Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 54
Perhaps knowing she wasn’t bringing good news, Wang Xi said at the end of the call, “Your salary has been transferred to your account.”
Ran Lin’s indignation was momentarily interrupted by this statement. “What salary?”
“The salary for <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.” Wang Xi seemed amused by his naïve reaction, her tone unconsciously lightening. “It has been transferred to your card. If you don’t want it, you can transfer it back to the company.”
The salary for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> was actually given in stages. A part was prepaid after signing the contract, and the rest was gradually paid as filming started until wrap-up. Usually, Dream Without Limits’ side would settle with the artists after receiving the full payment. Ran Lin thought it would take a few more months.
Exaggeration aside, this was Ran Lin’s first pot of gold in his career. Even after the agency took seventy percent, the remaining thirty percent was a huge sum for him, so huge that it could blow away his frustration over losing the role to Han Ze.
“Xi Jie, did you purposely save this news for last?” Ran Lin tried to sound indifferent to money, but the slight excitement in his voice betrayed his vulgarity.
Wang Xi suddenly found this straightforward Ran Lin kind of endearing.
“Alright, check your bank card and confirm the transfer, then message me.” Wang Xi, not wanting to delay her artist from counting his money, ended the call decisively.
Ran Lin hung up, opened his banking app, logged into his account, and was unsurprisingly dazzled by the balance.
For the first time in his life, his bank account had broken seven figures.
Ran Lin flopped onto the sofa, momentarily forgetting his ultimate pursuit as a performing artist, and indulged in being a base and happy youth.
After some time, as the excitement slowly faded, Ran Lin started to feel a prickling in his eyes.
When he first entered the industry, he boasted to his parents that once he made it big, he would buy them cars and houses and treat them to the best. His parents didn’t take it seriously, only hoping he would do well enough to support himself.
As his acting career remained lackluster, he dared not mention those bold words again and even started to slowly accept the expectations of his parents—just to make a living and have a smooth career.
Three and a half years passed, and Ran Lin finally dared to dust off the most hidden wish in his heart, examine it carefully, and hold it again.
Later, Ran Lin video called his mother on WeChat to report the salary. Part of it was to make his parents happy, and part of it was to assure them that he could sustain himself in the capital, so they wouldn’t worry he might struggle at any moment.
On the phone screen, Ran Yimin and Lu Qing sat shoulder to shoulder, heads touching, creating a picture of marital bliss. Yet, one was bewildered and the other frowned deeply, a far cry from Ran Lin’s anticipated “we’re a base and happy family.”
“Aren’t you happy?” Ran Lin asked while shaking the phone, as if this would shake out his parents’ reaction.
Indeed, it worked, as Lu Qing sighed and said earnestly, “Son, no matter what you end up being, you’re our pride. If you really can’t make it, just come back home. Your parents will support you!”
“What did Dad tell you? To be practical and not to pretend to be more than you are.” Ran Yimin also shook his head seriously.
Ran Lin’s eyes widened, almost wanting to rush home and check his birth certificate. “Mom, can you have a little faith in your son? Dad, when did you ever tell me to be practical? I remember what you always say: ‘a thousand cups too few when friends meet1, even a little breeze makes me float2.'”
1Refers to when with good friends, even drinking a thousand cups isn’t enough, implying the joy and enthusiasm of drinking and partying in your social circle.
2Metaphorical way of saying a person is easily elated or gets carried away with a little encouragement or excitement.
Ran Yimin’s shoulders slumped in helplessness, shaking his head. “This child is done for. He’s completely gone bad, now arguing back…”
“He’s been arguing back since second grade.” Lu Qing glanced at Ran Yimin without amusement, then looked back at Ran Lin, scrutinizing him through the screen. Finally, she seemed to believe a little, “Really?”
“Really.” Ran Lin felt exhausted. How could reporting good news to his own parents feel like dealing with a telecom scam. “I’ll send you the card number later, and I’ll transfer the money back to you.”
“Why transfer it back to us? Your dad and I don’t lack money.”
“Then save it for me.”
“That doesn’t seem right. It’s your money after all…”
“Mom, I’m your son. Why are we even distinguishing between you and me…”
“Give half then. Keep half for yourself, and I’ll save the other half for you.”
“Mom, your struggle with this decision was really brief…”
With the good news reported and a plan for the money, Ran Lin felt something was off. “Mom, why aren’t you excited at all? You’re too calm.”
Lu Qing glanced at him. “Money isn’t as valuable nowadays. It doesn’t last long, so don’t think you’re all that just because you’ve earned this much. You still need to work hard and not mess around, hear me?”
Ran Lin straightened up and saluted. “Yes, Commander Lu!”
Lu Qing rolled her eyes at him, finally showing a relieved smile.
On the screen, his father got up and then came back with an unfinished bottle of Maotai from the New Year.
When his father was happy, he loved to drink, and when he wasn’t, he would still drink. But drinking good liquor meant he encountered something joyful, and he was feeling especially good.
Ran Lin watched his parents quietly. In that moment, he felt he was the happiest person in the world.
……
The next day, at 8 p.m., he arrived at the Aobei Villas.
Ran Lin knew why the private party was set here when he was stopped by the security—the environment was secluded enough, the location was discreet, and the security was tight.
The low-density residential planning allowed each villa ample private space, and the thoughtful landscaping, with a clever arrangement of various trees and flowers, not only ensured lighting within the villas but also provided excellent separation and shielding. Like Ran Lin standing at the entrance of the villa area, even in the dark, he could see nothing but vague trees.
Not long after making a call, Xia Xinran came out to pick him up. Wearing a mask and a cap in the late evening, he didn’t look like a typical driver at all, but the security didn’t show any signs of suspicion. Seeing someone from inside coming to pick him up, they immediately let him through.
Ran Lin got into the car and first buckled his seatbelt.
Xia Xinran glanced at him with annoyance and said, “You know the speed limit here is not to exceed 20, right?”
Through the mask, Xia Xinran’s voice was muffled, and his stunning beauty was hidden, leaving only a pair of watery eyes.
Ran Lin seriously replied, “It’s every citizen’s duty to abide by traffic rules.”
As the car drove deeper into the villa, Ran Lin noticed that even upon entering, it was hard to catch a glimpse of the villas along the main road; nothing but green trees lined both sides. The privacy in this area was taken to the extreme.
Driving leisurely, Xia Xinran occasionally glanced at Ran Lin and finally asked, “Have you lost weight?”
“Can you even tell?” Ran Lin puffed his cheeks. “I gained quite a few pounds over the New Year.”
“Is it exhausting from filming?”
“Yep.”
Xia Xinran frowned in distress. “Why do I get fatter the more exhausted I am from filming? Now, every time I start a project, I have to bring a scale, or else I feel uneasy.”
“Getting fat from being tired is unlikely unless you’re eating more.”
“Of course, I eat more when I’m tired. Otherwise, what’s the point of living?”
“…You wouldn’t be too much, even if you got fatter to death!”
Ran Lin didn’t know why he was discussing such unproductive matters with Xia Xinran. Yet miraculously, the awkwardness and unfamiliarity from not seeing each other for nearly a year didn’t occur; they didn’t even need pleasantries before Xia Xinran pulled him into an old friend mode, smooth and natural.
“Right.” Xia Xinran suddenly remembered something. “When we get inside, I’ll introduce you to the friends who’ve already arrived, and then we’ll change clothes.”
“Okay.” Ran Lin agreed readily, then asked, “How many people are there today?”
“A dozen or so,” Xia Xinran said. “If friends bring friends, at most it won’t exceed twenty. The New Year just passed, so everyone’s busy. It’s hard to gather. Lucky it’s a Republic-era party. Otherwise, it might not have been possible to arrange.”
Ran Lin nodded, not saying much more.
Xia Xinran seemed to read his mind and casually said, “Relax. It’s just a friends’ gathering. Imagine, everyone in Republic-era attire, earnestly playing out a time travel scenario. It’s so quirky, you can’t even be serious if you wanted to.”
Ran Lin smiled, imagining the scene, indeed splendid.
Just about to ask what Xia Xinran had prepared for his costume, he had already made a turn and stopped the car.
Several other cars, including luxury ones, were parked nearby; clearly, the owners preferred convenience and parking together with their friends.
Ran Lin followed Xia Xinran out of the car and walked down a side path to the end, where the grand entrance to the villa stood.
After knocking a couple of times, someone inside opened the door, and upon seeing Xia Xinran, they joked, “I thought you lost the person you were picking up.”
The door was opened by a tall and straight young man in a dark gray soft wool suit with a three-piece set, a crisp dark shirt underneath his vest, and a carefully folded handkerchief peeking out of his chest pocket. His features were clear and handsome, his hair neat yet casual—a perfect portrayal of a pampered young master from the Republic era.
Ran Lin recognized the person—Yuan Yiqun.
He became famous last year with a TV series and had already parted ways with his original agency to set up his own. It was rumored that the termination fee was nearly ten million, and surprisingly, they settled without a lawsuit, which was quite rare in the industry.
“Ran Lin, this is Yuan Yiqun, our host today.” As soon as the door was closed, Xia Xinran hurriedly introduced them to avoid any awkwardness for Ran Lin.
Ran Lin expressed his gratitude and immediately extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Ran Lin.”
“Yuan Yiqun.” The young man shook his hand and then, half-jokingly and half-seriously, said, “You can call me Young Master Yuan. It fits my role today better.”
Ran Lin laughed and asked, “Which family’s young master?”
Yuan Yiqun flipped his hair. “The young master of the Yuan family conglomerate.”
Ran Lin was amazed. Indeed, getting into character, even the persona was richly detailed.
Such gatherings are for fun, aiming to enjoy and let loose, a rare opportunity in the entertainment industry. Once relaxed, people tend to bond more easily. If the party goes well and relationships are formed, future collaborations in the industry will be smoother.
Without needing to change shoes, Ran Lin followed Xia Xinran and Yuan Yiqun into the living room. Young Master Yuan’s lace-up leather shoes tapped rhythmically on the floor, like the opening drumbeat of a play, leading them onto the stage.
The living room was brightly lit, with an American retro decoration style and an overall dark brown hue, truly giving off a nostalgic feeling of time reversal. More importantly, the intricately patterned European sofas were occupied by two brothers in similar retro outfits, chatting over drinks, and in one corner of the living room, a brother dressed as an old-time entertainer was casually playing the erhu, while another, in a plain long shirt, was humming an opera.
Old records were playing in the living room. The soft tunes of old Shanghai occasionally mixed with the erhu and Beijing opera, creating a harmonious blend as if the Republic era was meant to be just like this—a blend of elegant and miscellaneous arts.
When Yuan Yiqun brought people in, the two brothers on the sofas stood up to greet them. One was in a suit, though the colors were bright, and his hair was slick, somewhat undermining his deep features. The other was in a rough short outfit with patches, his thick eyebrows and big eyes making him look like an exploited poor man, incongruous with the glass of red wine in his hand.
“Xia Fan, why haven’t you changed yet? You’re ruining the atmosphere, you know.” The “poor man” criticized Xia Xinran first thing.
Ran Lin was surprised, looking at his friend. “Xia Fan?”
“That’s my original name. I changed it after debuting,” Xia Xinran replied irritably, glaring at the thick-browed man. “These guys insist on calling me by it.”
The thick-browed man disagreed. “Xia Fan sounds so much better, simple and clear. What’s with Xia Xinran? It sounds pretentious.”
Xia Xinran was annoyed, simply raising his hand. “Let me introduce. This pure and straightforward guy is Tan Ying, Tan Dage.”
The thick-browed man rolled his eyes. “I’m only twenty-nine, thank you.”
Xia Xinran shrugged. “Already old. Besides, you look anxious to age.”
Tan Ying, known in the circle for his solid acting skills but low profile, took a steady and firm approach in his career. He didn’t deliberately cultivate a fan base or a persona, so his popularity had always been moderate. However, many directors liked to work with him because he was sincere and put heart into his acting.
Surprise flashed in Ran Lin’s eyes. He had seen Tan Ying’s films but never connected the person in front of him with those roles. It was a testament to how the man could truly transform into whatever he played.
“Comrade Ran Lin, hello!” After bantering with Xia Xinran, Tan Ying was the first to extend his hand.
Ran Lin shook it, somewhat dazed, and the other immediately gripped firmly and shook vigorously.
Inspired, Ran Lin responded robustly, “Comrade Tan Ying, pleased to meet you!”
Tan Ying was pleasantly surprised. “You noticed?”
Ran Lin suppressed a laugh and nodded vigorously. “With such thick eyebrows and a righteous look, you must be an underground worker!”
Tan Ying couldn’t be more delighted and immediately turned to Xia Xinran. “Xia Fan, I like him!”
“We all love our Ran Lin, okay?” Xia Xinran quickly pulled Ran Lin to his side, as if to protect him from being recruited by Tan Ying as a patriotic warrior.
The other person who had stood up with Tan Ying, the slick-haired man in the suit who had been quietly observing, finally found his moment to speak, calmly saying, “Hello, I am Su Mu.”
Ran Lin felt his ears might be pregnant.
Su Mu’s voice was more velvety and sensually deep than anything heard in cinemas or on television, tinged with a slight magnetism.
Unlike Tan Ying, Ran Lin recognized him immediately—even though his current outfit was indescribable.
Su Mu, a rising star in art films over the past two years, had won an international award with his first lead role. He preferred theater to films and, even after gaining fame, continued to pick only the art films he liked, spending the rest of his time in theater. He was a man of particular taste and distinction, known for his chiseled features. Though he had single eyelids, his eyes always appeared deep and melancholic on camera, as if hiding a vast ocean, making him the sort of man whose every frame could be used as a desktop wallpaper.
Yet now, this godlike man had dressed himself as a flamboyant, slick-haired character in a gaudy suit, making Ran Lin want to wash his hair for him.
“Hello.” Ran Lin believed there was no need to repeat his own name. He was more curious about Su Mu’s character. “What is this outfit supposed to be?”
“A male movie star from the Republic era.”
“……”
“I know men didn’t have much status in films back then. I wanted to dress up as a movie queen, but they wouldn’t let me.”
Ran Lin held back the urge to agree that “they were right.”
Cross-dressing… would indeed be a disaster with Su Mu’s cold and sculpted features.
As they talked, the “Beijing Opera performer” and the “erhu musician” also joined them. The former was a young designer named Bi Ye, who also worked on styling for movies and TV dramas. The latter was a well-known musician named Pan Dapan, whose robust build was far from the typical image of a suffering artist from the old days and seemed more fitting for a tough guy collecting protection fees.
With the arrival of these four, along with Yuan Yiqun, Ran Lin, and Xia Xinran, there were now seven people.
Ran Lin noticed how familiar Xia Xinran was with them, and consequently, they were all quite friendly towards him. After a brief chat, they urged each other to go and change.
Without needing Yuan Yiqun to lead the way, Xia Xinran took Ran Lin directly to the dressing room.
Dozens of new outfits were laid out, with every imaginable option available.
Ran Lin picked up a dancer’s skirt. “Explain.”
Xia Xinran didn’t hide anything. “I originally invited some girls who are good friends to come over, but after preparing the clothes, Tan Ying and Su Mu said they disagreed, fearing scandals, so we left them.”
Ran Lin caught on. “Aren’t you afraid of scandals?”
Xia Xinran’s face lit up with longing. “I’m desperately hoping for a scandal right now. So many trolls are spreading rumors that I’m gay, and the more it spreads, the more it seems true. It’s killing me!”
Ran Lin couldn’t muster any sympathy. “It’s your fault for being so beautiful.”
“It’s not like I want to be beautiful,” Xia Xinran replied, his face full of the hardships of being attractive. “It’s the hand I was dealt. Should I not accept it?”
Ran Lin, frustrated by the banter, cut straight to the point. “Which one should I wear?”
Xia Xinran pointed to three sets. “Any of these sizes will fit you. Choose whichever you like.”
Ran Lin couldn’t make out the other two flashy sets, so he sensibly chose the third option—the May Fourth Movement youth attire.
A black Zhongshan suit with matching pants and a May Fourth cap, along with Ran Lin’s youthful face, made him look exactly like a fervent student ready to march in a protest.
After adjusting his attire in the mirror, Ran Lin was quite pleased. He had never acted in a Republic-era drama, and this was his first time dressing up like this.
Turning around contentedly, Ran Lin was stunned, speechless at the sight of Xia Xinran.
Xia Xinran wore a light blue slanted button-up shirt and a black long skirt, appearing as a Republic-era student—no, a Republic-era female student.
“Are you matching with me as a couple?” Ran Lin couldn’t think of any other explanation.
Xia Xinran smirked, linking arms with Ran Lin. “That’s exactly the effect I was going for.”
Ran Lin swallowed nervously. “What are you trying to do?”
Xia Xinran’s eyes shone with anticipation and excitement, seemingly unable to wait to stun everyone. “Give them a surprise.”
Ran Lin sighed. “You really aim high…”
Indeed, Xia Xinran’s entrance was a sensation.
Underground worker Tan Ying and movie star Su Mu immediately spat out their red wine, Beijing Opera performer Bi Ye and the erhu musician Pan Dapan went off-key together, and Young Master Yuan Yiqun couldn’t contain his laughter, nearly flipping the roof with joy.
Pleased with the effect he had caused, Xia Xinran was about to go change into something more normal when suddenly an eighth voice rang out in the living room.
“Firstly, remember to close the door tightly, and secondly, if you haven’t, don’t laugh so unrestrainedly.”
The voice was teasing and lighthearted, yet it carried a cold and distant tone.
Ran Lin turned around, stunned.
Three new people had entered the living room.
The speaker was a young man with a buzz cut, clearly dressed and ready, wearing a long gown reminiscent of an old Shanghai gang leader, complete with a pocket watch and an imposing demeanor. Yet he was also quite young, his short hair not rough but instead giving him a cool, refined look.
“Tsk, too much…” The burly erhu musician Pan Dapan showed no deference, openly criticizing.
The buzz cut glanced at him, his demeanor cool yet authoritative. “Summer insects cannot discuss ice.”
Pan Dapan fell silent, begrudgingly playing a few discordant notes on his erhu, deliberately making it sound like sawing wood.
“Come on, Young Boss of the Qing gang.” Yuan Yiqun asked, barely containing his laughter, “Red wine or cocktail?”
The buzz-cut man replied calmly, “Green tea.”
Unable to contain himself any longer, Yuan Yiqun called out to the justice-seeking underground worker, Tan Ying. “Quick, rid us of this evil!”
The group erupted into chaos but Ran Lin’s gaze was fixed on the two newcomers.
He recognized both of them.
One was Tian Mai, who had recently taken his photograph.
The other was…
“Long time no see,” Lu Yiyao greeted with a bright smile as the early spring blossoms.
Ran Lin mentally calculated that they had only been apart for a little over a month.
“You know each other?” The buzz-cut man, who had intended to ask Xia Xinran to introduce the newcomer, looked puzzled at Lu Yiyao.
Tian Mai explained, “These two just finished working on a drama together, they’re acquainted. Otherwise, do you think I could have invited God Lu here?”
Lu Yiyao sighed, shifting his gaze from Ran Lin to Tian Mai. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
Tian Mai looked panicked. “Damn, you caught me.”
Lu Yiyao, slightly annoyed, gave him a nudge on the shoulder. “Hurry up and change into your tabloid journalist outfit.”
Tian Mai was puzzled. “Aren’t you changing too?”
Lu Yiyao: “I’ll go over in a bit.”
Tian Mai narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting between Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, but before he could make anything out, a high-pitched voice entered the room—
“Teacher Lu?!”
Before the words fully faded, Xia Xinran had rushed over like a gust of wind.
Lu Yiyao stepped back in surprise. “Is that…women’s clothing you’re wearing?”
Xia Xinran twirled his skirt, smiling radiantly. “How is it?”
Lu Yiyao instinctively looked at Ran Lin.
Ran Lin, having recovered from his initial shock, patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “You can still run away now.”
Of course, Lu Yiyao didn’t run.
He had worked hard to find out Ran Lin’s recent whereabouts and couldn’t ask Xia Xinran directly, or else Ran Lin might have been forewarned and fled. Fortunately, he had worked with Tian Mai a few times, and they were on good terms. Plus, his reputation in the circle was solid, so Tian Mai was willing to extend the favor and bring a friend like him to the gathering, which added prestige.
However, Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected to encounter Peng Jingyu.
Peng Jingyu, the buzz-cut young gang boss, was the youngest son of the president of Yao Star Media Group. Though he had two older brothers, the three siblings were united, and the older brothers took good care of him, so he could afford to work and play. Yao Star Media didn’t sign artists, but they invested in movies and TV dramas, focusing on films. Many artists eagerly sought relationships with them. Because Huo Yuntao’s family was also involved in the entertainment industry, he had met Peng Jingyu a few times and initially thought of introducing him to Lu Yiyao as a networking opportunity. But Lu Yiyao had felt it was unnecessary and had let the matter slide.
With Peng Jingyu alone, the gathering was already prestigious enough.
Not to mention the presence of Su Mu, Yuan Yiqun, and others. Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected Xia Xinran to be such a help to Ran Lin.
“You’re too inconsiderate, Teacher Lu, not even a word before you came.” Xia Xinran glanced at him disapprovingly.
Lu Yiyao defended himself. “Then why didn’t you invite me when you invited Ran Lin.”
Xia Xinran was indignant. “How was I to know you’d come if I asked? You were so aloof back in the Drifting Story.”
Lu Yiyao was speechless.
Peng Jingyu laughed, patting Lu Yiyao’s back in a familiar manner. “Remember one thing: you can mess with women, but never mess with Xia Xinran.”
The “commended” Xia Xinran looked exasperated.
Designer Bi Ye came over, his tone still carrying a hint of the melodious operatic style. “Xia Fan, do you have any friends who aren’t good-looking? I’ve never seen you bring anyone who isn’t handsome.”
“Of course.” Xia Xinran retorted without hesitation. “I make friends based on personality, not superficial things like appearance. You know Gu Jie, right? He’s also my friend!”
Bi Ye and the others were speechless.
Ran Lin commented, “Gu Jie might not appreciate being categorized like that.”
As more people arrived, the atmosphere grew livelier, blurring the lines between old and new friends. Everyone was eating, drinking, and chatting merrily. Ran Lin sat among them, not feeling the need to strike up conversations deliberately and not feeling out of place either.
Xia Xinran went to change clothes again.
Yuan Yiqun, seemingly wary of leaving him alone, occasionally came over to chat, but seeing that Ran Lin was relaxed and open, he went off to attend to others.
It was the first time Ran Lin felt at ease in a gathering of his peers.
Before Lu Yiyao arrived, he had been anxious about how to blend in with this unfamiliar environment and make friends with so many people he was meeting for the first time. But once Lu Yiyao arrived, he suddenly felt grounded and composed.
He sipped on a Blue Hawaiian, enjoying the mood, when the sound of footsteps approached. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with Lu Yiyao.
Ran Lin was taken aback.
Lu Yiyao had changed into a military uniform, looking tall and dashing with broad shoulders, neatly cinched waist, and a sidearm strap crossing his chest. His boots were polished, and the pants were tucked into the boot shafts. Beneath his military cap, even his peach blossom eyes took on a sharp and resolute look. His beautiful brows nearly level with the brim of the cap, barely visible, cold and profound.
“Hey, young student,” Lu Yiyao greeted lowly, with a teasing smile.
Ran Lin felt a bit dry-mouthed, unable to understand why a Republic-era party suddenly seemed like it was sliding into some kind of uniform play with Lu Yiyao’s arrival.
Luckily, Xia Xinran also reappeared, now in a dapper little suit, looking every bit the wealthy young master. He hurriedly asked Ran Lin, “How is it?”
Ran Lin gave a generous thumbs up. “Handsome.”
Lu Yiyao sighed. “You’re just lying to him.”
Xia Xinran raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think I’m afraid of you just because you have a gun!”
Lu Yiyao looked at him. “It’s not just handsome; it’s very handsome.”
Satisfied, Xia Xinran gave him a playful look. “Naughty.” He then grabbed a drink, took a big gulp, and asked, “Teacher Lu, what made you decide to come? Aren’t you incredibly busy lately?”
Lu Yiyao was about to reply when someone called for Xia Xinran. Xia Xinran, with no further ado, whisked away like the wind.
Finally, the place quieted down, and Lu Yiyao took a seat next to Ran Lin, casually crossing his legs in a manner that indeed resembled that of a warlord.
Ran Lin glanced at his military attire, then at his own student uniform, suddenly regretting not choosing one of the other more flamboyant options—they were worlds apart in terms of presence!
“You look good in that,” Lu Yiyao suddenly commented. “It suits you very well.”
The lights in the living room had dimmed at some point—not too dark but no longer brightly lit either, creating an ambiance conducive to conversation.
The dozen or so people were grouped here and there, some talking softly, others laughing or swearing, discussing gossip or confiding personal matters. Perhaps what was shared would be forgotten by the next day, but it was important to have a place and someone to confide in.
“You look great in that uniform,” Ran Lin replied honestly. “It really suits you.”
Lu Yiyao stared at him intently. “Does that mean you’re falling for me again?”
Ran Lin cocked his student cap to the side, straightforwardly retorting, “I was just being polite.”
Lu Yiyao was taken aback, half amused, half frustrated.
Ran Lin inwardly congratulated himself on his wit.
Meeting Lu Yiyao today was entirely unexpected; if he had known they would meet, not even Xia Xinran’s insistence would have made him come.
Yet, having encountered him, he felt a sense of relief that he could be there. The heart he had once assured would not develop anything further with this person was surprisingly calm, filled only with a sense of solidity and unconscious joy at seeing him again.
“How have you been recently?” Lu Yiyao asked more seriously after the joke.
“Just did a magazine shoot. You must have seen it.” Ran Lin remembered Lu Yiyao’s comment and smiled.
“What about after that?” Lu Yiyao continued to make conversation, not wanting to sit in silence. “Any work plans?”
Ran Lin didn’t want the conversation to dry up either, so he replied honestly, “There’s a script, but nothing’s confirmed yet.”
Lu Yiyao picked up on the fleeting look of disappointment on Ran Lin’s face and guessed, “Not looking good?”
Ran Lin shook his head, pausing before answering, “I was supposed to be the lead, but now it’s been changed to Han Ze. So I’m considering whether to take the second lead role.”
After a moment of thought, Lu Yiyao asked, “What’s the script?”
“<Chronicles of Winter>,” Ran Lin replied, looking at him. “Do you know it?”
Lu Yiyao seemed to recall something but couldn’t place it exactly.
“I know it, Yao Star Media invested in the film version,” Peng Jingyu, who had joined them unnoticed, commented from another armchair, holding a colorful drink in his hand.
Ran Lin glanced towards the bar, where Pan Dapan had put down his erhu and was now mixing drinks, surprisingly popular.
Lu Yiyao wasn’t concerned about the drinks but focused on <Chronicles of Winter>. “They’re making a film version too?”
Peng Jingyu nodded. “It’s set to start production early next year.”
Ran Lin was unaware of this information. Although he had started the topic, he now found himself merely listening.
Lu Yiyao asked him, “Is your studio investing in the TV series?”
Peng Jingyu shook his head. “It’s not a big IP, and the film is just a joint investment; we only have a small share.”
Understanding, Lu Yiyao turned to Ran Lin. “What do you think of the script?”
Peng Jingyu suddenly felt sidelined, his cool, handsome face stiffening. “So you’re just going to ignore me?”
Lu Yiyao was focused on helping Ran Lin, replying naturally, “The film and TV series are completely different scripts. You’re not involved in the TV series. How could I ask you?”
Finding himself at a loss for words, Peng Jingyu felt somewhat irked but eventually retorted, “Huo Yuntao said you’re particularly unlikeable, I thought he was just being modest.”
Lu Yiyao, knowing the mention of Huo Yuntao meant no real harm, deliberately glanced at Ran Lin before responding, “I’m actually quite likable.”
Ran Lin was perplexed, wondering what that look meant.
Peng Jingyu found the whole situation intriguing. “I’ve never met someone like you. Do you even want to make it in the industry?”
After pondering for a moment, Lu Yiyao replied thoughtfully, “I suppose so…”
Peng Jingyu felt the urge to make an international call to complain to Huo Yuntao.
Though his relationship with Huo Yuntao was average, he genuinely hoped the young master would come to his senses.
Lu Yiyao, however, suddenly caught on to what Peng Jingyu had said about Huo Yuntao mentioning him. “He talked about me to you?”
Peng Jingyu rolled his eyes. “I talk to him maybe twice a year, and every time he’s praising you, making me feel like I owe him for not helping you.”
Lu Yiyao was momentarily embarrassed but inwardly warmed by the thought that Huo Yuntao was still concerned about his acting career from afar.
Ran Lin, however, was unfamiliar with the name they kept mentioning, deducing from their conversation that he was a mutual friend and possibly closer to Lu Yiyao.
Lu Yiyao having friends was normal; after all, he wasn’t a lone star. But perhaps because Lu Yiyao had always emphasized how rare it was to find someone in the circle he clicked with, Ran Lin had subconsciously blurred the line of “circle of friends”, inadvertently elevating his own position in his mind.
Lost in thought, Ran Lin was suddenly drawn back by Lu Yiyao pulling him closer with one arm, overhearing him say to Peng Jingyu, “Now that we’ve bypassed Huo Yuntao and become face-to-face friends, a friend’s friend is a friend. If you can’t look after me in the future, at least take care of Ran Lin.”
Peng Jingyu, only a few years older at twenty-seven, had a young man’s temperament. He stared at Lu Yiyao speechlessly for a long while before finally managing to say, “Could you be a bit more subtle when making requests?”
Ran Lin hadn’t planned to interject, given Lu Yiyao’s connections, which allowed him to speak on a friendlier level with Peng Jingyu while he was relatively unknown.
But watching their unserious demeanor and recalling Xia Xinran’s advice to not worry about the rest and just treat each other as friends for a genuine friendship, he decided to raise an opposing hand. “No need to think so far ahead. If you really want to help me, can you start by analyzing my current situation?”
Peng Jingyu involuntarily furrowed his brows, not expecting Ran Lin to speak up. Instinctively, he had categorized Ran Lin with many other small celebrities trying to make connections. Despite the relationships with Xia Xinran and Lu Yiyao, friends of friends sometimes don’t necessarily need to become friends themselves, and the situation was different from that with Lu Yiyao.
If Lu Yiyao wanted to build a relationship with him, he would have done so much earlier, hence his willingness to be friends. But as for Ran Lin…
“Maybe I should just ask someone else,” Ran Lin muttered, regretting speaking up as he received no immediate response.
The words “ask someone else” oddly struck Peng Jingyu with a sense of humiliation, as if being underestimated.
“What did you just ask?” Peng Jingyu genuinely hadn’t heard clearly.
Lu Yiyao, disliking his tone, interjected, “Never mind. You do your thing. We’ll talk.”
Initially feeling slighted, Peng Jingyu felt almost expelled, thinking he might need to demand compensation from Huo Yuntao for his emotional distress.
Ran Lin noticed Peng Jingyu’s displeasure and repeated, “Whether to take the second lead role.”
Peng Jingyu looked at him intently. “You’re asking me, someone who invests in movies, to help you analyze whether you should take a second lead role… a career planning issue?”
Ran Lin blinked innocently, offering a way out. “Actually… you can refuse to answer.” Glancing at Lu Yiyao, he added, “I can ask Teacher Lu.”
Peng Jingyu felt frustrated, lacking any semblance of the calmness expected of a Qing gang boss. Loosening his collar button, he took a deep breath and slammed his hand on the coffee table. “Let’s hear the whole story.”
Ran Lin intended to share his situation with Lu Yiyao, not expecting Peng Jingyu to chime in. But, figuring it was better to address both, he laid out the whole situation.
Once Ran Lin finished, Peng Jingyu advised, “Go for it. Your current status doesn’t guarantee the role of the second lead every time. It’s common for leads to be snatched away; if you’re not popular enough, you’ll be bullied.”
Lu Yiyao felt like kicking him.
Peng Jingyu’s blunt truth was harsh, but strangely, Ran Lin felt calm internally, turning to Lu Yiyao. “Do you also think I should take the role?”
Lu Yiyao decisively replied, “Don’t take it.”
Peng Jingyu frowned. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of giving him advice…”
“Actually, I’m also upset.” Ran Lin turned to Lu Yiyao, his calmness disrupted by the simple advice. “I want to refuse outright too, but I can’t afford to pass on opportunities so easily…”
“Do you trust me?” Lu Yiyao suddenly asked.
Ran Lin paused, responding more quickly than he could think, “Yes.”
Lu Yiyao then advised, “If you trust me, wait another four months. Once <Sword of Fallen Flowers> airs, you’ll be flooded with leading role offers. You’ll spend a long time picking. If you take this current offer, you’ll miss the prime opportunity.”
Ran Lin understood and was perplexed. “Where does this confidence come from?”
Lu Yiyao looked at him. “You.”
Peng Jingyu finished his drink in one gulp, looking towards Pan Dapan, who was busy mixing drinks. Catching each other’s eyes, Pan Dapan stopped and gave Peng Jingyu an encouraging rocker gesture.
Peng Jingyu relaxed, feeling a renewed sense of masculine solidarity and safety.
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