, “Let’s both be mindful.”

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Kinky Thoughts:

Correction, it’s not a “personal choice”. Though I get where you’re coming from Lu Yiyao.

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

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 40

“Good! That’s a wrap—”

The last two words felt like music to everyone’s ears. Although no one voiced it, there was a palpable sense of the tension dissipating, and the air began to circulate more freely, as if numerous musical notes were dancing quietly yet mischievously within it.

The crew members were packing up their equipment. Only the two actors exchanged a look and walked together towards the director.

Director Chen got up from his chair, looked at them for a moment, and finally said, “This afternoon was not bad. Let’s continue to work hard tomorrow.”

A weight lifted off the chests of Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin.

Both weren’t new to acting, with Lu Yiyao especially being experienced in both TV and film. Yet, facing Director Chen, they felt like novices again, reminiscent of their early days facing the camera with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

A strict teacher produces outstanding students.

Both understood that having a director like Director Chen was a blessing for actors who aspired to excel and break new ground in their craft.

Waiting until Director Chen was far enough away, Liu Wanwan and Li Tong ran over, one offering water to Ran Lin and the other handing coffee to Lu Yiyao.

Ran Lin took a sip of water and looked disapprovingly at Lu Yiyao. “It’s almost dark, and you’re still drinking coffee?”

Lu Yiyao replied casually, “It’s fine. I’m used to it. It won’t affect my sleep.”

Ran Lin believed that long-time coffee drinkers could build a tolerance, but remarked, “It keeps your central nervous system in a state of excitement. Even if you don’t feel it and sleep as usual, your brain isn’t really resting.”

“It’s okay,” Lu Yiyao responded nonchalantly, not seeing his personal habit as a matter of concern.

But as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips and caught Ran Lin’s unblinking stare, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to drink.

Ran Lin, noticing his partner’s hesitation, quickly said, “It’s okay. I was just saying. Drink your coffee.”

Lu Yiyao felt reassured and tilted the cup towards his mouth…

“But it can lead to dependency.”

“I don’t feel that strongly about it…”

“Okay, just a reminder. Drink your coffee.”

As the bitter-sweet taste almost reached his lips…

“It can also harm your stomach, especially for us with irregular meals.”

Star Lu gave up, handing the cup back to his assistant. “Never mind. Get me some water instead.”

Li Tong, shifting his gaze between his boss and Ran Lin, finally saw the outcome.

His boss was so easily swayed!

Liu Wanwan sensed something unusual but hesitated to jump to conclusions, considering the bold idea too far-fetched compared to her usual daydreams.

After removing their makeup, the production team arranged for cars to take the actors back to the hotel.

Lu Yiyao’s car arrived first, followed by Ran Lin’s. On the way back, with only familiar faces in the car, Wang Xi said directly to Ran Lin, “I have to go back to Beijing tonight. I might not be able to come here often. If there’s any issue, let Wanwan contact me.”

Ran Lin understood that Han Ze also had a movie offer recently, and since his own shoot was on track, it made sense for Wang Xi to focus on the other project.

“Don’t worry, Xi Jie,” Ran Lin reassured. “I’ll be fine here.”

Wang Xi felt a bit guilty. Although she seemed to manage both sides well on the surface, only she knew where her heart leaned more, hence her apology towards Ran Lin.

Ran Lin didn’t notice Wang Xi’s fleeting emotion as he was reading a new message and considering how to reply.

[Let’s have dinner together tonight.]

Within minutes, they arrived at the hotel. Ran Lin went to his room and picked up his phone to type a response.

Okay, sure, fine, alright…

Ran Lin tried all the tones he could think of, but each seemed too revealing, potentially giving away his emotions. Finally, he simply asked—

[Where?]

Pleased with his response, Ran Lin felt assertive.

The reply came naturally from the other side—[Anywhere is fine. Let’s find a place nearby, or do you have any recommendations?]

When Ran Lin asked “where”, he hadn’t thought much about it. Now he realized—[Can you go out? Won’t you be surrounded by fans?]

Lu Yiyao had a plan for that—[I can disguise myself. I won’t be recognized.]

Ran Lin, skeptical—[Who gave you that confidence?]

Lu Yiyao—[Dark night, a hat, a mask, sunglasses. Foolproof.]

Ran Lin—[Trust me, the public will call the police.]

Lu Yiyao—[ 😓]

Lu Yiyao—[Then come to my room 😊]

Ran Lin, startled by the yellow smiley face, accidentally sent a one-second blank voice message.

The quick response from the other side—[?]

Ran Lin was now certain that his partner had no ulterior motives. The invitation to eat was purely for discussing work. Otherwise, it couldn’t explain such a straightforward and honest atmosphere.

[Let’s do it in my room then. It’s convenient for discussing scenes and lines. 😊]

Lu Yiyao was as cooperative as ever.

Ran Lin sighed, flopped onto the bed, feeling listless for a moment before calmly asking—[Why not come to my room?]

[I’m on the top floor. It’s more secluded and quiet. 🤷]

Ran Lin’s calm was disrupted again…

Using status as an excuse is unfair!

His phone suddenly rang, startling Ran Lin. His phone slipped from his grasp, hitting him in the face…

A novel sensation of pain hit his nose, but the ringing stopped.

Ran Lin froze, ignoring the pain in his nose, and quickly picked up the phone. As expected, he had accidentally hung up on Lu Yiyao.

Embarrassed, Ran Lin hesitantly answered the phone as it rang again, not daring to delay. “Hello?”

Lu Yiyao wasn’t angry, just curious. “Did you accidentally drop the phone just now?”

Although their understanding of “accidental” differed, Ran Lin confidently admitted, “Yeah!”

Lu Yiyao, not suspecting anything, asked, “No problem then? I’ll order the food soon.”

With such a proper invitation to discuss scenes, Ran Lin naturally couldn’t refuse, especially since he wanted to go over tomorrow’s scenes to avoid any more NGs. “No problem.”

“I’ll see you in an hour. I’ll leave the door open, so you can just come in.”

“Okay.”

After hanging up the phone, Ran Lin felt completely at ease.

Initially, he was worried about not being able to control himself around Lu Yiyao, fearing he might embarrassingly throw himself at the lead actor. However, in the presence of his partner’s upright and righteous demeanor, any such frivolous thoughts were quickly dispelled. Then, he was concerned about visiting Lu Yiyao’s room at night, fearing it might spark rumors of a romantic nature, especially if they were caught by someone or, worse, photographed by the paparazzi. But Lu Yiyao had already anticipated this, inviting him openly and directly to rehearse lines, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

It’s said that the entertainment industry hones a person’s wits, and this kind of strategic maneuvering is more intense than even revolutionary times.

But about rehearsing lines…

Ran Lin flipped through the script for the next day’s shoot, reviewing each scene and getting a sense of what to expect.

……

“Lu Ge, are you sure you want all these?” Li Tong was bewildered as he listened to his boss order dish after dish.

Lu Yiyao, still focused on the hotel’s menu, flipped through it and shook his head dissatisfiedly. “The variety is too limited, but it should be more hygienic… Okay, let’s go with these.”

Li Tong took the menu, feeling there was no need to remember it. He could just call the front desk and say, “You have a menu, right? The one in every room. Yeah, I’d like to order one of everything in it.”

Boss, are you planning a banquet?

The obedient assistant made the call to order the food, while Lu Yiyao headed to the bathroom for a shower.

After a whole day, he was quite tired, especially when Director Chen called, “That’s a wrap.” He felt like collapsing on the spot.

But now, thinking about Ran Lin coming over soon so they could go over tomorrow’s scenes, he not only felt less tired but also a bit excited and looking forward to it. This anticipation reminded him of the nights before going camping during his school days, filled with romantic imaginations about the camping site. Although reality often fell short of his fantasies, the happiness on those nights before was always at its peak.

Lu Yiyao took his time in the shower, occasionally humming English songs. After showering, he leisurely dried his hair and patted some toner on his face before coming out.

The room was already filled with the enticing aroma of food.

Li Tong was guarding two trolleys laden with dishes, relieved to see his boss finally emerge from the bathroom. “Lu Ge, do you want to leave the dishes on the trolleys, or should I set them on the table?”

Lu Yiyao instructed, “Set them on the table.”

Li Tong quickly arranged the dishes on the table, turning it into a lavish spread without any empty space left.

Lu Yiyao was satisfied. “Okay, you can go back now.”

Li Tong had been called over by Lu Yiyao after the latter had finished talking to Ran Lin, so he only knew about the feast but not the guest. Dismissed so abruptly, he left with curiosity burning inside him.

As soon as Li Tong left, Lu Yiyao changed into comfortable clothes and approached the door, intending to open it wide as a gesture of openness.

As he pulled the door open, he expected to see an empty hallway. Instead, he was greeted by a surprised Ran Lin… and Tang Xiaoyu.

“You heard me coming with such light footsteps?” Ran Lin asked, puzzled.

Lu Yiyao didn’t catch on, his attention fixed on Tang Xiaoyu.

Tang Xiaoyu, having received Ran Lin’s invitation for dinner and line rehearsal, hadn’t suspected anything. With a crucial three-person scene scheduled for the next day, being invited by Lu Yiyao to rehearse seemed perfectly in line with his reputation for professionalism.

But Lu Yiyao’s current expression… didn’t quite fit the welcoming category.

“You said we were going to rehearse lines,” Ran Lin quickly explained, realizing that Lu Yiyao hadn’t personally invited Tang Xiaoyu. Although he thought Lu Yiyao wouldn’t mind, he couldn’t be sure, so he took the initiative. “Tomorrow’s most important scene is the three of us becoming sworn brothers.”

Lu Yiyao swallowed, his mind churning. Ran Lin’s explanation seemed flawless. In fact, he felt a bit annoyed at himself for forgetting about Tang Xiaoyu, which was quite unlike him.

The only explanation he could think of was that he had been so focused on scenes with Ran Lin all day that he inadvertently forgot about Tang Xiaoyu as a co-star.

Satisfied with his self-assessment, Lu Yiyao briskly invited his two partners in.

Tang Xiaoyu, seeing the table laden with dishes, felt reassured—Lu Yiyao must have also invited him; otherwise, how could he explain such an extravagant spread?

Ran Lin was equally astonished by the array of dishes, looking at Lu Yiyao with disbelief, wondering if he had anticipated everything.

Lu Yiyao gave a slight smile, nonchalantly saying, “I like to be prepared.”

The meal was enjoyable, and Lu Yiyao noticed that Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu seemed very familiar with each other, not like their first encounter on the reality show or even in the drama set, but more like long-time friends.

Curious, he asked, “Did you two meet after the reality show?”

Both replied in unison, “No.”

Lu Yiyao tilted his head, puzzled. “But you two seem like old friends.”

Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu exchanged glances and smiled.

Lu Yiyao didn’t like the unspoken understanding between them… It felt too exclusive.

“You’re just too reserved,” Tang Xiaoyu said, feeling more comfortable talking to Lu Yiyao after the meal, believing they had bridged some of their distance.

Lu Yiyao frowned, turning to Ran Lin with a questioning look as if to ask, “Do you think so too?”

Ran Lin read the inquiry in Lu Yiyao’s eyes and immediately shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re reserved.”

Lu Yiyao was pleased.

Ran Lin added, “You’ve always been warm.”

Lu Yiyao: “…”

What the hell kind of ambiguous compliments are these!

Deciding to drop the topic for fear of a heart rate imbalance, Lu Yiyao suggested, “If we’re almost done eating, let’s start rehearsing.”

Ran Lin agreed. “Sounds good. It’ll help digest the food.”

“Uh, I have a suggestion.” Tang Xiaoyu raised his hand. “Since tomorrow is about us becoming sworn brothers, shouldn’t we deepen our understanding of each other and cultivate some brotherly affection?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t quite grasp the concept. “How do we do that?”

“I’ll go first.” Tang Xiaoyu stood up, gazing ahead, and began introducing himself seriously. “My name is Tang Xiaoyu, 25 years old, lively and cheerful, generous in spirit, respectful to my parents and colleagues. My girlfriend is… Ah, I can’t say that… Um, where was I?”

Ran Lin: “Your girlfriend…”

Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”

Tang Xiaoyu: “…I was asking about before that!”

Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao exchanged a look, having reached an understanding. “We are just interested in your girlfriend.”

“…” Tang Xiaoyu regretted coming to this meal.

Comrade Xiaoyu, strong in his bonds, eventually didn’t reveal even half a word about his girlfriend’s true identity.

Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao had their fun and didn’t press him further.

The second to introduce himself was Lu Yiyao.

Actually, he didn’t really want to share too much about himself. Moreover, it was Tang, Fang, and Xu who were to become sworn brothers, not Lu, Ran, Tang… Wait, they both had the surname Tang?

Tang Xiaoyu looked bewilderedly at Lu Yiyao, whose mind seemed to be drifting further away, his gaze becoming increasingly unfocused. Just as he was wondering, someone patted his shoulder.

Turning around, he met Ran Lin’s knowing eyes.

“That’s just how he is,” Ran Lin said. “A professional daydreamer for a hundred years.”

Suddenly, Tang Xiaoyu felt a bit envious of the friendship between these two—to know and understand each other so well!

Finally, Lu Yiyao came back to his senses and began to introduce himself. Besides his middle school and university, he talked about his favorite music and books, emphasizing his love for still photos from dramas, sharing with his friends the “promotional effect of still photos on acting”. However, unfortunately, his colleagues didn’t seem to deeply feel the same.

The last to introduce himself was Ran Lin, who actually thought he didn’t have much to say. Besides his age and birthplace, all he had was, “I love to eat buns, drink soy milk, like acting, and yeah, acting is what I love the most.”

Lu Yiyao, seeing the sparkle in Ran Lin’s eyes when he talked about acting, suddenly remembered what a director had told him during a reshoot—

Your eyes lack passion for acting.

At that time, he didn’t understand what that meant, but now, he might have found the answer.

“That’s not right. Your introduction isn’t complete.”

Tang Xiaoyu suddenly spoke up, interrupting Lu Yiyao’s thoughts and drawing Ran Lin’s attention.

“Not complete?” Ran Lin was puzzled.

“You’re still holding back something from us.” Tang Xiaoyu chuckled, suddenly pulling out a smartphone from behind like a magician, playing a small video on its lit screen.

“I’m eating fried chicken in People’s Square~~ where are you at this moment~~ although you might be making a feint to the east but attack in the west~~ but fatigue has made me too lazy to doubt…”

Ran Lin facepalmed, suddenly wanting to hack into a server and delete this video.

Lu Yiyao, seeing Ran Lin holding a guitar for the first time, was like discovering a new world. “What song is this?”

Tang Xiaoyu felt awkward, feeling that Lu Yiyao was focusing on the wrong thing.

Ran Lin quickly answered, “‘Eating Fried Chicken in People’s Square’.”

Lu Yiyao recognized it as Miya’s advertisement, becoming even more puzzled. “Why isn’t this played in the ad if it’s so good?”

The natural compliment left people feeling elated.

Ran Lin, trying to keep his mouth from curling up in joy, explained, “The manufacturer needs to match their own advertising words.”

Lu Yiyao frowned. “Knowing that they would add lyrics in post-production, you could have just strummed the guitar and sung anything, why bother with lip-syncing?”

Ran Lin: “…”

Tang Xiaoyu: “…”

Ran, Tang: “I (He) was really singing!”

Ran, Tang: “And really playing the guitar!”

Lu Yiyao was baffled, narrowing his eyes discontentedly. “That’s enough, you don’t have to be so in sync…”

……

Across the street, in a room at a corresponding height in another building, a long-lense camera was peeking through the gap in the curtains, aimed at Lu Yiyao’s room.

Three unkempt young men, with dark circles under their eyes, took turns surveilling.

The one currently in charge was a young man with curly hair, tall and thin, wearing jeans that had been washed white and a slightly wrinkled T-shirt.

Another young man sitting on the bed in sweatpants, sipping a Red Bull, asked, “How’s it going?”

The curly-haired guy sighed, unable to hear anything and could only judge from the images seen through the lens. “It’s still the same, eating, drinking, chatting—the atmosphere seems good.”

The third young guy, sitting on a chair, was slightly overweight and bald, constantly fiddling with a DSLR camera. Hearing his colleagues’ conversation, he chimed in. “Did Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin really become friends?”

The curly-haired guy replied, “From what we’ve observed so far, it seems so.”

The guy in sweatpants scoffed disbelievingly. “Come on. There’s no true friendship in the entertainment industry. Everything in this world is driven by profit…”

Click.

The guy in sweatpants looked bewilderedly at the bald guy. “Why are you taking a picture of me?”

The bald guy put down the camera, sincerely saying, “You’re wasted as a paparazzo. Really, you should be on a talk show.”

“Fuck off.” The guy in sweatpants kicked him irritably.

“You two are so energetic. It’s your turn to take over.” The curly-haired guy had had enough and passed on the baton.

The guy in sweatpants looked at the time; it was indeed time for a shift change, and he obediently stood up to take over.

Ever since Lu Yiyao checked into this hotel, they had been keeping an eye on him. Apart from filming, as long as Lu Yiyao was in his room, they hadn’t missed a second.

Lu Yiyao was currently one of the few popular stars with the least amount of scandal, and if they could break a big story about such a star, the impact would be explosive!

Moreover, Lu Yiyao wasn’t particularly vigilant, perhaps feeling that he had nothing to fear from exposure. The curtains were sometimes drawn, sometimes not, mostly depending on his mood. Even when drawn, they were mostly sheer curtains, and if there was light, the silhouettes inside were still clearly visible and distinguishable.

“If you ask me, we should wait for Xi Ruohan to join the cast. Didn’t she have a rumored affair with Lu Yiyao?” Looking for a while and seeing no promising developments for the night, the guy in sweatpants could only fantasize about the future to pass the time.

Xi Ruohan was the lead actress of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> and was scheduled to join the cast in a week, according to the information they had received.

“That’s no rumor. Xi Ruohan started it herself.” The curly-haired guy took the half-finished Red Bull from the guy in sweatpants, downing it in one gulp before continuing, “She chased after Lu Yiyao, but he didn’t pay her any attention.”

The bald guy, new to the team, was unaware of this episode and widened his eyes in surprise. “Xi Ruohan, such a beautiful woman throwing herself at him, and Lu Yiyao resisted? Not even a fleeting romance?”

The bald guy, who had recently joined the group, was unfamiliar with this story and widened his eyes in surprise. “Xi Ruohan, such a beautiful woman throwing herself at him, and Lu Yiyao is able to resist? Isn’t there always some fleeting romance?”

“Let’s not use those fancy words. Just say it straight—hooking up.” The curly-haired guy scratched his messy hair, sighing at the end. “I really wish there was something between them. I’ve been squatting here for a month, only seeing Xi Ruohan getting the cold shoulder. Lu Yiyao is really something, never even opening his door once.”

“That’s news too. Xi Ruohan is quite a flower among flowers, right?” The bald guy perked up. “A top actress visiting three times and the male star turning her away—that’s explosive news with lots of implications.”

In the entertainment circle, young actresses who are just starting out are usually called “little flowers¹”. Those who have some acting skills and reputation but are still a long way from being top-tier actresses, are called “middle flowers²”. And the top-tier actresses, of course, are the “big flowers³” and there are only a few in the circle.

¹[Xiao Hua] (小花) Refers to almost all young actresses, regardless of their popularity, reputation, and acting skills.
²[Zhong Hua] (中花) Refers to those who have not yet reached the Da Hua (big flower) level but are above Xiao Hua in terms of notable works, awards, and industry recognitions.
³[Da Hua] (大花) Refers to those who have years of experience, good acting skills, numerous mainstream awards, notable works that are recognized by the general public, and great impact in the industry. 

That’s why the bald guy was surprised, wondering why the curly-haired guy hadn’t leaked this juicy gossip. Both parties involved were popular and had a following; even a failed attempt at seduction would definitely make a big noise.

The curly-haired guy sighed, not really wanting to answer.

The guy in sweatpants turned his head away from the telephoto lens, helping to answer. “Can’t you guess? They were paid off.”

The bald guy was surprised. “Xi Ruohan’s team?”

The curly-haired guy gave him a look. “Who else? Lu Yiyao’s team? He’s like the modern day Liuxia Hui*. There was no need to pay us off!”

*Was a man of eminent virtue and is said on one occasion to have held a lady in his lap without the slightest imputation on his moral character. When he died, his wife insisted on pronouncing a funeral oration over his body, urging that none knew his great merits so well as her.

The bald guy, holding his camera, pondered for a long time but still stuck to his opinion. “I don’t believe there are men in this world who can resist temptation unless they’re not interested in women at all.”

The curly-haired guy said, “You think I haven’t considered that? But at least on the women’s side, Xi Ruohan was making moves. For the men, I haven’t seen anyone close to Lu Yiyao. Even his current friend, Ran Lin, is probably the closest relationship he has.”

“Deeply closeted. Not surprising,” the bald guy concluded about Lu Yiyao.

The curly-haired guy was speechless. “So now there are three guys in his room, so it’s a threesome?”

The bald guy shrugged. “Maybe.”

The curly-haired guy. “Have you ever seen a threesome with the door open?”

The guy in sweatpants. “Fuck—”

The bald and curly-haired guys both jumped. “What? Really?!”

The guy in sweatpants swallowed hard, not knowing how to describe this shocking scene. He thought for a while and decided to describe what he saw. “All three of them knelt down together…”

……

Inside Lu Yiyao’s room.

“I, Tang Jingyu.”

“I, Fang Xian.”

“I, Xu Chongfei.”

“Today, we become sworn brothers! Entrusting our lives to each other, sharing fortunes and misfortunes, helping each other in good times and bad, with heaven and earth as our witnesses, and the mountains and rivers as our covenant, we vow to remain steadfast in our brotherhood and never betray each other!”

Thud—

Three heads hit the floor, making a single, unified sound, but it was earth-shattering.

……

In the paparazzi room across the hotel.

The three took turns looking through the telephoto lens, with the bald guy being the last one. He felt a chill, his scalp tingling. “They’re not possessed, are they…?”

“It doesn’t seem like it. They all look quite sober…” The guy in sweatpants had his own guess. “Could it be some secret dark organization?”

“You’ve been watching too much Detective Conan.” The curly-haired guy pulled out a stack of materials and threw it on the table in front of the two. “I always tell you, know your enemy and know yourself, and you will be victorious in every battle*. Take a good look. We need to know what scenes they are shooting tomorrow.”

*Famous quote from The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

After reading the materials, the guy in sweatpants and the bald guy had a moment of realization.

The guy in sweatpants felt cheated. “They should be filming on set, not in a hotel. Scaring people to death, do you know that!”

The bald guy didn’t share this view. Knowing the truth dissipated his sense of horror, leaving only a deep impression. “Being an actor isn’t easy…”

Saying that, he looked through the lens at the opposite side again. By this time, the three had already stood up, looking at each other with the fervor and sincerity of brothers who had just sworn an oath. Even from this distance, the bald guy could feel their brotherly bond.

“They act so well…” The bald guy felt that he might start to become a fan of these three.

……

At 11:30 p.m., after seeing off his two colleagues, Lu Yiyao finally closed the door that had been open for a long time and took another shower.

The messy cups and plates had been cleared away, and the room had been ventilated, leaving no lingering scent of food. However, after coming out of the shower, there was a hint of shower gel fragrance.

Lu Yiyao drew the curtains, dimmed the lights, and leisurely lay back on the bed.

Strangely, he usually felt sleepy after drinking coffee at this hour, but today, without a drop of coffee, he wasn’t sleepy at all and felt energetic enough to do several backflips.

In the dim and faint light, Lu Yiyao turned his head left and right to make sure there were no eyes in the dark, then quietly took out his phone, entered Weibo, and searched for the keywords “Ran Lin + guitar”.

Ran Lin’s fans eagerly shared many posts. Lu Yiyao plugged in his headphones, randomly clicked on one, and soon, the melody of “Eating Fried Chicken in People’s Square” filled his ears.

Ran Lin’s voice was clear and melodious, gentle as jade, but when singing, there was a hint of huskiness.

This lazy and sexy huskiness was completely unlike Ran Lin, so Lu Yiyao naturally assumed Ran Lin was just lip-syncing.

And the guitar.

Lu Yiyao never thought Ran Lin could play an instrument.

This friend was like a kaleidoscope; just when you think you’ve seen all there is to see, he surprises you with something new and dazzling.

“I’m eating~ fried chicken in People’s Square~~~” Lu Yiyao hummed unconsciously, then immediately snapped back to reality, his face full of disbelief.

This song was too catchy!

Throwing away the phone, taking off the headphones, Lu Yiyao turned over, turned off the light, and decided to sleep quickly, lest the catchy tune haunt his dreams.

His nose brushed against the pillow, and a fresh scent wafted in—the smell of his hair that he had just washed… the scent of Miya shampoo.

He wondered if Ran Lin would use the shampoo he endorsed. He should have smelled it when they were rehearsing.

—Before falling asleep, the trivial question that Lu Yiyao pondered was whether Ran Lin used the same brand of shampoo.

---

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

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

---

Chapter 39

Setting up an offering table, lighting incense, and the director’s speech… With the red cloth lifted from the camera, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> officially began filming!

Invited journalists crowded around the main creators, seizing the chance for up-close interviews before the makeup and shooting began.

With no lead actress present, the male stars Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin, and Tang Xiaoyu naturally became the primary targets of the media. Each holding several microphones adorned with various logos, they evenly distributed the burden.

“God Lu, what kind of role will you be challenging in this film?”

“God Lu, what attracted you to this drama?”

“God Lu, has your experience changed from working with Ran Lin in a reality show to a TV drama?”

“Xiaoyu¹, what’s it like to partner with God Lu again?”

“…”

Lu Yiyao stood in the center, with Tang Xiaoyu and Ran Lin on either side. The journalists’ questions were rapid-fire, mostly directed at the male lead, with occasional queries for Tang Xiaoyu, while Ran Lin had yet to be asked.

With a natural smile, Ran Lin dutifully played the part of a decorative vase.

Lu Yiyao, accustomed to such scenes, waited for the journalists to finish their flurry of questions. When the noise subsided, he picked the questions he preferred to answer. “Firstly, ‘God Lu’ is just a playful nickname from fans. Please don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing. In this drama, I play Tang Jingyu, a character who constantly evolves and grows. He starts carefree, then becomes darker upon learning about his enemy, but ultimately achieves self-realization. It’s a character with a dark side that I’ve always wanted to try but never had the chance. I really like it and hope to portray this role well.”

His answer was standard and safe, but not particularly exciting.

Just as Lu Yiyao was about to pass the microphone to Tang Xiaoyu, indicating it was time for his old friend nicknamed “Xiaoyu¹” by fans and journalists to continue answering questions. A persistent journalist loudly repeated the most sensitive question—

¹Clarity: The reporters are calling him Little/Small Fish [xiǎo yú] (小鱼) which is a nickname given to him by his fans, since it sounds close to his name [Xiǎoyù] (晓遇).

“Has your experience changed from working with Ran Lin in a reality show to a TV drama?”

Tang Xiaoyu, ready to speak, swallowed his prepared words, giving Lu Yiyao a resigned look of “you can’t dodge this one.”

Lu Yiyao glanced at Ran Lin, who faced the journalists with a constant smile, as unwavering as a plastic flower.

He was sure Ran Lin understood the malice in the question, but even Tang Xiaoyu gave him a look, suggesting Ran Lin wasn’t unaffected. Was the lack of reaction due to familiarity with such malice or confidence in his friend being questioned?

Lu Yiyao thought it was the former but hoped for the latter.

After pondering for two seconds, Lu Yiyao looked up, graced with a charming smile like a spring breeze. “Speaking of changes in feelings, there’s actually quite a big one…”

Journalists perked up, expecting a vague response, but he directly addressed the key point.

“When recording the variety show, we weren’t that close, but now, I’m genuinely afraid I’ll break character and laugh with him.” Lu Yiyao passed the microphone to Ran Lin. “Teacher Ran, what do you think?”

Caught off guard by the sudden handover, Ran Lin momentarily hesitated.

Lu Yiyao was pleased with the effect he caused—a stunned Ran Lin was livelier than one with a forced smile.

The journalists were also surprised by the response. It wasn’t quite evasive; he mentioned they were now so familiar they might break character, but it also wasn’t a groundbreaking revelation.

“I don’t think I’ll break character…”

Ran Lin’s voice, clear and gentle, interrupted the journalists’ inner chaos, some even eager to hear more.

“After all, Teacher Lu in this drama has tricked me terribly…” Ran Lin said, looking frankly at Lu Yiyao, his eyes full of teasing threats. “I’m already in character, so watch out.”

Lu Yiyao, facing Ran Lin’s harmless gentlemanly appearance, was suddenly intrigued by his partner’s potential darker side. “I have no good solution. I’ll just keep deceiving.”

Tang Xiaoyu saw his opportunity, earnestly lamenting to the journalists. “Now you know how miserable I am. As the third male lead, I’m the biggest source of anguish in this drama. Troubled love life, complicated brotherhood—who’s more pitiable than me!”

The journalists laughed, and the topic naturally shifted.

Fifteen minutes later, crew members arrived with the legitimate reason of “actors needing makeup”, politely ending the interview and escorting the three male actors away.

Makeup and styling for historical dramas take much longer than modern dramas, even though male actors require less time than females. Still, it took nearly two hours for the three main male actors to transform completely.

Ran Lin looked at the reflection of Fang Xian in the mirror, dressed in magnificent clothes with a milky white base and golden embroidery, showcasing his noble birth with a cloud-patterned belt and a jade dragon pendant. He looked every bit the pampered young master of a martial arts family, the kind more inclined to luxury than learning.

His hairstyle was crafted to be suave and dashing. All the hair at the temples and forehead was pulled back, revealing a widow’s peak, with long hair naturally falling at the back, creating a classic, gentle, and handsome ancient look.

Lu Yiyao’s styling was simpler in comparison.

The hairstylist gathered all his hair into a neat bun, leaving only a widow’s peak and some tousled bangs, complementing his sharp eyebrows and peach blossom eyes. Even without speaking, he exuded decisiveness and resolve.

His attire was dark, devoid of any ostentatious patterns, understated and plain, more befitting the role of Fang Xian’s protector than that of a foster son in the Fang Clan. This matched his status in the family—in name, he was a young master, but in reality, just another dog raised by Fang Huanzhi.

But Fang Xian didn’t see it that way.

Ran Lin, who had finished his styling first, circled around him twice, genuinely admiring. “You look good.”

Lu Yiyao’s favorite compliment was of this sort. While raising his arm to allow the stylist to fasten the hidden buttons on his costume, he returned the compliment. “You look pretty good too.”

Ran Lin thought for a moment and shook his head. “I still prefer your outfit, though. It’s not ostentatious, looks low-key yet profound, and seems easy to move in.”

Lu Yiyao asked, “Are you referring to the clothes when you say ‘good-looking’?”

Ran Lin, noticing the obvious disappointment on the face of the lead actor, quickly realized, “No, I mean you, the person!”

Lu Yiyao, somewhat frustrated, replied, “Too late.”

Ran Lin sighed and turned to Tang Xiaoyu, who was still having his eyebrows done, for help. “Has Teacher Lu always been so… concerned about his looks?”

Tang Xiaoyu, unable to move his head to avoid disturbing the makeup artist, struggled to respond with minimal mouth movement. “Not just…”

Ran Lin raised an eyebrow.

Lu Yiyao seemed somewhat reassured.

Tang Xiaoyu continued, “Not just the looks. He cares about his hairstyle too.”

Lu Yiyao looked away, pretending not to hear anything.

Ran Lin couldn’t help but laugh; indeed, working with old partners had its risks and required caution.

When all three were almost done with their makeup, another male actor entered the makeup room—Zhong Jiakun, playing Fang Huanzhi.

The veteran actor, nearly sixty years old, was still energetic and fit, with a profound gaze and a face that showed maturity and dignity.

Regardless of their status, the three greeted him respectfully. “Teacher Zhong—”

“Don’t make me sound so old.” Zhong Jiakun’s voice was magnetic and robust, obviously honed from years of performing in stage dramas. “Let’s learn from each other and make progress together.”

Zhong Jiakun’s scenes were scheduled for the afternoon, so he wasn’t required to come in early that morning. The director’s assistant came in to check on the styling progress, and seeing it was almost complete, immediately called the three male actors to take their costume photos.

The director had no objections to the styling, and the costume photoshoot went smoothly—Tang Jingyu looked stern, Fang Xian dashing, and Xu Chongfei righteous.

After the photoshoot, Tang Xiaoyu rushed off to the B set for his scenes with supporting actors, leaving Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin at the A set to start their first scene of the day.

A small bridge over running water, a dark red corridor, and a pavilion in the middle of the water with a stone table, laid with pastries and a pot of tea.

Tang Jingyu sat by the stone table, poised, gazing into the distance.

Fang Xian lay on top of the pavilion, his body under the hexagonal eaves and glazed tiles, with the clear blue sky above. He crossed his legs in a relaxed manner, a straw dangling from his mouth. The straw swayed with the movement of his feet, wasting his handsome appearance that was as exquisite as a jade carving.

They were waiting for someone from the Liuhua Palace to pass by.

The resurgence of the Sword of Fallen Flowers Manual in Liuma Town had led them to believe that someone from the Liuhua Palace had crucial clues. They were lying in wait, hoping to follow someone from the palace to gather information.

Originally, only Tang Jingyu was dispatched by Fang Huanzhi. However, his typically carefree and ignorant younger son also insisted on coming along. Fang Huanzhi, who didn’t value this son much, let him be, and thus Fang Xian enthusiastically followed his “good brother”.

Yes, he thought he and Tang Jingyu were good brothers.

But at this moment, Tang Jingyu had already begun to suspect Fang Huanzhi and was gradually confirming whether his foster father was indeed responsible for the annihilation of the Tang Clan. And Fang Xian, from being a simple good brother, had become a pawn in his game.

“Hey.” Fang Xian, lying above, gazing at the sky, casually chatted with Tang Jingyu. “Do you think someone from Liuhua Palace will really come?”

Inside the pavilion, Tang Jingyu’s expression remained unchanged, his voice steady. “Be patient.”

“I heard that Zhao Buyao is stunningly beautiful yet cold as ice towards others. I really want to see her with my own eyes…”

“Cut!”

Director Chen, from behind the monitor, called for a halt without mercy. “The emotion is off. Let’s do it again!”

The entire crew remained silent.

Usually, for the first scene and first shot, it’s normal for actors to struggle to get into the right state, and directors tend to be gentler. But Director Chen was stern and unyielding from the start, not sparing any feelings.

No one dared to speak, just waiting for the actors to react.

Ran Lin lay on the pavilion’s glazed tiles. A small shift would risk a slide, so he just slightly turned his head to give Director Chen an “I got it” look, then continued gazing at the sky.

Compared to him, Lu Yiyao was more fortunate. He got up, stretched his muscles, and sat back down on the stone bench, sitting straight as if wearing a posture corrector, looking into the distance.

“Action,” the director said, returning behind the monitor.

The script supervisor stepped forward to clap the board. “<Sword of Fallen Flowers> Scene 77, Take 2…”

Click!

With the sound of the clapboard, Fang Xian’s straw immediately began swaying again. “Hey, do you think someone from Liuhua Palace will really come?”

Tang Jingyu absentmindedly replied, “Be patient.”

Fang Xian, full of longing, looked past the sunshade above him, around the camera on the crane, finally reaching the sky. “I heard that Zhao Buyao is stunningly beautiful, yet cold as ice towards others…”

“Cut!”

The director called even earlier this time.

The crane operator sighed almost inaudibly, while the camera operators capturing Lu Yiyao and the other cameras behind them were somewhat helpless.

Frankly, for just these two lines, they, as laymen, couldn’t really tell if the emotions were right or wrong. In the lens, both actors were handsome from every angle, and the composition was perfect. It was unclear what exactly the director was dissatisfied with.

Director Chen finally stood up, came out from behind the monitor, and walked into the pavilion. Lu Yiyao quickly stood up, and Ran Lin, sensing something was amiss, carefully climbed up and leaned on the pavilion’s protruding eaves, peering down.

Director Chen looked up at Fang Xian, who lacked any grace, and rubbed his head wearily. “Come down for now.”

A quick-witted crew member immediately brought over a ladder to help Young Master Fang climb down.

Ran Lin, while climbing down, envied Lu Yiyao—his character in the drama was set to have his meridians¹ severed by Fang Huanzhi from a young age, rendering him unable to practice qinggong² or any internal force³-based martial arts. He could only practice some basic hand and foot techniques for self-defense, so he had no scenes in high places, let alone any wire stunts.

¹Concept in Chinese medicine that allows you to channel qi (energy) throughout your body. When a meridian is severed/sealed, it cripples or immobilizes that person.
²The ability to lighten the body and move with great agility & swiftness. At high proficiency, practitioners of this skill can run across water, leap to the top of trees, or even glide through the air.
³[Neijin] (内力) or [neigong] (內功) is commonly used in martial arts and Chinese medicine. It’s considered a source of energy, strength, and agility for combat and can be harnessed through cultivation. || In wuxia and xianxia context, it’s basically energy that gives cultivators superhuman powers.

While reading the script, he was absolutely delighted. Amid his random thoughts, Ran Lin had already landed and immediately joined Lu Yiyao inside the pavilion to listen to the director’s guidance.

The director didn’t need the actors to guess his thoughts, speaking directly. “Both of your emotions are off. Tang Jingyu is currently preoccupied with Fang Huanzhi, who’s still at the Fang residence. He’s only dealing with Fang Xian, but his whole state isn’t distracted; it’s contemplative. Your gaze is too scattered. There’s nothing in your eyes. If you can’t get into the emotion, how can you bring the audience into it?”

“And you.” Director Chen turned to Ran Lin. “You’re not deeply in love yet. All your fantasies about Zhao Buyao are based on her being beautiful, so what you need to express is frivolity, not a lover. If you want depth, there will be plenty of opportunities later.”

“Take a ten-minute break. Both of you go over there and work on your emotions.” As soon as Director Chen finished speaking, the two actors hadn’t reacted yet, but the crew members from various departments—camera, lighting, sound, etc.—immediately switched to a relaxed state, easing the tension.

Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin exchanged glances—they were each other’s only comfort now. Any actor with a sense of responsibility wouldn’t want to delay the progress of the production due to their own shortcomings. Their disappointment in themselves was coupled with guilt towards the hardworking crew members.

Seeing Lu Yiyao still pondering in place, Ran Lin decisively pulled him to a secluded and quiet spot in the corridor, away from the crew.

“What do you think?” Ran Lin asked directly, given the limited time.

Lu Yiyao was perplexed. “I have no idea right now. This scene isn’t emotionally intense, and I don’t know what effect Director Chen wants.”

Ran Lin looked at him silently.

Lu Yiyao looked back at his partner expectantly, waiting for a revelation…

“I don’t know either,” Ran Lin admitted, spreading his hands.

Lu Yiyao felt like pinching his face.

“But—” Ran Lin quickly changed his tone. “I can’t get into the role right now. I feel like the person below is you, Lu Yiyao, not Tang Jingyu.”

Lu Yiyao felt uncomfortable with the term “below”, but that wasn’t the point. “You can’t get into the role either?”

Ran Lin was surprised. “Either?”

Lu Yiyao confirmed. “Yes, when I say my lines, I feel like the person above is you. There’s no trace of Fang Xian in my mind.”

Why did he have to use “above” as well…

“That’s the issue.” Ran Lin seemed to understand what Director Chen meant by incorrect emotions. “We’re too familiar with each other, which makes it harder to get into our characters.”

Lu Yiyao, still confused, frowned. “In my last project, my first scene was confessing love to the female lead. I didn’t even know her before that, but we got it in one take.”

Ran Lin looked at him, unamused. “Sorry, I couldn’t spark with you like the female lead.”

Lu Yiyao smiled but, seeing his partner’s displeased expression, thought better of continuing.

Silence fell in the corridor.

Identifying the problem was easy; solving it was hard.

“Let’s do this,” Ran Lin said seriously, looking deeply into Lu Yiyao’s eyes. “From now on, forget that you’re Lu Yiyao. You are Tang Jingyu, and I’ll do the same.”

Lu Yiyao was surprised because he was thinking along the same lines as Ran Lin.

Ran Lin took a deep breath, turned towards the lake, and stood silently for several seconds. Then slowly, he turned back and looked at Tang Jingyu, asking deliberately, “When you found out that my father might be the one who destroyed your family, what did you think?”

This wasn’t Ran Lin; this was Fang Xian, holding back unbelievable pain, seeking confirmation from Tang Jingyu with a last glimmer of hope.

Lu Yiyao lowered his eyes and, miraculously, easily slipped into character. He was Tang Jingyu, the man who, in his quest for revenge, wouldn’t hesitate to use his sincere brother…

His gaze lifted again, the smile gone, replaced by Tang Jingyu’s struggle. “I couldn’t think of anything else. I just wanted to verify my suspicions at all costs.”

Pain flickered in Fang Xian’s eyes—the carefree young master of the Fang Clan, who loved and feared nothing, was also capable of getting hurt. “Even if it meant using me?”

Tang Jingyu shook his head slightly. “I couldn’t think of anything else. I just needed to confirm whether your father was the one who destroyed my family.”

Fang Xian’s voice trembled faintly with suppressed emotion. “We grew up together—more than a decade of brotherhood. Didn’t you hesitate even a bit when you used me?”

“No.” Tang Jingyu was decisive. “Even if I did later, at that moment, there was no hesitation at all.”

Fang Xian’s eyes reddened. “So, not even a bit of remorse?”

Tang Jingyu hesitated, then said softly after a while, “There is. But it can’t compete with my desire to find my family’s destroyer…”

“Look at me.” Fang Xian slightly lifted his head, his body unconsciously drawing closer to his former brother, close enough to feel each other’s breath. “Who am I in your eyes now?”

Tang Jingyu didn’t hesitate this time; his heart was clear. “A brother I owe the most.”

Fang Xian stared intently at him. “Remember, that’s your feeling towards me.”

Tang Jingyu suddenly asked, “And yours towards me?”

Fang Xian lowered his eyes, then lifted them again, firm. “I recognize you as a brother. Once recognized, it’s for life. Even if I have to kill you later, you’re still my brother.”

“Teacher Lu, Teacher Ran, we’re ready to continue shooting…” The director’s assistant hurried over, breathless, to inform them.

The two returned to the pavilion, Ran Lin climbed back up, and Lu Yiyao sat down straight again. The ladder was removed, the crane lifted, and cameras got into position—

“<Sword of Fallen Flowers> Scene 77, Take 3…”

Click!

“Hey, do you think someone from Liuhua Palace will really come?” Fang Xian looked at the sky, casually asking, his toes pointing up, swaying along with the straw in his mouth, the breeze brushing through his hair, making him look even more handsome and carefree.

“Be patient.” Tang Jingyu withdrew his distant gaze and quietly poured himself a cup of tea.

His movements were slow, like a ritual, and his voice was unchanged, but his eyes were unfathomably deep.

Fang Xian couldn’t see him, still lost in fantasies about the beauty. “I heard that Zhao Buyao is stunningly beautiful yet cold as ice to others. I really want to see her with my own eyes.”

Tang Jingyu offered a slight smile, but the warmth didn’t reach his deep, profound eyes. “Liuhua Palace is known in the martial world for its use of poison. If you’re not afraid of death, feel free to flirt.”

“What are you saying!”

Fang Xian, dissatisfied, suddenly stood up and leapt down—though it was just for show.

“Cut!” The director emerged from behind the monitor for the third time.

The two heroes, one above and one below the pavilion, held their breath…

“Pass!”

Thank God.

Quick as shadows, the crew brought a ladder, and Ran Lin, the great hero, finally bid farewell to his precarious position aloft. He climbed down, not very gracefully, to stand with Lu Yiyao in the middle of the pavilion.

Later, Ran Lin would join the action scene team to film this acrobatic descent, but for now, he could only play a mortal.

The equipment was reset, and the two actors—one casually lounging, the other calm and stern—stood in the pavilion. Even the colors of their costumes, one light and one dark, contrasted sharply.

A breeze skimmed the lake, creating gentle ripples.

“<Sword of Fallen Flowers> Scene 78, Take 1…”

Click!

Fang Xian nonchalantly sat next to his brother, full of discontent. “Everyone desires beauty. I, a young master, have an open heart. How could I stoop to such lowly acts as flirting? But some people, though they speak righteously…” He suddenly wrapped an arm around Tang Jingyu’s neck, laughing mischievously. “Might be thinking of all sorts of flirty things.”

Lu Yiyao momentarily broke character, but as he looked into “Fang Xian’s” eyes, Tang Jingyu’s soul was pulled back.

Ran Lin, in his role, seemed to possess a magic that made people naturally forget their real world and identity, as if their characters in the drama were the only true existence.

Tang Jingyu’s gaze settled, and he looked at Fang Xian with an almost smiling expression, silent, exuding a calm as if saying “let the strong be strong. I am as calm as the breeze on the hills.”

Fang Xian, finding no fun in this, let go with a “Tch”, clearly unimpressed.

Tang Jingyu, sprayed with a disdainful aura, smiled, but soon, as if realizing something, the smile remained on his face, yet retreated from the depths of his eyes.

Fang Xian, oblivious, continued, “What should I say when I see Miss Zhao later? Talking too much might seem frivolous, but if I speak too little… will it fail to show my charming and dashing nature…”

Tang Jingyu silently watched his brother lost in thought, his calm eyes flickering with an indescribable complexity. He ignored Fang Xian’s fanciful musings and asked out of the blue, “Will foster father come this time?”

Fang Xian, still discussing Zhao Buyao, was suddenly taken aback as the topic shifted to his father.

But since Tang Jingyu asked, he naturally responded, “He probably won’t. Father said he’s going into seclusion for a while.”

Tang Jingyu’s eyes lowered, understanding dawning.

Fang Xian sensed something odd and suddenly leaned forward, almost lying on the stone table, looking up at Tang Jingyu. “You’re acting a bit strange today.”

Tang Jingyu looked down at him, and a gust of wind blew, scattering the smile at the corner of his mouth. “Strange in what way?”

Fang Xian relaxed, standing up to pat his brother’s shoulder. “That’s better. Don’t always be so stern. Smile more. No girl likes a stone…”

Tang Jingyu, intrigued, asked, “They all like you?”

“Of course,” Fang Xian said proudly, lifting his chin up. “I have the looks of a hero, a face rivaling Pan An*…”

*Pan Yue, more popularly referred to as Pan An, was a well known poet who was famous for his good looks from a young age, thus “Pan An” has become a Chinese byword to refer to handsome men.

But as he spoke, Fang Xian faltered, looking hesitantly at Tang Jingyu. “Why aren’t you throwing hidden weapons at me?”

Tang Jingyu smiled softly, his voice unusually gentle. “I’ll let you speak your mind today.”

Fang Xian pouted, clearly unimpressed. “Boring.”

After saying so, he snatched Tang Jingyu’s tea and drank it in one gulp.

Tang Jingyu looked at his brother, who couldn’t even bother to pour his own tea, first with resignation and then slowly, his eyes filled with an apology that could no longer be hidden.

“Cut—”

“Pass!”

Ran Lin instantly relaxed, exhaling deeply. The charming and dashing young master was nowhere to be seen.

Lu Yiyao strangely realized that the moment the director called “Pass”, Fang Xian vanished without a trace, leaving only Ran Lin, unblemished and harmless.

The guy who had unabashedly grabbed his neck just moments ago seemed like an illusion, with only the lingering warmth on his neck as proof that Fang Xian had been there.

“Hey, that take is done. Stop staring at me like that.” Ran Lin waved his hand in front of Lu Yiyao’s eyes. “It’s kind of creepy…”

Lu Yiyao simply smiled.

He couldn’t say this to Ran Lin, as he was sure it would make him even more smug, but he mentally added a note in his mental notebook—

Ran Lin [Cunning Boy]

Note 1: Occasionally attentive.

Note 2: Occasionally naive.

Note 3: Good at self-reflection.

Note 4: Shines when acting.

---

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

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

---

Chapter 38

“That’s really inconsiderate. If I hadn’t seen the news, were you two planning to collaborate in secret like this!”

Xia Xinran’s voice, even through the headphones, sounded as if he was standing right in front of you, overwhelming and full of momentum.

Ran Lin glanced at Wang Xi subconsciously. The travel fatigue made her too lazy to care about who her artist was messaging. After politely thanking the drama crew’s driver who came to pick them up, she spent most of the journey resting with her eyes closed.

However, Liu Wanwan kept glancing over curiously, quickly retracting her gaze when noticed.

Ran Lin smiled slightly, about to type in the group chat, but Gu Jie beat her to it—[The two of them are legitimately filming, so why does it sound like they’re eloping when you mention it? 🙄]

Xia Xinran: “Why are you everywhere? I’m talking to Ran Lin!”

Gu Jie: [Then message privately. Posting in the group is obviously for everyone to see. 🤷]

Gu Jie: [By the way, why haven’t we seen Lu Yiyao?]

Zhang Beichen: [Then let me show up first. I’ll be stationed in Hengdian next week. 😏]

The Chen Sheng and Wu Guang group hadn’t been this lively in a long time. Now, except for Lu Yiyao, everyone was present.

Except for Xia Xinran, everyone was typing. Ran Lin replied with a light smile, explaining—[He should be on the plane, arriving a bit later than me.]

Immediately, Xia Xinran’s attention was diverted to the new topic, no longer entangling with Gu Jie. He asked directly: [Have you arrived at the hotel?]

Ran Lin smiled and typed: [Still on the way, almost there. Why have you also switched to typing?]

Xia Xinran: [Everyone’s so quiet, I can’t break the formation. 😮‍💨]

Gu Jie: [@Zhang Beichen Are you going to Hengdian too?]

Zhang Beichen: [A new drama, I’ll be there for three months.]

Gu Jie: [Wait, I just saw, is the third male lead in Fallen Flowers is Tang Xiaoyu?]

Ran Lin: [Yes.]

Gu Jie: [Alright, then I and someone must visit the set. We have to get the Drifting Group together at least once. 😎]

Xia Xinran: [Someone, who?]

Zhang Beichen: [Hahaha.]

Ran Lin: [😏]

The chat ended there, and Ran Lin felt that the fatigue of the journey was alleviated a lot by the joking among friends.

Although Xia Xinran was still his usual self, hardly interacting directly with Zhang Beichen, Zhang Beichen had apparently gotten used to it and mingled effortlessly with everyone else, bypassing Xia Xinran almost imperceptibly. Gu Jie and Lu Yiyao, the more straightforward ones, had never noticed this subtle friction.

Sometimes, being a bit oblivious isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Noticing the friction between two people and being unable to do anything about it only adds to one’s worries.

Hengdian, originally a small town in Zhejiang, started its unique path of discovery with the construction of a film and television city in the 1990s. Today, it is the largest film and television shooting base in Asia. With the rise of the film and television industry, tourism has also developed, now serving as a multifaceted economic zone combining film, leisure, and tourism.

The drama crew had arranged for the actors to stay in a star-rated hotel outside the film city, just a seven to eight-minute drive away. During the shooting period, there were daily shuttles to and from the set. The director and the rest of the crew stayed in a business hotel closer to the film city, which was comfortable but more cost-effective and convenient for shooting locations.

When they arrived at the hotel, it was already dark. The hotel was brightly lit, surrounded by bustling activity.

Many people were walking on the streets. It was easy to tell who were film industry professionals and who were tourists—the former wore tired expressions, while the latter looked excited and curious.

The car stopped at the hotel entrance, and the driver asked Wang Xi and Ran Lin to stay inside while he made a phone call.

Through the glass, Ran Lin saw some young girls in the hotel lobby, excitedly chatting and looking around while waiting to check in.

After a brief phone call, a middle-aged man in his forties hurried out. He moved quickly but had a welcoming smile.

Wang Xi immediately got out of the car to greet him. “Hello—”

“Hello,” the man shook hands with Wang Xi, introducing himself. “I’m the life producer for our group. My name is Feng, and everyone respectfully calls me Feng Ge.”

The life producer is responsible for the entire crew’s logistics, from hotel and flight arrangements to meals and snacks.

Wang Xi smiled warmly and politely. “I’m Ran Lin’s agent. We’ll be relying on Feng Ge for these next few months.”

“No, no, we all work hard together,” Feng Ge replied earnestly and swiftly pulled out two room cards. “This is Ran Lin’s room, and this is for you and the assistant. The contact list I sent you earlier has all the phone numbers. If you have any problems, feel free to contact me!”

“With Feng Ge arranging, everything will be perfect.” Wang Xi was more than willing to say a few extra kind words.

Feng Ge, pleased with the smooth interaction and relieved to not deal with difficult stars, offered an additional service. “Let me take you through the side entrance. There are a lot of fans waiting in the lobby.”

Wang Xi quickly understood. ‘Lu Yiyao’s fans?’

Brother Feng nodded. ‘Nowadays, star schedules are hardly secret. Some fans know the shooting schedule for every day. We can only try to avoid it as much as possible.’

With the agent handling external affairs, Ran Lin was happy to relax. After getting out of the car with Liu Wanwan, they followed Feng Ge through the side entrance into the hotel.

Feng Ge was chatty, revealing on the way to the elevator that the rooms for the actors were distributed on the top three floors. The male lead and future female lead had rooms on the top floor, other important actors on the floor below, and the floor below that housed the actors’ personal teams.

After this chat, they reached the elevator. Feng Ge didn’t enter, instead waving them off, saying he needed to welcome other actors.

Wang Xi exchanged more polite words before taking Ran Lin and Liu Wanwan into the elevator.

As the elevator doors closed, Wang Xi’s smile faded, returning to her usual sharp and efficient demeanor. “Let’s put our luggage in our rooms, then go say hello to the director.”

……

Tomorrow was the start of shooting, and theoretically, the actors should arrive tonight to rest well.

However, knowing where the director was and not going to greet him, especially for a lesser-known actor like Ran Lin, would seem impolite.

Forty minutes later.

Ran Lin and Wang Xi arrived at the hotel where the director was staying. Wang Xi called the director.

It seemed the director wasn’t too welcoming of their uninvited visit, but when Wang Xi mentioned they were already in the hotel lobby, he softened and gave them his room number.

During the brief phone call, Ran Lin was asked for autographs by seven or eight girls, and one even requested a photo with him.

Finally, after much persuasion, they managed to enter the elevator.

Knock knock.

Wang Xi gently knocked on the door.

Having been forewarned, the door opened without a question from inside.

Wang Xi was surprised, and so was Ran Lin—the person who opened the door was Song Mang.

It was still early September, so Hengdian was at the tail end of summer. Song Mang was dressed in a white T-shirt and large floral shorts, giving off a Hawaiian vibe.

“Screenwriter Song, you’re here too.” Wang Xi quickly recovered and smiled.

Ran Lin, standing behind her, also politely greeted. “Mr. Song.”

“You were told to rest well by the director, yet you still had to come here,” Song Mang mentioned the director casually, not with the respect of a screenwriter for a director but more like friends.

Ran Lin followed Wang Xi into the room, and Director Chen stood up from the table and nodded at them.

The table was covered with scripts, and there was another chair, indicating they were discussing the plot.

It seemed Song Mang would be their on-set writer, which surprised Ran Lin.

It’s rare for a screenwriter to follow a production once the script is finished. Usually, directors bring their own familiar writers to adjust the script as needed during shooting.

It appeared that Chen Qizheng and Song Mang were indeed as close as an interview Ran Lin had read suggested, bonded over their love for martial arts and becoming close friends despite the age difference.

Director Chen gestured for Ran Lin to sit on another empty chair, while Song Mang pulled up another chair to sit beside him. Wang Xi tactfully retreated to a corner, not participating or interrupting.

“How do you feel about starting shooting tomorrow?” Director Chen asked casually.

Ran Lin answered honestly, “Quite looking forward to it—a bit excited and a bit nervous.”

Director Chen silently observed him for a while, then suddenly said, “If you can always maintain the state you were in when drinking that day, I’d really be reassured.”

Ran Lin was bewildered, unsure if the director was serious or mocking.

Song Mang passed a cigarette to Ran Lin, who quickly shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

Song Mang offered the cigarette to Wang Xi instead, asking apologetically, “Miss, do you mind?”

Wang Xi initially wanted to accept the cigarette but realized they thought she’d mind, so she just smiled. “It’s okay.”

Ran Lin suppressed a laugh, knowing Wang Xi must be internally complaining—why didn’t you offer me one too!

“Actually,” Song Mang took a couple of puffs, finally finding his stride in the conversation, “Both Director Chen and I thought you didn’t quite resemble Fang Xian, but we both agreed you had potential that could be explored. Your explosive performance during the audition left a deep impression. Fang Xian is a character with significant conflict between his earlier and later phases, and we were both quite optimistic about you…”

Ran Lin involuntarily swallowed, sensing the word “were” was not a good sign.

Director Chen, usually reticent, now had Song Mang as his spokesperson, happy to let him do the talking.

Song Mang flicked the ash lightly, continuing, “But recently, I watched some of your past performances, and now my feelings and Director Chen’s are the same—you have too soft a gaze. It’s not effeminate, just too good-natured. This may be related to your personality, but this softness is very ‘un-Fang Xian’…”

“Fang Xian is arrogant and haughty, thinking he’s the best, loves whoever he wants.” Song Mang got excited, sitting up straight, focusing intently on Ran Lin. “You need to be more arrogant, understand? You need to have the vibe of a superstar!”

Ran Lin resisted the urge to wipe off the saliva sprayed on his face, nodding seriously. “I’ll try my best!”

Director Chen had become used to Song Mang’s sudden passion, but what Song Mang said was also what he wanted to convey. He couldn’t be sure if Ran Lin had found the essence of Fang Xian yet. It was a gamble—betting on their judgment and Ran Lin’s perceptiveness. Winning the bet would bring extraordinary results; losing would make future investment harder.

Since they had come just to greet and the director and screenwriter still had work to discuss, Ran Lin didn’t stay long and soon got up to leave.

As he was leaving, reminded by Wang Xi’s glance, Ran Lin realized he hadn’t yet thanked the two who had strongly recommended him for Fang Xian, so he quickly expressed his gratitude.

Song Mang said, “No need to be polite. It’s all for the sake of the show.”

Director Chen said, “Just focus all your thoughts on the character. That’s enough.”

With an impassioned screenwriter and a reticent director, Ran Lin suddenly felt this golden pairing was quite complementary.

Back at the hotel, Wang Xi and Liu Wanwan got off the elevator first and went straight to their rooms, leaving Ran Lin to go up one more floor. As he stepped out of the elevator, he recognized a familiar figure in the corridor and couldn’t help but call out, “Tang Xiaoyu?”

The person called turned around and, seeing Ran Lin, was also surprised. “You just arrived?”

“No.” Ran Lin didn’t want to elaborate. “I just went out for a walk.”

The two had only met once on a variety show, and after chatting briefly, they ran out of things to say, standing at opposite ends of the corridor, awkwardly staring at each other.

Especially for Ran Lin, who felt more conflicted.

Objectively, Tang Xiaoyu was a bit more popular than him, usually playing significant secondary roles, like the heavy male second lead in a drama with Lu Yiyao. Now he was the third male lead, ranked behind someone like Ran Lin. Ran Lin wasn’t sure if Tang Xiaoyu was as unconcerned as he appeared.

“It’ll get even colder if we just stand here staring at each other.” Tang Xiaoyu broke the silence with a teasing tone.

The awkward atmosphere disappeared, and the air started flowing again.

Ran Lin went with the flow. “Should we find some common topics, then?”

Unexpectedly, this seemed exactly what Tang Xiaoyu wanted, as he immediately came over, beaming. “You said it. Come into my room. We need to have a good chat.”

Ran Lin narrowed his eyes in feigned caution.

Tang Xiaoyu stood tall and proud. “Don’t worry. I’m a good guy.”

“That assurance makes you even more suspicious…” Ran Lin teased as he swiped his card to open the door.

Tang Xiaoyu turned out to be quite easygoing, a bit overly familiar, but still respectful of boundaries. As soon as they entered the room, he got straight to the point. “Actually, I want to talk to you about Xu Chongfei.”

Ran Lin thought he came to confront him, but seeing Tang Xiaoyu’s serious demeanor, it didn’t seem like that. Instead, it seemed like a sincere discussion.

Tang Xiaoyu acknowledged Ran Lin’s apprehension and said directly, “Don’t overthink it. I sincerely want to ask for your advice. I auditioned for Xu Chongfei too, but my agent told me I didn’t get the part, and it went to you. And…”

Ran Lin raised an eyebrow, wondering why Tang Xiaoyu suddenly stopped speaking.

Tang Xiaoyu hesitated, contemplating whether to be this candid. Eventually, he decided to be straightforward since they were in private. “And… from what I know, you didn’t use any underhanded methods, so the director and screenwriter choosing you must be based on your audition performance. Now that I have Xu Chongfei, I naturally have to consult a senior like you.”

Ran Lin was caught off guard by Tang Xiaoyu’s frankness, blinking in amusement. “If you keep calling me a senior, I’ll burn all my scripts.”

Tang Xiaoyu grimaced, immediately straightening up and patting Ran Lin on the shoulder. “Brother, give me some real tips.”

During their time on the reality show, Ran Lin hadn’t noticed Tang Xiaoyu being this funny, only thinking he was a nice guy. Now, in private, Tang Xiaoyu’s personality revealed many endearing qualities.

Ran Lin took out his phone, showing his WeChat QR code. “Scan me.”

Tang Xiaoyu understood this was to add him as a friend. Although he didn’t grasp the sudden shift in the conversation, he scanned the code.

Right after adding him, Ran Lin sent over a document.

Tang Xiaoyu, puzzled, opened it to see the first seven words at the top of the document—Xu Chongfei’s Character Biography.

The script included character biographies, which Tang Xiaoyu knew by heart, so he instantly noticed that Ran Lin’s version was different. The most apparent difference was that the script’s character biographies were written in third person, while Ran Lin’s was in first person, resembling Xu Chongfei’s monologue more than a biography.

Tang Xiaoyu briefly read a few lines, and it felt like he could envision the young man in moonlight white clothes sitting by the window under the moonlight, writing down this monologue amidst occasional crackling of the lamp.

“You wrote this?” Tang Xiaoyu guessed but couldn’t quite believe it.

Ran Lin said, “Xu Chongfei wrote it.”

Tang Xiaoyu considered himself a dedicated actor, known for making extensive notes in his scripts, including his interpretation of each line and planned expressions and gestures. However, he had never done this—engaging in dialogue with a character in the script using written words.

“No wonder you beat me.” Tang Xiaoyu saved the document, thoroughly convinced.

The word “beat” could be sensitive, but Tang Xiaoyu said it comfortably and naturally, making Ran Lin glad to have such a partner.

“Ah.” Tang Xiaoyu suddenly sighed with a sense of longing. “I have to be Lu Yiyao’s sidekick again. Last time in a drama, I was always revolving around him!”

Ran Lin laughed, reassuring his partner. “We’ll be sidekicks together.”

Tang Xiaoyu checked the time on his phone, muttering, “When is he arriving, anyway?”

Before he finished, Ran Lin’s phone buzzed with a short WeChat notification sound.

Tang Xiaoyu was puzzled, glancing at him.

Ran Lin casually opened it, revealing a new message.

Tang Xiaoyu, curious, couldn’t help but ask, “Who is it?”

The more Ran Lin tried to hide, the more suspicious it would seem. Since it wasn’t anything private, he showed his future partner the message: “Cao Cao¹.”

[Lu Yiyao: I’m on the highway now.]

Talk about Cao Cao, and he shall appear¹.

¹Idiom referring to the other party appearing unexpectedly when they’re speaking about them (AKA Speak of the devil and he shall appear).

……

That night, the second and third male leads ended up not waiting for the lead actor—there was a car accident on the highway, causing a huge traffic jam.

Ran Lin, seeing the words “car accident”, lost his composure and immediately called.

Lu Yiyao picked up quickly but was confused about the sudden switch from WeChat to a phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you okay?” Ran Lin skipped the pleasantries, getting straight to the point.

Lu Yiyao was taken aback, finally understanding his friend’s concern, and quickly explained, “I’m fine. I got stuck in traffic a kilometer away.”

Ran Lin breathed a sigh of relief, his anxiety finally easing.

On the other end, Lu Yiyao felt a warm sensation but teased, “Is Fang Xian worried about Tang Jingyu, or is the diehard fan worried about Teacher Lu?”

Ran Lin rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s the class monitor worried about the student who’s always late.”

Lu Yiyao protested, “I admit to being late, but I never leave early. You guys will be wrapping up, and I’ll still have to shoot the last few scenes.”

Ran Lin: “Okay, okay, we know you’re the lead.”

Lu Yiyao, satisfied, cooed, “Be good¹.”

Ran Lin froze on the other end.

Lu Yiyao also paused in his car, realizing something was amiss¹.

¹Clarity: The word he’s using is (乖) which means “be good/obedient”. It’s often used to address children, pets, or close relationships. In an adult conversation, it takes on a different connotation, often as a tender and endearing way to compliment or acknowledge someone’s cooperation, compliance, or agreeableness. In this context, the reason why they both react this way is that this is a term used for very close relationships (including couples), so when Lu Yiyao is telling him “be good”, it takes on a bit of a romantic teasing undertone.

As the traffic finally started moving, the driver accelerated too quickly, causing the vehicle to jolt.

Lu Yiyao was shaken back to reality and hurriedly said, “I should go. You need to rest. See you early tomorrow.”

“Okay, sure.” The voice on the other end quickly hung up, a bit too hastily.

The screen went dark, and Lu Yiyao realized Ran Lin hadn’t said goodnight.

At some point, their nightly conversations usually ended with a goodnight, and while it felt normal when said, its absence felt like the conversation was incomplete.

“Ran Lin?” Yao Hong could now tell just by his expressions who Lu Yiyao was talking to—not just on the phone but also on WeChat. Normally, he was natural with acquaintances, but when it came to friends like Huo Yuntao and Ran Lin, he was all smiles, eager to share his joy.

“Yeah.” Lu Yiyao never hid anything from Yao Hong, and his relationship with Ran Lin was almost like an open secret with the latter’s manager.

Yao Hong nodded, recalling what she had just heard, and suddenly asked, “What’s this ‘be good’ about?”

Lu Yiyao looked blankly at his manager. “What ‘be good’?”

Yao Hong frowned. “Didn’t you just say, ‘be good’ to him?”

Lu Yiyao looked innocently at her. “Did I?”

Her artist was too justified in his actions, causing Yao Hong to become unsure. “Didn’t you say it?”

Lu Yiyao swiftly turned towards Li Tong, attempting to find an ally.

Li Tong, who was originally enjoying the show, instantly turned his head towards the window and seamlessly transitioned into singing, “My voice is laughing~~ Tears are flying~~ Do you know who’s on the other end of the phone~~~”

Lu Yiyao helplessly turned back, innocently looking at the agent again. “I really didn’t say it.”

Yao Hong gave up, considering it a trivial matter. “If you didn’t say it, then you didn’t. There’s no need to keep emphasizing it. Stop clinging to your phone. We have to get up early tomorrow. Sleep as much as you can now.”

“Okay.” Lu Yiyao breathed a sigh of relief, put his phone back in his pocket, and closed his eyes to rest.

He hadn’t said anything. The strange atmosphere of the conversation just now must have been an illusion caused by the traffic jam.

……

After taking a bath, Ran Lin went to bed, his face still hot enough to fry an egg.

The gentle Lu Yiyao was too much to handle. A single word from him could keep Ran Lin immersed for a year.

For the first time, Ran Lin realized how weak he was.

But within what seemed like rational self-reflection, a hint of doubt quietly resurfaced—is Lu Yiyao really straight?

Assuming and then overturning, overturning and then assuming again, Ran Lin tossed and turned until after 2 a.m. before finally falling into a drowsy sleep.

He woke up at 6 a.m. to the alarm.

This would be the latest he could get up in the coming months, as today was the start of filming. The morning was mainly for the opening ceremony and makeup tests, with actual shooting beginning in the afternoon. Once they started full-day filming, he would have to get up at 5 a.m.

After a quick wash, Wang Xi came to knock on the door, accompanied by Liu Wanwan.

The trio met and took the elevator down to the hotel lobby. The lobby was almost empty in the early morning, except for Feng Ge talking on the phone near the entrance, sounding very anxious.

Seeing them come down, Feng Ge immediately hung up and came over with an apologetic face. “Sorry, sorry, please wait a moment. The car will be here soon.”

Making the artists wait for a car on the first day of filming was clearly troubling Feng Ge. He was relieved that the lead actress hadn’t joined yet, as she was notoriously difficult to please. If she had encountered today’s situation, he probably wouldn’t be able to stay in the crew.

Wang Xi’s eyes flashed with displeasure, but she spoke kindly. “It’s okay, we’ll wait on the sofa over there.”

Ran Lin was fine with waiting. He had experienced it before while rushing to events, and it was only because he was playing the second male lead this time that he was getting such attention.

Just as they sat on the sofa, Tang Xiaoyu came down, followed by three people, an agent and two assistants.

Feng Ge, who was about to make a call at the entrance, welcomed them again, his expression almost despondent.

Tang Xiaoyu’s agent was also unhappy, but seeing Ran Lin there, Tang Xiaoyu immediately came over, and the agent didn’t complain much to Feng Ge, following his artist instead.

“I didn’t sleep much last night. I was reading the character biography. It was amazing. It made me cry, really.” Tang Xiaoyu couldn’t wait to share his feelings, even before reaching the sofa.

Wang Xi didn’t expect Ran Lin and Tang Xiaoyu to know each other and was pleasantly surprised, especially seeing the latter’s enthusiasm. She moved to the adjacent sofa to let the two artists interact closely.

Building a good relationship with fellow artists was beneficial for Ran Lin.

Tang Xiaoyu thanked Wang Xi and sat down next to Ran Lin, sharing his insights from pondering all night.

“I think you’re right about Xu Chongfei…”

Those who love acting actually have a sense of communion, so Ran Lin could completely feel Tang Xiaoyu’s excitement and was willing to interact with him. But at that moment, he couldn’t concentrate; no matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept drifting away—

Lu Yiyao had arrived.

Since the reality show, Ran Lin hadn’t seen Lu Yiyao. Even though chatting had become a daily routine, neither of them had mentioned, for example, meeting up?

Months had passed, and Lu Yiyao hadn’t changed much since the reality show. But today, he was obviously well-groomed: black trousers, a white shirt, simple and neat in color, fitting perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders and long legs, and his bangs were all swept back, exposing his forehead, which reduced his sunny youthfulness but accentuated his handsome features. As he stepped out of the elevator without a smile, he exuded a forbidding and austere temperament, appearing even more imposing.

Ran Lin watched him stand behind Yao Hong, quietly listening to Feng Ge explain why even the lead actor’s car hadn’t arrived. He watched him look this way, watched him… see him.

Almost at the moment of eye contact, Lu Yiyao’s slightly furrowed brows instantly relaxed, and he walked over with long strides—

“Long time no see.”

The usually aloof Lu Yiyao smiled like that, his gaze locked on his friend, forgetting all about being forbidding and austere, and even with his domineering CEO hairstyle, he was still a model young man.

Ran Lin stood up, watching Lu Yiyao approach, his nervousness suddenly vanishing. “Teacher Lu, if you weren’t so eloquent, I would feel even better.”

Tang Xiaoyu also stood up and took a few steps forward, extending a hand of friendship to an old friend. “Long time no see. We’re working together again.”

Lu Yiyao responded with a tease. “Hopefully the audience won’t get confused.”

Tang Xiaoyu subtly raised an eyebrow, remembering Lu Yiyao as not being so familiar and joking. Even in the reality show where he was more relaxed than when acting with Tang Xiaoyu, he was different from now.

While he was surprised, he didn’t express it too much.

After releasing the handshake, Tang Xiaoyu turned to return to his seat, only to find that the lead actor had already crossed him and sat in his original spot—next to Ran Lin.

The naturalness of his expression forced Tang Xiaoyu to wonder if the sofa cushion had a sign saying “Lu Yiyao’s seat.”

Ran Lin was also a bit embarrassed. Lu Yiyao moved too fast, like a shadow, and before he could speak, Lu Yiyao had already sat down, showing no awareness of taking someone else’s seat.

Helpless, Ran Lin gave Tang Xiaoyu an apologetic look.

Tang Xiaoyu shook his head indifferently and sat opposite the two.

For others, he might have thought more, but for Lu Yiyao, he believed it was just the latter’s carelessness.

Yao Hong wasn’t surprised by this; she would have been more surprised if Lu Yiyao hadn’t stuck close to Ran Lin.

She glanced at Wang Xi sitting on the adjacent sofa, who was smiling innocently but clearly pleased—having a popular star as a friend opens many doors in the industry and attracts fans outside it.

Yao Hong sighed and sat down opposite Wang Xi.

Li Tong, following Yao Hong, also made his way there but felt the atmosphere around the two agent sisters was a bit tense. He glanced around and saw a girl sitting behind Tang Xiaoyu, immediately cheerfully taking a seat opposite her.

“Hello, I am Lu Ge’s assistant, Li Tong.” Assistant Li noticed the girl’s bewildered face and quickly offered a friendly gesture.

Liu Wanwan, startled by the sudden company, cautiously reciprocated after a moment. “Hello, I am Ran Ge’s assistant, Liu Wanwan.”

Liu Wanwan’s hand was a bit cold, which took Li Tong by surprise, and he blurted out without thinking, “You’re very fair-skinned.”

Liu Wanwan, annoyed, withdrew her hand, looked out the window, and ignored Li Tong, who she thought was crazy.

Li Tong realized his mistake but couldn’t entirely blame himself; Liu Wanwan’s skin was indeed very fair, not the artificial kind, but naturally beautiful and slightly fragile, dazzling in the sunlight. She looked more like a fresh graduate, new to the industry, rather than a seasoned colleague.

Tang Xiaoyu, overhearing this, chuckled to himself, thinking about the kind of assistant Lu Yiyao had hired who started flirting right away.

But before he could finish his amusement, he heard Lu Yiyao speak from across—

“You seem to have gotten fairer?”

Tang Xiaoyu looked up in disbelief, retracting his previous doubts—like master, like man*.

*If you’re not from the same family, they do not enter the same door. (不是一家人，不进一家门) It’s a proverb that refers to people of similar personalities or habits tend to be found in the same group or environment.

Ran Lin, the subject of the question, was completely baffled.

Lu Yiyao thought he hadn’t understood and quickly added, “I remember after the reality show, you were quite tanned, not exactly like mangosteen skin, but somewhat like an oxidized apple…”

Ran Lin calmed down, his heartbeat returning to a regular pace—no, even stronger than before, pounding with enough force to strike Lu Yiyao.

“Thanks. I haven’t been out much these past few months, just to get a bit fairer.”

Lu Yiyao keenly sensed that Ran Lin wasn’t very happy.

He also strangely found himself enjoying the sight of his agitated partner.

Feeling guilty but pleased, he unexpectedly complimented, “The effort shows.”

Ran Lin was now certain that this person was no longer the upright and kind young man from the reality show.

In a few months, Teacher Lu had changed, treating him without any formalities, completely like a close friend. So now, he really wanted to… whip him with a small leather whip!

Lu Yiyao, seeing the narrowing eyes of Ran Lin, received a warning signal.

Before, such signals only came from Huo Yuntao’s eyes. Now, seeing it in someone else was both fresh and interesting to Lu Yiyao.

At the same time, he realized his changed attitude towards Ran Lin. This change had already begun in their WeChat chats, but it became crystal clear face-to-face—he couldn’t maintain the polite, distant demeanor with Ran Lin. That was the Lu Yiyao of the entertainment industry, but not the real Lu Yiyao. The real Lu Yiyao, although still not fond of imperatives, liked to occasionally bring his friends a bowl of midnight love-filled rice noodles. Previously, only Huo Yuntao knew this side of him, and now, Ran Lin did too.

Lu Yiyao enjoyed being his true self, no, he loved himself, and thus was thoroughly enjoying the current situation, almost beaming as he extended his hand. “Pleasure working together.”

Ran Lin reciprocated the handshake firmly, deciding to start correcting his skewed views on romance from now on. “Please, teach, me, more.”

Tang Xiaoyu really regretted overhearing such an “intimate” exchange.

What to do. He hadn’t even started playing Xu Chongfei, and he already felt the pressure, as if foreseeing a Shura field*!

*(修罗场) A term originating from the Buddhist term referring to the realm of “Asura”, it refers to a situation that’s extremely chaotic, turbulent, or full of conflict, like a battlefield. Nowadays, it’s an internet buzzword more commonly used to describe romantic or workplace relationships.

---

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

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 37

At one in the morning, Chang’an Street in Beijing seemed unusually empty. Cars sped along at the maximum allowed speed limit, and the passing streetlights left a continuous halo of light on the car windows.

Inside the car, Liu Wanwan was half-asleep. Ran Lin’s eyelids were heavy, but his mind was alert, tiredly gazing out the window, lost in thought.

Wang Xi, who had been holding back all evening, finally got her chance after the gathering ended. She couldn’t hold back any longer and tapped Ran Lin’s head lightly. “What else are you hiding from me, kid?”

Startled by the sudden tap, Ran Lin looked dazed for a moment before realizing what Wang Xi was referring to. He chuckled, looking both honest and innocent. “Being good at drinking isn’t something to be proud of. I can’t just jump out and tell you, ‘Xi Jie, I’m like a barrel of liquor.'”

Wang Xi rolled her eyes at him with a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Whether it’s something to be proud of is not for you to worry about. Just report honestly. Who knows which cloud might bring rain. It might come in handy.”

Ran Lin raised his hand. “I can blow several layers of bubbles with chewing gum.”

Wang Xi, unamused by such a trivial skill, said, “Except for such obscure talents.”

Ran Lin couldn’t help but laugh heartily, and as his laughter faded, he stretched his arm over the front seat, resting his head lightly.

His spirit wasn’t tired, but his body was exhausted, as if every cell was screaming with fatigue and calling for a strike. “Xi Jie, I’m going to take a nap.”

Wang Xi seemed to want to say something more but hesitated, eventually giving up and saying softly, “Alright, I’ll wake you up when we get home.”

Ran Lin had a blurry memory of how he got home that day. He woke up the next afternoon, feeling refreshed and without a hangover.

As soon as he woke up, he eagerly called Wang Xi to inquire about the previous day’s outcomes. He could tell Lei Baishi enjoyed the drinking.

The last thing he remembered was Lei being helped away by his assistant, the “Internationale” echoing in the corridor, not knowing what battles Comrade Lei was fighting in his alcohol-induced illusion.

But no matter how happy the drinking was, business talks were another matter once sober. Lei Baishi’s entertainment company didn’t grow to its size by just drinking.

“We’ve done what we can. Let’s leave it to fate,” was Wang Xi’s response. Ran Lin was somewhat surprised; Wang Xi also had moments of uncertainty.

Actually, choosing him for the male lead role had its pros and cons. Choosing him, with his lower popularity, could risk the show’s ratings, but he was affordable, saving a significant amount in actor fees compared to other high-profile actors, which could be used to enhance production quality. Not choosing him and opting for a more popular actor meant less flexibility, as few popular actors would have their schedules open for the next few months, and from those, ones suitable for the role would be rare, and thus their agents would ask for high fees.

This was why the investor, director, and scriptwriter were at an impasse—no side had a clear advantage or certainty of success.

Originally, the director and scriptwriter were supportive of him, but the words Director Chen said that night made Ran Lin somewhat nervous. He didn’t dare share this conversation with Wang Xi, fearing her reprimand.

……

Days passed, and Ran Lin stopped asking Wang Xi about the role. He stayed home, reading the script daily. Previously focused on the third male lead, he was now considering both the second and third leads. Since Lu Yiyao hinted that the director might let him replace Fang Xian, the two hadn’t been in touch.

On June 1^st, the contract arrived. Wang Xi called him, excitedly revealing the answer as soon as he picked up. “Fang Xian, it’s yours!”

Ran Lin could sense his agent’s excitement, and he was happy too. Apart from anything else, this was recognition from the investor, director, and scriptwriter. But with the happiness came pressure.

“Why are you silent? Too happy to speak?” Wang Xi, unable to see her artist’s expression over the phone, guessed his feelings.

“Yeah, I’m secretly delighted,” Ran Lin playfully replied.

Wang Xi advised, “Prepare well. I won’t arrange any activities for you in the next three months. Stay home, study the script, and occasionally consult the director and scriptwriter. You have their contact information, right? Keeping in touch is always a good idea.”

Ran Lin knew Wang Xi had his best interests at heart and simply agreed. “Okay.”

Wang Xi felt Ran Lin’s reaction lacked the excitement she expected and decided to say more. “Variety shows can attract fans, but the popularity they bring is fleeting. Without solid works, you can’t raise your value. You’re like a small fish in the sea, and a dragon is passing by you. You only rise to the skies if you grab onto its tail.”

Ran Lin understood. <Sword of Fallen Flowers> was that dragon. “Many spend their lives in the entertainment industry without ever making a splash,” Wang Xi continued, her voice slowing down, each word impactful. “Ran Lin, seize this opportunity. Once you rise, you’ll be the dragon.”

After hanging up, Ran Lin fell into deep thought. He pondered over the role of Fang Xian, Director Chen’s words, and Wang Xi’s advice. In the end, he decided to share his joy with his friends first.

……

Lu Yiyao’s studio was located in the Chaoyang District of Beijing, not in the high-end office building cluster of the CBD, but in a quiet residential area. It was conveniently located with a full range of living facilities nearby, making it easy for the staff to commute.

Although the studio was under the Pentium Times Media Group, it was Lu Yiyao’s own, and everything was done according to his ideas from the beginning. The most noticeable was the studio’s location and decoration.

Many stars don’t have specific requirements for their studio’s office location; as long as it provides a comfortable working environment for the staff and ensures smooth and efficient work, office buildings are usually the first choice. But Lu Yiyao was different, choosing a standalone loft instead. From the outside, with its mottled walls and over two-meter-high iron gate, it looked like a warehouse, but stepping inside revealed a different world.

The spacious two-story space had an unobstructed spiral staircase leading upstairs. The first floor had no partitions or walls, using plants, sofas, and a coffee table to visually create areas. The second floor was the office area, with several offices all featuring bright floor-to-ceiling windows. There was even a sunroom in the corner of the second floor, filled with thriving plants and flowers, where sunlight streamed in, brightening the first floor’s hall.

The walls, at first glance seemingly plain gray, revealed deliberate natural gray textures upon closer inspection, simple yet artistic.

Lu Yiyao personally inspected the place. The owner told him that the previous tenant was a creative planning company that had grown significantly in recent years. The company felt that the loft was becoming too small for their expanding scale, which is why they reluctantly moved out.

Lu Yiyao nodded understandingly. “I get it. This place has good Feng Shui, accessible from all directions.” The owner liked such agreeable tenants, especially when they were famous stars, and immediately offered some generous terms. Lu Yiyao was quite satisfied with the place, finding it stylish and tasteful, so he didn’t haggle much and smoothly signed the lease.

It turned out that Lu Yiyao had a good eye for this. Regardless of how the staff complained about the workload, they unanimously praised the work environment.

Lu Yiyao also liked spending time here. Apart from the comfortable environment, he wanted to let his staff feel his presence, showing solidarity with them. In essence, he was like a mascot, also serving to boost morale. Unfortunately, due to his busy schedule, he couldn’t visit often, but recently he managed to come by more frequently.

As the studio’s boss, Lu Yiyao didn’t have an office here. According to Yao Hong, space was limited, and since he was more like a “ghost boss”, it wasn’t necessary to waste resources.

So whenever Lu Yiyao came, he stayed in Yao Hong’s office. At this moment, in the afternoon, the sunlight and breeze coming through the window were just right, creating a rare moment of comfort and relaxation.

Unfortunately, a phone call Yao Hong received two minutes ago subtly changed Lu Yiyao’s mood.

“Fang Xian is confirmed for Ran Lin?”

“Yes.” Yao Hong put her phone back on the desk. “The production company has already sent him the contract.”

Lu Yiyao’s first reaction was to be happy for Ran Lin, feeling genuinely surprised as if he had received the role himself. “Not bad. His team is really capable. That Mr. Lei isn’t someone who changes his mind easily.”

Yao Hong remained silent, just staring blankly at Lu Yiyao.

Lu Yiyao, puzzled, looked back at his agent.

After a long silence, Lu Yiyao couldn’t hold back and said, “Hong Jie, that intimidating look doesn’t suit your temperament.”

Yao Hong laughed. “Which eye of yours saw me intimidating you?”

“Both eyes.” Lu Yiyao paused, then sighed, adding, “And my ears heard it too.”

Yao Hong got curious. “Heard what?”

Lu Yiyao spread his hands, mimicking Yao Hong’s tone, a mix of threat and earnestness. “If you pass messages to Ran Lin again, don’t blame me for being unpleasant.”

Yao Hong was stunned, then laughed. Lu Yiyao, not waiting for her to finish laughing, said, “Don’t worry. This time, I definitely won’t call him first.”

Yao Hong already knew about the previous misunderstandings where Lu Yiyao ended up playing the messenger. She thought he would be eager to deliver the third piece of good news, but to her surprise, he said he wouldn’t call first. She looked at him, somewhat puzzled and skeptical.

Lu Yiyao helplessly smiled. “Such news should ideally come from his agent. If it always comes from me, his agent might overthink it.”

Yao Hong felt reassured at first, but then her feelings became complicated. “You really care about him.”

Lu Yiyao, caught off guard, leaned back in his chair, adopting a relaxed posture. “Anyway, I always reach out to him; this time I’ll wait for him to tell me.”

Yao Hong didn’t want to burst her artist’s bubble of confidence but feared his greater expectations might lead to greater disappointment. After pondering, she sighed softly. “Silly boy, you may consider someone a friend, but they might not…”

The phone rang at that moment.

Lu Yiyao, seeing the caller ID, widened his eyes in disbelief and immediately showed it to his agent with a triumphant smile.

Yao Hong, seeing the name “Dedicated Fan Ran Lin” on the screen, felt a headache coming on.

“Hello, yeah, I’m free. Go ahead.” Lu Yiyao, holding the phone, got up and smiled at Yao Hong, then cheerfully left the office to find a quiet place.

Yao Hong was dumbfounded. It was just a phone call, not like winning a house or land, but he was so pleased with himself! She sipped her tea and leaned back into the chair, relaxing in the warm sunlight.

Yao Hong had no personal likes or dislikes towards Ran Lin. Her only concern was Lu Yiyao’s future, hoping to shield him from anything that might harm or hinder his career. If Lu Yiyao truly just wanted to be friends with Ran Lin, she wasn’t about to interfere unnecessarily.

Unless Ran Lin genuinely harmed Lu Yiyao.

But as of now, aside from the initial publicity stunt, there hadn’t been any further manipulations from Wang Xi’s side since the reality show filming started.

Moreover, Ran Lin playing Fang Xian was an opportunity. If done well, he might really become famous overnight. Then, with similar popularity levels, a friendship between them could benefit their public image.

Yao Hong shook her head and picked up the event information she had been reading—there were still many things to worry about. As for the private affairs of artists, she would take it as it came.

……

“So you’re no longer conflicted about preferring Xu Chongfei?” teased the friend on the phone.

Ran Lin replied irritably, “No more conflicts. Even if the second male lead is a big, burly guy, I’m determined to play him.”

The laughter from the phone lingered before turning serious, yet still amused. “Then we’ll have a lot of scenes together.”

Ran Lin felt a strange sensation in his heart. Even though he knew Lu Yiyao meant nothing more, he couldn’t help feeling sweet and secretly said, “Yeah, loving and killing each other…”

Lu Yiyao quickly interrupted, correcting seriously, “Forget the old script. In the future, it’s just killing, no loving. After all, your dad is my family’s sworn enemy, and you still compete with me for the same girl.”

The word “loving” coming from Lu Yiyao’s mouth made Ran Lin’s heart skip a beat. Luckily, Lu Yiyao’s straightforward tone and firmness, once the sentence was finished, nipped any budding romantic notions.

Ran Lin sighed, setting aside his wandering thoughts, and defended his character. “I’m not competing for the same girl with you. It’s me who tearfully steps aside to let you two be together!”

Lu Yiyao: “Don’t bother; Zhao Buyao has always liked Tang Jingyu. Even if you didn’t step aside, you had no chance.”

Ran Lin: “What about later, when you used me?”

Lu Yiyao: “That was for avenging my family’s annihilation. It’s only right and proper for the son to pay the father’s debt!”

Ran Lin: “That’s heartless of you. When we were kids, who played with you in the Fang Clan, if not me?”

Lu Yiyao: “Am I heartless, or are you? Your elder brothers used to bully you for being younger. If it weren’t for me protecting you, you would have been bullied to death.”

Ran Lin: “You protecting me? It was more like you made them angrier, and then they bullied both of us even worse. Plus, you didn’t have any martial arts skills, so I felt bad about running away and leaving you behind!”

Lu Yiyao: “Having low combat skills is one thing, but it’s the heart that matters. Don’t you understand?”

Ran Lin: “So you mean to say you had me in your heart?”

Lu Yiyao: “Of course. Otherwise, why would I feel so pained about using you later on?”

Ran Lin: “…”

Lu Yiyao: “Hello?”

Ran Lin: “Yeah, I’m here.”

Lu Yiyao: “Why did you suddenly stop talking?”

Ran Lin: “…”

Ran Lin placed his phone, which was on speaker, on the bedside table and then threw himself onto the bed, hugging the blanket and rolling around in silence and intensity!

How could he speak? Right now, he couldn’t say anything but giggle like a fool!

Ran Lin, you sly fox! You took advantage of the conversation to flatter him, satisfying your inner desires! Ah, what to do? Why didn’t I record the call?

He really wanted to hear Lu Yiyao say he had him in his heart again…

The mainland star, feeling played on his end, waited patiently on the phone. After a long while, getting anxious, he tried to change the subject. “By the way, how did you manage to get the role?”

Unintentionally spoken, the question had a different meaning for the listener. Ran Lin’s spirit immediately returned, and his heart, which had been fluttering, started to sink slightly.

Although Wang Xi had greatly praised his performance at the dinner party, Ran Lin always felt that it wasn’t something to boast about, especially to Lu Yiyao…

“Hello?” Lu Yiyao suspected the call had been disconnected since there was no response to his new topic.

“I’m here,” Ran Lin hurriedly replied. But after responding, he was at a loss for words again. He didn’t want to lie to Lu Yiyao, but he also didn’t want to tell the truth. It was as if two people were fighting in his head, and he couldn’t come to a conclusion.

Lu Yiyao, somewhat amused and frustrated, said, “Just saying ‘I’m here’ without anything else, how are we supposed to talk?”

“I’m seriously considering your question,” Ran Lin replied casually.

But Lu Yiyao had a thought and suddenly realized that his question might not be as innocuous as he thought, potentially involving trade secrets. He quickly said, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

This response made Ran Lin anxious, thinking Lu Yiyao was upset because he was hiding something. In a moment of panic, he blurted out, “A dinner party!”

Ran Lin’s response was so abrupt that Lu Yiyao didn’t catch it. “Huh?”

“Xi Jie arranged a dinner party,” Ran Lin explained everything honestly, “and invited Mr. Lei to discuss things face to face.”

Lu Yiyao chuckled. “You mean to drink face to face.”

Ran Lin, surprised by the understanding and playful tone on the phone without any disdain or disgust, uncertainly said, “By the sound of it, you’ve also…”

“Drank,” Lu Yiyao replied succinctly.

Ran Lin could almost hear the blood, sweat, and tears in those two words.

Lu Yiyao sighed almost inaudibly, saying softly, “My first leading role was also finalized at a dinner party. That Mr. Lei is really a heavy drinker… Uh, you’re not recording this call or using speakerphone, right?”

Ran Lin: “…No, not at all!”

Lu Yiyao frowned, feeling that the denial seemed… somewhat hesitant?

Ran Lin, who had sneakily switched back to the handset, decided to take the initiative. “I thought a top star like you wouldn’t need to resort to drinking for networking.”

Lu Yiyao was immediately drawn into the new topic. “It’s the era of capital now. It doesn’t matter who you are, in front of capital, everyone is equal.”

“It sounds a bit sad.”

“No, every industry has its challenges. Compared horizontally, ours is already a high-return industry,” Lu Yiyao said earnestly. “So many people drink until they bleed from their stomachs and still can’t earn what we make. That’s why I dislike it when artists constantly complain and play the victim. It’s really not necessary.”

Ran Lin was just teasing, not expecting Lu Yiyao to take it so seriously. And from his words, there was no trace of arrogance, only respect for other professions, acknowledgement of his own, and a clear understanding of his work.

The more he knew, the more he liked him. Ran Lin felt he was beyond help.

Finally, Lu Yiyao said, “Looking forward to working with you.”

Ran Lin replied, “See you in September.”

After hanging up and returning to the phone’s home screen, Ran Lin realized it was June 1^st. Unable to resist, he impulsively sent Lu Yiyao two WeChat messages.

The first was a gif of Tigger, and the second was a text message: [Happy Children’s Day, little Tigger.]

A few minutes later, he received a reply, two messages. One was a picture of Winnie the Pooh holding a honey pot, and the other was a text: [Here’s some honey for you, classmate Pooh.]

What was supposed to quell his restlessness now made his heart flutter even more. Ran Lin stared at his phone screen, feeling despondent. In terms of flirting and counter-flirting, Lu Yiyao wasn’t just a professional; he was the master.

……

The same night he talked with Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin, after much thought, sent a WeChat message to Zhang Beichen: [I managed to get the role of Fang Xian.]

The way he phrased it was delicate.

If he sounded too soft, it would seem like he was being smug about getting a bargain. If he sounded too firm, it would come off as boasting. But not telling Zhang Beichen and letting him find out through his agent or other official channels didn’t feel right to Ran Lin.

He felt it wasn’t friendly or open enough. If he were in Zhang Beichen’s shoes, he would prefer to hear it from a friend.

So Ran Lin didn’t elaborate or use fancy words. Fang Xian was a role he had fought for, and that was the truth, so he simply stated it as such.

The reply came quickly, with a celebratory emoji and a: [Congratulations!]

Ran Lin smiled knowingly, feeling relieved.

Then another message followed: [My show also starts filming in September, in Hengdian 😏.]

[😮Really?]

[Court drama, but different locations from yours. I’ll visit your set when we start filming 😆.]

[Warmly welcome!]

[😎]

Ran Lin, looking at the small laughing emoji with sunglasses, finally felt his heart settle down, warming up slowly.

On the other end of the WeChat conversation, Zhang Beichen, who had just finished a gig and was heading to the next location in a nanny car, handed his locked phone to his assistant, expressionless, and lit a cigarette.

His agent, Wu Xuefeng, sensing something amiss, asked directly, “Whose WeChat message was that?”

Zhang Beichen replied indifferently, “A friend.”

Since his debut, it had always been Wu Xuefeng guiding Zhang Beichen. The two weren’t particularly close or fond of each other, but they understood each other well.

Wu Xuefeng, seeing his expression, knew there was an issue and decided to get to the bottom of it. “What friend?”

Zhang Beichen, seemingly recalling something, smiled. “A pretty cute friend.”

Wu Xuefeng immediately became wary. “I’ve told you. Your future is bright. Don’t mess it up…”

“Don’t worry.” Zhang Beichen gave his manager a reassured look. “I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s good.” Wu Xuefeng had no other choice when the artist refused to say more. Fortunately, Zhang Beichen was indeed sensible in this regard, and they were in sync on this matter.

“Wu Ge.” Zhang Beichen suddenly looked at his manager.

Wu Xuefeng braced himself. Although everyone called him Wu Ge, Zhang Beichen wasn’t usually so respectful behind closed doors. Their relationship was more of an equal partnership, so whenever Zhang Beichen showed respect, it meant there was an issue.

“Go ahead.” Wu Xuefeng prepared himself. “I can handle it.”

“It’s not like I’m going to machine-gun you,” Zhang Beichen joked, then turned serious, speaking softly. “I’ve reconsidered that matter you mentioned before.”

Wu Xuefeng didn’t immediately catch on. “Which matter?”

Zhang Beichen raised an eyebrow lightly. “What do you think?”

Wu Xuefeng was taken aback, and then his eyes widened behind his glasses in surprise. “You agreed?!”

Zhang Beichen looked unimpressed. “Don’t act like you weren’t actively involved.”

Wu Xuefeng was indeed happy to hear this but said, “Weren’t you opposed to it before?”

Zhang Beichen took a deep drag of his cigarette, then looked up, blowing smoke rings leisurely. After a long while, when the smoke dispersed, he turned back to Wu Xuefeng and smiled. “You were right. Only by climbing high enough can you avoid being stepped on.”

Wu Xuefeng smiled wryly. “It’s still because of Yu Dong, isn’t it?”

“No.” Zhang Beichen shook his head, looking out the window pensively. “It’s about everyone who stands in my way.”

……

During the three months of June, July, and August, Ran Lin had very few schedules and spent most of his time in closed training. He studied the script, memorized lines, and pondered over the character almost obsessively.

The whole summer was calm. The only ripple was the behind-the-scenes footage of the Miya shampoo advertisement that leaked online, unedited and in its original sound. As a result, Ran Lin once again trended on social media for his self-played and self-sung song.

Wang Xi, worried about Ran Lin’s lack of exposure during these months, was delighted and took the opportunity for another round of promotion. Throughout July, Ran Lin maintained his presence thanks to his singing talent, and by August, when the news of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> started flooding in, the buzz was immense.

Lu Yiyao’s fans had mixed feelings. On one hand, they saw that their idol was friends with Ran Lin and refrained from saying too much, but on the other hand, they weren’t content. Many who hadn’t seen <National First Love Drifting Story> asked who Ran Lin was and how he got such good resources. People in the industry, having the most complete information, predicted that Ran Lin was about to become famous.

Ran Lin was oblivious to all this.

Lu Yiyao also didn’t pay much attention.

Both were focused on improving their acting skills during the summer. Ran Lin was studying scripts, practicing in front of mirrors, self-training, and self-correcting. Lu Yiyao watched others’ performances to learn and observe.

Lu Yiyao started spending more time at the studio, so Yao Hong let him use her office, and Li Tong officially became his secretary, working regular hours.

“Lu Ge, latte.” Li Tong brought the prepared coffee to the second-floor office, where his boss was deeply engrossed in a notebook.

“Thanks.” Lu Yiyao didn’t even look up.

Li Tong carefully placed the coffee down, sneaking a peek at the laptop screen, which was playing a historical drama he hadn’t seen before. Although unfamiliar with the drama, the actor on the screen seemed familiar…

“Li Tong.” The boss, who had been looking down, suddenly looked up and spoke.

Li Tong, startled, thinking he was caught snooping, became nervous, only to hear his boss ask, “Do you know what actors rely on when acting?”

Li Tong was used to being asked a million-dollar question, but this was way out of his field.

Lu Yiyao didn’t expect an answer and said, “I’ll tell you. Some rely on willpower, some on charisma, some on experience, some on looks.”

Li Tong nodded, trying to understand. “So?”

Lu Yiyao turned the laptop towards him, pointing at the actor on the screen. “What do you think he relies on?”

Li Tong leaned closer to the laptop, watching intently, trying to figure it out. Before he could come to a conclusion, the scene changed, and the actor Lu Yiyao had pointed out disappeared, replaced by another actor in a dialogue scene—

“Today is your end, Linghu Xiaodao!”

The dialogue was too violent for Li Tong’s taste, but he dared not show disapproval, weakly looking towards his boss. “Uh, the scene changed…”

The boss, still lost in thought, said, “I think it’s 30% charisma, 30% willpower, and 40% looks. What do you think?”

Li Tong swallowed nervously, facing his boss’s earnest gaze. After struggling for a while, he finally spoke his mind: “Lu Ge, as long as you’re happy…”

……On September 6^th, in Hengdian Film and Television Studio, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> began filming.

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