Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 58

After returning from Shanghai, Ran Lin first read the script of <Mint Green> and made some brief notes. Instead of diving deep into the intricacies right away, he decided to read the original novel.

The novel <Mint Green> wasn’t too long, totaling 170,000 words. Unlike the nostalgic school themes popular on the big screen these days, this novel was set in the present, characterized by the restlessness and loss unique to the information explosion era, as well as the self-awareness, bravery, and openness of the new generation.

The main storyline was about love, but it didn’t shy away from the various issues in current education, as well as the impact of family and society on young people who were just starting to experience the world. The authenticity of the environmental details made this love story more delicate and textured. Overall, it was more about a journey of self-growth than love. Without glossing over or wallowing in despair, it genuinely portrayed youth, resonating strongly with readers, especially the younger generation.

The author’s skilled writing was evident, and the screenplay adapted the essence of the novel brilliantly, capturing both the bittersweetness of first love and the courage to face the future. The former was delicate, the latter was passionate, and the screenplay also incorporated clever, fitting humor that didn’t overshadow the main story but added beauty like small, lovely waves.

While reading the script, Ran Lin felt it was a compelling story, but it was after reading the novel that he understood its popularity. Revisiting the script after the novel, he appreciated the solid, beautiful adaptation even more.

No wonder Wang Xi mentioned that many financiers and actors were interested, yet opportunities were scarce.

<Mint Green> isn’t a typical commercial blockbuster, but youth films have their advantages—they don’t burn money. Less financial risk means lower box office pressure, and if marketing and word of mouth are good, a small investment can yield a large return. Plus, the novel itself carries IP popularity.

For young actors, especially those who rely on looks and popularity, such films offer a chance to showcase acting skills. A decent performance that doesn’t feel awkward on the big screen can be marketed as a transformative effort. If the performance is particularly good, it can solidify a reputation for acting talent, standing out among peers who might not yet boast about their acting skills.

Just like after <Beihai Tree>, no one said Lu Yiyao relied only on his looks anymore. The narrative became, “Despite having the looks, he relies on his talent.” Regardless of how much truth or exaggeration there is, when repeated often enough, it forms a lasting impression.

And a youth commercial film with literary qualities like <Mint Green>, even more promising than pure art films like <Beihai Tree>, offers both prestige and the potential for box office success.

So, the only challenge Ran Lin faced was, according to the script, the male lead is a goofy youth who rides a hoverboard to class.

Goofy, Ran Lin could do.

Hoverboarding, however, left Ran Lin baffled and clueless.

So, throughout April, aside from reading the script, getting into character, practicing lines, and acting out scenes in the mirror, he was riding a hoverboard purchased online, zipping around the apartment building in the dead of night.

When buying the hoverboard, the store owner thoughtfully recommended a full set of protective gear—the kind kids wear when learning to roller skate—helmet, elbow pads, knee pads. Ran Lin thought his balance was good enough not to need them, but after a few falls that bruised his legs, he promptly left a heartfelt positive review for the store and then dutifully suited up as a safety baby.

When Lu Yiyao sent over a photo, Ran Lin was downstairs taking a breezy ride on his hoverboard.

He naturally stopped and, standing on the hoverboard, facing the cool April night breeze, opened the photo sent by Teacher Lu.

The photo showed two buddies, arms over each other’s shoulders. One was naturally Lu Yiyao, and the other was a youth Ran Lin didn’t recognize. The stranger had single eyelids, thin lips, and a healthy complexion. Interestingly, while each of his features looked quite ordinary alone—only his straight, handsome nose stood out—when put together, they formed an unexpectedly harmonious and roguishly handsome face.

Perhaps influenced by his friend, the Lu Yiyao in the photo didn’t have his usual upright and stern demeanor. Instead, he looked like a youth who had fallen in with the wrong crowd, intriguing Ran Lin.

It was a selfie that seemed casual yet was anything but.

The stranger was casual, laughing heartily and carelessly without even looking properly at the camera.

Teacher Lu was anything but casual, perfectly angled, with just the right shadows, a handsome smile, and expressive eyes.

[This is me and Huo Yuntao.]

Following the photo, Lu Yiyao sent a brief explanation.

Ran Lin guessed as much without needing the clarification.

Ran Lin—[You took it, right?]

Lu Yiyao—[You can tell even without seeing my arms?]

Ran Lin—[Don’t need to look at the arms; your face is enough. Obviously, it’s captured at your most beautiful moment.]

Lu Yiyao—[That’s not a sufficient reason. Even if he took it, the effect would be the same.]

Ran Lin—[…Please spare me some of your confidence, just a little, and I could soar to the skies.]

Lu Yiyao—[ 🤗]

Lu Yiyao—[Did you catch some immortal vibes?]

Ran Lin—[Are you still together?]

Lu Yiyao—[…Can you give a warning when you’re changing the subject?]

Ran Lin—[You didn’t give a heads-up when you took advantage.]

Lu Yiyao—[You win.gif]

Lu Yiyao—[He arrived by plane during the day, knew I was free, and came to see me in the evening.]

Ran Lin—[Your place?]

Lu Yiyao—[Yeah, my own apartment.]

Lu Yiyao—[[Map Location] Be careful when you come over. Three paparazzi are staking out regularly.]

Ran Lin—[…]

Lu Yiyao—[Save it, it’ll come in handy eventually. 😊]

Ran Lin—[You’re no longer the upright and stern Teacher Lu I knew…]

Lu Yiyao—[You might have had some unscientific misunderstandings about me from the very beginning.]

Ran Lin was utterly at a loss with Lu Yiyao.

Ever since he… well, seemed to have taken a different turn, he had been racing down the road of flirting with exceptional speed. The “naturally flirtatious” trait he once had was now fully evolved and upgraded. This evolution wasn’t very obvious face-to-face, but once in WeChat mode, it was as if his awkwardness and pressure were alleviated by “text communication”. Lu Yiyao’s skills were completely unleashed, striking right to the point.

Lu Yiyao—[Still practicing on the hoverboard?]

Lu Yiyao knew that if Ran Lin had no engagements, he would be practicing at this time every evening.

Ran Lin—[Yeah, I’ve basically mastered it now, striving for perfection.]

Lu Yiyao—[Be careful.]

Ran Lin—[Don’t worry.]

Lu Yiyao—[Next time we meet, you’ll have to teach me.]

Ran Lin unconsciously smiled, a vague warmth flowing through his heart, as if what was agreed upon wasn’t just about teaching hoverboard, but a promise—[Okay.]

……

In the blink of an eye, April passed, but Wang Xi still hadn’t managed to meet with investors. Ran Lin, however, had become extremely proficient in riding his hoverboard, darting between flower beds, green belts, cars, and bicycles below the building as if he was in a realm of his own—although occasionally, the hoverboard’s battery would run out halfway, leading to the awkward situation of “going with the vehicle carrying the person, returning with the person carrying the vehicle.”

Wang Xi was unaware of Ran Lin’s hoverboard practice and assumed he was diligently working on scripts at home. So, on May Day, when she called, she said, “Put the script aside for now. I’ll take you for some facial treatments and maintenance the next few days. The publicity for the show is about to pick up.”

The “publicity” she referred to was for the official promotion of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

On May 1^st, the official Weibo of <Sword of Fallen Flowers> posted—

[<Sword of Fallen Flowers> is officially scheduled for release and will premiere on May 28^th on @XX Television @XX Television! Long missed chivalrous tenderness, poetic and picturesque of the martial world, plots and intrigues, all succumb to a flourishing sword in the end! The ultimate poster is coming, and the Fallen Flowers group awaits you in the martial world! @Chen Qizheng @Song Mang @Lu Yiyao @Xi Ruohan @Ran Lin @Tang Xiaoyu @…]

The Weibo post included nine posters, featuring main and supporting characters like Tang Jingyu, Zhao Bu Yao, Fang Xian, Xu Chongfei, and Li’er, among four other significant supporting roles.

The post wasn’t just about releasing the ultimate posters; it marked the end of the pre-heating phase and the official launch of the promotional campaign for <Sword of Fallen Flowers>!

Shortly after the poster was released, the production team released a short trailer.

The trailer they chose features three characters taking a brotherly oath, showcasing Fang Xian’s carefree character questioning why they chose a plum garden yet see no plum blossoms, followed by the trio swearing an oath to heaven and earth with dramatic, rapid cuts. The juxtaposition of light-hearted moments and intense blood-pumping scenes created a significant contrast, fully capturing the audience’s attention and setting high drama tension.

Consequently, the discussion around <Sword of Fallen Flowers> really heated up. The drama’s promotional efforts and the trailer’s texture brought positive word of mouth. By mid-month, <Sword of Fallen Flowers> had become one of the most anticipated and promising shows in the pre-summer release slot.

By May 18^th, with ten days until the premiere, all the main actors had gathered in Beijing to attend the premiere ceremony. This so-called “grand ceremony” was essentially a major press conference. Since there were multiple press events planned in different locations, this first one was designed to be the most grandiose and large-scale, featuring the full cast and crew and inviting the most industry and media personnel.

Ran Lin was groomed by Wang Xi a week in advance, looking fresh and handsome, and arrived at the ceremony venue a few hours early. The process and content of the press conference, including questions the host might ask and games to be played, had already been sent to the artists’ teams to avoid any mishaps, given the large media presence.

Most of the creators lived in Beijing and arrived on time. By the time Ran Lin reached the backstage lounge, only two significant supporting characters had arrived.

The creators who would be on stage were the eight actors from the nine drama photos released on the official Weibo, with one male supporting actor absent due to commitments with another drama. The producers, director, scriptwriter, and others would also be present to discuss their creative intent and artistic pursuits, as the audience and media were primarily interested in star interactions.

When the lounge door opened again, Ran Lin’s heart involuntarily raced, only to see a “fish head” poking in.

“Long time, no see!” Tang Xiaoyu’s voice entered even faster than his body.

Ran Lin and two other actors stood up to greet him, and Tang Xiaoyu warmly hugged each one. However, the hugs for the other two were more polite, while the one for Ran Lin was more indulgent, to the point that Ran Lin always felt his shirt would get wrinkled.

Tang Xiaoyu was also wearing a more formal shirt today, but unlike Ran Lin’s light solid color, it was striped. It showed respect for the event while still retaining vibrancy, matching his usual public image.

“What have you been busy with lately?” Even though he said it had been a long time, there was no sense of alienation in Tang Xiaoyu’s words; it was as if they had just parted.

His agent was obviously used to it, nonchalantly sitting aside to rest, letting his artist freely chat around.

Ran Lin glanced at the door where Wang Xi was chatting warmly with some staff member, seemingly unconcerned about him. That’s when he whispered to Tang Xiaoyu, “I’m sad because I can’t get busy.”

Tang Xiaoyu glanced at him and lowered his voice. “Come on, didn’t <Mint Green> approach you?”

Ran Lin raised an eyebrow, not hiding anything. “You’re quite well-informed, aren’t you?”

Tang Xiaoyu looked at him unbearably. “How can you still be so naive? There are no secrets in this circle.”

Ran Lin felt silly, wondering who was actually the naive one between them.

“If you were really that well-informed, you’d know it’s not certain yet,” Ran Lin honestly replied.

Tang Xiaoyu nodded. “Indeed, many people are eyeing that one. If it wasn’t for my schedule being full, I might have competed with you.”

“Oh.” Ran Lin smirked with a bit of malice. “You, I’m not afraid of.”

Tang Xiaoyu was frustrated. “Can you not? It’s been months since you wrapped up. Can you move on from your ‘Second Brother’ persona? I’m not Xu Chongfei who you can easily bully.”

Ran Lin believed that.

Tang Xiaoyu was indeed more easily bullied than Xu Chongfei.

“But there’s still <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.'” Tang Xiaoyu brought the topic back. “If this drama explodes, your <Mint Green> is almost a sure thing.”

Ran Lin sighed, with a bit of hope yet not too optimistic. “I hope so.”

“I think it’s about right. Not to mention the drama, Lu Yiyao’s popularity alone is enough to heat up the ratings,” Tang Xiaoyu remarked, then suddenly remembered. “Oh right, I saw Lu Yiyao when I came here.”

Ran Lin was surprised. “He has arrived?”

“Yeah,” Tang Xiaoyu replied naturally, followed by a light sigh. “But he has his own separate lounge. I only saw his silhouette. Didn’t get to speak to him.”

Ran Lin was momentarily stunned.

Having chatted with Lu Yiyao so enthusiastically recently, he’d blurred the lines of their status difference. Being so suddenly reminded—even knowing it was a fact—a slight, indescribable bitterness emerged in his heart.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated twice.

Without any reason, Ran Lin knew it was Lu Yiyao. The vibration transferred from his palm to his heart, accelerating his heartbeat.

This was different from before; earlier conversations were just simple long-distance chats—no pressure, no awkwardness, no nervousness—because he knew the other person wouldn’t suddenly appear. But now, with the spatial distance so close, even if he couldn’t see the other person, just thinking about him being nearby made him feel unusual.

Ran Lin felt that this reaction could be summarized in one word—cowardly.

[I’m here. It’s inconvenient to come over. See you on stage later 😳.]

Ran Lin stared at the shy red-faced emoticon, his face a mixture of emotions, and his erratic heartbeat miraculously returned to normal.

After a while, the staff came to inform them that the ceremony was about to begin, and they should head to the stage.

Ran Lin took a deep breath, adjusted his clothes, and followed the main creative team to the “battlefield.”

……

Lu Yiyao mentioned “see you on stage”, but actually, they saw each other while waiting to go on stage.

And it wasn’t through any dramatic coincidence or accident; just as Ran Lin finished adjusting his clothes and turned his head, his gaze met Lu Yiyao’s straight on.

Lu Yiyao stood two steps away, with Tang Xiaoyu in between them. Lu Yiyao’s gaze crossed over Tang Xiaoyu and just looked at him with a smile, seemingly for a while, so when their eyes met, the smile deepened naturally at the corners of his mouth.

It had been three months, yet there was no feeling of a long-awaited reunion. The confession in the backyard of that villa felt as if it had happened just yesterday.

Ran Lin was so captivated that he didn’t come back to reality until Tang Xiaoyu nudged him—it was time to go on stage.

“Please welcome the ‘Fallen Flowers Group’ to the stage—”

As the host called out, the eight actors took the stage in a single file.

Before them, the producer and director had already appeared to open the ceremony. When the actors took the stage, everyone lined up in a single file, with the producer, director, and lead actors in the middle, the second and third male leads to the left and right, followed by the other supporting actors.

The stage lights were bright, dazzling, and hot. Ran Lin stood right next to Lu Yiyao, but when the host interviewed him, Lu Yiyao, who was speaking eloquently to the host, seemed to be a great distance away.

“In this drama, I play ‘Tang Jingyu’. This character actually has a dark attribute, as he bears the revenge of his family’s annihilation, so…”

Even though Ran Lin always teased Lu Yiyao for being narcissistic, he had to admit the man was really good-looking.

Even just seeing the side profile under the stage lights revealed a beautifully contoured face.

“Whether ‘Tang Jingyu’ is dark or not, I think besides our leading lady, ‘Fang Xian’ has the most say…”

In a moment of distraction, the host had already finished interviewing Xi Ruohan and passed the topic to Ran Lin.

Ran Lin steadied himself, forcing his mind out of the scattered thoughts. With a smile and a deep breath, he took the microphone and half-joked, half-teased, “Tang Jingyu is really too dark.”

Ran Lin’s complaints came out very naturally, as if all his grievances could fly right out of the speakers.

Laughter erupted from both the stage and the audience.

After his lament, Ran Lin became more serious, his voice clearer. “In the drama, I play ‘Fang Xian’, the young master of the Fang Clan. ‘Tang Jingyu’ and ‘Xu Chongfei’ are my sworn brothers. Initially, we shared the same ideals and pursued a conspiracy together, but later…” Ran Lin glanced at Chen Qizheng and restrained his laughter. “Later the director wouldn’t let us reveal too much, so all I can say is if ‘Tang Jingyu’ has 70 points of darkness, 69 of those points are on me.”

The host smoothly passed the question to Lu Yiyao. “What do you think about ‘Fang Xian’s’ accusation, ‘Jingyu’?”

Lu Yiyao thought for a moment, then suddenly sighed deeply. “I can’t make up for it in this lifetime. Maybe in the next one.”

Before the host could speak, Xi Ruohan, who had been holding a microphone, sighed. “I suddenly feel like I’m a third wheel.”

Tang Xiaoyu, ever ready for humor, moved closer to Xi Ruohan’s microphone and said, “That should be my line…”

Laughter erupted from the audience once again.

This back-and-forth banter was much more interesting than the previous dry interview, finally heating up the atmosphere.

After the interview was the game segment. Seeing that the props on stage were almost ready, the host announced loudly, “Let’s begin our game segment. Please welcome our ‘Fallen Flowers Group’ back to the stage!”

This time, only the eight actors returned to the stage without the producer and director. The host, holding a draw bucket, announced the rules. “The first game is a classic ‘You Describe, I Guess,’ but before we start, we need to draw lots to form teams…”

The draw bucket was actually a colorful paper box with a hole on top. Lu Yiyao was the first to reach in and pulled out a ball labeled “2”.

Xi Ruohan was the second to go and drew a “1”.

Ran Lin was the third and also drew a “2”.

Seeing the number, Ran Lin froze for a moment, only realizing what had happened when the host congratulated the “Love-Hate Duo” for being formed—he and Lu Yiyao were in the same team!

Well, with only four teams, the odds weren’t too low.

Ran Lin put down the ball and walked over to Lu Yiyao, whose smile was as bright as the colorful box.

Soon, the teams were formed, and the first pair, Xi Ruohan and Tang Xiaoyu, began.

The game’s concept was simple: one partner describes a word without using the word itself or any part of it, and the other guesses. They had 90 seconds to guess as many words as possible, with the team guessing the most words declared the winner.

Xi Ruohan and Tang Xiaoyu turned out to be a black hole for this game; the former explained, and the latter guessed, managing only four words in 90 seconds. Towards the end, Xi Ruohan was nearly frantic, and if not for the audience and media watching, Ran Lin suspected she might have bitten Tang Xiaoyu.

“It seems the score wasn’t very ideal.” The host added fuel to the fire, eager to keep the competitive atmosphere lively. “Now, let’s welcome the second team!”

“You describe, I guess.” Without using the microphone, Lu Yiyao whispered to Ran Lin.

This kind of whispering was quite normal; Tang Xiaoyu and Xi Ruohan had also murmured to each other before going on stage, as it was typical to discuss strategies with your teammate in a group game.

But guilty conscience made Ran Lin’s ears inexplicably hot, and he dared not look into Lu Yiyao’s eyes. He nodded in a fluster and entered the game zone.

Compared to him, Lu Yiyao was much more composed and in a very good mood.

Because even if he and Ran Lin ended up together, the opportunity to interact so openly in a public setting might not come often, so he treasured it.

In a single breath, Lu Yiyao felt the world quieten down, and all he could see and hear was Ran Lin standing in front of him.

Ran Lin was wearing a light-colored shirt that day, looking particularly gentle and refined, coupled with his pale, youthful face.

But Lu Yiyao knew it was deceiving.

This guy was far from harmless; in fact, he had quite the impact.

“The timer starts now—”

With the host’s words, his arm swung down forcefully!

Ran Lin immediately focused on the word board above Lu Yiyao’s head, his mouth already moving. “It’s a four-character idiom, describing the relationship between two people…”

Lu Yiyao almost immediately responded, “Love stronger than gold!”

Ran Lin: “Not love, but friendship!”

Lu Yiyao guessed again, “Go through fire and water for each other!”

Ran Lin: “Listen to me! It describes a very mild friendship…”

Lu Yiyao: “Fair-weather friends?”

“The last two words are correct! But it’s not ‘fair-weather…'” Ran Lin looked at his “heartthrob” expectantly.

Lu Yiyao: “Friends through life and death!”

Ran Lin collapsed. “Mild!”

Lu Yiyao finally got it. “A friendship between gentlemen!”

Ran Lin felt like crying when he heard those four words.

The phrase wasn’t difficult at all; the real challenge was having such a lack of coordination between them!

The audience was already in stitches, especially when “Love stronger than gold” came out, making numerous media people want to rush up and interview Lu Yiyao about his thought process.

With just three words guessed in 90 seconds, and after mocking Xi Ruohan, Ran Lin could almost hear the sound of his own face being slapped.

The entire premiere ceremony lasted about ninety minutes and ended warmly with all the creators singing the theme song together.

Next was a smaller “media screening” for the press, which the director and screenwriter would attend while the actors wouldn’t, meaning the end of their duties once they stepped off the stage.

But this was only the first day.

Tomorrow, the day after, and the day following, there would be three more premiere press conferences in different cities. Both Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao would be flying continuously.

Although there had been plenty of interactions on stage, the two hadn’t had much opportunity for private conversation. Moreover, Ran Lin hadn’t seen Lu Yiyao since coming off stage, feeling somewhat lost.

Just as he returned to the dressing room, Liu Wanwan handed him a phone, saying, “Ran Ge, someone called for you just now. They didn’t say who they were, just that you should call them back.”

Ran Lin took the phone, looking at the unfamiliar number in confusion.

Wang Xi, thinking he might recognize it, was surprised by his reaction. “You don’t know who it is?”

Ran Lin genuinely didn’t know, but intuition told him it wasn’t a spam or scam call. He casually walked to a corner of the dressing room and redialed the number.

It was picked up after one ring, but no one spoke.

Ran Lin, puzzled, greeted with a “hello.”

Finally, a voice came through. “It’s me.”

Ran Lin was stunned. It was unmistakably Lu Yiyao’s voice on the line, but why was he using a different phone? And even if Liu Wanwan couldn’t immediately recognize Lu Yiyao’s voice, she should have found it familiar.

Ran Lin glanced at Wang Xi, who was curiously looking his way, and restrained himself from responding out loud.

The other side seemed to sense his hesitation, whispering, “Is it safe to talk?”

Ran Lin immediately understood what Lu Yiyao was really asking about the safety of the conversation.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Ran Lin tried to sound and act as naturally as possible.

Lu Yiyao seemed relieved and continued, “This phone belongs to Huo Yuntao. He was the one who called you earlier, without any legitimate reason. He just wanted to see you because he was here today. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve already dealt with him.”

Ran Lin cringed a bit, thinking that “dealt with” sounded ominously like a crime.

But Huo Yuntao was cautious. Hearing that the person answering wasn’t Ran Lin, he didn’t even reveal his name. Though even if he had, Wang Xi would probably have been thrilled to connect with him.

But putting himself in Huo Yuntao’s shoes, he’d also want to meet the person his friend had praised so highly, especially now that they were so close.

Aside from curiosity, there was probably worry too. Who knows if this guy is reliable or not, especially since he’s already led a friend astray.

To be honest, Ran Lin didn’t want to meet Huo Yuntao, partly because of the awkwardness of the situation and partly because he was afraid. This feeling was akin to a boyfriend meeting his girlfriend’s circle of friends—a kind of “inspection” pressure.

Lu Yiyao knew he wouldn’t want to meet, probably having been informed by a friend backstage, and had taken action first, now waiting on the phone to explain himself.

Suddenly, Ran Lin felt especially remorseful.

Lu Yiyao didn’t owe him anything. Being the one loved first, then becoming the pursuer, was already difficult enough, and now he had to “deal with” his own friend for him.

If he were Lu Yiyao, he’d also want to proudly show off the person he liked to his friends, hoping they’d see the good in them as well.

But if he were Huo Yuntao, he’d definitely shake Lu Yiyao by the shoulders, questioning what was so good about someone who couldn’t even dare to face up and support him!

……

“It’s over. You’re beyond salvation.” Huo Yuntao let go of Lu Yiyao’s shoulders and slumped into the sofa in despair. “You’re practically bewitched right now.”

Lu Yiyao tilted his head, pondering, then responded lightly, “Someone told me a long time ago that love is indeed like being bewitched.”

Huo Yuntao came to the premiere ceremony today with a formal invitation from the organizers. Originally, the invitation was for the executives of his entertainment company, but Huo Yuntao managed to snag an extra spot for himself. Before coming, he had even touched base with Lu Yiyao, essentially coming to support his friend.

Lu Yiyao appreciated it, so as soon as he came off the stage, he made a call to his friend and, following directions, navigated to this private lounge to meet his old friend before flying to the next city.

The room was secure, so as soon as he closed the door, his friend confessed to calling Ran Lin with an unannounced number.

Lu Yiyao wanted to kick him.

“I’ve told you so many times, he’d feel awkward seeing you now.” Lu Yiyao understood Huo Yuntao’s curiosity but felt making an unsolicited call to Ran Lin was inappropriate.

Huo Yuntao rolled his eyes in exasperation. “It’s been three months since you confessed, and you’ve been chasing him for three months. He’s not totally uninterested in you, so why keep you hanging? Is it fun for him?”

Lu Yiyao patiently explained, “I’ve been busy, and we haven’t had a chance to meet in these three months.”

“Please.” Huo Yuntao scoffed. “You have time to meet me but not to ask him out?”

Lu Yiyao frowned reflexively and fell silent.

Huo Yuntao, never one to mince words with his old friend, bluntly said, “You’re just trying to let time dilute his guilt, right? But it’s unnecessary. He was the one who led you astray. Even if you were deeply closeted, you wouldn’t have come out without him. His guilt is sealed for life. If he’s a real man, he should be doubly good to you, not avoiding you.”

Lu Yiyao was getting a headache from Huo Yuntao’s relentless approach, which typically involved overpowering you with sheer forcefulness, whether he was right or wrong.

“And me,” Huo Yuntao continued passionately, standing up. “Am I so fearsome or harmful? I just wanted to see him; such a humble request. I’ve gone out of my way to meet him, why can’t he satisfy me…”

Ring, ring, ring—

Huo Yuntao’s distinctive monotone ringtone sounded in Lu Yiyao’s hand.

Lu Yiyao, seeing the familiar number, paused for two seconds before answering. “What’s up?”

Huo Yuntao was confused, wondering why Lu Yiyao answered his own phone so smoothly.

“No problem? What did you tell Wang Xi? Oh, oh… Our location is a bit hard to find… Just keep walking inside, turn left at the end… Yes, don’t hang up, I’ll guide you. Otherwise, you’ll definitely get lost…”

For the first time, Huo Yuntao saw his friend being so gentle and suddenly felt a pang of sorrow, as if his decade-long friendship was overshadowed by someone else’s year.

After about a few minutes, while Lu Yiyao was still on the phone, there was a knock on the lounge door.

Huo Yuntao darted ahead of Lu Yiyao to open the door, and there stood Ran Lin, phone in hand.

“Hello.” Ran Lin hung up the phone and smiled at Huo Yuntao. “I’m Ran Lin.”

Huo Yuntao was stunned for a few seconds before inviting Ran Lin in and securing the door. Once assured of privacy, he turned around, coughed lightly, and introduced himself. “I’m Huo Yuntao.”

Before Ran Lin could speak, he raised an eyebrow and muttered, “I thought you weren’t coming?”

Ran Lin had only seen photos of Huo Yuntao and was surprised to find his real-life presence less intimidating than anticipated. In fact, he seemed less imposing than the photos suggested.

Huo Yuntao, being a friend of Lu Yiyao, couldn’t be that daunting, Ran Lin thought—probably just another naive guy.

“I never said I wouldn’t come,” Ran Lin countered calmly, pointing to Lu Yiyao. “It was him who immediately said on the phone that I shouldn’t bother coming, that he’d ‘taken care of you’ already.”

Lu Yiyao was speechless, feeling like his sincere efforts had backfired spectacularly.

Huo Yuntao was displeased and sided with Lu Yiyao. “Can you have a little conscience? It’s not him who’s afraid of me. It’s you stopping him.”

“It’s last month’s me who was afraid of you, not this month’s me. So it was fine for him to block me last month, but not this month.”

Huo Yuntao had never seen such a stubborn defense. “Is there any difference between last month’s you and this month’s you?”

“Yes,” Ran Lin clarified more clearly than ever since liking Lu Yiyao. “Last month’s me was a jerk who would flee after causing trouble, but this month I’m a good man.”

Huo Yuntao challenged, “Good in what way?”

Ran Lin stood tall. “Responsible.”

Huo Yuntao pressed, “Responsible how?!”

“Hey,” Ran Lin suddenly turned to Lu Yiyao without warning and asked softly, “Do you still want to pursue me?”

Lu Yiyao, already dazed, felt a pang of sadness at the question, “I’ve always been pursuing you.”

Ran Lin’s lips slowly curled into a smile, giving Lu Yiyao a look filled with charm. “Congratulations, you succeeded.”

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

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 57

The bitter cold wind couldn’t penetrate the thick walls of the nanny car, but the slivers of air that crept in through the cracks of the doors and windows were enough to chill Yao Hong’s heart. She had made many plans for Lu Yiyao, even accounting for his insistence on “being himself”, and had considered what to do if one day Lu Yiyao offended the financiers or what to do if he dated a female star in the circle, but she had never considered his sexual orientation.

She had been in this circle for twenty years and was no stranger to homosexuality; there were artists, financiers, makeup artists, stylists, screenwriters, hosts, models, and more who were gay. Perhaps because the circle itself was more open, it seemed like there was a higher proportion of gay people compared to other industries.

But no matter how open the play was, it could never be openly acknowledged; once it became public, the tolerance for it dropped to zero.

Many artists suddenly flopped, perhaps with the audience never knowing what happened, only feeling that they disappeared from public view. But behind the scenes, it might be due to a fallout with a powerful “resource backer”; others directly caused trouble or scandals, entertaining the masses with their controversies. Even powerful companies couldn’t recover from such situations, as no one would risk their capital on such individuals. The companies could only “shelve” these people; some artists would retire, and others might return after the controversy dies down, but they would never regain their former glory.

But the pursuit of love and desire is human nature, and even the best teams and the most capable agents can’t control it. Artists are people first and stars second. If it were controllable, many artists’ relationships would be nipped in the bud, and there wouldn’t be situations where companies and teams are busy with PR damage control after a secret relationship is revealed.

Yao Hong believed Lu Yiyao understood all this and knew what he was getting into and the risks involved when he chose to be honest about himself, or, rather, when he started liking Ran Lin. So she swallowed her initial rush of cost-benefit analysis and lecturing, not wanting to add more burdens to an already stressed artist.

If possible, she wanted to be someone who could help alleviate the other’s burden.

However, looking at her own artist animatedly talking about falling in love, Yao Hong felt her worries might be superfluous—at least in the early stages of love, all thoughts of future risks and troubles are pushed aside for the joy of being in love. Even if there is a burden, it’s the sweet, almost silly kind of worry like, “Why doesn’t he love me?”

Before Lu Yiyao, the most successful actress Yao Hong had managed decided to marry, have children, and retire at the peak of her career after winning a prestigious award, turning into a legendary goddess in the circle.

While people have their own aspirations and Yao Hong respected and blessed her, as an agent, she felt a sense of regret because that girl was truly talented and could have had a longer artistic career.

That girl also confessed her love and intention to retire one winter night in the nanny car after a film festival.

Yao Hong felt she might be cursed by Cupid.

After much discussion, the conversation hadn’t touched on why he was rejected. Yao Hong sighed and brought her thoughts back to the present. Lu Yiyao’s animated expression suddenly stopped, his mind racing like a hamster wheel in overdrive.

The reason for the rejection was because Ran Lin thought he was straight and shouldn’t embark on this difficult path because of a momentary impulse or even a delusion.

The result of thinking for him was that the person didn’t even get to enjoy a bit of the joy of being confessed to, which made Lu Yiyao feel sorry.

But he couldn’t tell Yao Hong all this; she would explode.

“Rejection doesn’t need a reason. Of course, it’s because my charm isn’t enough.” Lu Yiyao slowly calmed himself down in his natural tone of voice.

Yao Hong, however, saw through it. “If you’re not going to tell me the truth, you shouldn’t have been honest with me from the start.”

Lu Yiyao was stunned but insisted. “I am telling the truth.”

Yao Hong looked at him skeptically. “First, your mind was racing just now. Don’t think I couldn’t tell; second, if your charm isn’t enough, then who’s is? Is he looking for someone as handsome as Pan An?”

“It’s not just about looks…”

“Even if it’s about looks, you’d still need to compete, but considering personality and character, you surpass all male artists of your age group, right?”

“……”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re right, but if you keep going like this, Hong Jie, we can’t continue this conversation…”

You two have gone off-topic!

Li Tong looked out the window in despair, feeling as if a mother-son duo—a doting mother and a narcissistic child—were hand in hand, soaring to the skies, vowing to stand shoulder to shoulder with the moon.

“Forget it, Hong Jie, I’ll tell you the truth.” Realizing he couldn’t bluff his way through, Lu Yiyao decided to go all out. “He wasn’t gay to begin with, so he’s still hesitating.”

Yao Hong was stunned; her face was a picture of astonishment. She had thought of many possibilities, even the slightly sordid guess that “Ran Lin had a long-term ambiguous relationship with a male financier, making it inconvenient for him to freely love”, but she never expected the truth to be completely unexpected.

“So… he didn’t like men before?” Yao Hong confirmed again in disbelief.

Lu Yiyao nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, I bent him.”

Yao Hong frowned, somewhat helpless and worried. “Why do you have to go for someone like that? Even if he agrees to you now, he might just be curious and want to try. Once he finds it uninteresting or the pressure gets too much, he might go back to finding a girlfriend. What will you do then?”

Lu Yiyao listened quietly, suddenly realizing that Yao Hong wasn’t advising him but rather Ran Lin.

“I… no, he’s not just curious. He’s seriously considering being with me.”

“How long can that seriousness last?”

“I feel like it will last forever now, but…” Lu Yiyao said honestly, yet objectively, “I don’t have solid proof.”

Yao Hong sighed softly, looking at her artist with a mixture of pity and concern. She didn’t want to persuade him to change his mind, but she hoped he would be mentally prepared. “That’s the uncertainty. You have to prepare for the worst.”

Lu Yiyao fell silent for a moment before raising his eyes, his voice low but steady. “Hong Jie, even if the person I fell for today was a female artist, we can’t guarantee that our feelings for each other will never change. Life is long, and no one knows what the future holds. All we can do is face our current feelings, take on our responsibilities, live without regrets now, and face the future without fear.”

Yao Hong looked at him quietly, saying nothing, just gazing intently.

The car was plunged into a long silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Yao Hong finally let out a breath and said, “Go back and rest.”

Lu Yiyao felt like an eternity had passed and his heart had nearly dropped to the bottom, only to receive such a response, feeling like his emotions had been played with. “That’s it?”

Yao Hong looked at him impatiently. “You’ve thought it through so clearly. You’ve taught me enough, what else can I say?”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback but also objectively said, “I thought you would be more concerned about the potential PR crisis in the future.”

“Of course, I care. I’m almost worried to death.” Yao Hong shot him a look but then sighed. “But that’s not for you to worry about. On the periphery, I and the entire team will protect you to the fullest. You only need to do two things: one, be careful with your words and actions. Don’t let people catch or photograph any leverage against you; two, date with a normal heart. Don’t let it affect your work, and don’t get yourself hurt.”

Lu Yiyao felt a warmth in his heart; no, it was burning. All the sweet words seemed pale at that moment, so he leaned over and gave Yao Hong a big hug, as tight as he could.

Yao Hong gently patted Lu Yiyao’s back but couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I knew all those years of you being easy going were just an illusion.”

With an internal alliance formed, what remained were external issues—

Yao Hong: “Does Wang Xi know about this?”

Lu Yiyao: “I can’t be sure, but their relationship is different from ours. Wang Xi also manages other artists, so I think given Ran Lin’s cautious nature, he probably hasn’t spoken yet.”

Yao Hong: “It’s better that way. Wang Xi and he aren’t in an independent collaboration, and there’s still Dream Without Limits above them.”

Lu Yiyao: “I understand. Don’t worry, Ran Lin will definitely weigh it out. He’s very smart.”

Yao Hong: “… I need to go rest too. I’m exhausted.”

……

Ran Lin sneaked back home at noon the next day. Thankfully, he was still a minor celebrity and deliberately low-key, so no paparazzi was willing to follow him.

After returning home, he took a thorough shower, washing away a night of reckless abandon, and emerged feeling refreshed. He made himself a simple lunch, and after eating, he lay down on the sofa, warmed by the afternoon sun, replaying Lu Yiyao’s confession like a movie in his head, finally savoring the sweetness of it all.

Last night, he was overwhelmed by the confession, caught up in disbelief and guilt for “turning a straight man gay.” Even if there were blossoms in his heart, he had no time to notice them, let alone dare to look at them, hoping to persuade Lu Yiyao back to the straight and narrow.

But now, after a night of calm, the chaos passed, and recalling Xia Xinran’s words and Lu Yiyao’s confession, that hidden joy finally surfaced, first a little, then gradually blooming.

All thoughts of moving on, giving up, or just being friends were lies he told himself when facing others, but not his heart.

If Lu Yiyao, as Xia Xinran said, has really turned and can’t go back, should he accept and take responsibility?

Of course! Especially thinking of Xia Xinran’s prediction that even if not with him, Lu Yiyao would find someone else on this path, he felt an overwhelming urge to declare his claim to the world.

Now, all that was left was to wait.

Wait for time to allow Lu Yiyao to settle, for calm to bring him back, or to continue.

If Lu Yiyao turned back, he would sincerely bless him from the bottom of his heart. If Lu Yiyao insisted on continuing, he would do everything to respond and protect him.

Such a wonderful person as Lu Yiyao, he wished he could encase him in a glass dome, admire him every day, clean him every day, pristine and handsome as ever.

All afternoon, Ran Lin rolled around on the sofa, the television playing in the background becoming mere noise, unable to distract him as he secretly reveled in his own lush world of thoughts.

As evening approached and the surging tide of emotions began to settle, he remembered to call Wang Xi.

The phone rang twice and was then hung up. Ran Lin didn’t call again until ten o’clock at night, when the phone finally rang back.

“Did you call me?” Wang Xi’s voice sounded tired, with noisy background sounds.

Ran Lin hesitated before asking, “Xi Jie, are you outside?”

“Yeah, I was at a dinner, so I didn’t pick up your call. What’s up?”

Seeing Wang Xi didn’t want to elaborate, Ran Lin didn’t pry and just asked, “I want to talk to you about <Chronicles of Winter>. Is now a good time?”

“It’s fine,” Wang Xi said. “I’m in the car.”

Ran Lin got straight to the point. “Xi Jie, I’ve read through the script of <Chronicles of Winter> multiple times, and to be honest, I feel the second male lead is somewhat dispensable in the story. I really… don’t want to take it.”

Wang Xi was silent, only the sound of wind blowing through the car window could be heard over the phone.

Ran Lin paused, feeling the need to explain further. “It’s not that I’m upset with you or Han Ze for the role being taken away. I’m not happy about it, but you know I’m not impulsive. If it was truly a good opportunity, with a good script and role, I’d even take the third male lead. It’s not that I’ve become arrogant after <Sword of Fallen Flowers>, but I really want to be a bit more selective in script and role choices.”

“However.” Wang Xi finally spoke, not angry as Ran Lin had expected but with a heavy, serious tone. “Have you considered that you might not have the luxury of being so selective with your resources? What if you don’t find anything better and miss this one too? That would be a loss on both ends.”

Ran Lin was quiet for a long time before saying, “I’m willing to take that risk.”

Wang Xi: “Even if it might mean flopping entirely?”

Ran Lin: “Or it might mean shooting to stardom.”

Wang Xi: “Keep dreaming.”

Ran Lin was stunned. The laughter in Wang Xi’s words was too evident, not like a rebuke but more like teasing in relief, uncertainly asking, “Xi Jie, do you agree?”

“Okay,” Wang Xi responded, then fell silent for a while before saying, “Initially, I was only competing for the male lead role, I hadn’t considered the second male lead… Forget it. This situation was mishandled on my end. I’ll arrange some variety show appearances, events, and fan meetings for you soon as a prelude to <Sword of Fallen Flowers>. If the drama does well in ratings, opportunities won’t be scarce.”

Ran Lin didn’t expect things to go this smoothly and was at a loss for words.

Wang Xi added, “You’re doing the right thing by being patient. Only by keeping your composure can you firmly seize the real opportunities when they come.”

Ran Lin felt there was a sense of emotion in Wang Xi’s tone, but they briefly discussed other topics, and then the moment was forgotten.

After hanging up, Wang Xi stared blankly at her phone.

The dinner she had just attended was to network with the financiers of the movie <Mint Green>, a youth novel that had been very popular two years ago. After its film and television rights were sold, various financiers had been eager to invest, believing it to be a guaranteed hit. In the end, including the company that bought the rights, five companies co-produced it. The dinner was with the rights holder, who also invested. Securing them would almost certainly secure the lead role for their male lead.

From the dinner that day, it was clear that the capitalist wasn’t easy to deal with.

Ding Kai, at thirty-seven years old and self-made, had grown a small workshop-style team into a sizeable film and television company in less than ten years, relying on his sharp market sense and precise project investments. In the recent two years of IP popularity, he had seen success after success with his investments.

Even occasional failures didn’t significantly impact his substantial earnings. Before that meal, Wang Xi hadn’t truly interacted with him, but afterward, she was fully convinced of his abilities to achieve such successes.

Everyone at the table had their own agenda, but from start to finish, Ding Kai’s responses were appropriately measured—never too cold nor overly eager. One could not discern any particular inclination from his eyes, yet somehow, there seemed to be a thread of hope for everyone’s objectives.

A smiling fox.

Wang Xi hadn’t been fond of using such a term, but for Ding Kai, she found no better fit. He was cunning to the point of being inscrutable, never giving away clear intentions yet keeping everyone engaged and unwilling to give up, always maintaining absolute initiative. By comparison, she found herself preferring the straightforward investors who might not always speak comfortably yet were direct and exuded an air of “money talks.”

This was also why she hadn’t discussed <Mint Green> with Ran Lin. The project was intended for Ran Lin, but it seemed too premature to bring it up at that point.

If Han Ze hadn’t been so impatient and insisted on snatching Ran Lin’s role in <Chronicles of Winter> that leading role might have been secured for him, given his qualifications and status. However, once <Chronicles of Winter> moved from Ran Lin to Han Ze, it was unlikely to revert, as it would offend too many. Neither Dream Without Limits nor Han Ze were presumptuous enough to flip-flop so openly.

She had received the news the night before and had been introduced to the dinner through a contact that day. Had Han Ze been more patient for a few more days, the opportunity might have arisen, but unfortunately, he wasn’t as farsighted as Ran Lin.

Opportunities were not only for those who were prepared but also for those bold enough to take a chance.

In this regard, Ran Lin had more courage.

…..

At the end of March, the weather still carried the chill of late winter, and the promotion for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> began to heat up. The official Weibo released the character posters.

Thanks to the individual popularity of Lu Yiyao and Xi Ruohan, the CP popularity of Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, the adaptable popularity of Tang Xiaoyu, and the word-of-mouth street cred of Chen Qizheng and Song Mang, the character posters were released and immediately went viral.

The production company also invested in some promotional resources, engaging marketing accounts and influencers to set a good pace early on. This was followed by spontaneous discussions among the audience, raising the show’s profile. The phrase <Sword of Fallen Flowers> trended all day, as did several of the leading actors.

Lu Yiyao’s character, Tang Jingyu, was cold and reserved; Xi Ruohan’s Zhao Buyao was charming and heroic; Ran Lin’s Fang Xian was carefree and dashing; Tang Xiaoyu’s Xu Chongfei was gentle and refined…

As a wuxia drama, a genre that has been scarce on screens in recent years, it drew both praise and criticism, but most of all, anticipation.

This was exactly what the producers hoped for—to whet the audience’s appetite.

That day, Ran Lin’s Weibo was flooded with fans of his looks and fans of the “Green Forest” CP, who had been quiet for a while. Although the last paparazzi incident made many fans aware that he was filming with Lu Yiyao, it wasn’t until the character posters and official announcements that everything became clear. With the drama scheduled for release at the end of May, everything became clear, and fans finally felt relieved and began to voice their excitement.

However, Lu Yiyao’s dedicated fans were overwhelmingly passionate, so most were careful in expressing their anticipation under Ran Lin’s posts. The Burning Noodles were relatively gentle; no matter if you liked one or both, as long as Ran Lin was involved, they welcomed you.

The buzz around the character posters continued for a week until Ran Lin went to Shanghai to record a show. Even with occasional browsing on Weibo, he could still see active discussions.

Familiar IDs popped up in his Weibo feed, making Ran Lin smile secretly.

As if on cue, his WeChat pinged. Without looking, Ran Lin knew it was Lu Yiyao. Their relationship had recently entered a stable phase. While their chats were about daily life, with no overstepping boundaries, there was an undeniable warmth to their conversations.

Love Yao For Life: [The look is pretty good, hmm, running away fast.]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [@Love Yao For Life Why run? I miss you!]

Just after finishing recording the show and returning to the hotel, Ran Lin couldn’t help but chuckle as he scrolled through familiar IDs on Weibo.

As if by telepathy, WeChat pinged at that moment, and without looking, Ran Lin knew it was from Lu Yiyao. Their relationship had recently entered a stable phase. If you say there’s a flirtatious undertone, they only chat about everyday things with nothing inappropriate, but if you say there wasn’t flirtation, Ran Lin wasn’t sure how Lu Yiyao felt. Regardless, he found himself smiling from start to finish in every conversation, feeling warm inside even when discussing mundane topics like what to eat.

Wang Xi, busy at both ends, didn’t have the time to scrutinize him closely, unlike Liu Wanwan, who had asked him several times, “Ran Ge, what exactly are you so happy about?”

Ran Lin always seriously replied that he was just happy without any particular reason.

Liu Wanwan’s consideration was evident in her acceptance of such obvious deflections and her persistence in asking again next time.

[Still in Shanghai?]—Lu Yiyao’s message was straightforward, cutting directly to the subject.

Ran Lin didn’t see anything wrong with it and replied—[Yes, I have to record another day tomorrow and will return the day after.]

This time he was a guest for an internet variety show, and the filming spanned two days. Wang Xi was also there, mostly managing the promotion team in Beijing remotely to maintain the buzz about his character poster and extend the topic further.

If not for the <Chronicles of Winter> incident, Wang Xi would be deemed a fully competent agent. Both <National First Love Drifting Stories> and <Sword of Fallen Flowers> involved luck, but much of it was due to Wang Xi’s efforts, without which they wouldn’t even have the chance to rely on luck.

But the <Chronicles of Winter> incident was like a shadow over them, and regardless of her relationship with Han Ze, it had eroded Ran Lin’s complete trust in her.

So, rather than saying he was deflecting from Liu Wanwan, it was more accurate to say he was keeping things from Wang Xi.

Regardless of where his relationship with Lu Yiyao would ultimately go, as long as there was a chance it could affect Lu Yiyao, he wouldn’t reveal even a hint to Wang Xi.

[Let’s meet up when you get back.]

As he was thinking, a new message from Lu Yiyao came in, causing Ran Lin’s heart to race.

At some point, they had both taken to texting, which had the advantage of not revealing any emotions but the disadvantage of leaving a sense of loneliness.

Ran Lin didn’t know how Lu Yiyao felt, but in the quiet of the night, he would secretly play Teacher Lu’s original dramas, stealthily enjoying them, frightened by his own obsession.

[Do you have time?]—Ran Lin instinctively avoided a direct answer and threw back another question.

Since that party, they hadn’t seen each other face to face, and frankly, Ran Lin was a bit intimidated. Given Lu Yiyao’s straightforward nature, who knew what new developments were in his script. Ran Lin felt his heart couldn’t withstand another shockwave.

Lu Yiyao had said, “From now on, I’ll pursue you,” a phrase that hadn’t been mentioned again but haunted Ran Lin, leaving him unsettled and restless.

[My best friend from my days studying in England, Huo Yuntao, is coming back to the country, the one I mentioned at the party, who Peng Jingyu also knows. He was supposed to come back in May, but he’s coming earlier now.]

Lu Yiyao didn’t answer whether he had time but instead brought up something else. But combining the context, Ran Lin felt Lu Yiyao wouldn’t mention these two things together without reason.

Sure enough, the second message followed closely—[When he comes back, even if I don’t have time, I have to make time to welcome him. Otherwise, I’ll be bracing for a backlash.]

Ran Lin was momentarily stunned and looked back at the previous message [Let’s meet up when you get back], feeling his heart flutter at the word “us”.

A third message from Lu Yiyao came—[I want you to meet him, and I assure you, he’s more eager to see you than me.]

Ran Lin didn’t respond.  He just watched as message after message from Lu Yiyao came, his heart going through a whirlwind of emotions, feeling both sweet and sour at the same time.

Lu Yiyao seemed a bit exasperated and sent a fourth message—[If you don’t ask ‘why,’ it’ll be awkward for me.]

Ran Lin, holding back a smile, replied—[If I ask, then I’ll be the one feeling awkward.]

Lu Yiyao—[Why?]

Ran Lin—[Because you’ll say you’ve already told your friend about us, and you’ve probably praised me too much in front of him. But if I were your friend, I wouldn’t be too happy to see you going down the wrong path.]

Lu Yiyao—[I haven’t praised you too much; I’ve been objective since you have faults too.]

Ran Lin—[……]

Lu Yiyao—[But indeed, the path isn’t exactly straight and narrow; ‘wrong path’ is indisputable.]

Ran Lin—[Good that you know.]

Lu Yiyao—[But then again, race tracks are better when they’re rugged and winding; drifting is more thrilling that way.]

Ran Lin’s typing fingers paused, his cheeks warming up.

Not seeing each other for three days seemed to make a difference—the bad boy started to race!

It was the first time they had such a slightly over-the-line conversation since the party, yet it felt so natural that by the time Ran Lin realized it, the conversation was over.

The topic then shifted back to the more proper subject of “meeting up”, and Lu Yiyao’s reasoning was legitimate—Huo Yuntao was returning to marry and inherit the family business, which involved the entertainment industry. It would be good for Ran Lin to know more people in the field.

Ultimately, Ran Lin declined without giving any excuses, simply stating the truth—[I would feel awkward.]

With the ambiguous nature of his relationship with Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin was nervous about meeting him, let alone his friend.

WeChat messages could be bold and carefree because they weren’t sharing the same space, unable to see facial expressions or hear voices. But face-to-face, Ran Lin admitted, he’d chicken out.

After a while, Lu Yiyao replied—[I was inconsiderate and oversimplified things. Sorry.]

Ran Lin—[Actually, I’m just being a bit melodramatic 😓.]

Lu Yiyao didn’t reply with words but sent an animated gif—Tigger happily bounding over and pouncing on Winnie the Pooh.

Ran Lin stared at it for a long time, feeling somehow taken advantage of.

After the sensitive topic concluded, Lu Yiyao switched back to discussing the character posters of the day. This subject was much safer, and they chatted for a while until Lu Yiyao asked—[Got any opportunities coming up recently?]

Ran Lin honestly replied—[Wang Xi hasn’t mentioned anything. Probably not yet.]

Lu Yiyao—[Once the promotion for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> fully kicks off, there should be some movement. If they have any foresight, that is. Otherwise, they’ll come knocking after the ratings explode, and by then, Wang Xi will surely hike up the price.]

Ran Lin chuckled.—[Hope for a price hike!]

Lu Yiyao—[Little money-lover.]

Ran Lin looked at those words, feeling mixed emotions.

He was only a year younger than Lu Yiyao, so why did it sometimes feel like this guy was scolding him like a father!

……

After bidding each other goodnight on WeChat, just as he exited to the phone’s home screen, there was a knock at the hotel room door. Ran Lin got up, puzzled, and asked through the door, “Who is it?”

Outside, his agent’s voice came through. “Wang Xi.”

Ran Lin was stunned for a moment, then hurriedly opened the door to let her in.

As he closed the door and turned around, Ran Lin’s eyes immediately caught the script in Wang Xi’s hand, sparkling with anticipation.

Wang Xi didn’t beat around the bush and handed him the script. “It’s a movie, still uncertain if it will go through. I had dinner with the financiers before and couldn’t gauge the situation. But the impact of the official announcement of your character poster for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> has made the financiers optimistic about your prospects. I’ve already received a signal that if <Sword of Fallen Flowers> meets the expected reputation and ratings, you have a strong chance for the lead role.”

Wang Xi’s speech was characteristically fast. Ran Lin took a moment to digest before grasping the key phrase. “Lead role… in a movie?”

Wang Xi was both amused and exasperated. “I’d like to emphasize again. It’s uncertain.”

Ran Lin couldn’t help but beam with happiness, his voice lightening. “Even a glimmer of hope is worth working hard for!”

Wang Xi liked his spirit and patted his shoulder. “First, read the script. Then, we can’t just passively wait for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> to air. We need to start working on it beforehand. I’ll try to schedule another meeting with the investors. Many people are eyeing this script, and if we’re not careful, someone else will snatch it away.”

It was late, and Wang Xi didn’t linger after giving a brief rundown. She left to try and schedule a meeting with the investors from her office.

After seeing her off, Ran Lin looked at the script titled <Mint Green>, feeling as if the world had suddenly become refreshingly cool.

Just as Lu Yiyao said, if they had any foresight, there would be movement. And then Wang Xi brought the script.

Ran Lin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking he’d really fallen in love with a harbinger of good news.

Just as Ran Lin was proud of his foresight, Wang Xi faced rejection from the “matchmaker”. Ding Kai was currently abroad and unreachable. Frustrated, Wang Xi’s phone then blazed with a call from Han Ze; her first thought was that the other side had gotten wind of the news.

As expected—

“Do you intend to give <Mint Green> to Ran Lin?” Han Ze interrogated as soon as the call connected.

Wang Xi, accustomed to such confrontations, sometimes struggled to keep her cool. “It’s not me who wants to give it to Ran Lin; the financiers are optimistic about him because of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.”

“That’s not right. You must have started working on it before the official announcement of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>. You must have already connected with them.”

“Yes, but it was still after you snagged his <Chronicles of Winter>.”

“<Chronicles of Winter> hasn’t been signed yet!”

“If you dare to back out now, your reputation will be ruined by tomorrow. Which investor will want to work with you then!”

“…”

Wang Xi took a deep breath, forcing her voice to soften. “What did I tell you when you insisted on his <Chronicles of Winter>? I told you better opportunities would come, to not rush. Did you listen to me?”

Han Ze: “You should have stood your ground back then. No matter how much I demanded, you shouldn’t have helped me fight for it.”

Wang Xi: “…You know I couldn’t do that.”

Silence followed from Han Ze’s end.

Finally, he said resentfully, “<Mint Green> is so much better than <Chronicles of Winter>…”

Wang Xi, feeling a bit sorry for him, comforted, “Don’t worry. I’ll find you other better opportunities.”

Han Ze: “But now I don’t have any slots available…”

Wang Xi: “Then focus on shooting <Chronicles of Winter> well. There will be other opportunities.”

Han Ze: “Will <Chronicles of Winter> make Ran Lin an overnight sensation?”

Wang Xi: “Do you want the truth?”

Han Ze: “What do you mean?”

Wang Xi: “From a professional agent’s perspective, I think Ran Lin should have been famous long ago.”

The call abruptly ended.

Wang Xi sighed, feeling helpless and a bit saddened.

Han Ze always wanted the best but didn’t realize that the best wasn’t something he could achieve alone. It required the artist’s effort to broaden their horizons and enhance their capabilities so they could clearly see where they’re headed and match up with better resources.

……

As Ran Lin held the <Mint Green> script, smiling foolishly, and Wang Xi stared at the hung-up phone in a daze, Teacher Lu in Beijing was video chatting with an old friend—

“What do you mean you can’t meet up?” Huo Yuntao was busy organizing gifts for a slew of relatives and stopped in surprise at the question.

Lu Yiyao explained plainly, “Just what it sounds like. I hadn’t thought it through before, just focused on introducing you two. But the truth is, my relationship with him isn’t clear yet. If I bring him along, under what pretext should I introduce him to you? Especially since you’re privy to the situation, it’d be really awkward for him.”

“Wait.” Huo Yuntao picked up the phone, speaker on, and widened his eyes at the screen. “You haven’t won him over yet?! Didn’t you say you were going to confess to him a while ago?”

Lu Yiyao explained casually, “I did confess, but the confession was rejected.”

Huo Yuntao: “Because you had rejected him before, so now he’s seeking revenge?”

“Only you would think something so juvenile!” Lu Yiyao, both exasperated and resigned, retorted. “He doesn’t want me to stop being straight for him, to take a different path.”

Huo Yuntao was baffled. “So now he regrets trying to bend you? What was he doing earlier then?”

Lu Yiyao frowned. “Could you think before you speak? From the beginning, he never made it clear. It was us who sensed something was off and took the opportunity to subtly reject him. Have you forgotten?”

Huo Yuntao was speechless. “So it’s our fault for being too smart?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Huo Yuntao was frustrated. “But later, he did make his feelings clear, right?”

Lu Yi Yao explained, “That was because we had already understood each other without words. He clarified it because he was worried I’d overthink and feel pressured, hoping to reassure me.”

Huo Yuntao: “And because he clarified, you ended up falling for him…”

Lu Yiyao: “More precisely, it was an opportunity to understand my true feelings.”

Huo Yuntao: “So is this like… a strategic retreat for him?”

Lu Yiyao paused, thought about it, and smirked. “Not sure, but it seems I’m particularly susceptible to this tactic.”

Huo Yuntao despaired. “You really are…”

Lu Yiyao: “Pathetic.”

Huo Yuntao: “…I admire your honesty.”

---

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

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

---

Chapter 56

For a moment, Ran Lin doubted his own sanity.

He understood every word, but when strung together in a sentence coming from Lu Yiyao’s mouth, it suddenly became very hard to comprehend.

Yet, it seemed as if Lu Yiyao was certain he would understand, sitting there prim and proper, his gaze filled with countless hopes like a starry sky.

Ran Lin knew he should respond, but his mouth opened and closed, still unsure of what to say.

This version of Lu Yiyao was so unfamiliar that he even doubted whether this was a prank, that the person in front of him wasn’t Lu Yiyao but maybe Xia Xinran or someone else in disguise, sending him a “newbie” welcome trick.

Before deciding to confess, Lu Yiyao had envisioned many scenarios. The best, of course, was Ran Lin readily agreeing, and the two of them joyfully stepping into a new life of mutual adoration. The worst was Ran Lin’s refusal. After all, the world didn’t revolve around him, and Ran Lin had every right to feel angry or indifferent.

He even prepared himself for a persistent confession after a possible rejection.

However, Ran Lin’s reaction didn’t fit any of his predictions.

Ran Lin just stared at him blankly, neither happy nor angry, but looking straight into his eyes as if trying to pull out demons from the depths of his soul.

Lu Yiyao felt his heart sinking.

With a glance over the living room, some friends were glancing their way, others were engrossed in their little circles, and a few had already run upstairs to continue their revelry.

He wasn’t afraid of Ran Lin agreeing or even jumping up to hug him, nor was he afraid of Ran Lin throwing a drink in his face in anger. At a high-spirited party, any emotional reaction was easy to explain.

What he feared was this cold silence.

Lu Yiyao was certain if they continued this awkward stare-off, it wouldn’t be long before some curious partygoers came over to inquire.

After a brief thought, Lu Yiyao said in a low, soft voice, “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

Ran Lin’s mind, initially stunned by the shock, slowly regained consciousness. His confusion was clearing up, but his thoughts became more jumbled.

The wooden house had collapsed; just in a moment, the ground was sinking, and suddenly it was in ruins.

The collapse raised a huge dust, covering his heart in gray, directionless.

Lu Yiyao suggested moving somewhere else.

That suited him fine.

Ran Lin followed Lu Yiyao through twists and turns until they finally reached the villa’s backyard.

In the open yard, surrounded by tall walls on three sides and the villa’s back on one, the center housed a swimming pool, now drained for winter, its bottom and sides seemingly covered with a protective film. Moonlight spilled down from the night sky, casting serene light on the protective film. Vine plants climbed the walls, leaves long shed, leaving only branches waiting quietly for spring’s revival. A romantically lit corner light made the desolation seem romantic and tranquil.

Lu Yiyao walked along the pool’s edge, while Ran Lin followed a couple of steps behind.

His shadow stretched long, reaching Ran Lin’s feet, each step on it giving a childish thrill of mischief.

Lu Yiyao finally stopped in a very secluded corner, lit by a night lamp, not pitch black but devoid of other noises except the occasional breeze.

In the night wind, Lu Yiyao turned around.

Ran Lin stood a step away, close enough for a private conversation but not too intimate.

In the cold February night, Lu Yiyao’s breath fogged as he spoke.

With the dim light making his face hard to see, Ran Lin could only listen to his voice, clear and fluid—

“I like you, and I want to be with you.”

As the mist cleared, Ran Lin could only clearly see Lu Yiyao’s serious and determined eyes.

Following Lu Yiyao here, Ran Lin was nervous, especially afraid that Lu Yiyao might suddenly become emotional and enact some dramatic idol drama scene like a hug or a wall slam.

Fortunately, he worried for nothing.

Even confessing, Lu Yiyao did so openly and formally, not playing with ambiguous phrases like “Let’s try dating” or “I think I might have feelings for you,” giving himself enough respect. Just like the Lu Yiyao who once said, “Because you, Ran Lin, are my friend, it doesn’t matter how popular we are or whether we are celebrities,” both were disarmingly sincere.

But being disarmed meant he had to guard—

“I don’t accept.”

During that tumultuous time of unrequited love, Ran Lin had daydreamed countless times about if Lu Yiyao confessed, wondering if he should be shy or warmly welcoming. But in every dream, his real emotion was ecstatic joy, barely containing himself from leaping forward.

But now that the day had arrived, there was no joy, only fear and… regret.

He shouldn’t have led Lu Yiyao on, shouldn’t have convinced himself that the other might be like-minded. It was already rare to be close friends, yet he had to push for more, ending up tangled and miserable and dragging others down too.

Lu Yiyao, surprised at first, slowly looked disappointed. “You don’t like me anymore?”

Ran Lin, already flustered at the word ‘like’, looked up and met his gaze firmly. “Yeah, I don’t like you anymore.”

Lu Yiyao nodded, taking a deep breath, his voice steadying. “Then from now on, I’ll pursue you.”

Ran Lin grew anxious. “Don’t you understand what I’m saying? My liking you is over. You don’t need any psychological burden. It was just my unrequited love; you don’t have to feel sorry, nor do you owe me anything.”

Lu Yiyao, possibly understanding Ran Lin’s internal conflict, quickly explained, “I’m not saying this to respond to you; I’ve really thought it through. I like you.”

“Are you gay?”

“……”

In a moment of silence, Ran Lin calmed down. He sighed and tried to speak earnestly. “If you liked me, or even had a slight possibility of liking me, you wouldn’t have immediately hinted rejection when I made flirty jokes. I’m not blaming you with this; I want you to understand why your first instinct was to reject without hesitation—because you are straight. It doesn’t matter whether the person flirting with you is me or someone else; as long as it’s a man, rejection is your first instinct.”

The night was like ink. Ran Lin, in his black school uniform, blended into the night, indistinguishable except for his pale face, which flushed slightly from speaking too much in one breath.

Lu Yiyao suddenly really wanted to slap himself. If he had realized earlier, things wouldn’t have come to this point.

But time can’t be reversed, and all he could do was be honest with Ran Lin. “Back then, I really hadn’t considered the possibility of liking a man.”

Ran Lin’s eyes stung, but Lu Yiyao’s honesty allowed him to let go of the anxiety he had been holding onto. His heart was bitter but also relieved. “That’s the problem. You’re not gay; you’re just fond of me because we are good friends, so you kept turning this matter over in your mind. If we had just been normal friends from the start, or not friends at all, and I told you I liked you, would you have thought twice about it, or would you have run far away… right?”

His last words were spoken gently, as if coaxing a child.

Lu Yiyao felt hypnotized, thoroughly drawn into the other’s hypothesis, and found no words to refute the very reasonable conclusion.

The wind brushed against his cheek like pinpricks. Ran Lin’s feet were cold in the single shoes typical of a Republic of China student.

He moved his feet slightly and then sighed. “You’re just too serious, too thoughtful, and overthinking things. If it were me, constantly thinking about someone else, I’d also feel different about them. Like some actors who easily fall for their co-stars while filming, thinking they’ve fallen in love, but once the shoot is over, the feelings quickly fade because it wasn’t true love, just an illusion.”

“If I had been sure from the start that you were straight, no matter how much I liked you, I wouldn’t have let it show. So…” Ran Lin said, lifting his head, his gaze traveling from the buttons, up the collar, to his nose and eyebrows, as if imprinting the person in his memory before parting. “Don’t foolishly bend yourself for me. You’ve been good enough to me. You don’t owe me anything.”

Ran Lin’s eyes were the clearest Lu Yiyao had ever seen. They held the most straightforward emotions and the greatest goodwill. They were not entirely selfless, but they often considered others.

Lu Yiyao watched Ran Lin quietly, neither arguing nor accepting, and then suddenly asked softly, “Are you cold?”

Ran Lin didn’t catch on at first, but when he saw the smile in Lu Yiyao’s eyes, he realized and glared at him. “I’m freezing to death, and you chose this lousy place.”

Lu Yiyao drew him close, not in an ambiguous embrace but a brotherly one, hooking arms and heading back.

Ran Lin nearly stumbled, thinking it odd for someone to be so casual after being rejected. But Lu Yiyao’s demeanor wasn’t pressuring; indeed, it was more like “the meeting with Classmate Ran has concluded successfully; let’s stride forth” in its carefree spirit.

Lu Yiyao was warm, even through the thick military uniform, the closeness allowing the heat to transfer.

Ran Lin was indeed cold. He hadn’t noticed it during their “long night talk”, but now that he was warmed by someone’s side, he felt the chill to the bone.

He wanted to ask Lu Yiyao if he truly understood and if he had really turned back to the broad road of straight men. But he dared not ask, afraid of burdening him with the thoughts he had just managed to set aside.

This confession had really scared him. Fortunately, he remained composed and clear-headed.

He had indeed told Lu Yiyao that if he met the right person in the future, he would be willing to face all storms with them.

But that person shouldn’t be Lu Yiyao.

Whether it was hardship or storms, these were not meant for Lu Yiyao to bear. He had been living a smooth life and shouldn’t suffer such a calamity.

……

When they returned to the living room, a group of friends teased and asked where they had sneaked off to.

Ran Lin borrowed Pan Dapan’s erhu and played an original tune, immediately filling the room with mournful sounds until he was collectively attacked, and no one remembered the earlier topic.

Lu Yiyao watched Ran Lin laugh brightly among the crowd, surprisingly not depressed by the rejection, feeling even more clear and peaceful inside.

He wasn’t sure if he was bent by Ran Lin; maybe he was, or perhaps he was deeply closeted, but either way, he had burdened Ran Lin. If he persisted, Ran Lin would probably beg him to change his mind.

But he didn’t regret today’s confession.

Like Ran Lin said, no one waits for you, and often, a moment’s hesitation means a missed opportunity.

He didn’t want, nor could he afford, to miss Ran Lin, even if it meant acting recklessly at first to secure the situation before gently nurturing it.

Ran Lin’s habit of considering others was worrisome.

But he liked it—liked it so much he wanted to hide it in his heart, not letting anyone else see.

In that time of confusion, Lu Yiyao couldn’t understand why he felt something for Ran Lin, but now he thought he had the best taste in the world.

At three in the morning, with work the next day, Pan Dapan, Tian Mai, and Lu Yiyao had to leave first.

Tian Mai and Lu Yiyao had arrived together and left together, consistent to the end.

Ran Lin, having no particular hurry, was pulled aside by Xia Xinran, who declared that everyone could leave except for Ran Lin.

Friends teased Xia Xinran, asking if he had fallen for Ran Lin.

Xia Xinran responded cheerfully, claiming a love as deep as the sea.

The friends were exasperated, Ran Lin was amused, and Lu Yiyao, unable to say more, just gave Ran Lin a deep look before reluctantly leaving with Pan Dapan.

Ran Lin didn’t watch Lu Yiyao leave but felt his parting gaze.

He felt an odd sensation—not panic, not happiness, not annoyance, nor confusion—just a sense of something stirring within him, unable to discern if it was joy or sorrow.

Without Pan Dapan, the party seemed rather subdued. By 3:30 a.m., everyone started to find places to sleep. Some crashed directly on the living room sofa, while others sought a more comfortable guest room.

Xia Xinran was among the latter, specifically choosing a room with tatami mats and pulling Ran Lin in with him. Despite facing Lu Yiyao, the prospect of sharing a room with another man so soon after being confessed to by him made Ran Lin’s mind race with alarm. Now, every male friend seemed suspicious.

Xia Xinran was quite familiar with the place and directly took out two white quilts with blue stripes from the closet and laid them on the tatami.

The atmosphere suddenly turned Japanese-style.

Just as Xia Xinran was about to undress, Ran Lin couldn’t bear the boldness of the beauty and directly called a halt. “Wait a moment.”

Xia Xinran had already taken off his suit and was now only wearing a shirt, looking innocently at Ran Lin. “What’s wrong?”

Ran asked with difficulty, “Are we really sleeping here tonight?”

Xia Xinran tilted his head. “Isn’t it comfortable?”

Ran surveyed the room, noting its ample size not just for them but for others too, yet hesitated, “Isn’t it a bit improper for just the two of us to share a room?”

Xia Xinran raised an eyebrow with a hint of meaning. “Only the guilty are so timid. What are you afraid of?”

Ran Lin’s heart skipped, speechless.

Xia Xinran, not completely undressed and feeling more relaxed without his suit, simply lay down on the soft bedding. Ran Lin, giving up on making a fuss, also laid down, removing his uniform to just his undershirt.

The blankets were soft and carried a faint scent of soap.

As Ran Lin closed his eyes, exhaustion hit him. A humidifier with a soft light and delicate mist added a touch of elegance to the corner of the room.

In the quiet, Xia Xinran suddenly asked, “Why didn’t you accept Lu Yiyao?”

Ran Lin’s heart sank. A bad premonition came true.

But he kept his breathing steady, eyes closed, feigning sleep.

Xia Xinran, uncertain, whispered, “Are you asleep?”

Ran Lin remained still.

Silence fell, and Ran Lin’s heart gradually calmed…

“I’m just watching you pretend.” Xia Xinran’s voice was suddenly close, whispering in his ear.

Ran Lin opened his eyes and turned to see Xia Xinran had moved closer, lying beside him, propping his head up with a smile.

Ran Lin felt defeated, remembering Xia Xinran wasn’t Lu Yiyao and there was no reasoning with him.

“Why refuse?” Xia Xinran asked, seeming genuinely curious. “I heard you liked him first, so why the rejection now?”

Ran Lin sighed, no longer pretending, and asked directly, “When did you start listening?”

Xia Xinran thought seriously. “From when he made plans with you for next Valentine’s Day.”

Ran Lin was shocked. That meant the living room!

“Where were you hiding?”

“Behind the sofa on the floor.”

“How did I not notice you?”

“I crawled over.”

“……”

“For gossip, I can go through fire and water.”

Ran Lin held his forehead, completely defeated.

Xia Xinran couldn’t help but admire. “Lu Yiyao is truly bold and meticulous. The more dangerous the place, the safer it is. He chose to confess at a party, quite the master.”

Ran Lin felt that his focus was a bit off. “Aren’t you… shocked?”

Xia Xinran blinked. “The fact that you’re gay isn’t really shocking, but that Teacher Lu is too—that’s quite unexpected.”

Ran Lin was frustrated. “How am I… not shocking?”

Xia Xinran replied, “Because you just don’t look straight.”

Ran Lin asked, “Where did you get that from?!”

Xia Xinran answered, “Straight men can’t possibly be as gentle as you.”

Ran Lin retorted, “Are you criticizing me or straight men…”

“I used to have a friend who’s gay,” Xia Xinran suddenly said solemnly. “You remind me a lot of him.”

Ran Lin couldn’t tell if he was being overly sensitive but felt a trace of melancholy in Xia Xinran’s voice.

Before he could figure it out, Xia Xinran urged, “Hurry up and tell me, why did you reject Teacher Lu? He’s good in every way and even more popular than you.”

The last words stung.

Ran Lin suppressed the urge to clutch his chest and patiently explained to Xia Xinran. “If you had followed me outside, you would have heard me say that he doesn’t truly like me. He’s just confused for the moment.”

Xia Xinran frowned, puzzled. “Then why did he direct his confusion at you?”

Ran Lin explained, “Because he knows I like him. Without my messy intervention, he would never have doubted his preference for men in his life.”

Xia Xinran: “So you’re his sexual awakening, no problem.”

Ran Lin: “……”

Xia Xinran: “Err, am I being too blunt?”

Ran Lin: “It totally doesn’t match your face!”

Xia Xinran lay down, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, murmuring, “I think Teacher Lu isn’t just confused temporarily. If he confessed to you, he must have thought it through.”

Ran Lin sighed and lay down too, staring at the ceiling. “I know he’s not someone who acts on impulse, but his overall state is off right now. So even if he thinks clearly, it’s fundamentally wrong. We just finished shooting a film together. You might not understand—it was the kind of story with intense emotional entanglements that can affect a person. Give him some time to completely calm down, and he’ll realize how foolish he was today.”

“I thought,” Xia Xinran seemed to smile faintly, brief and fleeting, “turning straight men would give you a sense of achievement.”

Ran Lin detected a hint of sarcasm, frowned slightly, and guessed, “Your friend told you that?”

Xia Xinran lost in thought, didn’t catch on immediately. “Huh?”

“The one you just mentioned, the friend who is a lot like me,” Ran Lin turned to look at him. “Did he tell you turning straight men gives you a sense of achievement?”

“Of course not,” Xia Xinran also turned, instinctively rebutting. “He was the one who got turned!”

Ran Lin was stunned.

Realizing his tone might have been harsh, Xia Xinran quickly apologized. “Sorry.”

Ran Lin immediately shook his head. “I should be the one apologizing. Because you said your friend was gay, I assumed…”

“He wasn’t initially.” Xia Xinran softly interrupted, his gaze drifting as if looking into memories. “We met during a talent show, living in the same dorm for months, eating, sleeping, and rehearsing together. We were all around seventeen or eighteen—naive but pure. We got along like solid friends, even if we had to compete on stage. But as the show was ending, he suddenly dropped out. If he hadn’t, he would have been in the top three, with great opportunities and resources.”

“Why did he quit then?”

“The company demanded it,” Xia Xinran’s lips curved into a bitter smile, “because he was involved in a scandal with inappropriate photos.”

Ran Lin guessed, “With another guy?”

Xia Xinran nodded. “Yes, and it was someone from the same talent show. He wasn’t identifiable in the photos, but he was wearing our rehearsal outfits. The photos didn’t leak; the company got them, but obviously, they had to do something about it to avoid future problems.”

Something flickered in Ran Lin’s mind, but before he could grasp it, Xia Xinran continued on his own.

“At that time, I couldn’t believe it because he’d told me about chasing girls when he was in school; he wasn’t gay. But when I confronted him after the incident, he told me he was, that he hadn’t realized it until he met ‘him’ and understood his true self. I asked who the other person in the photos was, and he refused to say, not just to me but to the company too. Revealing it would mean both had to drop out. In the end, he never disclosed it, and after withdrawing, he left. He was actually happy when he left, feeling he had protected his loved one.”

“What happened afterward…” Ran Lin sensed this wouldn’t have a happy ending.

As expected, Xia Xinran scoffed with unspeakable pity. “Not even two months later, that fool messaged me, saying he was heartbroken, and it was his decision to break up because he couldn’t hinder the other’s aspirations… Damn! It’s like he was brainwashed. I think that jerk could run a scamming class on relationships. Clearly just toying around, letting him take all the fall, and his dropout just moved everyone else up a spot, killing several birds with one stone, right?”

“Zhang Beichen,” Ran Lin understood. “The other person in the photos, it’s Zhang Beichen, right?”

Xia Xinran took a deep breath, and after a long moment, he grudgingly affirmed with a “Mm”.

Everything made sense now.

Xia Xinran’s attitude toward Zhang Beichen, his sensitive reactions to gays, and even… Zhang Beichen’s claim of love at first sight.

Looking at Xia Xinran, Ran Lin asked calmly, “Am I really that similar to your friend?”

Xia Xinran turned to look at him and, after a long pause, said, “Your features are somewhat similar, but it’s your aura that’s strikingly alike, both very comforting.”

“How did you know it was Zhang Beichen in the photos?”

“You can’t hide something unless you never do it. If it weren’t for my friend begging me, I would have exposed it.”

Ran Lin pondered for a moment and asked, “Is it possible that Zhang Bei Chen truly liked your friend?”

Without hesitation, Xia Xinran’s lips curled in disdain. “In his world, fame and rising to the top always come first. Even if there’s a shred of sincerity, it’s worthless on his path to success. My friend dropped out, and he moved from fourth to third. They broke up two months after the show ended. Do you expect me to believe in his true love?”

Overwhelmed with information, Ran Lin felt a mix of emotions.

Xia Xinran then exhaled in relief. “I was really worried you’d fall for him during the shooting of <Drifting Stories>. Thankfully, you have good taste, choosing Teacher Lu.”

Ran Lin was speechless.

“It’s the contrast that makes you special.” Xia Xinran gazed at him unwaveringly. “You worry about not leading Teacher Lu down this path, instead of rejoicing that someone finally loves you.”

Ran Lin, recalling Xia Xinran’s earlier passion, self-mockingly said, “If Teacher Lu’s friends knew about this, they would probably resent me as much as you resent Zhang Beichen.”

Xia Xinran shook his head. “I resent Zhang Beichen because he was irresponsible, seducing someone, enjoying the benefits, and then leaving them deeply in love. That’s not skill; that’s immorality.”

“But you and Lu Yiyao are different; you’re both serious.” Xia Xinran’s tone shifted. “My friend went to Tibet last year, came back saying he’d moved on, and by the end of the year, he was in a new relationship with a man. So I think maybe everyone is destined for a journey. If you get through it, you move forward; if not, life takes a turn. Whether that path is easy or hard, it’s the one you’re meant to walk. So it’s not about what you want to do to Lu Yiyao; it’s about being a turning point in his life. Even if you don’t continue with him, he can’t go back; he’ll just find someone else on this path. Are you okay with that?”

Ran Lin was confused. “But don’t you also think turning straight men is unethical? You said your friend had a girlfriend.”

Xia Xinran sighed, feeling genuinely worried for his friends. “What’s done is done. There’s no point in dwelling on past faults. The current situation is that Lu Yiyao has changed, and aren’t you responsible for that?”

“What if this so-called crush is just his misconception?”

“That’s why I didn’t intervene when you rejected him.” Xia Xinran rested his head on one hand, the other gesturing openly. “I too think he needs more time to settle his feelings and make sure.”

Ran Lin: “…Where were you hiding then?”

Xia Xinran: “In the dark corner by the wall lamp.”

Ran Lin: “Was it cold?”

Xia Xinran: “Freezing. What a terrible place Teacher Lu chose!”

Ran Lin laughed, his worries of the night dissipated by Xia Xinran’s words.

Before going to sleep, he asked Xia Xinran, “If you were Lu Yiyao’s friend, would you still advise me to be with him?”

Xia Xinran’s answer was simple and clear. “Yes.”

Before Ran Lin could ask why, he continued, “Because those few months dating Zhang Beichen were the happiest I’ve seen my friend. More importantly, you’re Ran Lin; you won’t run away after a few months.”

Ran Lin didn’t know what to say, feeling a flood of thoughts. “I…”

Xia Xinran: “Even if you run, Teacher Lu isn’t a coward. He’ll set you straight in minutes.”

Ran Lin: “…Good night!”

……

As Lu Yiyao was driving back to his apartment, about to enter the underground parking lot, he suddenly heard a shrill honking sound.

Looking towards the noise, he saw his usual van used for shuttling him to engagements parked by the side of the road.

Under the cool moonlight, the black van looked like a ghost waiting for its prey.

Before Lu Yiyao could think of a strategy, his hands already turned the steering wheel, driving towards and eventually parking behind the van.

The van’s door was swiftly pulled open, and soon a figure jumped out—it was Li Tong.

The assistant ran over in a few quick strides. Lu Yiyao rolled down the window, and Li Tong spoke in a hushed tone, “Lu Ge, Hong Jie has been waiting for you all night. As for me, I’m clueless and probably not far from getting fired. Just a heads-up for you.”

Lu Yiyao smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’re indispensable.”

With that, Lu Yiyao got out of the car and headed towards the van.

Li Tong followed, thinking ambitiously that it’d be even better if he were a golden bowl instead of just an iron one.

To his surprise, Yao Hong wasn’t as furious as he had anticipated but rather appeared tired, resting with her eyes closed. She slowly opened her eyes when she heard Lu Yiyao enter.

Lu Yiyao suddenly felt a wave of guilt.

Yao Hong had been juggling family and work, a tough gig that even the young might find challenging. She had always been running at full capacity. More importantly, their relationship wasn’t just that of a celebrity and an agent. Yao Hong cared for him like her own child, and he regarded her as family.

“Shall I ask, or will you tell?” Yao Hong spoke slowly, a hint of helplessness in her voice.

Lu Yiyao was mentally prepared.

He wasn’t very sociable outside of work-related gatherings and had recently been acting unusually, so it wasn’t strange for Yao Hong to be suspicious.

Likely, Yao Hong had followed him to the Aobei Villas and then returned early, knowing he had an engagement the next day. Cutting off the possibility of phone communications and waiting downstairs was a sudden but effective move.

Lu Yiyao had hoped to delay the conversation until things were more settled. After all, these kinds of things would always reveal its flaws. He couldn’t keep it a secret from his agent forever, so it seemed he had to face it sooner rather than later—

“I might be falling in love.”

As he said it, even he was surprised by how a simple statement made his heart feel as if it were blooming with flowers, filling him with beauty and fragrance.

Yao Hong, having already suspected, wasn’t shocked, but she was taken aback by the “might”.

Lu Yiyao nodded somewhat embarrassedly. “Yes, he¹ hasn’t agreed yet.”

Yao Hong frowned almost immediately. “She¹ hasn’t agreed? What’s there not to agree to? What’s wrong with our Lu Yiyao?”

Lu Yiyao: “……”

Li Tong: “……”

Realizing the situation was slipping, Yao Hong coughed lightly, reining in her doting parental instincts, and asked more sternly, “Who is she¹?”

Lu Yiyao’s nerves, which had just relaxed, tensed up again.

Yao Hong waited patiently, not rushing him.

After a long silence—so long that Li Tong nearly jumped in to reveal the answer himself—

Lu Yiyao finally said, “Ran Lin.”

Yao Hong was puzzled; her eyes were filled with confusion. “Huh¹?”

¹Clarity: During this conversation, they are using different pronouns. While Lu Yiyao is saying he (他), Yao Hong thinks he’s saying she (她). In Chinese, these words sound almost the same when spoken, so that’s why Yao Hong didn’t realize Lu Yiyao is actually saying he.

“Ran Lin, the one who did the variety show and <Sword of Fallen Flowers> with me. I’ve fallen for him.” With each repetition of the name, Lu Yiyao’s heart felt sweeter and more miraculous.

Yao Hong went from disbelief to shock, and then, seeing the determination in Lu Yiyao’s eyes, closed her own in despair. She couldn’t fathom her artist’s romantic feelings, only feeling a storm of emotions inside her.

Having a romantic relationship could be troublesome, but it was a phase every young artist went through. Yao Hong had always advised Lu Yiyao that he could delay romance but never truly thought to forbid it. She just wanted to be kept in the loop, to prepare and lay the groundwork for PR, and possibly coordinate with the other party’s agent to manage any negative impact of a romance revelation, perhaps even turning it into a positive…

But all her plans hinged on Lu Yiyao dating a girlfriend, not a boyfriend.

“Hong Jie.” Lu Yiyao gently held his agent’s hand, sincerely saying, “I’m sorry.”

Yao Hong forced herself to calm down, took several deep breaths, and finally opened her eyes, looking steadily at Lu Yiyao and asking, “Has it always been like this?”

Lu Yiyao met Yao Hong’s sharp gaze without hesitation. “Yes, it has always been.”

Yao Hong looked hurt. “Then why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been with you for over five years.”

Lu Yiyao steeled his heart. Since he made it up, he could only continue, “I never met the right person, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Yao Hong fell silent, her eyes filled with complex emotions—shock, annoyance, conflict, but mostly, compassion.

Lu Yiyao, unable to bear it, squeezed her hand and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that.” Yao Hong sighed, gently patting his head. “And there’s nothing to be sorry for. I was negligent.”

Li Tong, having witnessed everything, suddenly felt emotional.

This wasn’t the usual script of accusations and rebuttals leading to chaos. Instead, it was a family reunion.

And strangely enough, he found himself liking this ending…

“Alright,” Yao Hong’s voice became firm again, “let’s talk about Ran Lin now.”

Lu Yiyao didn’t hesitate. “There’s no problem with him. He’s a great person!”

Yao Hong retorted, “The biggest problem is that he doesn’t like you.”

Lu Yiyao, with puppy eyes. “So, Hong Jie, will you help me pursue him?”

Yao Hong was exasperated. “If you keep dreaming like this, you might as well leave the entertainment industry.”

Lu Yiyao pleaded pitifully. “Can’t you be a little more kind-hearted…”

Yao Hong was unmoved. “You’ve just added a lifelong concern for me. If I become any kinder, you’ll ascend to heaven.”

Li Tong shrank back, sympathizing deeply, thankful Yao Hong didn’t know he was in the know too.

Maybe it was time to talk to Lu Ge about a raise…

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Kinky Thoughts:

I’ve grown tired of the trope of “straight but gay for you”. I think so far this novel has handled it well, especially Ran Lin’s response and Lu Yiyao’s depictions.

I don’t think it’s farfetched that Lu Yiyao is just now realizing his sexuality. I know people who didn’t discover their sexual orientation until they were around his age or even older, and some even finding out they are bi instead of straight.

Sexual orientation isn’t always as straightforward as one may think. In Lu Yiyao’s case, he may not necessarily be gay or straight, but perhaps demisexual, feeling attraction towards the “person” rather than the sex.

Growing up, especially in a society where being straight is the norm, one may find themselves not realizing what they truly are until much later in life. It happens. Which is why I’m always a proponent of increasing diversity (media, representation, ect.) so that all sexual orientations are represented… and also why I love reading danmei.

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

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 55

Ran Lin stared blankly at Lu Yiyao. From the moment he said “you,” Ran Lin could no longer hear any background noise. It was as if the world suddenly quieted down, leaving only Lu Yiyao’s voice.

People like to be praised.

Had this been in the past, such praise would have set off fireworks in Ran Lin’s heart. But now, he didn’t want to ask further or hear more from Lu Yiyao. The sweet words felt like termites gnawing away at the fortress he had painstakingly built in his heart—he didn’t have an iron wall; just a wooden one, and if not halted promptly, it would eventually be gnawed to ruins.

“There’s something I don’t understand.” Ran Lin lifted his eyes, avoiding Lu Yiyao’s gaze and focusing on the military emblem above his hat brim. “Even if Han Ze dislikes me, he doesn’t need to demean himself by acting in a drama full of newcomers, does he?”

Lu Yiyao, who was immersed in the emotional atmosphere he had just created, was abruptly interrupted and momentarily stunned.

As he tried to answer and naturally sought Ran Lin’s eyes, he found they wouldn’t meet his. Finally, Ran Lin turned to grab a glass of wine, raising it towards Peng Jingyu in a gesture.

Peng Jingyu, not one to refuse, put down his empty glass and picked up a new one. Ran Lin naturally leaned over to clink glasses with him, then politely smiled before turning back and sitting upright, asking Lu Yiyao, “What do you think?”

His question was still about the motive behind Han Ze’s competition for resources, but with this interruption, the previously superfluous Peng Jingyu was brought back into the conversation, and the atmosphere of private conversation between two was completely gone, replaced by a trio engaged in open chat.

Lu Yiyao felt a bit disappointed. Peng Jingyu, on the other hand, felt more at ease and, without waiting for Lu Yiyao to speak, began to interject, “This matter isn’t as complicated as you think. Both of you are from the same company. There’s competition for resources, and your image and positioning are similar. If not this drama, it would have been another. Maybe he just dislikes you. There are plenty of people who do harm for no benefit.”

Lu Yiyao looked at Peng Jingyu with annoyance, suddenly feeling the only reason Peng Jingyu and Huo Yuntao weren’t friends was likely that Huo Yuntao spent most of his time abroad; otherwise, given their talkative nature, they would instantly become fast friends.

Peng Jingyu felt slighted, recognizing the disdain in Lu Yiyao’s gaze. He was all too familiar with it—his own brothers often looked at him with the same sentiment. But he could accept it from his brothers, not from a younger artist.

“Indeed, there are people who do harm without benefit, but those who harm others for their own benefit are more common,” Lu Yiyao dismissively said before diving into his phone for information.

Ran Lin knew Lu Yiyao never spoke irresponsibly, especially when offering advice. He would gather a whole book of evidence to support his point, so when Lu Yiyao began searching on his phone, Ran Lin waited patiently beside him, knowing he would come up with something substantial.

Peng Jingyu, observing the two, one focused and the other patient, grew curious. He had thought about leaving the somewhat awkward conversation, but now he decided to stay, sipping his drink, waiting for Lu Yiyao’s insight.

Lu Yiyao’s search wasn’t too complicated. He was looking up information about Han Ze, mainly recent works, what had been shot and aired, what was ready to air, and what was shot but had no broadcast platform yet. After a quick search, he had a rough idea.

“Han Ze shot two TV dramas the year before last, both supposed to air last year.” Lu Yiyao showed the phone screen to Ran Lin. “But one has been delayed and hasn’t aired yet, and the other aired on a local channel without making a splash. Last year, he only shot one TV drama and one web series. The web series is airing now but is doing poorly in both reviews and views, and the TV drama is still in post-production, scheduled to air this year. But from the cast and plot summary, it seems mediocre at best, unlikely to stand out…”

Ran Lin seemed to grasp the implication. “You mean Han Ze is on a downward trend?”

“Exactly,” Lu Yiyao confirmed. “His current fame is based on past achievements. If an artist continues without work or good work, it’s hard for financiers to regain confidence in them, leading to fewer opportunities, and it’s even harder to pick a good one from diminishing options. It’s a vicious cycle, one reason why once artists flop, it’s hard for them to come back.”

“So he needs to maintain his visibility.” Ran Lin put himself in Han Ze’s shoes, understanding the dilemma. “Because in this industry, there’s never a shortage of people, only resources. Investors have a wide range of choices, and if they don’t see you in their scope, you’re quickly forgotten.”

“But is it worth it to take a step down and play a lead among newcomers?” Ran Lin questioned the value of such a choice.

“It’s a personal decision.” Lu Yiyao turned off his phone, his gaze deep and thoughtful beneath his cap’s brim. “If I were his manager, I’d advise him to wait. An artist’s image can’t withstand overspending. Once associated with bad productions or mediocrity, it becomes harder to impress audiences later, and you might miss truly good opportunities in the meantime.”

“But you can’t be sure there will be good opportunities later.” Ran Lin’s brow furrowed in empathy with Han Ze’s predicament. “Isn’t it a risk either way, potentially missing out on everything?”

Lu Yiyao shook his head. “Even on a downward trend, with Han Ze’s status and popularity, there will always be opportunities. It’s better to wait for something better than jumping at <Chronicles of Winter>.”

Ran Lin felt almost persuaded, or rather, already was. While the logic was sound, not everyone has the confidence or foundation to wait. The ever-changing entertainment industry often leads to panic among those within it.

“What I can’t understand is why Wang Xi, his manager, didn’t dissuade him but instead helped him fight for it,” Lu Yiyao mused. “I can think of this. Wang Xi certainly can too.”

Ran Lin was momentarily surprised, momentarily forgetting his termite-and-wooden-fortress analogy. He looked up and met Lu Yiyao’s gaze, saying, “I find it strange too. If Xi Jie initially intended for Han Ze to take the role, there was no need to involve me at all, causing discomfort all around. The only explanation is that Xi Jie was fighting for this role for me from the beginning, and Han Ze intervened later. But knowing her, she’s not one to be easily swayed by others, so I assumed she simply preferred Han Ze. However, if she could analyze the pros and cons as you say, then she should have advised Han Ze for his own good rather than helping him.”

Lu Yiyao could only shrug in speculation. “Perhaps Han Ze was insistent. Artists often lack a sense of security.”

Ran Lin shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Xi Jie is a very assertive person, and it’s hard to shake her from her decisions, even for Han Ze…”

He stopped mid-sentence as past memories surged up like salmon swimming upstream, each vying to leap out of his stream of consciousness.

Various emotions flickered across Ran Lin’s face under his neat student cap. He frowned, squinted, and pursed his lips, his curiosity so palpable that Lu Yiyao wished he could buy a ticket to explore Ran Lin’s mind, even if it meant getting scalped ones.

Finally, Ran Lin spoke again, but it was about something seemingly unrelated. “Do you remember Wang Xi buying a pair of couple’s watches in Dubai?”

Lu Yiyao rubbed his nose, feigning deep thought while actually recalling nothing. He barely remembered 90% of that Dubai trip, aside from struggling to buy gifts for his mother and sister. The only other thing he remembered was the mid-note of the perfume Ran Lin wore.

The scent was light and fresh, and when he smelled it with his eyes closed, he could see blue skies and grassy fields.

“Teacher Lu?” Ran Lin waved his hand in front of Lu Yiyao’s face, not wanting to explore where his thoughts had wandered so far off. “If you don’t remember, just say so. Your silence is making me feel a bit awkward as I’m about to continue.”

Lu Yiyao blinked, pulling his thoughts back from the clouds and into the American-style living room, nodding cooperatively. “Mm. What’s the issue with those watches?”

Daydreaming didn’t affect Lu Yiyao’s ability to keep up with the conversation, a unique skill of his. Ran Lin rolled his eyes in mild exasperation but continued, “Wang Xi has always worn the female watch from that pair, but I’ve never seen her boyfriend, nor does anyone in the company know who he is. More importantly, with her workload, she hardly has time for a relationship. She’s either busy with my affairs or following Han Ze…”

Lu Yiyao’s expression turned incredulous, his mouth slightly open. After a long pause, he ventured, “You’re not suddenly suggesting a bold hypothesis…”

Ran Lin looked steadily at Lu Yiyao’s meticulously fastened military collar, his gaze as calm as dead water. “Indeed, Commander Lu.”

Lu Yiyao playfully patted Ran Lin’s head, unable to ruffle his hair through the cap and resorting to a light tap instead, like picking out a watermelon. “Things are too tumultuous. Maybe you should go back to school instead.”

Ran Lin brushed Lu Yiyao’s hand away, seriously replying, “I’m not joking. Though I’ve never seen Han Ze wear the other watch, this theory makes sense. Even the most assertive women can struggle to maintain their stance when facing their own lovers.”

Lu Yiyao held his forehead in disbelief. “Have you considered the twenty-year age gap between them?”

Ran Lin immediately shook his head. “Fifteen years.”

Lu Yiyao dropped his hand, blinking seriously. “That seems more plausible.”

Ran Lin spread his hands in agreement. “Right…”

Startled by the sudden roar, Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin jerked in unison, turning to see that the previously solitary armchair around Peng Jingyu was now surrounded by people—some sitting on the armrests, some on the wool carpet, and some even squeezed into the same chair as Peng Jingyu. It was a full house.

The sight of the portly, dark erhu musician squeezed next to the pale, Qing gang young master was picturesque enough, but it didn’t end there. A slick-haired actor sat next to an underground worker, their vivid suits and tattered outfits looking as if one of them had been photoshopped into the scene. And then there were the others, including a Beijing opera singer and a young business scion, among others—all gazing with the wide-eyed curiosity of children, their faces full of the eager anticipation of an audience gathered under a bridge to hear a story.

“When did you all come over…” Lu Yiyao felt his collar tighten, almost tempted to unbutton it like Peng Jingyu, but resisted, as that wouldn’t be fitting for his image.

“Since you started looking up Han Ze on your phone.” Xia Xinran smoothed his suit, helpfully clarifying for his friend.

Ran Lin was dumbfounded, realizing they had basically witnessed the entire conversation, wondering how he could have missed such a large audience!

“You two were so engrossed, like you had your own private noise-canceling bubble,” Tan Ying exclaimed, his wide eyes making him an unforgettable character, ill-suited for an underground worker.

“What do you know? It’s like being in a play,” Su Mu interjected with a depth that didn’t match his slick appearance. “When the spotlight hits the stage, it becomes the entire world. A good actor doesn’t think about the audience in the dark, only focusing on the stage—the counterpart, life as the play.”

As Su Mu elegantly sipped his drink, embodying a certain old-world charm, Yuan Yiqun couldn’t resist snatching the glass from his hand, downing it in one go, then looking around, asking, “Where were we?”

Pan Dapan and Peng Jingyu chorused, “Fifteen years apart.”

“Right,” Bi Ye added with a gentle, clear voice. “You suspect something unclear between your manager and the First Brother of your company, who are fifteen years apart.”

Before Ran Lin or Lu Yiyao could respond, Xia Xinran reassured, “Don’t worry, they’re just producing gossip, not spreading it.”

Ran Lin was both amused and exasperated, realizing there were no secrets in this crowd, but trusting Xia Xinran’s assurance that they would keep it to themselves. And he had to trust, for once words are out, there’s no taking them back.

“Don’t worry about us, you guys continue,” Tan Ying encouraged when he saw that the two were still not speaking.

Ran Lin couldn’t laugh or cry. “There’s nothing more to continue. That’s it, and it’s all just speculation. I don’t have any solid proof.”

“To be able to discuss to this extent, I’m really impressed with you two. It’s like a discussion between peers, turning into a level of a detective drama,” Pan Dapan expressed his admiration.

Peng Jingyu listened the longest and the most attentively. He wasn’t interested in what Wang Xi or Han Ze had to say; what surprised him was Lu Yiyao. When this person discussed various “I think,” “I feel,” “I believe” moments, his tone and demeanor were particularly like his two older brothers, and his insights were very clear, not like a male celebrity, but more like a professional who deeply understands the industry.

Peng Jingyu didn’t look down on celebrities, but everyone has their expertise. Thus, artists usually focus more on their work and appearances. This is why they need a management team, as most don’t have the mental capacity or interest to delve into the industry’s rules.

So when he was first asked for his opinion, he simply spoke off the cuff, not thinking too deeply. It was only when Lu Yiyao began to analyze for Ran Lin that he understood the meaning behind “that disdainful look.”

He understood everything Lu Yiyao said, but he had no desire to tax his brain cells for Ran Lin.

If it’s no trouble, then it’s no trouble. Still, he wanted to interject and be disliked for it, not feeling wronged in the slightest.

No one noticed that Young Master Peng was reflecting on himself. Everyone was eagerly expressing their views on the “older woman, younger man romance speculation,” engrossed in their discussion.

But in the end, it was just speculation. No one could definitively say whether it was a romance or not.

Someone started discussing other gossip later, not avoiding others’ ears nor minding being overheard. Thus, Ran Lin inadvertently gathered a basketful of information that paparazzi would die for, feeling the regret of attending this party—unable to speak, only listen, like a choked Pixiu.

After some time, when people got tired of chatting, they gathered around the sofa, leaning and lying down, with people on the sofa, on the armrest, on the carpet, and some even brought over bar chairs. The group’s high and low positions were scattered but orderly, and a string instrument brought them back to old times.

Pan Dapan sat on a chair he had pulled over, which was originally next to the dining table, with a dark brown, solid wood back engraved with hollow patterns, making it look like someone had invited a traveling artist to a wealthy family’s home. Thus, the dusty figure with his instrument seemed out of place.

Yet, the sound of his erhu was soul-stirring.

In his memory, the erhu was always sorrowful and poignant, tugging at one’s heartstrings, but the piece Pan Dapan played was vigorous and powerful. Ran Lin never knew that listening to the erhu could be so exhilarating.

After the piece ended, the living room fell silent, but the echoes lingered for a long time.

Pan Dapan looked at Bi Ye, somewhat provocatively. Bi Ye calmly responded, “<Listening to the Pines>.”

Ran Lin quietly searched on his phone and discovered it was a piece by Abing, the composer of <Reflection of the Moon on Erquan>, said to have first been performed during the Anti-Japanese War, fitting the Republic of China theme of the day.

Pan Dapan was slightly disappointed at not stumping Bi Ye but was undeterred. He set down his bow and raised his chin. “Let’s hear you play something.”

Bi Ye didn’t refuse and stood up. Although he was dressed as a famous actor, he was in a simple long robe without makeup. Still, as soon as he posed, his eyes sparkled, and he exuded charm.

“Suddenly realizing that all the vibrant colors of flowers~~ have all turned to decayed walls and broken wells~~ What a beautiful day, what a pity it is~~ Pleasures of the heart, whose courtyard will they grace~~ Morning flight and evening curl~~ Clouds and mist in the emerald tower~~ Rain strands and wind fragments, a painted boat in the waves~~ People by the brocade screen hardly notice how cheap this beautiful time is…”

“<Peony Pavilion>,” Lu Yiyao whispered to Ran Lin.

Caught off guard, Ran Lin’s ears heated up.

It took him a while to recover, glancing at Lu Yiyao from the corner of his eye. The man was still seriously listening, nodding his head occasionally, a knowledgeable demeanor.

But Ran Lin felt there was something odd about Lu Yiyao today, though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

He must have seen Ran Lin’s confusion in telling him the title of the play.

Unfortunately, knowing the name didn’t help Ran Lin understand what Bi Ye was singing. But his ignorance didn’t stop him from enjoying it. Bi Ye sang with great charm, the kind that didn’t require understanding the background or knowing the title—purely enjoyable on a sensory level.

What started as a contest between Bi Ye and Pan Dapan somehow turned into a talent show of the Republic of China era.

Peng Jingyu supported his head with one hand, watching Su Mu sing <Tuberose> doubting his choice of friends.

But he liked these eccentrics—a breath of fresh air in a world filled with pretense and politeness, no matter how strangely they flowed.

Watching Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao whisper occasionally, Peng Jingyu couldn’t help but feel mischievous, thinking it would be a shame not to play a prank after feeling ignored, disliked, and weirdly tormented.

As Su Mu’s lingering song ended, time seemed to have been brought back to the nightclubs of old Shanghai. Yuan Yiqun was urging Pan Dapan for another piece, <Zhaojun Chu Sai>, when Peng Jingyu suddenly spoke up. “Ran Lin.”

Still immersed in the melody of “I love this boundless night,” Ran Lin looked up bewilderedly. “Hm?”

Peng Jingyu leaned forward, resting his arm on the sofa armrest, but his voice was clear to the whole room. “Why don’t you give us a performance?”

Ran Lin was confused. “A performance of what?”

Peng Jingyu grinned mischievously. “Anything, wind, strings, sing, or dance, or even a fast-paced talk—but it has to be something from the Republic of China era to fit our party theme.”

Ran Lin was bewildered.

The onlookers became excited, and Yuan Yiqun stopped pestering Pan Dapan, looking forward to the “newbie’s” performance—compared to the “old hands”, Ran Lin was certainly fresher.

Facing so many expectant eyes, Ran Lin felt trapped.

The atmosphere was just right, and everyone was having fun. If he said no, it would really dampen the spirits… But no one said anything about preparing a talent, especially one from the Republic of China era. How much more difficult could it be!

Lu Yiyao knew these people meant no harm and were just overly excited, but he still disliked seeing Ran Lin’s helpless look, and frowned, “I…”

“This is a ditch of despairing dead water…”

Ran Lin’s clear voice interrupted Lu Yiyao’s words and dispelled the lingering ambiguity of <Tuberose>. Suddenly, his articulate recitation pulled the entire space from the peaceful world of Shanghai’s grandeurs to the old society riddled with warlord strife and rampant imperialism.

“… A gentle breeze can’t stir a ripple here, it’s better to throw in some broken copper and iron, boldly splash your leftover soup and dishes.”

“Perhaps the copper will turn green like jade, rust on the iron cans bloom into peach flowers, let the grease weave a layer of fine silk, and mold steam up some clouds and mists.”

“Let the dead water ferment into a ditch of green liquor, floating with pearls-like froth, the laughter of the small bubbles turning into larger ones, only to be burst by mosquitoes stealing a drink.”

“Then such a ditch of despairing dead water can boast a bit of vibrancy, if a frog can’t stand the loneliness, it’s as if the dead water has sung out.”

“This is a ditch of despairing dead water, this place is not where beauty lies, better to leave it to the ugly to cultivate, to see what world they can create!”

Ran Lin recited earnestly, with focus.

No one laughed, instead becoming entranced.

Lu Yiyao suddenly remembered Su Mu’s metaphor: when the spotlight shines, everything else is in darkness except oneself and the stage. Ran Lin was now on stage, shining under everyone’s gaze.

Then someone clapped.

No, it was applause.

“Wen Yiduo’s <Dead Water>.” Su Mu lowered his hand and looked at Peng Jingyu. “Do you want to return with a piece?”

Peng Jingyu froze, still defiant. “What is there to return?”

Bi Ye said leisurely, “You asked someone else to perform, and they complied. Shouldn’t you reciprocate?”

Peng Jingyu was embarrassed, not sure whose side these bastards were on!

“Forget it. Let’s not force him,” Tan Ying intervened. “He’s just capable of listening to the faint sounds, not reaching the heights of anti-feudalism and anti-imperialism.” Then, suddenly turning to Ran Lin, his eyes bright and earnest. “Why don’t you join me as an underground worker? I think you have the integrity and potential!”

Ran Lin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; his recitation’s brewing momentum was now gone like smoke.

Su Mu, who had just finished singing <Tuberose>, was displeased. “Who are you calling faint sounds?”

Before Tan Ying and he could argue, Xia Xinran had already stepped forward, nudging Lu Yiyao aside and wrapping an arm around Ran Lin’s neck, laughing. “They’re all crazy, but they’re good people.”

All the friends, whether watching the spectacle or involved in the argument, instantly paused.

Half a second later, everyone burst out—

“The one reciting poetry at a party is the real crazy one!!!”

Lu Yiyao was the first to laugh out loud.

Now he was just a spectator, fully enjoying the show.

After the collective teasing, the handsome men of the Republic of China era laughed together in a disorderly bunch…

Click.

The sensitivity to the sound of a camera’s shutter is almost a shared trait among all artists. In an instant, the laughter stopped abruptly.

Everyone’s first reaction was to turn their heads sharply, looking in one direction—Tian Mai.

Tian Mai, holding an old camera and wearing a checkered cap, looked innocent. “I’m a tabloid journalist.”

All the male gods slowly rose, advancing towards him step by step. “Even the paparazzi of the Republic of China are paparazzi, unforgivable…”

Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao sat at a distance, leisurely watching the scene.

Tian Mai was almost instantly overwhelmed, managing only to howl—

“I damn well didn’t turn in my paper yet!!!”

Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but chuckle, whispering, “Xia Xinran wasn’t wrong. They are a bunch of crazies.”

Ran Lin looked at them with a bit of envy. “But they’re cute. It’s not easy to have friends like this in the circle.”

“It’s not easy indeed, and you even have to perform.” Lu Yiyao laughed. “If it were me, I would have probably killed the mood.”

Ran Lin was both relieved and a bit proud. “Luckily, I was there. I’ve been practicing recitation lately, and several of the poems I’ve chosen are from the Republic of China era. If one wasn’t enough, I could have recited a few more.”

Lu Yiyao was about to ask why he was practicing this when he suddenly remembered the critical scene in <Sword of Fallen Flowers> when Zhong Jiakun seemed to have mentioned something about recitation to Ran Lin, though he didn’t remember clearly…

“I really have to thank Teacher Zhong. If he hadn’t suggested I use recitation to practice my lines, I might really have had to sing <Night in Shanghai>.” Ran Lin felt the situation was both coincidental and lucky.

As Lu Yiyao’s fragmented memory pieced together, he felt even more surprised. “He just mentioned it, and you took his advice and practiced?”

Ran Lin frowned slightly, not too pleased. “What do you mean ‘just mentioned’? When a teacher who has acted all his life is willing to give you advice, it’s something people beg for.”

Lu Yiyao looked at him for a long while and then nodded, admitting he was right.

In his heart, he felt it wasn’t just luck with Ran Lin; it was that he was more hardworking than many.

Ran Lin felt uncomfortable under Lu Yiyao’s gaze and turned away to look at the group of friends.

The handsome men of the Republic of China era were now chasing and playing near the staircase, a chaotic bunch, hard to distinguish one from another.

Lu Yiyao followed his gaze, then said softly, “Don’t envy them. We too have a deep connection.”

Ran Lin glanced at Lu Yiyao, relieved to see he wasn’t staring too intently, but he didn’t continue the conversation.

The truth was, they couldn’t go back to being completely carefree with each other. They could still be friends, but not like the carefree group at the staircase. But he couldn’t voice this; it would only spoil the mood and add to the awkwardness.

He thought Lu Yiyao would press him on why he wasn’t speaking, but instead, he asked a different question. “If you liked me back then and I liked you too, what would we be like now?”

Ran Lin’s breath hitched, his first instinct was to turn and look at Lu Yiyao with wide eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it; if this were a play, he would scour the script for clues. This kind of spoiler-free “deep conversation” was scarier than a horror movie.

Compared to Ran Lin’s shocked face, Lu Yiyao was calm, lightly smiling. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just hypothesizing. You can treat it like an academic question.”

Ran Lin, pushed to his limits, retorted, “I’m the person involved, okay? I can’t even confide in a tree hollow without losing face, and you want me to discuss it like an academic question now?! You really think I can just turn the page and…”

A flicker of hope suddenly passed through Lu Yiyao’s eyes.

Unaware, Ran Lin swallowed hard, continuing with difficulty, “Turning the page… Of course, it’s turned, but it’s not something joyous. I really don’t want to bring it up again for discussion. If you consider me a friend, this matter…”

“I’m asking because I consider you a friend.” Lu Yiyao interrupted, his gaze intently fixed on Ran Lin’s face, with unprecedented seriousness. “No matter who you like, even if it’s not me, you will meet someone else in the future. If it happens that the feelings are mutual, what do you plan to do then?”

Ran Lin was startled by his seriousness and reflexively said, “Then I’ll be with them.”

Lu Yiyao glanced at the staircase, where the noisy crowd had dispersed, most following Pan Dapan to the bar, leaving a few scattered here and there, some standing by the window in a daze, others sitting on the stairs chatting.

Withdrawing his gaze, Lu Yiyao’s voice was deep and slow. “If both of you are artists, have you thought about the future?”

Ran Lin paused, surprised that Lu Yiyao was seriously discussing this with him, and instinctively became more earnest, distancing himself from petty romances to think objectively.

After a while, he heard himself say, “If that person is willing to risk ruining their career to be with me, then I’m not afraid of anything.”

Lu Yiyao’s heartbeat quickened, a barely perceptible tremor in his voice. “What about your own career? You love acting so much, aren’t you afraid of it being destroyed overnight?”

“So many things can ruin an actor: rumors, scandals, accidents, even disputes with the agency. Any one of these could end me. But even if I’m not an actor, I still have my life to live.” Ran Lin gave a bitter smile; his voice lowered almost to a whisper. “I was born liking men, and that’s something I can’t change. The so-called ‘right person’ one meets in a lifetime is actually quite limited. No one is obliged to wait for you, and I’m afraid of hesitating and missing out.”

Lu Yiyao fell silent, his face calm, but his eyes seemed to be swirling with many thoughts.

“Of course.” Ran Lin shook off the heavy mood, trying to show a relaxed smile and look spirited. “It’s best not to be discovered. So, if there really comes a day you mentioned, I’ll be fully alert, becoming a 360° impenetrable underground worker.”

Finally, Lu Yiyao relaxed, his shoulders slumping. “Easier said than done. You think the paparazzi are vegetarians.”

The heavy and solemn atmosphere vanished, and Ran Lin raised an eyebrow. “I’m not vegetarian either!”

Lu Yiyao smiled. “May I ask, what did non-vegetarian Classmate Ran do yesterday?”

Knowing yesterday was Valentine’s Day, Ran Lin immediately replied, “Stayed home all day, scandal-proof, completely safe.”

Lu Yiyao nodded, reached out to straighten Ran Lin’s hat, and adjusted his uniform, making sure he looked neat and tidy from head to toe, then finally, contentedly spoke—

“Next year, on the same day, can I spend it with you?”

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Kinky Thoughts:

Fuck me, Lu Yiyao is not putting on any brakes.

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