Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 41

[Seven Years Ago]

The premiere ended, and the lights came on. People were clapping, and Jiang Yu breathed a sigh of relief.

He, along with the other actors and the director, went on stage from the side to thank everyone. He heard a lot of comments, mostly positive, praising his surprising performance as a first-time movie lead.

Jiang Yu maintained a humble demeanor, listening even to the few harsh words with a smile. Idle gossip meant nothing—what mattered far more were the film’s reputation and box office success.

An audience member asked, “Jiang Yu, do you have a Weibo account? Everyone is using Weibo now.”

Jiang Yu had been urged to get one multiple times over the past few months. He thought it was about time. “I don’t have one yet, but maybe I’ll register one in a few days.”

The atmosphere became lively, and others started urging Jiang Yu, saying everyone else had one, so he shouldn’t be an outsider. Jiang Yu agreed, and afterward, he really started looking into it.

“Have all these been invited? Sina, Tencent, Sohu, NetEase… which one to choose?” Jiang Yu asked the people around him.

“Of course, Sina. Most people use Sina now. After you register, you need to get other celebrities to follow you back.”

Jiang Yu quickly registered, followed some industry friends, and then thought of someone.

He searched for Yu Ruoyun’s name. It seemed Yu Ruoyun had just opened a Weibo account a few days ago and hadn’t posted much, but there were plenty of comments. One post included a photo of a hand scratching a golden retriever’s chin. Yu Ruoyun replied to someone in the comments: [His name is Tiger.]

Jiang Yu remembered that day when he and Yu Ruoyun were sitting on the sofa, and the golden retriever came over for attention, indicating it was time for a walk.

But they hadn’t finished watching the movie, with only ten minutes left. Yu Ruoyun extended his hand to the golden retriever, comforting it. “Just a little longer.”

At that time, Yu Ruoyun seemed to be taking pictures with his phone and said to him, “His name is Tiger. When I’m not around, he stays with the cleaning lady.”

“So you came back yesterday, and today he was brought over,” Jiang Yu said lazily, not too fond of the dog. He had been woken up by this golden retriever licking him.

“He really likes you,” Yu Ruoyun said. “See if you can shake hands with him.”

“I don’t want to shake hands with a dog,” Jiang Yu refused. “Just take him out already. The dog is getting impatient.”

Yu Ruoyun stood up, took the leash, and walked to the door. For some reason, he stopped and stood there, looking at Jiang Yu.

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Yu asked, puzzled, when he saw Yu Ruoyun still hadn’t left after a while.

“I’ll be back soon,” Yu Ruoyun said, petting the golden retriever’s head. “We can’t let him run wild for too long.”

Maybe someday they could also walk among the crowd in broad daylight without any worries. Yu Ruoyun thought this as Tiger ran ahead, and he held onto the leash. He remembered the night before, when they were in bed, Jiang Yu leaned over to kiss him, his beautiful eyes reflecting only Yu Ruoyun.

Yu Ruoyun began to understand why the actresses he had tried dating before had eventually given up on him. They said he was great as a friend, but not as a lover. He indeed met the right person a little later—not necessarily the most suitable person, but the less suitable they were, the more he knew it was this person.

Today wasn’t suitable for going out after all, as it started drizzling soon after. Tiger, who hadn’t run far, was called back by his owner. “It’s time to go home. Someone is waiting.”

The dog didn’t understand and was reluctantly led back. Yu Ruoyun petted him, saying, “I’ll give you some canned food when we get back.”

Jiang Yu had fallen asleep again. Before coming to see Yu Ruoyun, he had only slept two or three hours over the past couple of days, trying to wrap up his work. It was strange that if he just wanted to sleep, he could do it anywhere, but he insisted on coming over.

But here and now, Jiang Yu found a peaceful sleep.

“What should I post on Weibo?” Jiang Yu was puzzled by a strange dilemma.

“Anything,” someone replied. “Look at others’ posts—share your life, selfies, anything.”

Jiang Yu checked some popular Weibo posts. Some were funny, others seemed a bit fake, but he couldn’t seem to mimic any of them.

Share life—what life to share? He could post about the upcoming movie and urge everyone to watch it. What else could he share? I slept with Yu Ruoyun. Though I feel sore all over, it was worth it. No, he couldn’t post that, but he could at least imagine it.

Jiang Yu sighed. As someone in the entertainment industry, tasked with entertaining others, he found it ironic how little entertainment he received. He wasn’t skilled in eating, drinking, whoring, or gambling, and wasn’t very smart. Some people skyrocketed to movie stardom; he had to start from TV dramas, playing secondary roles in a few movies before getting a lead role. After all these years, he still hadn’t forgotten Yu Ruoyun, and he had Yu Ruoyun’s poster right where he could see it when he opened his eyes.

Being the lead in a reliable movie was less worth sharing than having slept with Yu Ruoyun. It was too easy—so easy that Jiang Yu wondered if Yu Ruoyun was playing him, secretly filming it all to expose him. But analyzing the pros and cons, unless Yu Ruoyun was out of his mind, there was no benefit in doing something that would backfire.

They hadn’t seen much of each other that year, with Jiang Yu filming in the film and television city and Yu Ruoyun’s crew in the Northwest, separated by a great distance. Each stay in the crew lasted at least a few months. Jiang Yu felt immense pressure being the lead in his first movie. Even when the director was satisfied, he would ask for another take. Unable to sleep at night, he would get up, pace around the room, reciting lines loudly like a madman. Thankfully, the hotel had good soundproofing.

Having done everything, he still couldn’t sleep, so Jiang Yu took out his phone and stared at the number before finally dialing.

“When does your shoot wrap up?” Jiang Yu asked.

Yu Ruoyun gave a time, and Jiang Yu estimated. “I’ll probably finish around the same time. Will you return to Beijing?”

“I’ll be back a bit later. I have to go to Hong Kong first,” Yu Ruoyun said. “But I’ll hurry.”

“No need to rush. I was just asking,” Jiang Yu said. The night wasn’t quiet. Birds flew, wild cats called, and streetlights cast long tree shadows. Jiang Yu looked at the shadows, thinking they resembled Yu Ruoyun. “When you come back, if you have time, let’s meet up.”

He hadn’t planned what to do when they met; he just wanted to see Yu Ruoyun. Meeting more often would prove that Yu Ruoyun wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He wanted to discuss his struggles with the movie and ask if Yu Ruoyun would watch it. But he couldn’t say any of that, only saying he wanted to see Yu Ruoyun.

“Okay,” Yu Ruoyun said.

As for meeting up and ending up in bed, that was a matter for later.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 40

Jiang Yu waited for a long time but didn’t receive a return call from Yu Ruoyun. Instead, he got another call.

It was from his legal mother, who had watched his variety show. She was surprised he was collaborating with Yu Ruoyun and had a drama about to air, saying this was much more reliable than being in a boy band. She finally asked him to bring back an autograph, as it was almost the Spring Festival.

“You’ll come back for the Spring Festival, right?” she asked cautiously. She hadn’t seen her son in several years.

Jiang Yu didn’t know how to answer. He had acted for so long but wasn’t sure if he could play this role well. He stammered, “That depends on the company’s schedule. I might not get time off.”

After hanging up, even his heartbeat seemed to quicken. It was such a difficult issue to face. In ancient times, his despicable act of taking over someone’s life would have warranted an exorcism. But he couldn’t commit suicide. He had too many attachments in the world. If he left again, he knew some people wouldn’t be able to bear it.

But another person came to mind—someone he hadn’t contacted in a long time. When his memory surfaced, Jiang Yu realized he had never forgotten them.

“Hello, who is this?” The voice was so familiar—it was Jiang Fangping.

But Jiang Yu didn’t know what to say. Why had he called?

“My name is Long Xingyu,” Jiang Yu had to say.

“Oh.” Jiang Fangping wasn’t surprised. “Ruoyun mentioned you.”

Damn, having just a two-syllable name is great. They had only known each other for a little over a year, and she was already calling him Ruoyun. Jiang Fangping used to always call him Jiang Yu*.

*Clarity: Just calling someone by their first name usually signifies a really close relationship, as it’s often extremely rude otherwise.

But Jiang Fangping asked him, “Why are you calling? How do you know my number?”

“Uh…” Jiang Yu said, “Just consider this a greeting.”

Jiang Fangping was even more confused. “Greeting about what? I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not Yu Ruoyun’s mom. Did he save the wrong number? Or did I get it wrong? Aren’t you Yu Ruoyun’s new lover?”

“…” Jiang Yu said, “Fine. Just consider this a provocation.”

“??? Are you insane?” Jiang Fangping was on the verge of cursing him out.

This conversation was going nowhere. Jiang Yu said, “What if I say, from now on, just consider me your son? Would you want to hit me?”

“Yes,” Jiang Fangping said, “So you better not say that. I don’t have any other sons, and I plan to spend all my money. Go scam Yu Ruoyun for his.”

“I’m not here to scam you,” Jiang Yu said, feeling unconvincing. “I care about lonely elderly people. Didn’t you like singing and dancing? I’m much better at it than your son.”

It really sounded like a provocation.

Jiang Fangping couldn’t take it anymore and scolded him. She ended with, “The Lord will punish you, you homosexual.”

Jiang Yu said, “Your son is also gay.”

“He didn’t say so, so he isn’t,” Jiang Fangping retorted, sounding righteous.

“He really is.” Jiang Yu inexplicably persisted. “How can you accept Yu Ruoyun but not admit the truth? Jiang Yu only likes men…”

The call was disconnected.

Jiang Yu thought, after all these years, it was still difficult to communicate with his mother. But Yu Ruoyun was right; Jiang Fangping still had plenty of energy. There was background noise of an aunt urging her to go to rehearsal.

Since Yu Ruoyun and Jiang Fangping were still in contact, he still had chances to visit in the future—er, to provoke her. Was Jiang Fangping still living in that old two-bedroom apartment? If he went back and she didn’t let him stay in Jiang Yu’s room, he’d have to sleep on the couch.

Walking into Jiang Yu’s room, he would see a poster of Yu Ruoyun on the door facing the bed. It was from Yu Ruoyun’s first movie, which won an award. It was somewhat artsy but understandable for the average person. At least at that time, Jiang Yu felt he understood it. Yu Ruoyun’s profile faced the camera, seemingly glancing indifferently. What could catch his attention?

Yu Ruoyun finally called him back.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t ask what was up, and Jiang Yu didn’t have anything urgent. He just wanted to talk to Yu Ruoyun.

“They don’t allow phones in the meeting,” Yu Ruoyun explained.

“Okay,” Jiang Yu listened, not saying much more.

He wasn’t good at expressing himself. Explaining how anxious he had been and all the scenarios he had imagined felt impossible.

“I’ll inform you next time,” Yu Ruoyun said.

“It makes me seem like I’m checking up on you,” Jiang Yu said. “Aren’t you annoyed?”

Yu Ruoyun sighed. “It is annoying. There’s a lot going on. I’m arguing with someone.”

This genuinely piqued Jiang Yu’s curiosity. “About what?”

Yu Ruoyun brushed him off. “I’ll tell you later.”

Jiang Yu agreed and started talking about mundane things. For instance, their new EP was the top seller, he got the highest score on his art exam, and today’s performance was a mix of acts. When he looked into the audience, he saw many sign boards with their group’s names, and fans were shouting their names.

“I used to look down on being an idol,” Jiang Yu said. “You know, I’ve criticized it before.”

“And now?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

“Now I still don’t have much respect for it. The path is tough. These years, everything is hard. China’s environment is complicated. Foreign cultural models can’t be copied here. Even South Korea’s mature system has problems. China’s system is chaotic, with immature bosses, markets, and artists who don’t plan their careers and can’t. Some succeed, but more are eliminated, or they succeed and then get eliminated again. The most mature ones are the fans, organizing support, fundraising, and defending their idols. It’s all meaningless—creating multiple accounts to boost posts, chasing idols, enjoying fleeting popularity on stage.” Jiang Yu was a thinker, constantly pondering his direction amid the daily hustle.

“But when I went to take the art exam recently, it was cold. Standing outside, waiting to enter, I remembered doing the same over ten years ago, knowing nothing about the future, just moving forward.”

Over a decade ago, the entertainment industry was even less mature, feeling its way through. Movies with box office earnings exceeding a billion yuan were rare, and actors’ pay wasn’t very high. Many actors turned to singing and releasing albums as another way to participate in various mixed concerts, where they could earn money by singing a few songs. Why not take advantage of such opportunities?

“The last time, over a decade ago, when I took the art exam, I barely passed. The examiners didn’t say I was bad, but they didn’t praise me for my talent either. They kept saying that the top scorer had great potential and might surpass Yu Ruoyun. I stood there, thinking, ‘One day, I’ll prove you all wrong.’ Later, I was stumbling around, feeling it was all meaningless and a waste of life. When I wanted to act, I had to lower my pay. I took roles that paid only a few thousand yuan per episode. To get on magazine covers, I had to flatter the editors and brands, drinking and socializing with them. And when I wanted to pursue you… I actually succeeded,” Jiang Yu said. “So maybe it isn’t meaningless. It just takes a few more years to see where the path leads.”

The world was always changing rapidly, and even performances were no longer so sacred—stages were everywhere. On short video apps, there were content creators posting brief dramas every day, crudely arranged plots that millions of people watched. Just like a few years ago, when Jiang Yu first opened his Weibo account, he never imagined that this seemingly ordinary social network would evolve into what it was today, where trending topics cost so much to buy and even more to remove.

The elevator reached the floor, and Jiang Yu walked out, took out his key, and opened the door. The layout of the old house was all too familiar, as were the sounds that greeted him.

Yu Ruoyun said, “You’ve succeeded since a long time ago.”

In the silence, Jiang Yu suddenly remembered the poster on the door.

In that movie, the male and female leads ultimately chose to leave, escaping the place that bound them. On the motorcycle, wearing helmets, they rode against the wind.

The female lead said, “Are we just abandoning the world?”

“The world?” Yu Ruoyun’s character responded. “What world? We are the world.”

---

The author has something to say:

The lines were adapted from Patrick Tam’s movie “Nomad”.

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 39

Time flew by, and Jiang Yu’s group released another EP on the same day Zhong Mo’s talent show aired.

Zhong Mo’s fans posted large posters cursing the company for being so stupid. Jiang Yu even took the time to read through them. The gist was that at such a crucial time when Zhong Mo needed votes and funding, the company had the nerve to release an EP, distracting the fans and asking for money. It was outrageous. They concluded by stating firmly that they wouldn’t spend a penny on this EP, and even if Zhong Mo’s sales ranking fell to the bottom, it wouldn’t matter because it didn’t represent their support.

It made sense, and thus Jiang Yu became the sales champion again. Besides Zhong Mo’s contribution, Jiang Yu’s variety show also had an impact, and his drama was starting to gain traction. Apart from Yu Ruoyun, the main lead, Jiang Yu had quite a bit of screen time and posters, attracting some new fans. He had also taken the art exam and was waiting to pass.

Some people congratulated Jiang Yu, and he listened with a pleasant smile. “Thank you. I’ll keep working hard.” But once seated, he found himself staring blankly.

It all seemed meaningless, Jiang Yu thought. The money he received wouldn’t increase, nor would his resources improve—this company didn’t have any good resources anyway. Releasing a few more solo singles? It wasn’t like anyone outside his fanbase would listen.

But his mood wasn’t bad. Jiang Yu thought, he really had lowered his ambitions.

He messaged Yu Ruoyun, complaining about the terrible boxed meals and the non-stop schedule, finally mentioning casually, “The episode you were in has aired. Have you seen it?”

But Yu Ruoyun didn’t reply.

Jiang Yu pondered. Although he didn’t have Yu Ruoyun’s schedule down to the minute, he knew Yu Ruoyun wasn’t filming anything new. He waited a while, sent a few more irrelevant messages, and waited some more. Estimating that even if he was recording a show, it should be over by now, he still didn’t get a reply.

The unease in Jiang Yu’s heart swelled like a balloon, making him restless. He was about to go on stage but kept calling.

At first, the phone was off. After a while, it rang but went unanswered. At least the phone was on now. Feeling somewhat relieved, he continued calling persistently.

Finally, it was answered, but it wasn’t Yu Ruoyun’s voice. It was Qi Yiren saying, “Will you stop? He’s in a meeting.”

Jiang Yu was stunned and asked, “What meeting?”

Qi Yiren was impatient. “If you paid attention to current events and had some social awareness, you’d know what meeting is happening now.”

Jiang Yu said, “Sorry, I really don’t.”

Since Yu Ruoyun was fine, Jiang Yu felt somewhat at ease and started chatting with Qi Yiren.

Qi Yiren said, “No wonder he told me to remember to charge his phone.”

‘Out of battery?’ Jiang Yu thought, ‘Yu Ruoyun’s habit is really bad. What celebrity doesn’t have more than one phone?’ But he hadn’t expected Yu Ruoyun to attend such a meeting. Jiang Yu didn’t care about current events and had little political awareness. When he remembered, he realized something was happening, but when he didn’t, he forgot completely.

“He just told me he was going home for a few days. How was I supposed to know he went back to attend the Two Sessions?” Jiang Yu felt wronged, but it was indeed something Yu Ruoyun would do: read classics, become a CPPCC member, and be very politically correct. Jiang Yu used to say Yu Ruoyun was just fishing for fame.

“Of course you wouldn’t know.” Qi Yiren’s tone was somewhat contemptuous. “You only know how to keep calling when the phone doesn’t connect. Do you know…”

“I’m hanging up,” Jiang Yu said. “I’m about to go on stage.”

“I’m telling you…”

“Remember to tell Yu Ruoyun to call me back,” Jiang Yu said before rushing to the stage.

After his performance, a staff member asked him, “Xiao Yu, are you very hot?”

“Huh?” Jiang Yu didn’t react.

“You were sweating a lot,” the staff said. “Your eye makeup smudged on stage. We were worried you were feeling unwell.”

It was strange. Long Xingyu wiped his forehead, realizing the sweat had soaked his hair. “It’s nothing. Maybe I was too nervous just now.”

He lied smoothly, and no one said anything more. He sat down to drink water, only to be glanced at by Lu Zheming.

Backstage, Lu Zheming finally asked him, “Who were you calling non-stop earlier?”

Jiang Yu didn’t hide it from his sharp teammate, especially since Lu Zheming had heard the rumors. “My boyfriend.”

It had been fifty minutes, and his boyfriend hadn’t called back, showing how long this meeting was.

“Don’t act so surprised. He was busy and didn’t answer, so I kept calling,” Jiang Yu said. “It’s fine now.”

After speaking, Jiang Yu lowered his head, turning his wrist over and staring at it.

When he woke up, the wound hadn’t healed. It was deep, so even slight movements caused pain. He couldn’t sleep and cursed the body’s owner for choosing such an extreme way out. He was sick, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and even simple tasks like memorizing lines took tremendous effort, all while pretending everything was fine. He felt he had endured so much, yet Long Xingyu had ended his life so easily.

Later, he realized he wasn’t questioning Long Xingyu. He was questioning himself. He had the same thoughts but hadn’t acted on them.

After the scar removal, Jiang Yu got a tattoo on his wrist to cover the marks. The tattoo artist said it was difficult, but he insisted. Now, if you looked closely, you could still see the scars.

“Turns out not being able to reach someone on the phone is really annoying,” Jiang Yu said softly.

Jiang Yu was different. He had multiple phones, personal and work ones, unlike Yu Ruoyun. So that night, did Yu Ruoyun keep calling, switching numbers, and trying nonstop?

Qi Yiren handed the phone back to Yu Ruoyun. “Long Xingyu wants you to call him back.”

“Okay.” Yu Ruoyun looked at the messages. “Thanks.”

Qi Yiren couldn’t help but say, “Mr. Yu, sometimes I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

Yu Ruoyun was quite surprised. “You can ask me.”

If it were easy to ask, she wouldn’t be struggling so much. After hesitating, Qi Yiren finally said, “I don’t know what Jiang Yu means to you.”

Liking Jiang Yu more wasn’t just because he gave more money; Jiang Yu wasn’t a bad person. Especially after his death, thinking back on things brought a mix of nostalgia and regret. As a newcomer, she had made mistakes several times, thinking she’d lose her job, ready to pack up and leave. But Jiang Yu just kept his usual annoyed demeanor and told her to get back to work.

“Today, I saw reporters interviewing you,” Qi Yiren said. “You mentioned a proposal for better crisis intervention for bipolar disorder. The reporter thought it was strange, as it didn’t seem related to you. Why would you bring this up? At such times, I feel you still remember him. But…”

But sometimes, it seemed Yu Ruoyun had moved on, starting a new life. When mentioning that Long Xingyu was waiting for his call, Yu Ruoyun’s demeanor changed entirely.

A year ago, when Qi Yiren received Yu Ruoyun’s invitation, she had some expectations. But she quickly found that the famous, dedicated Yu Ruoyun was much quieter than she imagined. He didn’t talk much, sometimes seemed absent-minded, and didn’t smoke in front of them but had a faint smell of cigarettes. She had seen his cigarette pack, the same brand her former boss liked. He wasn’t very enthusiastic about work. Sometimes, she felt he was just like any white-collar worker forcing themselves to work—like a functioning machine, not the sharp genius in front of the camera. Jiang Yu often mocked Yu Ruoyun, but among competitors, he seemed to only respect Yu Ruoyun.

But the Yu Ruoyun Jiang Yu respected seemed to have disappeared. Now, Yu Ruoyun had a new life, a new partner, and was even relaunching his career, all without any connection to Jiang Yu anymore. Even Qi Yiren herself was starting to warm up to Long Xingyu, despite their frequent clashes. Sometimes, she even felt that Long Xingyu had some resemblance to Jiang Yu.

Qi Yiren realized she wasn’t questioning Yu Ruoyun. She was resisting the fact that Jiang Yu had become a shadow in her past life. She hadn’t forgotten him, but gradually, there was no longer a need to bring him up.

“I don’t quite understand.” Yu Ruoyun looked at Qi Yiren. “Are you hoping for an explanation from me?”

When Yu Ruoyun spoke like this, it created a sense of distance. It wasn’t overbearing, but it was as if he was assessing whether Qi Yiren had the right to comment on his personal life. Qi Yiren wanted to act as if nothing had happened and continue interacting with the approachable side of the Film Emperor.

But the words had already been spoken, and Qi Yiren braced herself to continue. “I just hope… you don’t forget Jiang Yu.”

It was a very selfish and unreasonable request. She was moving on with her life, but she wanted at least one person to remember Jiang Yu, and she placed that expectation on Yu Ruoyun, making it so he couldn’t escape Jiang Yu’s memory.

For a moment, Yu Ruoyun felt a sense of familiarity. Someone else had asked him a similar question.

Before his identity was revealed, Jiang Yu stood at the hotel room door, hesitantly asking, “When will you forget him? Not the kind of forgetting where you lose your memory, but where you can remember but choose not to think about it anymore?”

Qi Yiren was innocent. She didn’t know the other side of the story. She was just a young girl, holding on to old feelings. But Jiang Yu and Qi Yiren’s demands were unnecessary. If Jiang Yu hadn’t reappeared, forgetting or remembering would have been the same—both would have required carving out a piece of his heart. He wouldn’t casually bring it up to anyone because it held no meaning.

“Do you remember when I visited the children with cancer?” Yu Ruoyun asked. “You prepared the gifts and donated some money. After seeing them, I went to the restroom, and a child next door knocked on the door, asking if I had any toilet paper. I gave it to him and saw him sitting on the toilet lid, with blood dripping from his nose. Yet, he was holding a phone, hiding in the bathroom to play ‘Honor of Kings’.”

Yu Ruoyun wiped the boy’s blood, and the boy said he didn’t want his parents to see because they would cry again. Yu Ruoyun told him, No, this can’t do, you should focus on getting better.

What did it mean to live on? Maybe it was to keep playing and pushing forward, because his team relied on him to rank up

In the days immediately after Jiang Yu’s death, Yu Ruoyun habitually opened their chat, where Jiang Yu would always send him something.

But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“That’s what death is,” Yu Ruoyun said.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 38

This year, the Golden Key Awards adjusted their schedule and were held a few days earlier.

Jiang Yu, who wasn’t eligible to attend, was preparing to watch the live stream when he received a message from Qi Yiren, saying she had secured him a ticket.

“No,” Jiang Yu refused without hesitation. “I haven’t even filmed a movie. I’d just embarrass myself if I went.”

But as he said this, Jiang Yu felt something was off. He was giving the award too much credit, as if he wasn’t worthy of it. He added, “There’s no point in going. It’s just a red carpet spot. Even a dog from Futuo can go.”

Futuo was a well-known film and television company in the industry, always keen to insert its connections, which Jiang Yu always disdained. His insult had slipped out unintentionally

Qi Yiren was taken aback by his words, saying, “How can a newcomer like you speak so carelessly?”

Jiang Yu didn’t mind. After all, Qi Yiren wouldn’t spread this around. At most, she’d complain to Yu Ruoyun. He wasn’t afraid. Yu Ruoyun was used to his attitude.

“But it’s not just minor celebrities there. My boss will be there too,” Qi Yiren reminded him.

“Do you think I don’t know?” Jiang Yu retorted. “That’s all the more reason not to go. Why would I want to watch him win Best Supporting Actor? I won’t go.”

Qi Yiren felt that Long Xingyu’s attitude towards his sponsor was too ungrateful. He was simply spoiled and arrogant. She hung up in anger. But not long after, Long Xingyu sent her another message.

“I noticed your studio doesn’t publish his schedule. It’s really inconvenient. Can you send me his itinerary?”

Qi Yiren thought, ‘What kind of person is this? Checking up on him?’

She replied coldly, “No.”

“Let me ask you a question, do you prefer your former boss Jiang Yu or your current boss Yu Ruoyun?”

“None of your business.” Qi Yiren was a bit annoyed.

“Come on, tell me. I won’t tattle to Yu Ruoyun.”

Qi Yiren found Long Xingyu annoying but decided to provoke him, letting him know he couldn’t compare to Jiang Yu. “Jiang Yu.”

“Why?”

But as Qi Yiren typed her reply, she hesitated. What advantage did Jiang Yu have over Yu Ruoyun? It seemed nothing was particularly convincing. So she said, “Jiang Yu gave more money.”

“…That’s a pretty straightforward reason.” Jiang Yu believed it himself.

The picky Jiang Yu was indeed generous with money. No matter how much he annoyed his team, they always held back their complaints when they saw the money. In comparison, Yu Ruoyun was perfectly normal, never mistreating his employees or throwing money around like Jiang Yu. Just like his relationships in the industry, Yu Ruoyun was neutral and uncontroversial, with only Jiang Yu, the psychopath, crossing the safety line.

Not getting the schedule was fine. Jiang Yu didn’t care much, but Yu Ruoyun’s fans were lazy, making it hard to find information on his own.

For instance, Yu Ruoyun recently appeared on a state media reading program. Jiang Yu found it boring and too formal to have celebrities read classic literary excerpts on screen. Would fans actually read because of it? Thinking this, Jiang Yu still opened Yu Ruoyun’s video.

Yu Ruoyun was reading classical Chinese. Though not extremely difficult, it required more focus than modern language. Yu Ruoyun read slowly, as he always did when reading scripts to Jiang Yu, with perfect diction and a magnetic voice, slipping into character instantly, different from his everyday speech. Jiang Yu had learned proper vocal techniques but always felt slightly inferior to Yu Ruoyun.

“Read me a book next time,” Jiang Yu said to Yu Ruoyun. “I have trouble sleeping and need a bedtime story.”

But now Yu Ruoyun would call him out. “You sleep just fine, never waking up.”

Jiang Yu felt something was off. Yu Ruoyun had tried to wake him before, but he hadn’t noticed. He decided not to ask, leaving room for imagination, lest Yu Ruoyun only wanted to ask where he had kicked his slippers.

“You should ask what book I want you to read,” Jiang Yu said.

“You should just say it,” Yu Ruoyun replied. “If you say it, I’ll do it.”

So Jiang Yu wrote down a book title. Yu Ruoyun said he hadn’t read it and would buy it later. Jiang Yu eventually forgot about it. One night before bed, Yu Ruoyun suddenly said, “I’m almost finished with that book.”

“Oh.” Jiang Yu yawned. “Never mind, I think your voice sounds better in bed.”

Yu Ruoyun nearly laughed in exasperation. “Same to you.”

But he still brought the book and started reading. He didn’t know which part Jiang Yu liked, relying on his own intuition.

“Because I’m like you. Because I’m as lonely as you, unable to love life, unable to love others, unable to love myself.” Yu Ruoyun read with the gentle tone of a bedtime story.

Jiang Yu thought, so Yu Ruoyun liked that line. He had never considered it before. He used to think he and Yu Ruoyun had nothing in common.

Maybe Yu Ruoyun was indeed very lonely. He just didn’t show it like Jiang Yu, exposing everything to others. Because he never said anything, he seemed like the most stable—a reliable cornerstone. If not for the accident, even Jiang Yu would never have discovered the different side of Yu Ruoyun.

Thinking of this, Jiang Yu felt like an idiot. Selfish and arrogant, driven by his personality, he might have hurt Yu Ruoyun more than once.

But Yu Ruoyun leaned in, interrupting Jiang Yu’s thoughts. Yu Ruoyun said, “Now it’s my turn to hear your other voice.”

Jiang Yu sank with Yu Ruoyun into an endless deep sea, where a tsunami engulfed him, and he let go of everything.

Yu Ruoyun kissed him from behind. Jiang Yu used to dislike this position because he couldn’t see the other’s face, leaving all control to the other person. But Yu Ruoyun seemed to like it more and more, as leaning down from behind allowed their skin to touch with no distance. So Jiang Yu turned his head to kiss Yu Ruoyun. It seemed to be raining heavily outside. A whole summer had passed, this season with its high temperatures and rainfall. Droughts and floods continued, but for the selfish Jiang Yu, natural disasters became meaningless as he found light and salt in the world.

Without a ticket, Jiang Yu set an alarm to watch the entire film award ceremony.

To his satisfaction, Bo Yan didn’t win Best Actor. Yu Ruoyun’s choice was indeed wise. This year’s Best Actor competition was fierce, and Yu Ruoyun avoided the battle. Thinking this, it made sense why Yu Ruoyun had such a high nomination and selection rate, as he strategized every step like a chess game. And before the Best Actor award, Yu Ruoyun won Best Supporting Actor. Watching him go on stage to accept the award, Jiang Yu suddenly felt a bit regretful. Refusing to attend might not have been the right choice.

On stage, Yu Ruoyun was joking about insuring the trophy, saying it was too precious, making the audience laugh and applaud. Everyone would gradually fade from the public eye. No one could stay at the peak forever. But Yu Ruoyun would undoubtedly earn lasting respect.

Jiang Yu realized this long ago. He often wondered when he could reach such a level himself—something more challenging than winning any award. He had also wondered if Yu Ruoyun would ever have a downfall, like a scandal that would shock everyone. But the closer he got, the more he knew it was impossible.

Now he still wanted to be that kind of person. Fortunately, Yu Ruoyun wasn’t wrong. The age gap between them, which once seemed like a barrier, had become a ladder for Jiang Yu to climb slowly. He could take his time, knowing that one day he would succeed, as the world had proven that even rebirth was possible.

And this time, he wouldn’t think he had to reach the same level to earn equal love.

Yu Ruoyun held his hand, correcting this wrong answer stroke by stroke.

---

The author has something to say:

Because I am like you. Because I am as lonely as you, unable to love life, unable to love others, unable to love myself.

— Hermann Hesse, “Steppenwolf“

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 37

Jiang Yu could barely remember what Zhu Xiao looked like.

He only remembered she was a very beautiful woman, but he wasn’t interested in women. Zhu Xiao had an even worse temper than Jiang Yu, and their collaboration was fraught with friction. Later, Zhu Xiao suddenly demanded that, although Jiang Yu was clearly the lead actor per the contract, all promotional materials should feature her first. Otherwise, she wouldn’t cooperate with the promotions. This caused conflicts not only among the teams but also between the male and female leads.

Once, while filming a kissing scene, Zhu Xiao refused to do it for real and insisted on using a stand-in. For the subsequent bed scene, which only showed her back, she also refused and demanded it be cut entirely. The director actually agreed. Jiang Yu was furious and exploded, “Do you think anyone is desperate to take advantage of you? If you can’t handle it, just go home and let a man take care of you. Shoot or don’t shoot, whatever.”

He was extremely angry and spoke harshly, then sat aside, ignoring everyone. The atmosphere on set was dismal. After a while, Jiang Yu quietly asked his assistant, “Why is she crying?”

The assistant replied, “Didn’t you make her cry?!”

“How is that my fault?” Jiang Yu was exasperated. He thought it was clearly Zhu Xiao who started the trouble.

“She’s been dealing with rumors of being kept as a mistress, and you just had to hit her sore spot,” the assistant said.

Jiang Yu recalled hearing such rumors but always forgot about them, as they were irrelevant to him. In his anger, he hadn’t considered this. Catching a glimpse of Zhu Xiao still crying made him uncomfortable.

He later agreed to use a stand-in for the kissing scene and to completely replace the bed scene. Zhu Xiao told him it was because her family was strict. Jiang Yu just listened, not arguing further. But just before shooting started, he told Zhu Xiao, “I think people should take control of their own fate.”

It was like a line from an inspirational drama, and Zhu Xiao stared at him in surprise.

“No matter what your family or other mess, you can’t live like this forever.” Jiang Yu tried to be as tactful as he could.

Zhu Xiao didn’t even thank him, running to the camera like she was fleeing.

Jiang Yu’s recollection ended. “I haven’t seen her since that show. She suddenly announced her marriage and retirement. That night, she called me out of the blue, just crying without saying why. In the end, I only comforted her a bit. Are people afraid she might reveal something? Damn it, what does this have to do with me?”

He felt frustrated and went to pour himself a glass of ice water.

As he raised his head, Yu Ruoyun took the glass away.

“Always like this,” Yu Ruoyun said. “As soon as you feel better, you stop taking care of yourself. Eat less cold stuff.”

Jiang Yu stood there looking at Yu Ruoyun, then reached for his hand. Yu Ruoyun moved the glass further away, but Jiang Yu wasn’t after the glass. He put it on the nearby cabinet and held Yu Ruoyun’s fingers.

“Your hand is so cold.” Jiang Yu had noticed this when he touched him earlier. “I’m still young. You don’t need to worry about my health and should pay attention to yours. You can catch a cold from just a breeze.”

Yu Ruoyun smiled, but he didn’t seem happy.

Jiang Yu blew on Yu Ruoyun’s palm, carefully asking, “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Yu Ruoyun repeated. “No.”

“Then let’s make a deal,” Jiang Yu, feeling apprehensive, suggested, “Can we stop thinking about this?”

“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything tonight.” Jiang Yu’s voice was soft, as if afraid of waking Yu Ruoyun.

Yu Ruoyun’s hand remained cold, never warming up, and Jiang Yu didn’t let go. After several long minutes, Yu Ruoyun finally said, “Why?”

“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?” Jiang Yu said. “If Jiang Yu accidentally offended someone, he’s already paid the price. If you get involved, it’ll be very dangerous.”

“You didn’t used to be like this,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You used to… never forgive a slight.”

Yu Ruoyun was right. Jiang Yu was never a forgiving person, but now he had more to lose.

If the rumors about Zhu Xiao were true, if she had a powerful backer and was really a mistress of a high-ranking official, Jiang Yu felt guilty for not recognizing her call for help. But now, he couldn’t fix it. He was just a minor actor who couldn’t even protect himself. He just wanted Yu Ruoyun to stay away from the bomb.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Jiang Yu said, resigned. “You can scold me more. But it’s all in the past, so just don’t…”

He wanted to tell Yu Ruoyun not to be too upset for him but couldn’t say it out loud.

“That day, I wanted to see you. I forgot you were abroad until I almost reached your door,” Jiang Yu said. “My mind was a mess. I hadn’t slept the night before, and the medication had side effects. I wasn’t in a good state. So, when you asked if I ran the red light or why the car was speeding, I really couldn’t remember.”

“I only remember thinking, if I could see you one last time, I’d go back, fill the bathtub with hot water, and finally get a good sleep.”

For Jiang Yu, death was inevitable. He couldn’t deny that he was ill, tormenting his mind and body. His only act of free will was to see Yu Ruoyun one last time. His death was suspicious, but if not for such a sinister coincidence, he might not have had the chance to see Yu Ruoyun or live again.

“I’m sorry.” He owed Yu Ruoyun many apologies. “I’ll tell you everything from now on.”

The one who brought pain to Yu Ruoyun wasn’t a conspirator but Jiang Yu himself, because of his dishonesty and selfish desire to leave the world.

Yu Ruoyun’s thumb brushed Jiang Yu’s eyes, and he realized his tears had fallen again, wetting Yu Ruoyun’s clothes.

“Sleep,” Yu Ruoyun said. “It’s almost dawn. Let’s not cry anymore.”

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 36

“Yu Ruoyun is coming as a guest?” Jiang Yu was surprised for a moment. “Well, he’s pretty good at cooking.”

Their variety show was an online program with a food theme that didn’t air on TV. They had to cook and attract customers. Jiang Yu thought, surely they wouldn’t make Yu Ruoyun stand at the door as an advertisement.

The others found this amusing. One senior joked, “Xingyu has big ambitions, wanting a Film Emperor to cook for him. Yu Ruoyun isn’t here to cook. He’s here to taste the food.”

The restaurant’s revenue from previous episodes hadn’t met expectations, so they were now trying to launch new dishes. Yu Ruoyun was coming to participate in the trial operation.

So Yu Ruoyun could arrive later, while Jiang Yu was washing vegetables in the kitchen. Hearing some noise outside, indicating Yu Ruoyun had arrived, Jiang Yu went out and poured him a glass of lemon water.

Yu Ruoyun was looking at the menu. When the water was placed in front of him, he looked up and saw Jiang Yu. “Long time no see.”

“Long time no see,” Jiang Yu replied. It had been almost a week. Then, facing the camera, he said, “We’ve worked together before.”

“What would you like to order?” Jiang Yu asked him, but Yu Ruoyun kept flipping through the menu without ordering.

Yu Ruoyun said, “Your menu has Sichuan cuisine, Hunan cuisine, Cantonese cuisine… and French escargot.”

Jiang Yu gave a dry laugh. “Because our cooks come from all over the country.”

He also thought it was silly but had no say in the matter. He was only there to wash vegetables. He didn’t want to be the leader. In such shows, the decision-makers often got the most criticism. He was happy staying in the background.

However, Yu Ruoyun, perhaps never having participated in such shows, took it seriously and started giving Jiang Yu suggestions, saying that trying too hard to find unique features might result in having none. Jiang Yu pretended to listen seriously and then asked, “So what do you want to eat?”

After all, he had to give feedback on the taste of the dishes.

Yu Ruoyun ordered a few signature dishes from the menu, then looked up and asked, “Are you cooking?”

“Me? No.” Jiang Yu pointed to the kitchen. “They’re the ones cooking.”

“Can you make a dish for me? Anything will do,” Yu Ruoyun said politely. “If it’s inconvenient, it’s okay.”

The people in the kitchen had already come out to watch. Hearing Yu Ruoyun’s request, they started teasing Jiang Yu, even handing him an apron and chef’s hat.

Jiang Yu made the simplest dish—tomato and scrambled eggs. While flipping the pan, Yu Ruoyun came to his side, causing Jiang Yu to burn the eggs and over-salt the dish. It was a complete failure.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t show any mercy, saying, “As expected, it tastes terrible.”

Jiang Yu was almost furious, but everyone else was laughing, waiting for Yu Ruoyun to give them suggestions, while Jiang Yu, the helper, was told to note them down for improvement.

When it came time to settle the bill, Jiang Yu went to collect the money. Yu Ruoyun handed him a stack of cash, saying, “There’s plenty of tip.”

No more customers came today, and this turnover was sufficient. Jiang Yu unceremoniously took it, hearing Yu Ruoyun say, “I hope your cooking will improve next time.”

Thinking about the burnt eggs, Jiang Yu felt there would be no next time. But in front of the camera, he had to pretend, saying, “Sure, sure.” Holding the stack of bills, he wanted to count the money but looked down to see Yu Ruoyun gazing at him.

Suddenly, Jiang Yu realized why Yu Ruoyun had come to this online variety show.

“Okay,” Jiang Yu heard himself say.

In the entertainment industry’s downturn, it wasn’t easy for a lesser-known idol to get a role, especially if he was picky. Jiang Yu began to feel grateful he hadn’t decided to leave the group.

He was someone who couldn’t stay idle. Besides, he had some experience with singing and dancing, so it was just a different form of development. Once he accepted this identity, it wasn’t so bad, like experiencing a new life.

Of course, there were difficulties. One day, they were suddenly taken to dye their hair black and remove all earrings. Long Xingyu’s wrist tattoo was small and could be covered, but one member had a half-sleeve tattoo. Before going on stage, he was made to wear long sleeves for a better image.

Zhong Mo had already gone to that talent show. Though it hadn’t aired yet, his fan club started promoting him, and many were betting on Zhong Mo, thinking he might explode in popularity once the show aired due to his youth and fan base.

Given this, Jiang Yu was particularly surprised to receive a call from Zhong Mo.

“Aren’t phones prohibited?” Jiang Yu sat up on his bed, initially wanting to step out, but hesitated and stayed sitting.

“Who doesn’t use them secretly?” Zhong Mo retorted after a few words. “Are you going to report me?”

Jiang Yu wasn’t going to tolerate Zhong Mo’s attitude. “Did you call just to get scolded?”

He was about to hang up when Zhong Mo quickly stopped him, asking him not to hang up. Jiang Yu, still annoyed, asked, “What do you want?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other day.” Zhong Mo brought it up as if certain Jiang Yu remembered.

But Jiang Yu was uncooperative. “What did I say?”

Oh, right, he had cursed Zhong Mo to be eliminated early.

“You said life is about constant failure and success is temporary,” Zhong Mo said dejectedly. “Now I feel it’s true.”

“Were you rigged out?” Jiang Yu asked. “Did the judges decide you won’t debut? Were you harassed?”

“…I’m being ostracized,” Zhong Mo said. “I even overheard them badmouthing me.”

Jiang Yu was puzzled. “Why do you think calling me for comfort is a good idea? I’d think they did a good job.”

Yu Ruoyun, lazily sitting nearby, had gathered the gist from Jiang Yu’s side of the conversation and interjected, “Because he thinks you’re a good person.”

“Because I think you’re not a bad person,” Zhong Mo said, as expected. “You always speak your mind. Now that I think about it, it’s better than those who play dirty tricks. You actually give me advice. But I still don’t know how to face failure. Is it because I’m not likable?”

“No, you’re good at pretending in front of others,” Jiang Yu replied. Hearing Zhong Mo sniffle on the other end, he had to comfort him. “You’re overthinking. It’s just prevention. They’re afraid of your popularity, which threatens them. It has nothing to do with who you are. When they realize they can’t stop you, they’ll start flattering you.”

“You should spend this time getting more screen time,” Jiang Yu said, then quickly hung up.

He started complaining to Yu Ruoyun, “Why do these people call me? We don’t even get along usually.”

Yu Ruoyun said, “Maybe it’s because you argued. They know you appear strong-hearted, but that’s it.”

In reality, he’s very soft-hearted.

“Today was the same. Zhu Xiao too…” Jiang Yu couldn’t understand, finding it strange.

“Who did you say?” Yu Ruoyun’s voice turned serious, losing its casual tone.

“Zhu Xiao, the one I almost fought with on set. She later got married and announced her retirement from the entertainment industry,” Jiang Yu said. “One night, she even called me, crying.”

He was chatting with Yu Ruoyun, but Yu Ruoyun sat up, pressing his lips tightly as if Jiang Yu had said something crucial, and asked about the call’s timing.

“A few days ago, at a dinner, I heard someone mention that Zhu Xiao went missing,” Yu Ruoyun said. “They also said it’s a deep matter.”

Yu Ruoyun seemed to understand why he was just trying to see if Jiang Yu had run a red light, despite finding no surveillance footage. He still had to ask Jiang Yu.

The water was deep, and Jiang Yu had been pulled into it.

---

The author has something to say:

Audience: How does he know if Yu Ruoyun is good at cooking?

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 35

Jiang Yu was watching the news.

Though it was called news, it was actually over a year old and had nothing to do with him, which puzzled Lu Zheming.

“Xingyu, you’ve been watching it for ages,” Lu Zheming said. “What are you looking for?”

Jiang Yu replied, “Watching how this idiot died.”

The tone sounded unfriendly, but it wasn’t his fault. Anyone who accidentally found out how they died wouldn’t want to revisit their stupid mistakes. It’s like if someone fell into a mud pit, they would hurry to clean up rather than repeatedly recall the embarrassing moment they fell. That was probably the mistake he made.

“Some witnesses said he ran a red light, but that’s just what the media reported,” Jiang Yu said while scrolling down. “The initial police report didn’t mention what exactly happened to Jiang Yu. Actually, it’s normal—the driver was fatigued and speeding. Regardless of what the pedestrian did, the driver is responsible.”

Lu Zheming was taken aback by his sudden outburst and paused before saying, “You don’t like him, do you?”

Jiang Yu didn’t know how to answer that. He could only say, “I didn’t like him before, but now it’s better.”

He couldn’t exactly say he liked Jiang Yu—that would be too strange.

“I used to think he was useless.” Jiang Yu couldn’t help but criticize himself.

“How could you think that?” Lu Zheming was even more surprised.

Jiang Yu said, “He acted in so many movies but never won an award, always the runner-up.”

“But he was only in his thirties, still young,” Lu Zheming said. “It’s normal not to have won Best Actor yet.”

“Yu Ruoyun won an international award at sixteen,” Jiang Yu retorted, using Yu Ruoyun as the example, of course.

“That’s extreme.” Lu Zheming laughed, thinking Long Xingyu was still young. “If not being as good as Yu Ruoyun means you’re useless, then most people might as well give up. Jiang Yu transitioned from TV to movies, starting a few years late, and still has many good works. He even won Best Supporting Actor—how can you say he has no awards? He’s just too impatient and competitive, so people focus on his reactions.”

Jiang Yu was stunned by Lu Zheming’s thorough analysis and asked, “Did you like him?”

“Yeah,” Lu Zheming admitted frankly. “I’ve watched his movies more than once. I even cried and posted on Weibo when he died in the car accident last year. Don’t you remember?”

Jiang Yu wouldn’t casually browse through Lu Zheming’s Weibo. If not for the accident, he wouldn’t have known this minor celebrity at all.

But from this minor celebrity’s words, he seemed to learn something new about himself.

“I told you, my perspective has changed.” Jiang Yu relaxed. “You’re right. Being in his thirties, he’s still young. Except for not surpassing Yu Ruoyun, he’s already far ahead of his peers. It’s his own dissatisfaction.”

No one told the relentlessly pursuing Jiang Yu that he was already impressive, but Yu Ruoyun was a combination of genius and luck. Not keeping up with him was normal. Jiang Yu once thought he could separate his emotions from his career, being both intimately involved with Yu Ruoyun and competing for resources. He wanted to push Yu Ruoyun aside to bask in the spotlight alone.

Upon rebirth, he realized his mistake—overestimating himself and pushing himself to emotional breakdown.

It seemed wrong. He wanted that spotlight because Yu Ruoyun was in it. In truth, he just wanted to walk side by side with Yu Ruoyun.

Of course, there were other values in his life. For example, being mentioned occasionally by others as a good actor. Whether for Yu Ruoyun or for vanity, Jiang Yu had truly lived once.

“I was just thinking…” Jiang Yu returned to his thoughts. “Did he really run the red light?”

“Is that important?” Lu Zheming didn’t understand.

This seemingly trivial question to others constantly circled Jiang Yu’s mind, all because of Yu Ruoyun.

Yu Ruoyun had asked him first.

“Didn’t the media say so?” he had told Yu Ruoyun, just as dawn broke, still sleepy, resting his head on Yu Ruoyun’s shoulder, sliding down slowly.

Yu Ruoyun held him up with one hand, not letting him fall. “Idiot.”

“What?” Even in his dreams, Jiang Yu heard the scolding.

“Believing everything the media says, accepting it all,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Always making yourself the villain. Idiot.”

But did he really? Jiang Yu’s head hurt from thinking. He even wanted to blame Yu Ruoyun for asking.

Enough. Jiang Yu stood up and walked out of the dressing room. The performance was about to begin.

He needed to walk towards the stage, towards a new life.

……

“It’s not me,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I don’t need a psychologist.”

Xu Ye decided to drop the topic, “Fine, fine. Who needs one then?”

“A friend,” Yu Ruoyun answered dismissively. “He might have some psychological issues. I don’t understand these things, so I wanted to consult a professional.”

“Who?” Xu Ye asked again. “What psychological issues?”

Yu Ruoyun pretended not to hear the first question. “He always feels everything is his fault.”

This was something Yu Ruoyun slowly realized.

Despite both lacking communication, Jiang Yu always thought it was his problem. Every conflict with the media, Jiang Yu had a bad temper, but the media also deliberately provoked him. Even unresolved issues made Jiang Yu believe it was his fault for running the red light after reading the news.

“I want to help him,” Yu Ruoyun said.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t notice the tenderness in his eyes, but Xu Ye did.

“What a Duan Zhengchun*,” Xu Ye thought. “Expressing deep feelings for an ex and then immediately wanting to heal a new love with such dedication. Why didn’t I let him take more roles as a scumbag in love dramas? Such a waste!”

*Referencing the fictional character in the wuxia novel Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils by Jin Yong. He’s known for his many romantic escapades and numerous affairs with various women.

It was understandable to find a new love, but in Xu Ye’s timeline, she had only known a few months ago that Yu Ruoyun and Jiang Yu had been together. Shortly after, the situation changed, and Long Xingyu quickly gained Yu Ruoyun’s favor.

Unaware of his scumbag behavior, Yu Ruoyun was studying the menu.

This restaurant was quite private, he thought. Xu Ye, who often hosted, had great experience. Next time, he could bring Jiang Yu here.

He asked the waiter for a business card and, seeing Xu Ye staring at him, explained, “I’ll bring Long Xingyu next time.”

“Oh,” Xu Ye replied without much reaction.

Scumbag. She raged internally.

---

The author has something to say:

Jiang Yu wouldn’t casually browse through Lu Zheming’s Weibo—but he would look through Yu Ruoyun’s. The details of the traffic accident might not be accurate or realistic; don’t take them seriously.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 34

[Eight Years Ago]

Yu Ruoyun saw Jiang Yu again.

It had been just over half a month since their last meeting, and Jiang Yu, like a chameleon, had changed his appearance once more. He seemed to have lost some weight; his waist was even thinner, Yu Ruoyun thought. It was said that Jiang Yu was preparing for his first leading role in a movie, and the director had required him to lose twenty pounds.

Jiang Yu didn’t notice Yu Ruoyun. He was holding a glass, chatting with people. Whatever topic they were discussing made the group burst into laughter, clinking their glasses. Jiang Yu drank quickly, finishing his drink in one go. The others, seeing this, got even more excited and encouraged him to drink more.

It wasn’t necessary to drink that much, Yu Ruoyun thought. But he and Jiang Yu weren’t close, so he had no standing to intervene. Today was a wedding banquet for a celebrity couple. Both the bride and groom liked grand events and invited all their friends, no matter how loosely connected. Yu Ruoyun had been the leading actor for the bride, and Jiang Yu seemed to have acted with the groom. In the entertainment circle, where there were so many people, yet a few connections could bring people together unexpectedly, like meeting Jiang Yu at such an occasion.

It was good to see him, as Yu Ruoyun had something to discuss with Jiang Yu.

However, if Jiang Yu continued drinking, he might not have a clear enough mind to talk.

“That’s enough,” a friend who knew Jiang Yu advised him. “Do you really have such a good tolerance for alcohol? I didn’t know that. Why are you drinking so much at someone else’s wedding?”

Jiang Yu’s voice already had a hint of drunkenness. “I’m in a good mood today. Is that not okay? I have my room card here. If I get drunk, won’t you help me upstairs?”

He actually handed his room card to the other person and continued drinking with different people, never once looking in Yu Ruoyun’s direction.

In the end, he really got drunk. The friend, being quite considerate, supported Jiang Yu by the shoulder, helping him to the elevator while talking on the phone. “I’ll be right there—just have a small issue to deal with…”

It seemed he had an appointment and was in a hurry, delayed by this unexpected trouble with Jiang Yu.

“I’ll take him upstairs,” Yu Ruoyun suddenly said from behind, startling the friend. He hadn’t noticed when Yu Ruoyun had come over.

Yu Ruoyun naturally took the room card, as if it was his duty. “Li Li, right? If you have something to do, go ahead. It’s fine. I know Jiang Yu.”

Li Li didn’t expect Yu Ruoyun to call him by name. Considering it was Yu Ruoyun, and there was no reason to worry about what he might do to Jiang Yu, especially since Yu Ruoyun said he knew Jiang Yu, what was there to be concerned about?

He said, “I’ll be off then. Thank you.”

The elevator went up, and Jiang Yu, waking from his drunken stupor, turned to look at Yu Ruoyun. “Li Li, why do you look like Yu Ruoyun? Change back.”

Yu Ruoyun said, “I can’t change back.”

“What should I do then?” Jiang Yu fretted. “I didn’t want to see Yu Ruoyun.”

“Why?” Yu Ruoyun asked gently, not pressing for an answer but more like a primary school teacher asking a question.

Jiang Yu frowned. “If I had known he was coming today, I wouldn’t have come. Why is he everywhere? I turn on the TV, and he’s there every day.”

“Did he offend you?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

Jiang Yu looked a bit guilty. “No, I offended him.”

Yu Ruoyun thought, ‘I didn’t know that.’

The elevator door opened, and Jiang Yu stepped out, trying to swipe his card to open the room door.

Yu Ruoyun took the card from him. “You can’t open it with an ID card.”

Kindly, Yu Ruoyun opened the door for Jiang Yu, but Jiang Yu, ungrateful, tried to shut him out. Luckily, Yu Ruoyun realized this, propping the door open with his elbow and walking in without asking for Jiang Yu’s permission.

“So how did you offend him?” Yu Ruoyun poured Jiang Yu a glass of warm water and asked after sitting down.

Jiang Yu didn’t reply.

Yu Ruoyun walked over, bent down, and looked closely at Jiang Yu. “Was it like this?”

Yu Ruoyun lowered his head and gave a light kiss, just like Jiang Yu had done that time.

Jiang Yu wanted to resist but was held down by Yu Ruoyun. Not much strength was used. Perhaps Jiang Yu felt guilty. Yu Ruoyun held his shoulder and neck, saying, “You kissed me first and then ran away. What’s going on?”

Jiang Yu covered his eyes with the back of his hand, not looking at Yu Ruoyun, and pleaded, “Can you forget it?”

“I don’t plan to for now,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You were the one who approached me, took my phone, and put your number in it, saying my new film wasn’t great, and asked why there were no dating rumors about me in the past two years.”

“I said, I’ve been serious every time, but somehow, those actresses soon told me it was better to stay as mutually beneficial acquaintances and not develop other relationships. Maybe I’m just too boring.” Yu Ruoyun helped Jiang Yu recall. “You said—”

“Then why not consider me?” Jiang Yu had said. When people got too close, their minds would get dizzy and say stupid things, leading them to take irrational actions toward the people who were close to them, then run away.

Jiang Yu remembered. In fact, he had never forgotten. Despite only meeting a few times, each time he urged the actor to engage in homosexuality. It was strange that Yu Ruoyun hadn’t hit him yet.

But why would Yu Ruoyun be interested in him? He was only starring in his first movie, while Yu Ruoyun stood high on Olympus, far ahead and out of reach.

“Do you like me?” Yu Ruoyun gently coaxed. “But you keep avoiding me.”

Normally, Jiang Yu wouldn’t admit it, but now he was drunk. A drunk person had the right to speak freely.

“There must be something wrong with you,” Jiang Yu asserted. “I admire other actors, but I don’t have other thoughts. But I want you to notice me.”

Was it love? Perhaps not, which was why he fled, not knowing how to face it. But why couldn’t he resist? If he truly wanted Yu Ruoyun to notice, shouldn’t he work hard, make better films, transition from a famous TV actor to a film actor, and win Best Actor? There was such a long road ahead. Why waste energy on his personal life?

Jiang Yu’s hair fell forward, and Yu Ruoyun’s fingers appeared, pushing it back.

“I’ve never tried,” Yu Ruoyun said. “But maybe with you.”

He said it so easily, his tone so light, that Jiang Yu couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

Why pay attention to him? Jiang Yu didn’t understand.

Yu Ruoyun asked, “How are you when you’re drunk?”

Jiang Yu tried to answer this irrelevant question. “Pretty good. I don’t cause trouble. After drinking, I go to sleep and forget everything.”

He yawned, actually feeling a bit sleepy.

So Yu Ruoyun watched Jiang Yu’s eyelids slowly close, saying, “Because when I first met you, I knew you couldn’t be a normal person.”

Ambitious, clever, with incredibly passionate eyes, looking at Yu Ruoyun with both jealousy and admiration. Yu Ruoyun had received plenty of praise and admiration, but Jiang Yu seemed different.

Perfectly normal Yu Ruoyun, whose career and relationships were exceptionally smooth, encountered the challenge of his life, unaware at that time.

“Are you asleep?” Yu Ruoyun asked, but the sleeping person didn’t answer. Yu Ruoyun had to talk to himself. “Then I should go.”

“Hope next time we meet, we can really start.” Yu Ruoyun said those final words, closing the door.

Jiang Yu slept dreamlessly, waking up just before checkout time.

“Li Li,” he called. “Where did I put my wallet and ID card?”

Li Li said, “I don’t know. Ask Yu Ruoyun. He brought you back.”

Jiang Yu’s vision went dark. “Why did he bring me back? Didn’t I give you my room card?”

Li Li was confused, not realizing any mistake. “He said he knew you. What’s wrong? Did he steal your wallet?”

No, Jiang Yu found them quickly. But running into Yu Ruoyun was worse than losing money or his ID.

“Sir, are you looking for something?” the cleaning lady couldn’t help but ask.

“Checking if your hotel has hidden cameras,” Jiang Yu replied without looking up.

“That’s impossible.”

‘That way, I could see what stupid things I said yesterday,’ Jiang Yu thought.

Yu Ruoyun woke from a dream.

Seeing the time, it was only five. Dawn was just breaking, dim light filtering through the window, casting a hazy glow on the face beside him. Yu Ruoyun just watched for a long time without changing his position.

When Jiang Yu opened his eyes, he saw Yu Ruoyun looking at him.

“What are you doing?” He reached for Yu Ruoyun. “It’s so early. Sleep a bit more.”

He had been very tired these days, with lots of things going on at school, with the boy band, and at the company, making him want to sleep.

As Jiang Yu grabbed Yu Ruoyun’s hand and was about to go back to sleep, Yu Ruoyun’s voice rang in his ear. “I have a question I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

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Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 33

When Jiang Yu came back, he heard Yu Ruoyun on the phone.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Yu Ruoyun was saying, “Nominate Bo Yan for Best Actor, and I’ll go for Best Supporting Actor…”

Jiang Yu’s forehead veins were about to pop out. Before Yu Ruoyun could finish his sentence, he cut in. “No!”

Yu Ruoyun looked up and noticed Jiang Yu had returned, standing at the doorway.

“I have something to take care of,” Yu Ruoyun said into the phone. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Yu Ruoyun walked over. Jiang Yu had already sat down, sinking into the sofa. Yu Ruoyun sat next to him. Jiang Yu turned his head to look at him, eyes wide open, glaring angrily.

“What are you thinking?” Yu Ruoyun asked him.

Jiang Yu couldn’t help but bite back. “I’m thinking if you love doing charity so much, why not just give me a few Best Actor awards?”

He was indignant for Yu Ruoyun but unwilling to express it directly.

Sure enough, Yu Ruoyun began to explain, “The Golden Key Awards nominations are starting. The director called to discuss it. My role has fewer scenes, so nominating for Best Supporting Actor is reasonable. This is Bo Yan’s first time as a movie lead. Winning would be beneficial for him. If I also compete, the competition would be fiercer. Besides—”

Yu Ruoyun paused, asking, “Do you want to keep listening?”

With the conversation at this point, Jiang Yu had to ask, “Besides?”

“I have no confidence.” Yu Ruoyun laughed. “You watched the movie. You said his role is heavier and more brilliant. If I lose to a co-actor from the same movie, it would be embarrassing. Competing for Best Supporting Actor is different. If he wins, it has nothing to do with me. We didn’t compete. People would say it’s because I went for Best Supporting Actor. Plus, I’ve never won that, so I need that trophy.”

“Still think it’s charity work now?” Yu Ruoyun asked Jiang Yu. “It’s pretty cunning.”

Jiang Yu thought it sounded like he was being placated. Clearly disadvantageous situations were painted with benefits, like a company on the brink of bankruptcy sweet-talking an investor with promises of a bright future. But it was him who wanted to hear it. Yu Ruoyun didn’t need to expose this to him.

“I’m scared to death,” Jiang Yu said. “Didn’t expect you to be this kind of person. I need to stay away from you.”

As he said this, he leaned in for a kiss.

Yu Ruoyun had a faint tobacco scent. Jiang Yu didn’t mind it. In fact, it seemed unique to Yu Ruoyun. He casually asked, “Did you start smoking?”

Yu Ruoyun said, “It’s from you.”

“Hm?” Jiang Yu, while unbuttoning Yu Ruoyun’s shirt, questioned.

“The pack of cigarettes you left, there was half a pack left,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I later bought that brand and sometimes smoked. It reminded me of you.”

So the anti-smoking ambassador, lacking professional ethics, had developed a bit of a smoking habit.

Jiang Yu didn’t reply. He kept his head down, struggling with the buttons on Yu Ruoyun’s shirt. It was harder than he thought. His fingernails hurt, crumpling Yu Ruoyun’s clothes.

Yu Ruoyun sensed something was wrong and held his wrist, asking, “What’s the matter?”

Jiang Yu finally gave up on the troublesome buttons and on resisting Yu Ruoyun. He stayed in the same position but leaned against Yu Ruoyun’s shoulder, feeling exhausted. He didn’t feel like crying. In fact, he felt quite calm. He should’ve known all along, shouldn’t he?

But large teardrops fell on his hand and Yu Ruoyun’s clothes.

“Stop smoking,” Jiang Yu said. “I don’t smoke anymore. You need to live a long life.”

Yu Ruoyun responded with an “Mm,” his voice still steady. Yu Ruoyun was always like this, sometimes almost sounding indifferent, as if all his emotions were poured into his acting. If not for their countless times together in bed, Jiang Yu might have doubted him.

It was hard to imagine that the half-pack of cigarettes Jiang Yu left on the windowsill would become the only remaining scent Yu Ruoyun could find of him. He had left so little with Yu Ruoyun—a lighter, cigarettes, sweat evaporated into the air, clothes ruined by washing, and an invisible, untouchable heart. Nothing else.

“I haven’t smoked in a long time,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Not since you came back.”

Then why start smoking again? Jiang Yu wondered. Maybe he had upset Yu Ruoyun again, but since Yu Ruoyun didn’t plan to say, Jiang Yu didn’t ask further. He thought he would change in the future, recklessly believing he had time to change slowly. But now, the important thing was to kiss.

Undressing Jiang Yu was much easier for Yu Ruoyun. Jiang Yu was very thin. His collarbones formed two hollows, as did his waist. Yu Ruoyun’s fingers slid over him, making Jiang Yu shiver with sensitivity, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Hurry up.” Jiang Yu couldn’t bear it, urging him.

In their kisses and passion, Jiang Yu saw Yu Ruoyun’s face.

It flashed through his mind like a carousel: the young Yu Ruoyun debuting on screen, the Yu Ruoyun he glimpsed backstage, the Yu Ruoyun in his twenties smiling while listening to him for the first time.

In Greek mythology, Icarus flew too close to the sun, melting his wax wings and falling into the sea. When Jiang Yu first read this story, he felt a strong resonance for some reason. At that time, he was at a bottleneck, thinking he was like the protagonist, drawn by the temptation of flying high but destined to fall.

Better than those biblical stories always preaching faith in God for eternal life and good rewards. He never believed in them.

But it turned out, for Yu Ruoyun, Jiang Yu was also an unavoidable fate. After falling into the sea, dying, then living again, he saw those eyes.

The imperfect Yu Ruoyun and the never-perfect Jiang Yu still didn’t quite fit together, mismatched everywhere.

Love’s complexity, contradictions, insecurity, and comparisons—he was always human, unable to overcome them. But with Yu Ruoyun here, he still wanted to chase the sun.

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 32

Going to school was just an excuse to avoid some activities, but he still had to show up for his group’s activities.

Jiang Yu was currently trying to get out of something via WeChat. “I have to go to school.”

The agent replied, “It’s only three subway stops away, which is practically nothing in Beijing. How can you not come?”

She added, “Xingyu, you only got 200 points on your mock exam, so stop pretending you love studying.”

Frustrated, Jiang Yu shut off his phone. Getting 200 points was already a great effort for him. After so many years and so many changes in the curriculum, remembering this much showed he was a genius.

This genius packed his bags, ready to go perform.

Unconsciously, his role in the group had changed. Originally doing more dancing, now he often used the excuse of a back injury, like a mistreated, disabled person, to show off his singing skills—not great, but good enough for a boy band. He thought, in his past life, his mother made him learn to sing, and it finally had some use. However, he had cut ties with her, never seeing her again.

Mainly, even if they met, he wouldn’t know what to say. Jiang Yu comforted himself with self-deception, thinking he couldn’t say, “Hello, Auntie, I’m your son’s boyfriend’s new lover. Do I look like your son who died young?” He feared being seen as provocative and then thrown out.

Unexpectedly, besides participating in activities, there were other tasks.

“Record a cheer-up video for Zhong Mo,” the agent holding the phone ready to shoot said.

Jiang Yu almost asked who Zhong Mo was but then remembered seeing the other party standing and smiling. That teammate, always concerned about his popularity, was about to participate in a new talent show, leaving for several months.

“I don’t have much to say,” Jiang Yu said helplessly, but surrendered when Zhong Mo’s expression changed. “Fine, I get it. I’ll say something polite.”

He cleared his throat, said a lot of courteous words, and, seeing Zhong Mo’s expression improve, he couldn’t resist teasing.

“Finally,” Jiang Yu said, “don’t be too afraid of not debuting. Life is about constant failure. Even if you have temporary success, more failures await. You just have to keep going and not stop.”

It sounded like a curse, yet it was spoken tenderly, leaving the agent and Zhong Mo unsure how to react.

The ride back to the company was unusually quiet. Jiang Yu sat by the window, next to Lu Zheming, looking at the commercial district outside. He said to Lu Zheming, “A whale was unearthed here.”

Lu Zheming didn’t catch it at first. “What? A goldfish*?”

*Clarity: Jiang Yu says whale [jingyu] (鲸鱼) but Lu Zheming thought he heard goldfish [jinyu] (金鱼).

“A whale,” Jiang Yu said. “You can’t distinguish between front and back nasal sounds. In Wangfujing, whale vertebra fossils were unearthed, indicating Beijing was once a sea.”

Zhong Mo snorted. “Just back to school for a few days and already pretending to be cultured.”

But the other teammates were intrigued. “A whale? In Wangfujing? Wow, that could crush a mall!”

“Yeah,” Jiang Yu agreed. “If it traveled to the present, there would be no sea—just air pollution. If it fell on a road, traffic would be worse.”

They were stuck in traffic now, but everyone was used to it. Traffic jams were normal in Beijing.

The weather was gloomy and oppressive, likely to rain soon. Dark clouds hung low, almost about to fall. Jiang Yu suddenly wished for rain, imagining himself as the whale. Thousands of years ago, the whale wouldn’t have expected this place to become dry, bustling land. He crossed a year, becoming someone else. Everything changed, but the whale didn’t die in the Beijing of a year later, because someone was waiting for him, and he could find a water source.

Back at the company, Jiang Yu pulled Lu Zheming aside and asked, “I wanted to ask, with him going, why aren’t you participating? Are there quota restrictions?”

In their group, only Long Xingyu, Zhong Mo, and Lu Zheming had some presence. It was really a pitiful, unknown group.

Lu Zheming understood, smiling. “Thanks to you for introducing me to the crew. I might have something to do later, no need to join the commotion. Regardless of overall ability, I can’t compete.”

Jiang Yu remembered that to the public, Lu Zheming was already a recycled idol. Participating again had no appeal, and at almost 26, though young to Jiang Yu, some might think he never had a chance from the start.

Jiang Yu didn’t press further, turning to see the excited Zhong Mo.

He found Zhong Mo both cute and annoying, the annoyance coming from Zhong Mo’s resemblance to Jiang Yu’s younger self.

“He hasn’t failed yet,” Jiang Yu said. “He was very happy the first time he surpassed me in popularity. Thinking I had a scandal, he was also happy, as if that made him better. Joining an uncertain talent show, happy again, because there’s hope for success.”

A little bit of progress made him very satisfied, and his attempts to trip people up were so obvious, displayed directly on Weibo. He pinned comments suggesting an ambiguous relationship between Long Xingyu and the Film Emperor to the top, even adding, “Don’t say that.” As Jiang Yu expected, although Long Xingyu faced some criticism, there was no evidence, and it negatively affected Zhong Mo instead. His backstabbing comments about his teammate weren’t well received.

Unexpectedly, Yu Ruoyun’s studio issued a rare statement, indirectly stating that they reserved the right to take legal action against online rumors. The Film Emperor had almost never taken such actions. His first rumor clarification was in response to open slander, which Jiang Yu found quite absurd.

But perhaps, it wasn’t the only exception Yu Ruoyun made for him.

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