Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 31

“Qi Yiren,” Jiang Yu interrupted her, deciding to salvage Yu Ruoyun’s increasingly precarious image in Qi Yiren’s mind. After all, he didn’t want to persuade Qi Yiren to convince Yu Ruoyun to seek treatment. “You’re really overthinking it. Yu Ruoyun is perfectly normal. He’s not ill. If anyone might get this kind of illness, it certainly wouldn’t be him. So many people love him. If anyone would be more likely to get it, it would be your former boss, Jiang Yu, who was always so paranoid. Having delusions would be completely normal for him.”

The truth wasn’t pleasant to hear, and sure enough, Qi Yiren got angry.

“Don’t put so much sugar in your coffee.” Jiang Yu saw Qi Yiren’s hand move and quickly took away the sugar dish. “You might as well drink syrup directly. Eating so much sugar, you’ll cry when you break out in pimples.”

Qi Yiren was stunned and looked at him.

Jiang Yu smiled. “This isn’t something Yu Ruoyun imagined. Once, you mixed up your cups, and Jiang Yu drank from yours, saying you were insulting coffee.”

Despite being told many times, Qi Yiren still couldn’t change. When she weighed herself, she would complain about gaining weight.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Jiang Yu asked. “For example, your boss caught a cold from you. You were bouncing back after a few days, but your boss had to get an IV drip, canceling several events.”

It seemed he didn’t need to say more. Qi Yiren had already listened. After mentioning a few more private matters known only to Jiang Yu and Qi Yiren, Jiang Yu concluded, “These things were all told to Yu Ruoyun by Jiang Yu. He tells Yu Ruoyun everything.”

‘If only this were true,’ Jiang Yu thought. If they really shared everything, telling each other everything, they would be an incredibly honest couple, advancing together in their careers…

Wake up, stop dreaming. It’s impossible even now.

“If they were really together, would he not trust me with that?” Qi Yiren believed it but asked another question, feeling hurt. “I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Jiang Yu was at a loss for words again, unsure how to comfort Qi Yiren. There were some things that couldn’t be said through Long Xingyu. For instance, at that time, Jiang Yu didn’t distrust her—he distrusted himself. He always felt that his relationship with Yu Ruoyun could collapse and disappear at any moment, and every moment was a lucky gain.

When he was still Jiang Yu, he once went to Thailand with a group of so-called friends. They dragged him to see a ladyboy show, watched elephants that were imprisoned and forced to perform, and even went to see a fortune-teller. His “friends” said the fortune-teller was very effective and could change his fate to win an award one day. Everyone laughed and agreed.

Initially, he wanted to refuse angrily, but suddenly thought of someone. He didn’t know what came over him, but he walked into the house, paid the fee, sat down, and looked at the mysterious fortune-teller shrouded in smoke, ready to ask a question.

“I have a friend,” Jiang Yu said. “I really want to get along with him, but it always seems difficult. We don’t even fight. It’s just me getting angry. I always feel like this relationship will eventually be reduced to nothing as I expend every little inch of it.”

This shouldn’t be asked to a fortune-teller. Asking someone like Ayawawa or Mi Meng* would be more appropriate. At least they might give a real answer for a fee.

*They’re famous columnists/talk show hosts, interviewers (ect.). 

So he decisively stopped and made a more mundane wish.

“I hope I can win an award,” Jiang Yu wished at the time. “I hope he, well, his life is pretty smooth. I hope he can get rid of me soon.”

Thinking back now, it all came true in a bizarre way. He received a very prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award, and Yu Ruoyun finally got rid of Jiang Yu, only to be entangled with someone named Long Xingyu a year later.

What kind of sinister fortune-teller was this? They should be arrested and punished.

“Are you really willing?” Qi Yiren’s voice pulled Jiang Yu out of his memories. “If they were really together, he might never forget Jiang Yu.”

Her suspicion arose because Yu Ruoyun had never given her any proof. To Yu Ruoyun, it was already an established fact and didn’t need to be shown. But now, with Long Xingyu recounting those trivial matters, she was genuinely confused.

“Being with you every day, he starts to recall things about Jiang Yu, repeating what Jiang Yu said to you. Then what is your significance to him?” Qi Yiren persuaded, leading to the expected point of encouraging the young star in front of her to leave her boss.

Of course, he would never forget Jiang Yu. Jiang Yu was always lingering in front of him.

But that couldn’t be said. Jiang Yu cleared his throat. “I believe he will forget one day, and then his eyes will only have me.”

It sounded very confident, completely ignoring Qi Yiren’s pitying gaze.

“Don’t use your misguided goodwill and imagination on this.” Jiang Yu told Qi Yiren before leaving. “With this effort, you should think more about what to name the children you will have with your forever boyfriend.”

His tone was familiar, and coupled with that somewhat similar face, Qi Yiren was a bit confused about who was speaking. She thought, ‘This Long Xingyu is really trying hard to imitate Jiang Yu.’

Could this person really replace Jiang Yu? Originally, the answer was no, but suddenly, Qi Yiren’s firm heart wavered a bit.

……

Jiang Yu picked a weekday matinee to watch a movie, selecting a show where he was the only one, enjoying a private screening. Watching the same movie, his feelings were vastly different from Yu Ruoyun’s. As soon as the end credits rolled, he took out his phone and called Yu Ruoyun.

“You must be crazy to take this role.” Jiang Yu was almost angry. “Besides being the first lead, this movie is completely shared between you and some unknown Bo Yan. Your screen time is split evenly, and you’re still the secondary storyline! What double male lead? You’re just making a wedding dress for others*!”

*Metaphor describing someone who is working hard for the benefit of others but won’t reap the rewards of their labor.

Yu Ruoyun said, “But the script is very good. I was initially supposed to play Bo Yan’s role, but I felt it lacked challenge and chose the other one. Actually, the original story was better. I’ll bring it back for you to see.”

Jiang Yu was even more displeased. “I can’t see if it was well shot. It’s because it was well shot that you’re at a disadvantage! When people discuss it, some might think you were worse than Bo Yan because your role required more restraint. Are you stupid…”

Criticized by Jiang Yu, Yu Ruoyun said, “Do you think it’s not worth it for me?”

“I…” That one sentence stopped Jiang Yu. “It’s really not worth it for you.”

“It doesn’t have to be evaluated like that.” Yu Ruoyun still spoke gently. “In the entertainment industry, me, you, and everyone else will eventually turn into bubbles. But something must be left behind. These are much more important than the evaluations you mentioned. Like you said, I did a pretty good job.”

With the words said like this, Jiang Yu could only sigh. “You did great.”

This was a fact he always acknowledged. Just like when Yu Ruoyun told him, it wasn’t about pretending to be a perfect person for him; it wasn’t like that. Yu Ruoyun had always been a good person.

Jiang Yu wasn’t in love with a good person, not at all. He just loved Yu Ruoyun.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 30

That day, they talked a lot, mostly about things Yu Ruoyun had never shared with Jiang Yu before.

For instance, he criticized Jiang Yu’s acting.

“Your acting method is mostly self-taught,” Yu Ruoyun said. “It’s clever, and sometimes it even shines with unexpected brilliance. You’ve watched a lot of movies and have your own understanding of the industry and a good taste in selecting roles. But the flaws are also obvious. Some directors feel it lacks depth, seeing it as clever tricks. Some rough edges are your strengths, but others are sharp points that need smoothing out. Formal education isn’t just about a diploma. Spending more time in school won’t hurt. Don’t rush. This is the time to hone your skills.”

Clearly, he knew that the previous Jiang Yu hadn’t attended many proper classes in school.

Yu Ruoyun not only said this but also practiced it himself. During the peak of his career, Yu Ruoyun took on theater, performing one show after another, even with a high fever. But he gained a lot from it. Well-known theater directors, both domestic and international, praised him highly, and the industry was full of positive reviews. Jiang Yu couldn’t do it. He had been invited before, but he declined without much thought. The long gaps and the unforgiving nature of theater, where a single mistake could ruin a performance, scared him. He was afraid of making mistakes and being laughed at, so he didn’t dare to gamble.

“Take it slow,” Yu Ruoyun said to Jiang Yu. “You’re much younger than me now. You’ll catch up to me eventually.”

It was like a person standing at a high place, calmly waiting without a sense of urgency for his opponent at the foot of the mountain to catch up and surpass him. These were words Yu Ruoyun would never have said to Jiang Yu before, and Jiang Yu knew what his reaction would have been back then.

“I don’t aim to catch up with you now. That’s too childish,” Jiang Yu finally said. “I’ve got new goals.”

“What are they?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

“To make love with you,” Jiang Yu said. “Kiss you, eat ice cream until my teeth hurt. The rest will come naturally. I don’t need to surpass you to live.”

And to call Yu Ruoyun by a different name.

“A’Yun*,” Jiang Yu called him. “I heard your dad call you that. He said, ‘A’Yun, why aren’t you coming?’ So, you can be like this too.”

*Adding a (阿) in front of a name can signify familiarity or affection. It’s commonly used as a term of endearment.

The gentle, rational Yu Ruoyun and the hidden, slightly sharp Yu Ruoyun—he had only just seen them. He kept calling this name until Yu Ruoyun had to stop his chatter with a kiss.

And so they fulfilled their wishes one by one. At the climax, Yu Ruoyun whispered in Jiang Yu’s ear, “Do you still want to be a Film Emperor?”

He asked while still moving, the wave of desire crashing over, leaving Jiang Yu unable to respond, barely able to breathe.

After a while, the room quieted down, filled with the scent of their intimacy. Lying on the bed, Jiang Yu stared at the glaring ceiling light and finally said, “Of course I do.”

No matter how many times he started over, he would still be Jiang Yu. Whatever he pursued, a person could only be themselves, and Yu Ruoyun understood this better than he did, piercing through his façade of disinterest in fame and fortune. He was filled with countless desires—about fame, recognition, and an unfinished list of wishes.

Feeling stifled, Jiang Yu turned over, burying his face in the pillow, hiding his expression. With his voice muffled, he said, “You’re really annoying. Did you have to say it out loud? Talking about acting awards in bed. Aren’t you afraid that I’d go soft?”

“Then I won’t say it again,” Yu Ruoyun said gently.

“Once said, you can’t take it back,” Jiang Yu grumbled. “Now you have to be responsible.”

He didn’t know how Yu Ruoyun could be responsible. It wasn’t like he could go out and buy him an award, like a late-night snack. But somehow, Yu Ruoyun was at fault.

“You can be more honest with me,” Yu Ruoyun said.

It was indeed difficult for Jiang Yu to be completely open with him, but he could try a bit more.

“Because sometimes…” Yu Ruoyun said, “I really don’t know how to coax you.”

Such sentimental words seemed better suited for a spoiled girlfriend. Jiang Yu felt this topic was too embarrassing to continue and raised his voice slightly. “You’re ridiculous. Coax?”

He quickly declared he was tired and about to sleep, urging Yu Ruoyun not to disturb him. Yu Ruoyun had work the next day, which wasn’t easy either. Seeing the late hour, he decided not to continue the conversation. Ironically, it was Jiang Yu who couldn’t fall asleep.

He sat up halfway, looking at Yu Ruoyun’s face. His mind was blank as he just stared at him.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Jiang Yu said. “Just being here is enough.”

……

Surprisingly, “Dark Fire” performed much better at the box office than expected. In the days following its release, ticket sales continued to rise.

Yu Ruoyun finally watched the film. Despite unavoidable plot gaps, the overall effect wasn’t bad. Some even thought it had the potential to win awards, joking that Yu Ruoyun’s trophy collection might grow again.

When Qi Yiren relayed this to him, Yu Ruoyun said, “That’s unnecessary. The cabinet might be too small to hold it.”

He added, “I almost thought about throwing them away.”

Qi Yiren was shocked. “Why would you think that?”

“It just felt meaningless suddenly,” Yu Ruoyun said, not clarifying and leaving Qi Yiren more puzzled. “That period, I wasn’t in a good mood. Even when I wanted to take on roles, I couldn’t find my rhythm, so I took a long break last year. Then I realized, to live, you have to truly live well.”

He had indeed come to this realization. He wasn’t the protagonist of a romantic film; life held other possibilities. Those trophies still held value, even after Jiang Yu’s death. They were earned through time, effort, prolonged self-doubt, and struggle. Jiang Yu’s few years and one accident couldn’t destroy them all. He shouldn’t let his life fall apart. He should at least live with dignity.

“But even with movie offers, they were in the planning stages and would take a long time,” Yu Ruoyun recalled. “Only that web series could start filming quickly.”

He clung to it like a lifeline, even investing his own money. People thought he was crazy to take on such a project. Even though his movies in recent years had mixed reviews and box office performances, they were average at worst, but weren’t flops. Why step down so far? He hadn’t explained to anyone. What was there to say? Jiang Yu was gone, and no one knew who he thought of when he woke up at night, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Qi Yiren could tell that every word from Yu Ruoyun, though not mentioning Jiang Yu, was about Jiang Yu.

She thought she had to do something, for Yu Ruoyun and for Jiang Yu.

So she arranged to meet with Long Xingyu.

Long Xingyu—or rather, Jiang Yu—was handling transfer procedures. His academic record was from his home province, so he could only apply for a random high school in Beijing. He was struggling with the idea of taking the college entrance exam again after so many years when Qi Yiren’s call interrupted, bringing an unexpected touch of humor.

“Go ahead.” Jiang Yu decided to play the rogue. “Why did you call me? If you’re here to persuade me to leave your boss, it’s gonna cost you. Normally, at least fifty million. For you, I’ll give a 20% discount—forty million in cash.”

“Sir, please don’t put your feet on the table,” the waiter serving coffee couldn’t help but remind him.

“Oh.” Jiang Yu reluctantly put his feet down and wiped the table.

Qi Yiren watched him without speaking, making Jiang Yu impatient. “What are you hesitating about?”

“What do you think of Mr. Yu?” Qi Yiren asked.

The question seemed out of nowhere. Long Xingyu chose a conservative answer. “He’s an award-winning actor, a big star, and he’s good to me.”

Qi Yiren sighed, clearly disappointed. Jiang Yu thought he was about to be called shallow and superficial. Whatever, he thought, and took another sip of coffee. The beans were quite good.

“You know too little about him,” Qi Yiren said. “I called you because I suspect Mr. Yu is sick.”

Jiang Yu put his coffee down, thinking it was good he hadn’t swallowed, or it would’ve been embarrassing.

“What illness?” Jiang Yu forced himself to continue the conversation.

“Erotomania,” Qi Yiren said.

“What’s that?” Jiang Yu frowned. He knew Qi Yiren would misunderstand, but this was completely unexpected.

“It means he fantasizes that he and Jiang Yu were lovers,” Qi Yiren explained. “Lately, he’s been acting like he’s fully immersed in the role. He even told me about Jiang Yu yesterday. And now he’s found a fake substitute like you.”

“Qi Yiren,” Jiang Yu gritted his teeth, “watch your words. I’m not a fake substitute. Also, didn’t you talk to him about Jiang Yu before? Now you’re saying it’s his delusion?”

“I realized something was wrong after asking,” Qi Yiren said earnestly. “If Jiang Yu was really his lover, why did he laugh when he heard it? Losing a lover and finding a similar person as a substitute—isn’t that sad? But he laughed so happily.”

‘That’s because you’re hilarious,’ Jiang Yu thought. ‘Here I am, wrongly accused as a fake substitute.’ Of course, he laughed.

“Besides, I used to be Jiang Yu’s assistant,” Qi Yiren added. “Jiang Yu cursed him every day. How could they be…”

“Stop talking,” Jiang Yu said, holding his head.‘This plot is worse than being a substitute,’ Jiang Yu thought. ‘Now Yu Ruoyun is labeled as a lunatic, and he’s really losing out.’

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 29

Jiang Yu endured the most agonizing few hours of his life.

It turns out that living like a gigolo wasn’t as easy as it seems, he thought, having been reduced to a small-time actor kept by Yu Ruoyun, who unabashedly admitted to his face that he was just using him as a substitute.

It made Yu Ruoyun sound like a real scumbag.

But Yu Qiwen refused to stay, saying that his current batch of students was graduating, and he had to rush back for their graduation ceremony. He mentioned that he came by just to check on Yu Ruoyun and that his plane ticket was already booked. Yu Ruoyun suddenly became enthusiastic. “Let me give you a ride.”

He changed his clothes, grabbed his car keys, and went downstairs with Yu Qiwen. As expected, Yu Qiwen’s temper was still short. Standing by the elevator, he saw that Yu Ruoyun hadn’t caught up and started urging him again, saying he’d hold Yu Ruoyun accountable if he missed his flight.

But Yu Ruoyun wasn’t in a hurry at all. Once dressed, he walked over to Jiang Yu, looking down at him. “You went out while I was still sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Yu said. “I went to the company. We had a teacher come over this morning.”

“Are you free now?” Yu Ruoyun asked again.

“Yes, I’m free now.”

“Then don’t wander around.” Yu Ruoyun pressed his forehead against Jiang Yu’s.

“I’ll take a taxi myself.” Yu Qiwen called out from the door.

Yu Ruoyun straightened up and walked out.

“Last night, I went to see your new movie,” Yu Qiwen said suddenly as they got into the car. “It was pretty good.”

Yu Ruoyun paused, then realized he was referring to the movie “Dark Fire” that premiered yesterday. After several delays, it was finally released. It was filmed a few years ago, so it wasn’t really new. Yu Ruoyun had been busy filming and hadn’t seen the final cut.

According to the original schedule, he was supposed to fly back today and start promoting the movie in various cities’ theaters tomorrow.

“But the box office might not do well,” Yu Ruoyun said. The biggest selling point of the movie was him, but hearing his father’s comment, maybe it would have good word of mouth.

Yu Qiwen, sitting in the back seat, watched Yu Ruoyun for a while before sighing. “You always have your own ideas, and no amount of advice or scolding can change that. But I hope you live a more comfortable life.”

“I know,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I’ll be fine.”

At the terminal, Yu Qiwen got out of the car, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t leave immediately. He rolled down the window. “Great professor, with your credentials in the Hundred Talents Plan and being a Changjiang Scholar^*, as a law professor, you must know some police officers, right?”

^*A prestigious fellowship program established by the Ministry of Education in China to elevate the academic status of Chinese universities and revitalize higher education in China. It aims to attract and support outstanding scholars who have made significant contributions to their respective fields.

Yu Qiwen had already taken a few steps away. Hearing Yu Ruoyun’s question, he stopped. After considering his words, he stared at Yu Ruoyun, trying to understand his thoughts.

“It’s the Thousand Talents Plan*. How did I end up with such an illiterate son?” Yu Qiwen muttered.

*Technically, it was called the Hundred Talents Plan, but they have given over a thousand awards so far, so it has become the Thousand Talents Plan. It’s a program by the central government of China to recruit experts in science and technology from abroad, principally but not exclusively from overseas Chinese communities.

……

Jiang Yu didn’t have to wait long for Yu Ruoyun to return. Yu Ruoyun asked him, “What did you do today?”

Jiang Yu answered honestly. “I asked the teacher if my dance practice method was wrong because my waist seems to hurt more.”

Remembering last night, he scrambled to explain, “It started hurting a few days ago.”

Yu Ruoyun’s hand slid to Jiang Yu’s lower back. “Here?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Yu said. “Actually, it’s pretty good. I have fewer problems than before.”

“If you keep pushing yourself, it might not stay that way,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Or there could be another way.”

Jiang Yu looked at him in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

“Go back to school.” Yu Ruoyun’s unexpected answer came. “With the excuse of studying, the company can’t say anything, and you can avoid many unnecessary activities.”

“What?” Jiang Yu frowned. “Are you kidding?”

“Do you still want to act?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

Of course, he did.

“I checked, and Long Xingyu’s student status is still preserved,” Yu Ruoyun continued. “His family handled it. He wasn’t expelled, so he still has a chance to go back and study. And his parents care about him, even though he left home to pursue his dream and hasn’t contacted them since.”

Jiang Yu was momentarily speechless.

He hadn’t received any calls from Long Xingyu’s parents and hadn’t tried to contact them. He didn’t know how to pretend. From Long Xingyu’s diary, it seemed he had cut ties with his parents. Only Yu Ruoyun remembered this matter.

“And,” Yu Ruoyun said, amused by Jiang Yu’s stunned expression, reaching out to pinch his face, “Long Xingyu has gained some fame, but there’s been no exposure of his family, indicating that they don’t want to tarnish his reputation. But continuing like this won’t work.”

Jiang Yu understood.

The entertainment industry was a massive sample pool, with everyone observing through a magnifying glass. To survive, one had to expose everything, even if it was fake. A mysterious route might work, but he wasn’t like that. He couldn’t keep avoiding it. If he became famous and his past was dug up, it would be even more embarrassing.

“I’ll give it a try,” Jiang Yu finally said.

Ironically, he had done this before, with years of experience. He wondered if it would work now.

“How did you do it before?” Yu Ruoyun clearly remembered.

“Just play the victim,” Jiang Yu said. “At first, she seemed unreasonable, only thinking about herself. One day in the rental, I watched an interview with a director who said that those who never forgive their parents haven’t grown up. Maturity comes when you realize ‘she’s also pitiful.’ Once you understand, you no longer need to be tough in front of her. Once you have a dream, you understand why she became like that for not realizing hers.”

Jiang Yu’s mother eventually divorced his father and raised him alone, spending every weekend running around, afraid of losing control over Jiang Yu. So Jiang Yu chose to go back, to comfort her fears, and then slipped away like sand through her fingers.

“She’s doing well now,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Sometimes she messages me. She joined a senior choir recently and told me she dreamt of Jiang Yu the other day.”

“Have you dreamt of me?” Jiang Yu asked.

“No,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Not even once.”

‘It’s better not to dream,’ Yu Ruoyun thought. He didn’t want to see Jiang Yu in dreams because waking up would mean facing the emptiness and the reality of Jiang Yu’s death again.

Jiang Yu didn’t say anything more or ask Yu Ruoyun again. When he said he would try, he meant it. He walked to the side to make the call, speaking in a low voice.

“How did it go?” Yu Ruoyun asked when Jiang Yu returned after hanging up.

Jiang Yu seemed bewildered. “I don’t know… It started with yelling, then she was crying. I didn’t dare say much, feeling like a thief.”

“Well, you kind of are,” Yu Ruoyun said.

“……” Jiang Yu realized something was different. “I never noticed you were so…”

So annoying. He realized this when Yu Ruoyun spoke to his father earlier.

“I told you, I’m not a good person. My father always worried I’d go astray,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Especially before I was an adult. When I shot my first film, I forged the notification, telling him I was going for a training camp for a competition. He gave me money for living expenses, thinking it was for the competition. I did participate in the competition and won. The crew needed parental consent, and I found someone to forge the signature. It was almost foolproof. But unexpectedly, I won an award.”

“He wondered what I’d do for fame if I entered the entertainment industry when I’d already lied to him just to act in a film. He told me to have my fun and then return to school, to forget about it. I called Director Wu, saying I couldn’t see him again. He got anxious and came to my house daily, pleading with my father.”

“I’m very selfish. Whether I steal or rob, it’s you who’s bearing the responsibility and managing all relationships,” Yu Ruoyun said. “That’s your concern. The only thing I have to do is to make sure that you’ll never leave again. If you dare, I might really break the law to dig you out of hell.”

He was serious.

---

The author has something to say:

More facets of Yu’s character will unfold, but don’t worry. He’s genuinely a good person.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 28

Yu Ruoyun woke up to the sound of his phone ringing and someone knocking on the door. He sat up and looked around, searching for Jiang Yu, but he seemed to be gone.

First, he answered the phone. It was his father. “You finally picked up. Open the door.”

“Why are you here?” Yu Ruoyun asked as he stood at the door. It was midday, and he was still in his pajamas, while his father stood outside, looking like he had been waiting for a while.

Yu Qiwen wasn’t pleased. “I came for a conference. I finished the meetings, and you’re still sleeping.”

Yu Ruoyun stepped aside to let him in. “Have you had lunch?”

“I have,” Yu Qiwen said. “You can starve. Sit down. Your father has something important to discuss with you!”

Yu Ruoyun had a bad feeling and refused to sit down. “I don’t need it.”

Yu Qiwen glared at him. “You’re refusing before I’ve even told you? Look first before you say no!”

“I don’t want to look.” Yu Ruoyun took a step back. “I’m going to change my clothes.”

Yu Qiwen lost the last bit of his patience. “I say, enough is enough. Do you plan to stay single forever?”

He had come prepared, even bringing photos.

“These people all have proper jobs in Beijing,” Yu Qiwen said. “They don’t sleep around. Look, since you’re just lounging at home anyway, you might as well meet them.”

Yu Ruoyun found it impossible to communicate. “If they did sleep around, they wouldn’t tell you. And also…”

Yu Ruoyun picked up the photos. “Why do all these people look like they could punch me to death?”

“Isn’t that good?” Yu Qiwen said. “Blame your mother for giving you such a sissy name. When you were little and I took you to kindergarten, the teachers would ask, ‘Where’s your daughter?’ I should never have agreed to that name. Now, look, you’ve turned out gay.”

“Names and sexual orientation have no causal relationship,” Yu Ruoyun said.

“Just look at them first,” Yu Qiwen insisted, pointing at the photos. “This one, I heard, is six feet three inches tall…”

Discussing sex with parents was awkward, especially when it involved sexual positions. Yu Ruoyun felt uncomfortable. “It’s not what you think.”

“What?” Yu Qiwen paused. “You don’t like men anymore? Are you just trying to make trouble?”

“I’m not the one being topped,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Do you understand?”

Honestly, the men in the photos didn’t necessarily have to be tops. Most likely, they were muscular bottoms. But Yu Ruoyun didn’t plan to explain this to his father.

Yu Qiwen was incredulous. “Are you lying to avoid a blind date?”

“In the entertainment industry, tops are more popular,” Yu Ruoyun said impatiently, deciding to scare his father. “Most of those in power who take advantage of weaker people often prefer to be fucked. Your son is a rarity, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Yu Qiwen asked. “Have you done that to other people been exploited?”

Either way, he looked like he wanted to kill Yu Ruoyun so as to rid the world of harm.

Neither, Yu Ruoyun was about to say when the doorbell rang again. Yu Qiwen turned to see Jiang Yu standing at the entrance, holding a key.

“So, you have been taking advantage of others,” Yu Qiwen muttered. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you enter the entertainment industry. Now you’ve learned all this, probably even soliciting prostitutes and doing drugs, indulging in orgies every day…”

Jiang Yu walked over, and Yu Ruoyun had to introduce them. “This is my father.”

He then told Yu Qiwen, “This is Long Xingyu, my current boyfriend.”

Yu Qiwen didn’t respond. When he sat down earlier, something had poked his waist. He stood up and pulled out a shirt. The good news was, it wasn’t underwear. The bad news was, the shirt was torn.

Only Yu Ruoyun remained unfazed. “Don’t rummage through my stuff.”

“Rummage?” Yu Qiwen snapped. “You should clean up after yourself!”

“If you called before coming, I would’ve cleaned up,” Yu Ruoyun said. “But you never do.”

While the father and son argued, Jiang Yu stayed out of it. He stepped aside to pour some water. “Uncle, would you like some tea?”

Yu Ruoyun remarked, “That tea is very expensive.”

Jiang Yu could tell Yu Ruoyun was joking and didn’t argue. He placed the tea in front of Yu Qiwen.

“Why scold him?” Yu Qiwen said. “Can’t I have a sip of your tea? Should I file an application in advance?”

Jiang Yu had never expected to meet Yu Ruoyun’s father, let alone in such a scenario. His limited imagination couldn’t have foreseen this interaction, seeing how Yu Ruoyun spoke to his father.

“Then serve him tea,” Yu Ruoyun said, looking at Jiang Yu mischievously. “Did you know he’s here to introduce me to potential partners? These people are quite impressive, much taller than you. The first one is six feet three inches tall.”

Jiang Yu looked down and saw the photos scattered on the table.

Yu Qiwen scrutinized Jiang Yu, starting to believe Yu Ruoyun’s words. Maybe Yu Ruoyun really was the top. He hadn’t seen Yu Ruoyun’s previous partner, Jiang Yu, and didn’t know what he looked like. But the current one seemed frail, pale, and young…

“You could be his father,” Yu Qiwen couldn’t help but pull Yu Ruoyun aside. Jiang Yu pretended not to hear and sat quietly.

Yu Ruoyun hadn’t considered their age difference before, but upon calculating, it was true. As he had once hypothesized, if he had fallen in love in middle school, he could be Long Xingyu’s father.

“Yes,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Much older.”

He appeared calm, prompting Yu Qiwen to ask, “What about Jiang Yu?”

The reason he had come over was the lingering thought from Yu Ruoyun’s phone call, mentioning Jiang Yu had passed away. He intended to counsel Yu Ruoyun to move on but found that Yu Ruoyun had moved on unusually quickly.

So he couldn’t help but ask, “You wouldn’t get another dog when your previous one died. Why did you find a new partner so quickly?”

Yu Qiwen sensed something was off. He knew his son, and this wasn’t typical behavior.

It was hard to explain.

So Yu Ruoyun said, “Look at him from this angle.”

Yu Qiwen turned to look and heard Yu Ruoyun say, “From this angle, he looks just like Jiang Yu.”

“Can you lower your voice?” Yu Qiwen hissed at Yu Ruoyun.

‘I agree,’ Jiang Yu thought, barely holding back from spitting out his tea at Yu Ruoyun’s comment.

“Jiang Yu is dead, so I found someone who looks like him as a stand-in. That’s not illegal, is it?” Yu Ruoyun said. “Better than doing something against the law.”

“Do you have to choose between those two options?” Yu Qiwen was exasperated.

“You wouldn’t like the other options either,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Think of it positively. It benefits me a lot.”

“What benefit?”

Yu Ruoyun’s eyes were unclear, but his tone was light. “Given our age difference, I can die before him this time.”

---

Kinky Thoughts:

LMAO. Past Jiang Yu might not have been so uptight if you were this casual Yu Ruoyun.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 27

It was already very late, and the moon had risen, its light shining through the window onto Jiang Yu’s face.

Love could solve many problems, and sex could cover some others. Jiang Yu felt an overwhelming fatigue.They had one round at first. He was already tired from drinking, but Yu Ruoyun was different from before. Today, he wasn’t as considerate and was even somewhat forceful. He held Jiang Yu’s ankle, spreading his legs for another round. This time, he didn’t use protection and didn’t pull out before finishing. Like a small animal sensing danger, Jiang Yu instinctively struggled but was pinned down by Yu Ruoyun, unable to move. He quickly gave up resisting. Yu Ruoyun kissed him, from his ears to his eyes, and the tears Jiang Yu had been trying so hard to hold back finally fell due to the physical reaction. Yu Ruoyun said, “I fucked you to tears.”

In his previous life, Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t have done this. Of course, it felt good then too, but Yu Ruoyun was much gentler, never using dirty talk or leaving bruises on his waist and wrists, and he’d never felt this sensation of fluids leaking out of his aching hole. Surprisingly, this new experience felt good.

Jiang Yu sat up and realized Yu Ruoyun wasn’t asleep, just lying on his side with his back to him, holding something in his hand, seemingly a small bottle.

It looked familiar. Jiang Yu moved closer to read the label and then widened his eyes, reaching out to grab it.

Yu Ruoyun sensed the movement behind him, withdrew his arm, and turned to look at him. “Why are you snatching it from me?”

“What is that?” Jiang Yu gritted his teeth. “Why do you have this?!”

“Don’t worry.” Yu Ruoyun guessed what Jiang Yu was thinking and looked at him calmly. “I didn’t take any medicine. This isn’t my bottle. It’s yours.”

Jiang Yu stared at Yu Ruoyun helplessly. His last secret was now in Yu Ruoyun’s grasp, and he had thought it would never be discovered.

He felt utterly ashamed.

“What are you thinking?” Yu Ruoyun leaned against the wall, casually spinning the bottle. “Wondering how I found out? It’s simple. Qi Yiren told me.”

“That’s impossible. Qi Yiren would never…”

“You think she doesn’t know?” Yu Ruoyun said. “Yes, you hid it well, told no one, and even tore up the diagnosis. Who knows what underground route you used to get these prescription drugs? Playing doctor and self-medicating, leading to increasing irritability, sleepless nights, a worsening appetite, and weight loss until you were just skin and bones. I should have noticed earlier.”

Qi Yiren hadn’t intended to tell Yu Ruoyun. She wouldn’t gossip about her former boss to her current one. But Yu Ruoyun started acting strangely, getting involved with a much younger rookie and openly supporting him. This was Yu Ruoyun’s private life, and she had no right to interfere.

Until a few days ago.

While filming the final scene, Yu Ruoyun’s phone was still with Qi Yiren. She held it without putting it in her bag when a message popped up on the lock screen. Even without trying to read it, it caught her eye. It was from Jiang Yu.

[Jiang Yu: Are you coming back the day after tomorrow? Send me the flight number.]

[Jiang Yu: But I might not have time to come. Our group has another event, and we’re filming a new episode of the travel diary show.]

[Jiang Yu: Just send it to me first.]

Qi Yiren held the phone, read the messages, and looked up at Yu Ruoyun filming not far away.

It couldn’t be Jiang Yu. Besides the fact that Jiang Yu was dead, even when he was alive, he wasn’t in any group or participated in any travel variety show. The person fitting these characteristics was another young artist who looked somewhat like Jiang Yu, had just left the set, followed Yu Ruoyun around, and even entered his room.

From Qi Yiren’s perspective, this led to a sudden realization.

“So she came to confront me,” Yu Ruoyun said to Jiang Yu with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

“What?” Jiang Yu was increasingly confused.

“She said she found these bottles in Jiang Yu’s drawer after he died, and the company dissolved. She regretted it, thinking back to how she resented him for being so difficult in his last days, not realizing it was a cry for help.”

“What does that have to do with her…” Jiang Yu couldn’t help but say.

“Then she told me that even if I wanted to find a new lover, I shouldn’t use someone as a substitute, especially since I had changed Long Xingyu’s contact name to Jiang Yu. It was disrespectful to everyone. I didn’t know how to respond, didn’t want to respond, so I immediately changed my flight and came back to find you, missing the wrap party.” Yu Ruoyun continued to look at Jiang Yu. “That’s why I’m here.”

Is that so? Unable to wait a moment longer, he rushed back, hearing the beeping from the phone, seeing him still standing carelessly by the roadside, and pulled him back out of paranoia. For Jiang Yu, death was just an end, waking up to find himself dead. For Yu Ruoyun, it was a long, agonizing process.

Jiang Yu didn’t know what Yu Ruoyun was feeling when he returned. But just hours ago, Yu Ruoyun had said so much, almost baring his heart, yet Jiang Yu still hadn’t told him about this.

Confess, tell him. Jiang Yu’s heart urged. Telling Yu Ruoyun won’t kill you, and you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him many times already.

“Yes, manic disorder. How funny. It sounds like an insult, and others have really used it to insult me,” Jiang Yu said. “Every day I wake up, I tell myself in the mirror that I’m not sick and that I’m perfectly healthy. I’m a top star now. I have to act and win awards; no one has the right to pity me.”

He looked at Yu Ruoyun’s upper body, his perfect physique marred by a scar on his shoulder. During a loss of control, Jiang Yu had bitten him, not playfully but hard enough to draw blood and almost tear off a chunk of flesh. He hadn’t even apologized, hiding in the bathroom afterward. Yu Ruoyun didn’t go to the hospital, bandaging himself instead. Jiang Yu wanted to ask about the wound, if it was infected, but the words were always stuck in his throat.

Jiang Yu couldn’t help but reach out, pressing his hand over the wound he had caused. “I always mess up,” he said dejectedly.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Yu Ruoyun said. He didn’t look at Jiang Yu’s but lowered his gaze to look at his pale hand. “I know you think I’m blaming myself, thinking it’s my fault for not noticing your illness. Of course, you’d think that. That’s how you see me. I also regret not letting you see another side of me.”

“Jiang Yu, who the hell gave you permission to die?” Yu Ruoyun looked up at Jiang Yu, who couldn’t help but meet his eyes.

No longer the gentle, almost cold gaze—he could even see… hatred.

Others might mourn and wonder why Jiang Yu died. Yu Ruoyun hated him for dying without permission.

The perfect, flawless statue had cracked since the day Jiang Yu died, and now it shattered completely, leaving fragments everywhere.

“I know your story,” Yu Ruoyun said, piecing together Jiang Yu’s life from his mother, his colleagues, and Jiang Yu himself. “When you saw me, you wanted to be me, chasing the light step by step. Because of me, you left home, started on this path, and became Jiang Yu in others’ eyes. Now let me tell you another story. Because of you, I became the Yu Ruoyun I am today.”

Jiang Yu blinked, not quite understanding what Yu Ruoyun was saying. He stayed still, feeling the blood rush to his head.

Yu Ruoyun leaned closer, biting his lip and murmuring, “You always forget to breathe while kissing. You never learn.”

Now didn’t seem like the right time to apologize, so Jiang Yu obediently kissed him.

“I should be out soliciting prostitutes,” Yu Ruoyun smiled after having a small taste of sweetness. “Or doing drugs. Making dirty jokes at dinner parties about young college girls. Do you think I’m talking nonsense? Thinking that it’d never happen?”

“Of course it’d never happen,” Jiang Yu said. Yu Ruoyun was never that kind of person.

“It’s impossible because you’re always watching me,” Yu Ruoyun said. “There are no perfect people in this world. Some want to step on me to rise, some use my name to attract investment. Some idiots cut my scenes to give others more screen time. I get angry too, wanting to retaliate. I could act like a diva, demand special treatment, fall into decadence after success. But Jiang Yu wouldn’t like that Yu Ruoyun. He was drawn to the light. He shouldn’t see the darkness.”

“I’ve been a good person for so long, and then you died. Who the hell gave you permission to die?”

This unreasonable accusation, hard to believe from Yu Ruoyun, was almost irrational. But Jiang Yu understood.

He always thought about starting over, abandoning the shattered past. Even he couldn’t stand himself. Looking back, he wondered how Yu Ruoyun endured it. He was utterly wrong. There was no starting over. Yu Ruoyun had always loved him.

What he thought was an unattainable cloud was left there for him to see. And when he turned away, the cloud fell.

Jiang Yu swallowed, feeling parched, his chaotic thoughts unable to form words.

“Yu Ruoyun,” Jiang Yu said, “I love you very much, in a way I can never express correctly. I used to think you stayed with me out of pity because I made a mess of my life.”

Yu Ruoyun looked at him, not entirely agreeing but not interrupting.

“Knowing that you love me is the sole reason my return here was worthwhile.”

And now, he should hold his breath and kiss Yu Ruoyun again.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 26

“I’m not…” Jiang Yu tried to say.

Yu Ruoyun usually smiled, but now his smile carried a hint of irony.

“Alright, not,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You know, when I first met you, this ‘you’, I told the director to keep that Long Xingyu away from me. It wasn’t because I didn’t like you, but because, even though I hadn’t fully remembered yet, I could sense the danger in you. An inexplicable familiarity, being drawn to a capricious stranger—I wanted to stay away from you. But you insisted on sticking around, forcing me to quickly find a new love.”

“I looked at Jiang Yu’s schedule from these past years, every single day. His former assistant gave it to me. Even during his off days, Jiang Yu would tell her where he went so he could be found easily. Long Xingyu indeed ran away from home, first to Shanghai, then to Korea to become a trainee. He stayed there for a few years before returning to China without debuting. Jiang Yu had no chance to meet you. Even if, by some stretch, he spent a few days in the same city, geographically, it was impossible for him to meet Long Xingyu.”

“Because during those days, Jiang Yu was always with me,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You’ve never met, yet you know so much about Jiang Yu, even things only he would know. You’re a liar.”

“It’s not.” Jiang Yu struggled to speak again.

“Not what?” Yu Ruoyun finally asked him.

“It’s not your fault,” Jiang Yu said. “It’s never been your fault. It’s my problem. From the beginning, I was the one who insisted on dragging you in…”

Yu Ruoyun was supposed to be straight, in his most triumphant twenties. Following a normal trajectory, he would have married and had children in a few years, appearing on parenting shows without having to be with Jiang Yu, enduring his temper, bearing his death, being the victim of his relentless pursuits. 

Yu Ruoyun grabbed Jiang Yu’s forearm, pulling him closer. Jiang Yu couldn’t control his legs, moving entirely under Yu Ruoyun’s force. Yu Ruoyun brought him close, brushing his finger over Jiang Yu’s eyes. “A few days ago, I finally remembered the first time I saw you. I was in the lounge, and you ran in, saying, ‘I don’t have a personal lounge. Do you mind sharing?'”

“Then you sat across from me. You looked so nervous, you know, but tried to act casual. But who would say something like that casually? You asked if I had a boyfriend. If not, you’d be my boyfriend in the future. I never told you, but you looked really silly back then, with all your bravado. It was adorable.”

“I forgot,” Jiang Yu said, his voice muffled. He felt his eyes getting warm, probably about to cry again, but he tried hard to hold it back.

“Here we go again.” Yu Ruoyun looked at him. “If you keep this up, I’ll have you blacklisted.”

Of course, he remembered. Before that, he’d already had many chances to meet Yu Ruoyun. But he kept thinking—maybe a little later, when the gap between them was smaller, when he could get people’s attention by just showing up—then he’d approach Yu Ruoyun.

But as time went on, he became more unsatisfied, wanting to be an ever-moving machine, rushing forward endlessly, forgetting his initial goal.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Yu could only say. “At first, I thought, since you forgot, we could start over. I didn’t even want to remember.”

“Now you’ve tried it,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You’ve tried becoming something else. You still came to find me, and I still recognized you. You’re living in my house, signed with my friend’s company, and starred in the show I’m leading. This time, don’t think you can get rid of me or tear down my posters.”

“I won’t leave,” Jiang Yu said.

It was strange. In the past, Jiang Yu was the talkative one, while Yu Ruoyun was often silent. Now, Jiang Yu seemed to lose his words, with only Yu Ruoyun speaking, expressing his love.

Yu Ruoyun sat in a chair, looking at Jiang Yu. Jiang Yu felt he was being looked down upon. Until Yu Ruoyun stood up and went into the room.

He was left standing there, not knowing what to do.

About a long minute passed before Yu Ruoyun came back out. He looked a bit awkward, hiding one hand behind his back, clearly holding something.

It was a bouquet of flowers, not an extravagant 999 roses, or even 99. It seemed like something Yu Ruoyun had bought from a little girl selling flowers by the roadside. It was very possible, as Yu Ruoyun was that kind of person.

“I’ve never given you flowers,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I’m sorry.”

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 25

During the time Yu Ruoyun was away, Jiang Yu didn’t have a moment to spare.

He took part in a variety show featuring celebrities who, while not top-tier, were seasoned artists. When faced with this group of veterans, the usually irritable Jiang Yu quickly changed his demeanor, knowing exactly how to please and blend in. In the Beijing circle, people loved organizing dinners. Strangers would become acquaintances after sharing a meal. Jiang Yu adapted swiftly, fitting in even as a newcomer, to the point where others started inviting him along.

After the meal, as everyone was saying their goodbyes at the door, it turned out Jiang Yu didn’t have a car while everyone else did. People offered to give him a ride, but he refused, saying he’d take a cab since the address was Yu Ruoyun’s, and he wanted to avoid any complications. Amid the commotion, Yu Ruoyun called.

“Where are you?” Yu Ruoyun asked over the phone. He had returned a day early and found that Jiang Yu wasn’t home, despite it being nighttime.

“At…,” Jiang Yu, a bit tipsy and muddled, struggled to remember. He asked someone nearby, “What’s this place called again? Oh, Ding Shiju.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Jiang Yu said to Yu Ruoyun, preparing to get into the car. He stood by the roadside as vehicles came and went. Seeing that he was blocking the way, drivers honked their horns, urging Jiang Yu to move aside.

“I’ll come pick you up,” Yu Ruoyun said, hanging up abruptly.

“What did you say?” Jiang Yu asked, a bit confused, but the other side had already ended the call.

“Who was that?” someone else asked Jiang Yu.

“He said he’s coming to get me.” Jiang Yu put his phone aside, feeling a bit bewildered.

“Who is he?” the curious person pressed.

How should he describe him? Jiang Yu was at a loss. No title seemed appropriate. So he simply said, “Yu Ruoyun.”

Even those who were about to leave stayed, waiting for Yu Ruoyun. Sure enough, Yu Ruoyun arrived and got out of the car. Seeing a few familiar faces, he jokingly said, “You guys are corrupting the young ones again.”

“We’re innocent!” one protested. “It’s just dinner, not anything shady! You haven’t been out in ages. Why can’t others have a get-together?”

“This is my friend. Look after him in the future,” Yu Ruoyun’s words meant more to Jiang Yu than all the drinks he had earlier.

“What kind of friend?” someone asked suggestively.

It seemed Yu Ruoyun wanted to say more, but before Jiang Yu could decide whether to stop him, a delivery bike zoomed past, almost hitting Jiang Yu. Yu Ruoyun’s eyes twitched as he pulled Jiang Yu to his side.

“Let’s go,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Let’s grab dinner together next time.”

Jiang Yu was practically thrown into the car. He felt Yu Ruoyun was a bit rough and complained, “Why did you come? It’s too…”

Alcohol clouded his brain, and he couldn’t find the words.

“You don’t have a car, so I’m just giving you a ride,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Be more careful when walking. Don’t get too close to the road.”

Jiang Yu felt wronged. “He was the one driving over here.”

“If he’s driving over, can’t you avoid him?” Yu Ruoyun said slowly. “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

Jiang Yu didn’t understand why Yu Ruoyun was angry. He sat up, opened the window for some air, and gradually sobered up.

“Sorry,” he thought. He resolved to follow traffic rules in the future.

But Yu Ruoyun wasn’t done. “You should also cut down on these dinner gatherings.”

As if forgetting he had just agreed to meet them again next time.

“I don’t like them either,” Jiang Yu said, annoyed. “It’s just how it is. People from all over come to Beijing and start organizing dinners to fit in. It’s the only way to network. They all claim to know important people…”

Yu Ruoyun listened to Jiang Yu rant about regional stereotypes. When he finished, Yu Ruoyun said, “Then you’ll just have to come to Beijing.”

Of course, Beijing was the political and cultural center. How else could he get by?

“Are you worried about me?” Jiang Yu asked. “But by coming over like this, people will have a lot to say.”

Yu Ruoyun handed him some hangover medicine. “There’s water in the back. Sober up.”

Jiang Yu obediently took it, wanting to talk more, but Yu Ruoyun ignored him. The long red lights came one after another, with no end in sight.

As they neared their destination, Jiang Yu noticed something was off. He asked, “Why take this route? Isn’t Gate Three closer?”

“Not that way,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Jiang Yu had an accident on that road.”

The car fell silent. After a few minutes, Jiang Yu forced a smile. “You’re being overly cautious. Nothing will happen to you…”

“I wish I could die there,” Yu Ruoyun interrupted. “If I died, what would you do?”

Jiang Yu didn’t want to answer but was a bit scared. “You won’t die.”

How could Yu Ruoyun die? He refused to consider that possibility.

“True,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Living is harder than dying.”

He still had to live and settle scores with Jiang Yu.

They went straight from the underground parking lot, where few people were around. But when Yu Ruoyun suddenly grabbed his hand, Jiang Yu instinctively tried to pull away.

He failed. Yu Ruoyun’s grip was strong.

“Still like this.” Yu Ruoyun chuckled. “Always scared of being found out but can’t help getting close. You’re just like that. I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

Jiang Yu turned his head, avoiding Yu Ruoyun’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The elevator opened. A plastic bag hung from the door handle

Yu Ruoyun took the bag down and opened the door.

“I got you some porridge.” Yu Ruoyun placed it in front of Jiang Yu. “You should eat something before drinking.”

Yu Ruoyun always told him that, but Jiang Yu never listened. After all, if he ended up vomiting, he’d rather not throw up food.

But now, Jiang Yu stayed silent, quietly eating the porridge. The tension in the air made him feel something was off about Yu Ruoyun today.

“This past year, more than four hundred days, I’ve been thinking.” Yu Ruoyun sat across from Jiang Yu, looking at him, “Every day I’ve been wondering what went wrong. I must have done something wrong for me to never know he had written a will, for him to want to die.”

“In recent months, I’ve been thinking about something else. I keep wondering, during the years we were together, what did I do that made him not trust me at all, preferring to ask a distant acquaintance from a company for a role rather than come to me. Even now, he doesn’t want to say this out loud: he thinks I’m the kind of person who can start over, that losing a lover means just finding another one. He thinks I’m that kind of person.”

“Can you tell me why?” Yu Ruoyun’s voice was low as he asked Jiang Yu.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 24

Jiang Yu came across a somewhat unimportant piece of news on his social media feed.

A staff member in charge of casting was urgently seeking a male actor: height, weight, and a sunny, healthy appearance were specified, around twenty-five years old, preferably with some acting experience, and requiring an audition.

In the comments, the director complained that the originally chosen actor had suddenly fallen ill. This role wasn’t minor, and filming was about to start, so anyone who knew someone suitable should recommend them quickly.

Jiang Yu’s heart stirred as he thought of someone. Even though it was late at night, he contacted the person directly, sending a screenshot and the contact number to Lu Zheming. “I think you’d be a good fit. Why not go for the audition?”

Lu Zheming felt hesitant. “Isn’t this a bit too rushed…”

“Just give it a try. It won’t hurt.” Jiang Yu couldn’t help but lecture Lu Zheming. “You need to pave your own way. Having a smaller role has its advantages. It won’t take much time, and you might even become popular.”

Jiang Yu vaguely remembered this role. It was in the last unit of this web series, and there were rumors of some big names making special appearances. Originally, Long Xingyu wouldn’t have gotten to see the full script usually, but Yu Ruoyun had some copies. He finished it and even took a copy home, and Yu Ruoyun hadn’t asked for it back. The script had Yu Ruoyun’s notes, written extensively, and Jiang Yu often flipped through it, nearly memorizing the entire story.

He told Lu Zheming that he had spoken to the casting director, but admitted he wasn’t a big shot, so his influence was minimal. It would still depend on Lu Zheming’s abilities. After the small company finished shooting this snack commercial, there were no other external engagements. If they didn’t find their own resources, they’d be stuck in the practice room waiting for teachers. The company was responsible, but what good did that do? Without a stage, who cared about their singing and dancing?

Lu Zheming stopped resisting. “Thanks. I’ll head over tomorrow.”

Jiang Yu felt relieved, but when he checked the time, he realized he’d only get a few hours of sleep. He thought of Yu Ruoyun again.

Yu Ruoyun had said he’d be back in a few days, meaning the filming was almost over. He’d see Yu Ruoyun soon.

He needed to discuss some things with Yu Ruoyun, like whether they should debunk the rumors that weren’t even really rumors, maybe take a selfie to show they were just friends. Had Yu Ruoyun ever taken a selfie? Probably not. He was always so aloof, but people were used to it, thinking Yu Ruoyun was meant to be above others, giving guidance. Jiang Yu, on the other hand, wasn’t like that. Whenever he lashed out, people would think, “Who does Jiang Yu think he is? Didn’t he start from minor roles too? Hasn’t he acted in enough bad films? Why look down on others?”

The inherent disparity was there from the moment they entered the entertainment industry. How could he not have been jealous?

It was because of this jealousy that when he saw Yu Ruoyun reduced to acting in a web series, the complex feelings drove him to provoke Yu Ruoyun. “You’re washed up, you’re outdated, you’ve lost your commercial value.” Over and over in his mind, he thought, “Why?”

The trophies were still there, taking up a whole row—so many that he didn’t bother counting. Only Jiang Yu knew that Yu Ruoyun deserved every single one.

They had ridden the waves of changing times, transitioning from print media and television to the internet, witnessing the decline of the music industry and the expansion of the film market. Once, being an actor was considered frivolous; now, being an influencer selling clothes could earn millions a month. Surviving such a tumultuous environment, it shouldn’t end this way. But the entertainment industry didn’t provide a minimum income guarantee for geniuses.

Jiang Yu didn’t think he had the right to pity Yu Ruoyun, but he couldn’t help it.

……

Wang Yao finally secured an appointment with Yu Ruoyun.

He wasn’t the kind of reporter who needed to chase news constantly. He could take his time crafting articles. But Yu Ruoyun never had time, always busy. Wang Yao liked writing about celebrities, which his friends found odd. Generally, straight men didn’t chase stars. He always argued, “I’m not chasing stars. They’re my interview subjects.”

“If you like doing interviews, why not be a sports reporter? You like playing basketball. Why interview people covered in makeup all day?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then ask for me. I like that actress. Is she really dating so-and-so? I heard she’s pregnant!”

“Fuck off!”

Having written many such pieces, celebrities liked his articles. He had a knack for digging out and amplifying details, making them relatable—and his articles were good for saving their reputation. Having interviewed many big stars, it was natural for him to list Yu Ruoyun as a target, but he hadn’t expected it to take so long.

There had been interactions in between, but Yu Ruoyun dodged his sharp questions, leaving Wang Yao feeling like he was punching cotton.

“He doesn’t have much desire to express himself,” a colleague told Wang Yao the day before, sharing their experience. “It’s like he doesn’t need to confide in the outside world and is very smart, knowing which questions are traps. He’s actually cooperative, but it’s just not interesting.”

This didn’t sound like a good interview subject, but Wang Yao had a mission this time. Yu Ruoyun’s new movie was about to be released—a miracle, considering it was shot years ago. The magazine interview was part of the promotion. Yu Ruoyun was cooperative, still filming on set, and suggested Wang Yao come over first to prepare the draft. The hotel room was even booked for him, which he appreciated—not for the money but because it saved him from submitting another reimbursement form.

On-site, Wang Yao found Yu Ruoyun truly impenetrable.

The task was quickly completed. Regarding the movie itself, Yu Ruoyun answered whatever was asked.

“It was filmed in the Northwest. The conditions weren’t particularly bad compared to ten years ago. At least we could find a toilet.”

“Bo Yan is a great actor. We had many interactions. The movie has two storylines, his and mine, that intertwine in the end. In fact, art films aren’t necessarily boring. I think it’s a very interesting story.”

Talking about his role, Yu Ruoyun showed some enthusiasm, but Wang Yao felt frustrated. The movie hadn’t been released yet, and he wasn’t interested in these details.

He wanted to ask about Yu Ruoyun himself, this actor who became famous as a teenager. But finding the right time to ask was difficult.

After he complained to his colleagues later, they were delighted to have predicted it. They told Wang Yao that Jiang Yu was easier to deal with, full of scars from the past. It was easy to trigger his pride, but with a bit of consolation, he’d expose his weaknesses.

“The highlight of my interview with him came at the end. I said I had to leave, couldn’t afford a cab because my hotel was far. He asked where I was staying. I said at the Qilin Hotel. He laughed, saying, ‘Your boss is stingy. The reimbursement standards are low.’ Then he told a story: ‘That hotel used to be full of crew members. During the day, the corridor doors were open, actors walked in for auditions, introducing themselves, quickly leaving. They might walk all day without getting a role. He was underage then, and people asked, ‘Where’s your mom?’ He hadn’t brought a guardian, just his ID, so no one wanted him, telling him to go home. He argued, saying Yu Ruoyun was about his age, so why could he do it and not him? He waited until he got a minor role, then realized he couldn’t waste time like that, reconciled with his family, signed with a company, and seriously prepared for university.’”

“He said he’d seen many with star dreams there, asking, ‘Do I look like Andy Lau?’ Maybe one in a thousand would be seen again, and the chance of becoming famous was even lower, but he did it,” the colleague said. “I remember that article won an award that year. He’s easy to handle, just don’t ask if he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t win an award, and he won’t want to kill you. If you play the pity card, he’ll give you a story.”

Would this work for Yu Ruoyun? Wang Yao decided to try.

He deleted the sharp questions, no longer asking if Yu Ruoyun felt he wasn’t as good as before, why he took on a web series, and rephrased everything to make himself seem like a concerned friend.

“Expectations for love?” Yu Ruoyun finally reacted. “Why ask that? I thought such questions were for girls in their twenties.”

“Men can also look forward to love,” Wang Yao said, feeling like a gossip journalist now. “Besides, everyone’s curious about your love life.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had expectations,” Yu Ruoyun said.

Wang Yao felt disappointed, expecting another evasive answer with no real content.

“If it’s anticipated, then it’s not love. How can you predict who you’ll fall in love with?” But Yu Ruoyun didn’t stop. “Sometimes you know someone is drawn to your light, but you still love them. You don’t want to show any shortcomings in front of them, and it becomes a habit.”

Wang Yao’s mouth opened slightly. Did he accidentally hear something significant?

“I do look forward to love.” Yu Ruoyun came back to his senses, as if what he said before was someone else’s story. “It will come soon.”

Very soon.

---

Kinky Thoughts:

It’s kind of bittersweet how we get to see both sides bit by bit why their relationship in the past was so tumultuous. Jiang Yu with his inferiority complex, which is only exacerbated by Yu Ruoyun’s perfect façade that he maintains because he thinks that’s why Jiang Yu loves him.

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 23

When alone, this house felt a bit too large.

On the bookshelf, behind Jiang Yu’s Lifetime Achievement Award, there was a collection of Yu Ruoyun’s trophies. The Lifetime Achievement Award could only be won once in a lifetime, and Yu Ruoyun hadn’t reached that point yet. Maybe one day he would. But there was another award that could only be won once in a lifetime, which neither of them had any chance of winning anymore.

The Best Newcomer Award.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t get it because he won Best Actor that year. Later, people involved with the committee revealed that they originally wanted to give him the Best Newcomer as well. The judges argued about it for a long time and ultimately decided that giving both awards would be too grand; winning Best Actor was enough. So, Best Newcomer went to another new actor.

The reason Jiang Yu didn’t get the award was somewhat laughable. The film he was in received good reviews, and he played a supporting role, successfully making the shortlist. It was his first film, and though he was just over twenty, he was already a familiar face after acting in many TV dramas; he’d even starred in a few low-budget series. Winning Best Newcomer would have undoubtedly been a great boost for him. Before the award ceremony, Jiang Yu found out he was disqualified. Someone reported that Jiang Yu had acted in a film back in school. After thinking hard, Jiang Yu vaguely remembered such an event. At the time, an unprofessional film crew needed people, and the director, an acquaintance from the directing department, insisted on having him join. He only filmed for four days, and somehow the movie got released with a box office of three thousand yuan. It was mainly for the director’s resume, and Jiang Yu had long forgotten about it. But now that his past was brought up, he was disqualified, with no second chance.

But back then, he wasn’t too upset; he thought it was unimportant. He was young and believed there would be plenty of opportunities ahead.

Now, he wondered if he started acting again, could he win a Best Newcomer Award? Recently, a director even praised his talent. He didn’t fully agree, feeling like he was cheating, but he was still a bit happy.

“Yu Ruoyun,” Jiang Yu called out the homeowner’s name. “Did you figure it out?”

He wasn’t entirely unaware. Maybe Yu Ruoyun had long felt something was off, waiting for him to reveal the answer. Not necessarily guessing his rebirth, but certainly connecting it to Jiang Yu.

Yet even now, Jiang Yu couldn’t be completely honest. Every time he got shortlisted before, he was a favorite, receiving hints from various sources that he might win. He went enthusiastically, only to return empty-handed. But now, thinking back, it didn’t seem like such a torment. It was just an award, after all, and he had one now.

Whenever Jiang Yu saw adults throw kids into the air, the kids were never scared, always grinning, finding it a fun game because they’d always be caught. But adults, when riding a roller coaster, scream when they plummet.

Because adults had experienced falling. Knowing how painful it could be, they learned fear. Like the repeated hopes for an award followed by disappointment or a painstakingly made film receiving no acclaim.

Jiang Yu was terrified, afraid of falling and having nothing left.

After his death, Jiang Yu became a highly esteemed artist, won prestigious awards, and had Yu Ruoyun.

He was willing to continue being a dead man or a counterfeit who looked like Jiang Yu in Yu Ruoyun’s eyes. Because being alive meant facing many challenges and choices, and the living Jiang Yu wasn’t that important to Yu Ruoyun. The roller coaster was soaring skyward, and he didn’t want to fall.

“I miss you too.” Yu Ruoyun wasn’t there, so Jiang Yu felt safe to say it out loud.

The house was empty, with a faint echo.

He slept in Yu Ruoyun’s bed, wore Yu Ruoyun’s pajamas, and occupied Yu Ruoyun’s space, with only Yu Ruoyun himself absent. Yet now, Jiang Yu was somewhat afraid to go find him.

Yu Ruoyun seemed crazy these days, only talking about Jiang Yu, testing his reactions. He wished he could find a baseball bat and knock Yu Ruoyun into amnesia again.

“You don’t follow the script at all,” Jiang Yu said, looking at Yu Ruoyun’s avatar on his phone. “Who loses their memory like this? This is the downside of not acting in dramas. You don’t know the clichés. Can’t you be more obedient? When I say I’m your boyfriend, you should immediately believe it and say, ‘So that’s how it is.’ Then I’ll say, ‘Yes, and you owe me a lot of money. Now you can’t pay me back, so you have to be my servant…’”

He was just talking to himself, pressing the voice button and able to swipe up to cancel. But Yu Ruoyun’s bed was so uncomfortable that he accidentally let go, sending the voice message.

Why did he always make such mistakes with Yu Ruoyun? He was annoyed and wanted to retract it, but Yu Ruoyun was too quick and had already replied.

It was just a few seconds of voice. Yu Ruoyun said, “So that’s how it is.”

Outside, it wasn’t only windy but also raining. It was time to sleep. He had to get up early tomorrow. Jiang Yu turned over, ready to fall into an unknown dream.

He suddenly stopped, frozen, unable to move, staring at the vase on the bedside table.

There was no water in the vase, not even real plants—just a single, not-so-pretty paper rose with water stains. He remembered throwing it into the trash.

After living for over thirty years, acting for more than a decade, being dead for a year, and being reborn once, time kept moving, and everything kept changing. But a rose was still a rose, and a rose only had one meaning.

He had received Yu Ruoyun’s rose.

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 22

Yu Ruoyun received a call from Long Xingyu.

“Is it too late to call you now?” Long Xingyu asked. “But I thought you might be having dinner earlier, and before that, I figured you were probably filming on set, so it never seemed like a good time. If I don’t call now, you’ll be going to bed soon.”

“I’m not asleep yet,” Yu Ruoyun replied.

“I went into your house,” Long Xingyu said. “It doesn’t look great.”

“Some people say that,” Yu Ruoyun responded, “but it doesn’t stop them from living there.”

Long Xingyu asked directly, “Why is Jiang Yu’s trophy at your place?”

“The Lifetime Achievement Award?” Yu Ruoyun asked. “His mother gave it to me.”

“What?!” Long Xingyu was genuinely surprised and wanted to ask more but couldn’t find the words.

“I exchanged it for the inheritance he left me. A large sum of money.”

“……”

Yu Ruoyun added, “Just kidding. His mother gave it to me, saying she felt it was more fitting for me to keep it as a memento.”

“I think she might have guessed the relationship between Jiang Yu and me. But being an elderly lady, she didn’t want to break the ice directly. I wonder if Jiang Yu would have been happy if his mother knew while he was still around.”

Long Xingyu was stunned. He hadn’t considered this before. “What are you saying?”

“I didn’t think much about it before. Keeping it secret seemed normal, given how this is not yet widely accepted,” Yu Ruoyun said. “But now that I think about it, it’s really meaningless. I only saw what his home looked like on a variety show. He wouldn’t let me visit, saying there was a high chance of being photographed, like we’d be courting death.”

Unable to afford a house in Beijing, Jiang Yu decided to rent in a neighborhood filled with celebrities. He didn’t think it was that great, but since the stars lived there, he had to live there too, even though paparazzi were always staking out with high-definition cameras outside.

“Are you sitting on the sofa now?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

“Yeah.” Long Xingyu thought it was a pointless question. Otherwise, where would he sit? On the floor?

“Is it the right side?” Yu Ruoyun continued, “He liked to sit on the right side.”

Long Xingyu looked and realized he was indeed sitting on the right side. “No, I’m sitting on the left.”

“The last time he was in this house, he sat on my right, and we were watching TV,” Yu Ruoyun said. “He was watching and suddenly told me, ‘Don’t you think being an actor is an exceptionally easy and cheap job?’”

That’s exactly what Jiang Yu said. If he recalled, he could remember everything they talked about that day.

“It’s too easy,” Jiang Yu wrapped himself in a big blanket, thought for a moment, then shared half with Yu Ruoyun, draping it over Yu Ruoyun’s legs. “Look at these people. Whether they can sing, whether they can dance, whether they can keep up with the beat, you can see at a glance. But acting is different. The audience might not have the ability to appreciate it, and the actors might not even know themselves. Crying when sad, laughing when happy—that’s supposed to be qualified acting. So now any kind of people want to act.”

He was just chatting casually, never expecting Yu Ruoyun to remember.

“Recently, I met his mother because of the awards ceremony and talked about his past,” Yu Ruoyun said, sounding like he was closing a window, with the wind whistling in. “She said that when Jiang Yu was young, there was a period when they had a huge falling out because he broke free from her control, and she was unwilling to accept it. Once Jiang Yu told her, ‘You’ve taken me to so many places. You think I don’t know how those teachers evaluated me? My vocal range isn’t wide enough, my sense of pitch isn’t good enough, my flexibility is lacking, I’ve practiced instruments, and it’s just not good enough. No matter how hard I try, I can’t be the best. But acting is different. Anyone can act. No one can dictate who the final winner is. This is my own path. You have no right to choose it for me.’”

Long Xingyu was almost furious. This was years ago. What was wrong with his mother, telling Yu Ruoyun everything. “Maybe he said that just to convince his parents. Acting isn’t that easy to win at either.”

“Is that so?” Yu Ruoyun asked softly. “Maybe you’re right. But that day, I went back and remembered the last time we sat on that sofa watching TV. On TV was a boy band whose name I don’t remember. He told me that anyone could act, and I thought he was talking about the people on TV.”

“I wondered if, that night, he was actually talking about himself.”

Long Xingyu found it absurd. This absurdity even made his heart tighten. “He’s been dead for a year, and you’re still obsessing over something he said. Aren’t you too bored?”

His voice was loud, echoing in the living room. He felt guilty. Yes, it had been a year since he died. A year after his death, Long Xingyu realized Yu Ruoyun understood Jiang Yu far better than he ever imagined. He knew the vulnerability behind Jiang Yu’s strength, why Jiang Yu was attracted to Yu Ruoyun, and why he was tormented by Yu Ruoyun. Those things and that person, he longed for while also feeling unworthy of them.

Yu Ruoyun knew what kind of person Jiang Yu was, so why did he still remember him so fondly?

Long Xingyu, or rather Jiang Yu, couldn’t understand.

Yu Ruoyun stopped talking. “Keep staying there. I’ll come back in a few days.”

The call ended. Jiang Yu sat on the right side of the sofa. The TV opposite was switched off, reflecting his face.

Even though he had a younger face and a healthier body, even though he had once tried, he still couldn’t become someone else.

……

Yu Ruoyun’s filming today was somewhat difficult.

He and the director rarely had a disagreement. Today’s scene involved the protagonist’s long-time girlfriend being killed by the villain, and when the protagonist returns, it’s too late. He holds her body and breaks down in tears.

Yu Ruoyun suggested, “I think maybe we could handle it differently.”

Yu Ruoyun felt that the scene didn’t need tears. For the protagonist, he indeed had an emotional breakdown, but tears weren’t necessary to express it. Silence could also convey despair, and Yu Ruoyun had the capability to express it.

The director said, “I understand what you mean, but the audience might not. They’ll just think, ‘The protagonist’s woman just died. Why isn’t he reacting?’”

They compromised in the end. The character didn’t hold his girlfriend and say he’d avenge her—he didn’t say a word—but tears mixed with the artificial rain. The close-up was enough to clearly show the protagonist’s pain.

On the way back, when he received Long Xingyu’s call, Yu Ruoyun had been thinking about Jiang Yu.

In the long year, he hadn’t shed a single tear for Jiang Yu’s death. The director said the audience wouldn’t understand not crying when one’s loved one died, and he thought about this.

But he wasn’t qualified.

---

The author has something to say:

It might be hard to believe, but things are about to get sweet…

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