Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 18

Long Xingyu avoided Yu Ruoyun for several days. He would immediately change direction whenever he saw Yu Ruoyun, knocking over several people’s water cups, props, and phones, until he finally realized that Yu Ruoyun wasn’t even trying to find him.

His script had been revised a bit, generally adding more scenes for his character. It was very obvious that his supporting role had been given a tragic backstory, increasing Long Xingyu’s workload significantly. He didn’t mind. Memorizing lines, understanding the character, and practicing dancing filled his time completely, allowing him to forget about Yu Ruoyun.

“Why was the last scene cut?” Long Xingyu realized something was off as they neared the end of filming. The scene where Yu Ruoyun visits him before his character’s execution was gone. This was the part Long Xingyu had prepared for the longest, figuring out the dialogue and his character’s emotions before death. He even planned to discuss modifying the storyboard with the director. Was it really because they were afraid he’d outshine Yu Ruoyun?!

“Yu Ruoyun decided that. He’s the co-producer,” the director said. “He’s very kind to you.”

Kind? Adding a few tragic scenes and then cutting the final one—how was that kind?

“Yeah,” Long Xingyu finally said. “I should really thank him.”

The director expressed polite regret. “You’re wrapping up today. Next time we meet, it will probably be next year.”

“Next year?” Long Xingyu was confused.

“For the second season, if we keep the same director,” the director said. “Didn’t you know?”

Yu Ruoyun had mentioned investing more to shoot a second season, but Long Xingyu hadn’t considered it would involve him. Now it dawned on him. “So the open ending is to keep my character for the next season?”

“Exactly,” the director said. “I think you have a lot of talent. I hope you get more opportunities to develop.”

“Talent?” Long Xingyu smiled. He could tell the director genuinely believed it. “I don’t have any talent—just a lot of experience with failure.”

“Didn’t you say this is your first time acting?” the director asked.

“I’ve failed in other areas,” Long Xingyu thought, but realized he needed to maintain his facade as a newcomer. He continued his lie.

The director offered some comforting words about being young and having a bright future, with some setbacks being minor. Long Xingyu listened absentmindedly, remembering only the final sentence.

“You’re already doing better than many, and you have Yu Ruoyun helping you,” the director said.

He went to find Yu Ruoyun, who was always on set, even when others were filming. Xiao Qi held his phone, only giving it to him when necessary.

Long Xingyu grabbed a chair and shamelessly sat next to Yu Ruoyun, chatting as if nothing had happened, ignoring the looks from others.

“I’m wrapping up soon,” Long Xingyu said. “People think we’re having an affair. You’ll soon be betraying Jiang Yu.”

“Xiao Qi bought cold drinks for everyone earlier,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You were talking to the director, so she saved you one.”

Long Xingyu took it out. It was a few bottles of frozen drinks. With the hot weather and the remote filming location, Yu Ruoyun having his assistant buy some drinks earned him a lot of goodwill.

“I want that.” Long Xingyu pointed to the ice dessert with fruit syrup in Yu Ruoyun’s hand. “Do you have more?”

“That was the only one,” Yu Ruoyun said.

“Never mind then.” Long Xingyu knew his request was a bit much. He just suddenly wanted to try ice again, not having had it for a long time.

In the past, filming in remote areas without timely medical attention had ruined his stomach. Since then, he couldn’t eat anything too cold or spicy, even bringing his own water, making everyone think Jiang Yu was ridiculously picky.

“She ordered a large one.” Yu Ruoyun found another spoon from the bag. “Have a little.”

Taking a dessert that Yu Ruoyun had already eaten in broad daylight felt inappropriate, so Long Xingyu did just that. “Am I being too much? This will only fuel the rumors.”

“Do you think they’re just rumors?” Yu Ruoyun said gently. “Didn’t you say you’d pursue me the first time we met?”

“Not anymore,” Long Xingyu lied. “I’m touched by your deep love for Jiang Yu. I can’t intrude on such a beautiful romance and am content to stay in the shadows.”

Yu Ruoyun watched as the ice dessert slowly disappeared, suddenly thinking it might taste really good. He said, “Because I never said it.”

“Said what?”

“Even though I’ve remembered many things, I don’t think I’ve ever told him I loved him,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Such a simple thing, but it never happened. He was sensitive and always overthinking. I thought actions were more important than words, and we would be together for many years. One day, he’d understand that beyond our separate careers, we’d be together. But I forgot that words are also actions.”

So, during this time, he kept telling those around him—his father, his mother, Wu Yi, and Xiao Qi. “Did Jiang Yu ever mention me?”

Xiao Qi hesitated. “A few times.”

“What did he say?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

“Nothing important,” Xiao Qi evaded. “You’re so famous. He just mentioned your name.”

Yu Ruoyun understood then—it probably wasn’t anything good.

Again and again, he told others and himself that the relationship existed. It wasn’t a hallucination brought on by his brain injury. If there was no pain in dreams, then hallucinations couldn’t be so painful.

Long Xingyu finished the ice dessert without any stomach ache and felt satisfied, with no regrets.

“He would know,” Long Xingyu told Yu Ruoyun. “But look, he’s dead. Maybe in his next life, he’ll be a better person, less sensitive and petty, less like a ticking time bomb. You should move on with your life.”

“Of course I will,” Yu Ruoyun said, making Long Xingyu finally feel at ease.

“He’s dead, but I can’t die, right?” Yu Ruoyun’s gaze fell on Long Xingyu. “I have to live well, continue acting, find someone else worth loving, go swimming at the beach in summer, see snow on the mountaintop in winter, make love in bed—there are so many things to do. I have a long time ahead.”

“Then he will know that I am living well and have moved on, loving someone else. He won’t find peace even in reincarnation, so he’ll come back as a ghost to haunt me.”

“I never needed him to be a good person.”

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 17

Yu Ruoyun woke up in the middle of the night after falling asleep too early.

Long Xingyu, who was sleeping beside him, was a light sleeper and was awakened as soon as the light was turned on.

“What are you doing here?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

Still groggy, Long Xingyu slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? You got drunk, lost control, and slept with me. I kept shouting ‘no’ but couldn’t resist. You need to take responsibility.”

“I didn’t sleep with you. You haven’t even taken your clothes off,” Yu Ruoyun said. “It’s my clothes that are missing.”

“There’s only one robe in this room,” Long Xingyu pouted. “This is supposed to be the most expensive room, but the hotel is so stingy.”

“Change back,” Yu Ruoyun said gently. “Your clothes are all wrinkled.”

“It’s three in the morning!” Long Xingyu protested. “If I go back now, people will say I failed to seduce you.”

Even though it was unlikely anyone would be outside at this hour, and he indeed hadn’t succeeded in his seduction attempt.

To avoid such a fate, Long Xingyu decided to stay put. He turned on the TV, recalling the award ceremony he hadn’t finished watching. Long Xingyu pressed the replay button and rewound to the part where the Lifetime Achievement Award was announced.

Watching TV naturally meant reclining. Yu Ruoyun’s bed was large, and Long Xingyu shamelessly lay on the other side. Yu Ruoyun said, “I just had a dream.”

“Dreaming of your old lover?” Long Xingyu asked.

“I dreamed someone was pressing down on me,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I turned over, but they kept pressing on me, and we eventually fell off the bed together.”

“That usually means you’re going to have bad luck,” Long Xingyu said without changing his expression. “If you’re willing to pay, I can find a feng shui master to help change your fate.”

On the TV, clips of Jiang Yu’s classic movies, accompanied by sentimental music, caught Long Xingyu’s attention.

It was a short video, so each image only appeared for a few seconds, but the audience recognized them. As for the less successful films, they were cut out without any regret.

“Why did you suddenly stop talking?” Yu Ruoyun asked when he saw Long Xingyu fall silent.

Long Xingyu waited until the video ended before speaking. “So, he did leave something behind. That’s good. He can reincarnate peacefully.”

He looked at Yu Ruoyun. “Don’t you think that a person’s life is made up of fragments, not a continuous timeline? No one cares what someone ate for lunch ten years ago. When people look back, they think of significant moments like university entrance exams, marriages, and childbirth. These are the nodes. For celebrities, some actors or singers leave only one role or one song. No one cares about the rest of their careers, even if they lived many more years. What people remember and replay are the most brilliant moments. If you can’t achieve that, it’s like having nothing at all.”

Jiang Yu had always thought that way, believing that he needed to leave something behind before the wave of his era turned into foam. He thought he would live to see the day he was forgotten, without any more roles, reminiscing about the old days that no one cared about.

He knew Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t necessarily agree with this view. As expected, Yu Ruoyun said, “The entertainment industry isn’t just made up of these glamorous moments. You’re still young. You shouldn’t think like this.”

He wanted to listen to Yu Ruoyun’s lecture, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t continue.

“Then what else is there?” Long Xingyu had to ask. “Please, great Film Emperor, enlighten this newcomer.”

Yu Ruoyun said slowly, “It seems there’s no need to say it. Suddenly, I feel you might already know.”

Long Xingyu looked at Yu Ruoyun and smiled mischievously. He had only said half of what he wanted to say, and Yu Ruoyun didn’t want to complete the other half for him. Success wasn’t the only thing that mattered; failure also had value and could define a person. Mention Nixon, and people think of Watergate. Mention Gorbachev, and they think of the Soviet Union’s collapse. The same went for celebrities’ failures. Mental breakdowns, unhappy families, being abandoned, heavy debts—these could also be memorable points that attract attention and sympathy.

Just like Jiang Yu’s bad luck and tragic end.

Long Xingyu said, “When we slept together, you kept calling Jiang Yu’s name.”

“…We didn’t sleep together,” Yu Ruoyun repeated. “Don’t falsely accuse me.”

“Okay, we didn’t.” Long Xingyu changed his story. “But you did tell me about Jiang Yu.”

That wasn’t a lie.

“What did I say?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

“You said you loved Jiang Yu to death.” Long Xingyu began to fabricate. “You said you cried every day at home, wishing you could trade all your awards to bring him back…”

“That’s unlikely,” Yu Ruoyun interrupted.

“What’s unlikely?”

“The last part. I wouldn’t say that.”

“Crying every day?” Long Xingyu asked.

“The part about trading my awards.”

Long Xingyu’s confidence crumbled. “You wouldn’t trade your awards to bring him back?!”

“Leaving aside whether such a premise is possible,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Let’s assume it is. I would be willing to trade all my honors to bring him back, but I wouldn’t make that assumption myself. Because—”

“If I didn’t have those awards, those accolades, I don’t know if he would still love me.”

Long Xingyu was furious.

He wanted to argue but found himself tongue-tied, glaring at Yu Ruoyun. He couldn’t speak. Feeling guilty, he had this reaction. He realized he still didn’t understand life enough.

It shouldn’t be like this. He should tell Yu Ruoyun it wasn’t just about that; he shouldn’t think that way.

“Idiot,” Long Xingyu said. He jumped off the bed. “You motherfucking 24k pure idiot. You think he loved you because of that.”

He started walking out, or rather, fleeing, as if a fire were chasing him, forcing him to confront his own feelings, demanding an answer.

He didn’t know the answer.

But Yu Ruoyun had found the answer to another question.

This was a weapon effective only against one person. He had taken a gamble, and it cut deep. His suspicion about that person’s identity had taken shape. But this gamble couldn’t be considered a win. If not for the accident, he wouldn’t have wanted Jiang Yu to know he had ever thought this way. He wouldn’t have wanted Jiang Yu to start questioning it.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.

Long Xingyu felt more dejected than before. “I lost my room key. Can you get me another one?”

Running out of Yu Ruoyun’s room at three in the morning, with wrinkled clothes and messy hair, to report a lost room key wasn’t a wise choice. Tomorrow, there would be more rumors that he had been kicked out by Yu Ruoyun, for the second time. At this hour, they might even say he had been kicked out after sex.

Let them talk. He didn’t care anymore. There was no way he was going back to ask for his key. Right now, Yu Ruoyun was like a terrifying demon to him. He’d rather throw himself onto the road and get run over again than see Yu Ruoyun.

He didn’t want to know how much pain Yu Ruoyun was in, thinking about this.

The media shouldn’t have whitewashed him just because he died. He was indeed a selfish and despicable person.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 16

At the airport, Assistant Xiao Qi approached Yu Ruoyun to take his documents for check-in and to retrieve his boarding pass. While standing there waiting, Yu Ruoyun started to remember a few things.

For instance, when Xiao Qi first started working, Yu Ruoyun wasn’t quite used to it and often said he could handle things himself. But Xiao Qi would insist, saying she was being paid to do these tasks and that Yu Ruoyun shouldn’t decline her help.

“When I worked with Jiang Yu, there were even more things to do,” Xiao Qi said. “I’ve been well trained, so don’t hesitate to ask me for help.”

At the mention of Jiang Yu, Yu Ruoyun hadn’t even responded before Xiao Qi’s mood turned somber.

“The day before he left, he asked me to organize and send him the schedule for the upcoming month. I was supposed to give it to him that day, but I was having a breakup with my boyfriend and delayed it. He scolded me, saying, ‘Do you want to be an assistant all your life, running errands, or do you want to be abandoned by a man and cry at home? Block him and come back to work now.’ He always scolded me, but I thought he would always be my boss.”

“Did you and your boyfriend get back together?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

“We did,” Xiao Qi replied. “He promised never to fight with me again.”

It sounded like a happy ending. Yu Ruoyun said, “Don’t believe him. Blocking your boyfriend at every turn isn’t a good habit.”

It sounded like he was speaking from experience.

Later, Yu Ruoyun eventually got used to letting Xiao Qi handle some of the trivial matters because Jiang Yu had done the same. The difference was that Jiang Yu was much busier. For Jiang Yu, fame was a hard battle. At his busiest, he took on three films a year, working non-stop. If he had to manage his tickets, meals, and medication, it would have been exhausting.

“Teacher Yu,” Xiao Qi called. “It’s done. You can board now.”

In addition to the in-flight meals, the flight attendants offered a glass of white wine to the first-class passengers, saying they could refill it if needed. Yu Ruoyun rarely drank, but today he accepted. As the plane cruised through the clouds, his wine glass gradually emptied. Yu Ruoyun called a flight attendant to refill his glass.

As his nerves dulled and sleepiness washed over him, he realized he wouldn’t act drunk and disorderly like Jiang Yu. But maybe Jiang Yu had just pretended to be drunk, glaring with reddened, wet eyes, saying, “You’re annoying. Get away from me!” But if Yu Ruoyun stepped back, Jiang Yu would cling to him, biting his neck. The smell of alcohol and heat didn’t bother Yu Ruoyun. He would hold Jiang Yu in return.

Memories of Jiang Yu were like shattered glass that Yu Ruoyun had accidentally broken, and he didn’t know which parts he was picking up. Every time he picked up a piece, he would get cut, but he couldn’t stop.

Thus, Long Xingyu found a slightly drunk Yu Ruoyun when he returned, who went straight to the hotel to sleep upon arriving at the set.

“Let me carry the luggage.” Long Xingyu told Xiao Qi, taking the suitcase from her. “It’s heavy. Give me the room card, and I’ll help him upstairs.”

Xiao Qi stood there, holding onto one of Yu Ruoyun’s arms and refusing to move.

Long Xingyu had to stop. “What’s wrong?”

“Teacher Yu doesn’t like you,” Xiao Qi said.

She had only been back for a few days and already heard the rumors going around the set.

Long Xingyu sighed. The old Qi Yiren had never called him Teacher Jiang.

“I know. So relax. What am I going to do? Drag him upstairs, rape him first, then kill him, then I’ll stuff him into a black garbage bag and dispose of the body where no one will find it?” Long Xingyu said. “What are you afraid of? What can I possibly do to him?”

Xiao Qi thought about it and let go.

Long Xingyu snorted. “You look sleep-deprived and exhausted. I’m just trying to help you out.”

Yu Ruoyun wasn’t asleep. He was still conscious with his eyes open, but it looked sluggish. When the elevator doors closed, Yu Ruoyun said, “He threatened me like this too.”

Long Xingyu knew exactly who “he” referred to.

“He liked to talk tough,” Yu Ruoyun said. “But at most, he could only leave two types of marks: bite marks and scratches.”

The conversation took a lewd turn, but the content mocked Jiang Yu’s lack of prowess.

Long Xingyu felt displeased. “Stop talking.”

“I want to talk.” Yu Ruoyun became a bit obstinate.

“If you keep pushing Jiang Yu, I’ll strangle you,” Long Xingyu threatened the drunkard.

Yu Ruoyun laughed. “You’re nineteen this year, so if Jiang Yu had started dating in middle school and had a child, it would be possible.”

Long Xingyu nearly lost it. Why did Yu Ruoyun keep questioning Jiang Yu’s sexual orientation, even after his death, forcibly making him straight?

“Why else would you two be so alike?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

Long Xingyu refused to admit it. “How are we alike? I have a much better temper than he did.”

This was true. If Yu Ruoyun had asked before if he had a child with a woman, Long Xingyu might have really disposed of his body.

The elevator door opened. Long Xingyu dragged the suitcase and Yu Ruoyun, swiped the room card, and opened the door. He dumped Yu Ruoyun onto the bed and began to unbutton his shirt.

But Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t shut up. Maybe he really wanted Long Xingyu to strangle him. “But your bad temper makes you most like him.”

“Not bad tempered. He wasn’t bad-tempered at all,” Yu Ruoyun corrected himself. He yawned, seeming finally tired. “I should have told him earlier.”

Told him what? Long Xingyu didn’t know, because Yu Ruoyun had fallen asleep. When Long Xingyu wanted him to shut up, he wouldn’t. When Long Xingyu wanted him to talk, he stayed silent. The buttons on Yu Ruoyun’s shirt felt like red-hot stones, but Long Xingyu wouldn’t let go.

He had realized it but refused to believe it. To him, Jiang Yu was a career failure who never won awards, known for his temper, and had a strained relationship with his family. Jiang Yu had persistently pursued Yu Ruoyun for years. Of course, Yu Ruoyun would quickly forget him and start a new life with someone else.

So waking up as another person, Long Xingyu wanted to start over, to become Long Xingyu. He even thought, maybe when Yu Ruoyun remembered what Jiang Yu was like, he wouldn’t be so hung up because Jiang Yu wasn’t worth it.

Yu Ruoyun’s love was like the overly heavy Lifetime Achievement Award, suddenly dropping in front of him.

Was it because he was dead?

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 15

After returning to his room, Yu Ruoyun didn’t rest and soon received a call from his father.

“Are you gay?” His father immediately questioned.

“Yes.” Having already mentioned it once, there was nothing more to hide.

“Why did you only tell your mother?” his father asked, veering off-topic.

Yu Ruoyun felt somewhat speechless. “She was definitely going to tell you.”

“We don’t need you to tell us?” His father became even angrier. “Do you think we couldn’t guess? Especially in the past few years… Forget it. Who is it anyway? You should at least tell me that.”

He seemed to want to claim priority. But it made sense. By the time someone reached their thirties or forties, they had their own social circles and were no longer under their parents’ control. His parents likely had suspicions all along.

Yu Ruoyun said, “I’m not sure it matters now. His name is Jiang Yu.”

His father had heard of the name. “Jiang Yu? Isn’t he dead? That Jiang Yu, right?”

“Yes.”

“Dead for a year, and now you bring it up. What are you thinking?” His father’s anger rose further. “And it’s been a year since he died, and you just now decided to call and tell us. What, do you want us to arrange a posthumous wedding?”

Yu Ruoyun: “……”

He said, “I just felt that he’s dead, and you didn’t know he existed. It’s unfair to him.”

“So you were just being a scumbag these past few years?” His father said. “The entertainment industry has really corrupted you. Gay, hiding it from your family, tsk.”

Thinking about it, even though he didn’t remember what happened before, it did sound like something a scumbag would do. If Jiang Yu were a woman, it would have been scandalous if he only registered the marriage after she got pregnant.

“Maybe I wanted him to turn into a vengeful ghost and haunt me,” Yu Ruoyun said.

……

When Long Xingyu thought of watching the award ceremony, it was already halfway through.

He had intended to keep track but got busy and forgot. The tasks at this lousy company piled up. Just as he was about to leave the crew, new work came up, and they told him to prepare early. Although his singing performance last time was impressive, his dancing was lacking. Long Xingyu spent his break practicing those dance moves. Only today did he remember there was something he had forgotten.

The award ceremony was already more than halfway through when Long Xingyu turned on the TV. The presenter on stage was familiar, leisurely opening the envelope and slowly announcing into the microphone, “The Lifetime Achievement Award goes to…”

“Jiang Yu.”

Typically, awards with significant suspense, like Best Actor and Best Actress, kept the audience in suspense and even made the actors themselves anxious. But the Lifetime Achievement Award was less suspenseful. It wasn’t even a regular award, usually given to senior film veterans. When the presenter said Jiang Yu’s name, Long Xingyu could hear the reaction from the audience even outside the TV screen.

Long Xingyu was also shocked, like all the other viewers. Then the presenter called for someone to accept the award on his behalf. Who the hell could that be?!

Oh, his mother.

That made sense. Only a family member would be appropriate to accept the award on his behalf. After all, his “illegitimate son” couldn’t appear, nor could Yu Ruoyun…

Thinking of Yu Ruoyun, he wanted to see Yu Ruoyun’s expression. Unfortunately, his mother was already on stage, and the camera focused on her. She seemed in good spirits, which relieved Long Xingyu somewhat.

He had resented his mother as a child but gradually forgot about it as he grew up. His mother had almost been recruited into an art troupe but gave up the opportunity due to her pregnancy. She pinned her hopes on Jiang Yu, enrolling him in various extracurricular classes and taking him to competitions and TV performances. Jiang Yu thought this tedious game would end when his mother realized how hard it was for a child star to become famous. But meeting Yu Ruoyun made him realize he had something to pursue. Without Yu Ruoyun, he might have left the industry and wouldn’t have been hit by a car on his way to find Yu Ruoyun. In the end, it was all Yu Ruoyun’s fault. Yu Ruoyun was still in the audience, clapping, when he should be in jail, shedding tears of remorse.

He had imagined this scene before, thinking he would be the one receiving the award, with Yu Ruoyun applauding. The price of this realization was too absurd. If Jiang Yu were alive and received the Best Actor award, he might indeed cry tears of joy. People would say Jiang Yu finally got the award he deserved, though the award itself might still be controversial. Jiang Yu had the acting skills but lacked luck. But awarding him the Lifetime Achievement Award was ridiculous. He was too young and unqualified. Now it was different. Dead people were more easily forgiven, and Jiang Yu’s life was indeed over.

Long Xingyu turned off the TV.

After the award ceremony, several after-parties were held, and each invited Yu Ruoyun. As he approached the venue, reporters were already waiting, and seeing Yu Ruoyun, they bombarded him with questions. Yu Ruoyun smiled and walked in. As he was about to enter, a reporter asked, “Jiang Yu won the Lifetime Achievement Award…”

Yu Ruoyun paused and said, “Yes.”

The reporter didn’t expect an answer, and the sharp question remained unfinished, leaving him stunned.

Yu Ruoyun continued, “I have actually always waited for the chance to tell him, ‘Congratulations on your award, new Best Actor.'”

He wanted to tell Jiang Yu, that self-righteous fool, he never thought he was inferior.

The cameras flashed brightly, becoming too dazzling. Yu Ruoyun turned and entered.

The party’s star was the actress who had just won Best Actress, and Yu Ruoyun had some acquaintance with her. However, he came for someone else. Shortly after arriving, someone tapped his shoulder from behind. “It’s rare to see you at such events.”

“Uncle Wu,” Yu Ruoyun greeted. “Long time no see.”

Wu Yi, the director of Yu Ruoyun’s first film and chairman of this Golden Phoenix Award, was known in the industry as Uncle Wu.

After making Yu Ruoyun a young Best Actor, Wu Yi announced his retirement. A few years later, unable to rest, he found a loophole and returned as a producer and presenter, still making great films. For someone who never stopped working, Yu Ruoyun’s recent actions annoyed him.

“What have you been doing lately?” Wu Yi grabbed a drink from a passing waiter. “Is that web series finished?”

“No,” Yu Ruoyun replied, knowing a lecture was coming.

“Not finished? When I heard about it, I thought it was fake news! If you needed a script, why didn’t you tell me…” Wu Yi paused, his tone softening. “Is this because of Jiang Yu?”

Hearing that name from his mentor made Yu Ruoyun’s heart skip a beat. “Why would you think that?”

He didn’t outright deny it, which made Wu Yi even angrier. He downed his drink in one gulp. “When you called to ask if there was a Lifetime Achievement Award this year, I thought it was odd. You’re not the type to dig for information. Then you suggested considering Jiang Yu, saying you admired his dedication to film. And I believed it! Damn!”

He reached for another drink, but Yu Ruoyun stopped him. “Your liver isn’t good. Drink less.”

Wu Yi said, “I wondered why you hadn’t arrived. Just as I was about to find you, I heard you talking to reporters. Jiang Yu was your colleague and competitor, and you never worked together. Your tone shouldn’t have been like that.”

Wu Yi could exaggerate when directing actors, saying things like, “Imagine returning home to find your house flooded, with your limited edition bag soaking and dead rats floating nearby. Yes, that’s how shocked and sad you should be!”

That actress would cry on cue, but Yu Ruoyun was more complicated. His tone was like his wife’s newly bought bag had been slashed in Italy. Sitting in the square, she didn’t cry or leave; she just sat there. Wu Yi promised to buy another, but she said, “The salesgirl said it was the last one.”

Can’t she get another model? Another color, another leather—there’s always something! But she insisted it wasn’t the same. She just liked that one.

“I only suggested it,” Yu Ruoyun said.

But Wu Yi had seriously considered it. “We initially discussed the Professional Spirit Award but thought the Lifetime Achievement Award might be more fitting. Though heavy for him, he missed out on a lot.”

In the end, the vote passed. The Lifetime Achievement Award was heavy but uncontested. Though there was no precedent for giving it posthumously, it wasn’t forbidden. Jiang Yu had only been dead a year, and his popularity remained. He could be a highlight of the ceremony.

“Was I right?” Wu Yi wondered. “Or were you close friends? You are good to your friends.”

“No,” Yu Ruoyun interrupted. “We were lovers, as you suspected.”

Luckily, Wu Yi hadn’t taken another drink; he might have sprayed it everywhere.

“How did you get involved with him?” Wu Yu was quite curious. “Your secrecy was impressive.”

Amidst the chatter, people congratulated the Best Actress, exchanged pleasantries, dropped pastries, and posted on social media. In the noise, Yu Ruoyun heard himself say, “I can’t remember.”

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 14

The meal ended on a sour note.

It was easy to make cutting remarks, but Long Xingyu suddenly felt somewhat powerless. He could certainly mock Yu Ruoyun for being outdated and discarded by the market, just like when they first “met”. It was easy to do; no one stayed at the top forever. But it was hard to make demands of Yu Ruoyun. What right did he have to manage so much about Yu Ruoyun? Only Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t show him any resentment.

Unable to speak, Long Xingyu lowered his head and began eating. This university’s cafeteria was quite famous. Aside from the strange dishes, the other foods were pretty good, though everything tasted bland to Long Xingyu. In his peripheral vision, he could still see Yu Ruoyun, who still had makeup on from the scene—a bit haggard to fit the character and storyline, with darkened skin and heavy eye circles. In this light, Yu Ruoyun seemed like an ordinary middle-aged man.

The first time he saw Yu Ruoyun was backstage at an event. Jiang Yu had clothes draped over his arm, thinking of finding a changing room. Amid the chaos, someone called out, “Xiao* Yu.”

*Little (小) Generally used on someone younger (in terms of age or rank) than the person, it’s a term of endearment or familiarity with the person.

Jiang Yu instinctively responded, but the person walked past him without noticing*. They walked to the crowded area ahead and pulled out Yu Ruoyun, who turned out to be Yu Ruoyun’s agent.

*Clarity: She was using (Yu) [俞] as in Yu Ruoyun, not the Yu in Jiang Yu.

The agent, Xu Ye, had been Yu Ruoyun’s agent from the start. As they walked, he complained, “The media interview is about to start, and you’re still dawdling here.”

Yu Ruoyun only smiled apologetically. Though there was no spotlight backstage, Yu Ruoyun seemed to have one. The crowd was his spotlight.

These memories tormented Long Xingyu.

A few hours later, they were filming a night scene where Long Xingyu’s character’s identity was exposed, leading to a confrontation and fight with the protagonist before fleeing. Long Xingyu calculated that he didn’t have many scenes left. The next time he’d meet Yu Ruoyun in the story would likely be in a jail cell for an emotional monologue. After all, he was just a small boss on Yu Ruoyun’s road to success. Once defeated, the main story would progress, and he was just an inconsequential actor.

Thinking this, Long Xingyu decided to perform better, at least to secure his next job opportunity. However, it seemed he overdid it. By the end, the director’s look wasn’t exactly approving. But he said nothing and began preparing to wrap up.

Yu Ruoyun and Long Xingyu were both splattered with fake blood, and despite wiping off with a wet towel, it still felt uncomfortable. Yu Ruoyun’s assistant, who had returned from a vacation in Japan, brought a blanket for him against the evening chill. Yu Ruoyun, wrapped in the blanket, looked up and told the assistant, “I remember there’s a spare in the car. Bring one for him too.”

Long Xingyu didn’t hesitate, wrapping himself in the same kind of blanket. He recognized the assistant from before. He climbed into Yu Ruoyun’s nanny car and sat down beside him.

He fell silent again, though he had many things to say to Yu Ruoyun. But in Long Xingyu’s current position, he couldn’t voice them, like, “Why did you hire my assistant?”

He initially thought it was a coincidence. The assistant Jiang Yu used to have was also fond of traveling to Japan, always bringing back thoughtless gifts of popular snacks. Jiang Yu would get a share, which was why he knew about them. After all these years, Long Xingyu started to wonder if Yu Ruoyun was some sort of secret pervert.

Yu Ruoyun spoke first. “Is this your first time acting?”

“…Yes,” Long Xingyu said, then improvised. “Does school performances count?”

Of course not, and this Long Xingyu hadn’t even finished high school before becoming a trainee.

Yu Ruoyun said, “It doesn’t seem like it’s your first time.”

He didn’t say Long Xingyu had talent, just that he didn’t seem like a beginner. This omission was interesting, as if Long Xingyu was pretending to be a virgin in bed, and Yu Ruoyun saw through it while Long Xingyu still planned to deny it.

“Maybe I’m an undiscovered acting genius,” Long Xingyu said. “You could consider being my mentor.”

“The director asked if we should reshoot,” Yu Ruoyun said. “He thinks you’re too strong, worried I might mind.”

Only then did Long Xingyu understand the director’s earlier look. He found it amusing. “Worried I’ll overshadow you? I should thank him for having so much faith in me.”

Yu Ruoyun reached over to drape the fallen blanket back over Long Xingyu. While Long Xingyu was talking, he noticed the blanket had slipped and reached out to grab it. When their hands touched, Long Xingyu was stunned for a moment before saying, “Senior, if you keep being this nice to me, it’ll be easy for us to progress further. Don’t forget, I said I’d pursue you.”

“I remember.” Yu Ruoyun suddenly asked, “How did you and Jiang Yu meet?”

Fortunately, Long Xingyu had prepared. “I argued with my family, ran away, and my money was stolen. He helped me.”

There was no way Yu Ruoyun could verify if Jiang Yu had ever given him money, so Long Xingyu lied freely.

Yu Ruoyun looked at him for a long time, uncertain if he believed him. The crew was ready to return, and as the car started, Long Xingyu heard Yu Ruoyun say, “If the ages matched, I’d think you were his illegitimate child.”

Long Xingyu almost spat blood.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 13

No matter how restless or sleepless he might be the night before, the next day’s filming must go on, even involving moving to another location. So he dozed in the car.

Long Xingyu had to admit that Yu Ruoyun had an eye for things. Even though it was baffling why he took on a web series, the quality was still decent. Thanks to his influence, the investment increased, allowing the casting of some good actors.

However, in many people’s eyes, Long Xingyu wasn’t on that list of “good actors”. He couldn’t even be considered an actor. He was just a minor role that sneaked in. His main connection to acting was having a lot of scenes and clinging to Yu Ruoyun from day one. Some even gossiped about seeing him sneaking into Yu Ruoyun’s room at night, only to be kicked out shortly after.

“They’re overthinking it,” said someone gossiping. “Even if Yu Ruoyun likes men, he wouldn’t go for someone like him.”

Apart from some early news, Yu Ruoyun hadn’t even had rumors in nearly ten years, though there were occasional whispers about his sexual orientation.

“So who could Yu Ruoyun fancy?” someone asked.

The person who brought up the topic pondered. Most male stars of Yu Ruoyun’s age were married. Some were single, but none seemed to meet Yu Ruoyun’s standards. Well, there was one suitable candidate—although not as frequently awarded or acclaimed as Yu Ruoyun, he was still a top-tier star with an ambiguous sexual orientation. His vindictive personality made people suspect he might be gay.

“Too bad Jiang Yu is dead,” someone said. “Honestly, his temper wasn’t as bad as the rumors. I was in the same crew with him on ‘The Free Wanderer’. There was a scene shot at a waterfall, and the rock he stood on was covered in moss, which nobody checked. He fell off and got swept away. We were terrified! When we pulled him out, he had drifted for a while, and his face was cut by rocks.”

“Wow, the crew must have been responsible for that, right?”

“Yeah, we thought he’d start yelling, but he got up without even changing his wet clothes, looked at his face in the mirror, and asked if makeup could cover it. The makeup artist said no because it was bleeding and could leave a scar if covered. But he insisted on continuing the shoot, saying the budget was already overrun and he couldn’t delay further. You might not have noticed, but in that movie, there’s a scene focusing more on one side of his face.”

“I saw that movie. It was good but didn’t do well at the box office due to lack of promotion. It’s a shame Jiang Yu died.”

The last sentence wasn’t a question but a simple statement. How could he die? Once dead, he became a topic for others to discuss, and his effort to remove scars for that film seemed meaningful only now.

Long Xingyu stood in the shadows, biting into an ice pop with the wrapper half torn off, eating it piece by piece. Yu Ruoyun had scenes to shoot today, but he didn’t have any until the evening. Wandering around and hiding while listening to people discuss him, he wished he could jump out and clarify that Yu Ruoyun had invited him, and he even ate some sweets before leaving, without staring at the fish tank in the room.

Finishing the ice pop, Long Xingyu looked for a trash can but couldn’t find one. He ended up holding the sticky wrapper, which felt as uncomfortable as the humid weather.

A year after Jiang Yu’s death, Long Xingyu constantly heard his name from others. Jiang Yu became a good person posthumously, but Long Xingyu still didn’t think Jiang Yu was a good person.

The good person decided to bother Yu Ruoyun on set.

This was a crime series based on a well-known series that had an overarching storyline. Yu Ruoyun had scenes throughout, working hard enough to violate labor laws.

“Are you done filming?” Long Xingyu asked.

“Done for now,” said a crew member. “There’s a night shoot later.”

Long Xingyu went to Yu Ruoyun. “Wanna grab a bite?”

He said it naturally, as if they were regular meal buddies. Today’s shoot was at a nearby university, and it was dinner time, a chance to escape the crew’s boxed meals. Even if Yu Ruoyun didn’t make a fuss about meals, he could occasionally indulge.

Yu Ruoyun, still in costume, said, “I need to prepare for the next scene.”

“You can’t possibly mess up,” Long Xingyu insisted. “Come on. Just bring the script.”

Soon, Long Xingyu regretted it. Walking around campus alone, no one paid him any mind. Students either asked him for directions or if they could add him on WeChat. Meanwhile, Yu Ruoyun attracted a crowd, snapping pictures.

At the cafeteria, Long Xingyu noticed. “Looks like you need a campus card here.” A group of students eagerly offered theirs before Yu Ruoyun could respond, so Long Xingyu casually took one.

After ordering and paying with the card, Long Xingyu set the tray down and returned the card.

“Thanks,” he said. “But you haven’t eaten yet. Better get in line before it gets longer.”

He had money on him and put it in front of the girl who he borrowed the card from.

“No need!” the student insisted. “It’s not much. Can I have an autograph?”

It was about what Long Xingyu expected. “Okay. Wait a minute. I’ll go get his autograph.”

“No!” The girl was a little anxious. “Yours. I want your autograph.”

“Why mine?” Long Xingyu was a bit stunned that his words didn’t come out clear. He immediately understood that there was no other reason for her to request his autograph, unless of course, she liked him.

He didn’t have any paper or pen with him, so he turned to Yu Ruoyun to ask. Yu Ruoyun had changed into casual clothes after finishing his scenes, and Long Xingyu remembered Yu Ruoyun always carried them. Once, after they had sex, Jiang Yu suddenly got the urge to be diligent and threw all their clothes into the washing machine, resulting in everything being covered in paper scraps and ink stains. With nothing else to wear, Jiang Yu had to borrow a set of Yu Ruoyun’s clothes to go home.

After signing, Long Xingyu suddenly remembered that Yu Ruoyun was still beside him. He said, “You should sign too.”

“Did she ask for my autograph?” Yu Ruoyun questioned.

“Yes,” Long Xingyu lied without batting an eye. “Two for the price of one. She wouldn’t mind.”

Yu Ruoyun signed as well. Their names were side by side, and Long Xingyu looked at the paper several times before handing it to the girl.

“Were you surprised when I said I liked you?” the girl asked Long Xingyu. “Be confident. Lots of people will like you. You’ll become a big star!”

Long Xingyu was taken aback, then sincerely thanked her. When he returned, he saw Yu Ruoyun staring at his meal.

“I got you a special dish,” Long Xingyu said, sitting down. “How do you feel? Touched?”

Nearby students heard and couldn’t help but laugh. It was indeed a special dish: eggplant with dragon fruit and green pepper with mooncake. The unique combinations had even trended online.

After laughing, Long Xingyu switched their trays, but Yu Ruoyun stopped him. “It’s worth a try. Consider it a dessert.”

Long Xingyu didn’t expect Yu Ruoyun to joke like that. He took a couple of bites from Yu Ruoyun’s tray. The taste wasn’t bad but strange, a combination he had never tried before.

“I heard you’re leaving for a day to attend the Golden Phoenix Awards,” Long Xingyu said slowly. “Why take leave again?”

Not that it mattered to Long Xingyu, but he still felt the need to complain.

“I had arranged it earlier,” Yu Ruoyun explained.

“You’re not nominated,” Long Xingyu pointed out. “You didn’t even have any films last year. Why go?”

Yu Ruoyun said, “I lost my memory and forgot why I’m going. Maybe just to walk the red carpet.”

Even after hearing this, Long Xingyu could only say, “It’s such a waste of resources. You have so many scenes. The whole crew is waiting for you.”

“I added more investment,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Decided yesterday. There might even be a second season.”

Shooting one web series was already low, but Yu Ruoyun even wanted to film a second season. To what extent was he this unambitious? Long Xingyu was almost infuriated.

He didn’t really care how much the crew was spending; everyone else had more money than him now. What baffled him was why Yu Ruoyun had inexplicably declined. He had been wondering about this since he woke up. Looking up more about Yu Ruoyun, he found that he hadn’t filmed anything in almost a year, just attended some events. And then, he took on a web series. Luckily, he wasn’t a traffic star*, or his fans would have stormed his studio by now. But at Yu Ruoyun’s level, the studio served the boss. If the boss was lazy, the studio couldn’t force him.

*An internet celebrity that has a massive online following. Their claim to fame is usually through media influence rather than traditional professional achievement (like acting, singing, etc.).

Fortunately, at least he hadn’t lost his professional spirit. When Long Xingyu glanced at Yu Ruoyun’s desk in his room, he saw a stack of books, all related to professional knowledge. Long Xingyu sneered inwardly, thinking that if Yu Ruoyun put this much effort into something more worthwhile, it would be better. Frankly, Long Xingyu didn’t think much of this. He thought Yu Ruoyun was getting old; being around the same age, he didn’t think he was any better off. Over the past few years, despite his outward tolerance, he always felt these new trends had nothing to do with him. Yet, ironically, he found himself getting involved now.

“Yu Ruoyun.” Long Xingyu felt helpless, whispering almost inaudibly. “You’re an award-winning actor.”

He seemed to care more about the title than Yu Ruoyun himself.

---

The author has something to say:

Earlier, Long Xingyu had fans sending gifts and support, and there were station sisters*. The fact that not many people recognize him here is not a bug. Nowadays, there are many idols in China, and most of them have fans who can support them and vote for them on charts. However, whether they have mainstream recognition is another matter, so I won’t give specific examples.

*Fans that are dedicated to taking pictures and sharing photos of their idol.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 12

If he had to recall why he fell in love with Yu Ruoyun, there really wasn’t an answer. When people first started dating, they had many fantasies. Once they returned to reality, they just thought the other person was quite nice. It was only after experiencing many people and events that they realized how difficult “quite nice” was in a relationship.

The entertainment industry was full of talents and an astonishing amount of trash. Pure friendships exist, but unfortunately, not for Jiang Yu. He didn’t attend classes properly, rarely went to school, and never stayed in the dorms, so he didn’t form bonds with classmates. He knew many people in his social circle, but it was all about exchanging benefits. There was no free lunch in the world.

He would only admit that Yu Ruoyun was a good person. Because Yu Ruoyun didn’t need to fight or snatch, many things would naturally come to him—international directors, luxury endorsements, front-row seats at fashion shows. Yu Ruoyun might not even want them, politely saying his schedule didn’t allow it. Once, Yu Ruoyun couldn’t help but suggest to a brand that they consider other domestic male stars who also fit the image.

He said it diplomatically, but when Jiang Yu took the endorsement and heard the internal story, he immediately understood who Yu Ruoyun was paving the way for. Jiang Yu went back and had a huge fight with Yu Ruoyun, saying many harsh things. After that, nothing similar happened again.

But what did Yu Ruoyun do wrong? Now Long Xingyu thought, he was actually provoking Yu Ruoyun just to see his reaction.

Now, the young star Long Xingyu was very self-aware. It would be great if Yu Ruoyun gave him resources—endorsements, variety shows, all for him, and preferably this leading role too. He definitely wouldn’t refuse. In the past, Jiang Yu felt like Yu Ruoyun was slapping him in the face, stimulating him so much that he couldn’t sleep at night and constantly threw cigarette butts on the balcony.

But perhaps Yu Ruoyun loved him. Otherwise, how could he act with such emotion? With this assumption, Long Xingyu felt a bit relieved.

Long Xingyu had seen an analogy online: if a man had a million yuan and was willing to give you ten thousand, and another man had only one hundred yuan but was willing to give you all of it, who loved you more?

Everyone in the comments agreed that the latter loved you more.

Yu Ruoyun was the latter. His feelings were only worth a hundred yuan, and he had given it all to Jiang Yu. Two actors with similar types, routes, and even fame, coming out together was a pipe dream. Even if Yu Ruoyun agreed, Jiang Yu wouldn’t. He would think Yu Ruoyun had ulterior motives to ruin him. He had worked so long to climb to this position, not to fall back to the bottom. They couldn’t hold hands in the park, watch a movie together in a theater, argue in a supermarket over what to buy, or even, like Long Xingyu now, have a meal together on set, sneak into Yu Ruoyun’s room to eat a box of sweets. They had no chance to act in the same film. Just thinking about the billing order would make Jiang Yu furious.

In public, the most Yu Ruoyun could do was subtly help Jiang Yu. But Jiang Yu wasn’t the type to be satisfied and moved. He sat on a bicycle, dreaming of a BMW, wanting ten million or a billion. Why didn’t Yu Ruoyun have it? Why wouldn’t he rob a bank if he didn’t?

And if Jiang Yu had a hundred yuan, he would…

He would rob Yu Ruoyun’s money so he would have two hundred yuan.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t move. He sat there and said, “You should go. It’s late.”

He was actually kicking him out.

Long Xingyu didn’t have the strength to resist. Staying longer would be unbearable. At the door, Long Xingyu suddenly asked, “When will you forget him?”

Today, he saw a long post from a fan online, ending with, “We will never forget him.” Thinking of this, he wanted to ask Yu Ruoyun.

“Not the kind of amnesia you have, but where you can remember but choose not to think about it,” Long Xingyu added.

It felt like an eternity before he heard Yu Ruoyun say, “That might be very difficult.”

The door closed. Yu Ruoyun turned off the lights. In the dark room, there was the sweet scent of chocolate and cookies. Yu Ruoyun stood up to rinse his mouth, the taste quickly fading.

Looking in the mirror, Yu Ruoyun remembered Long Xingyu’s question and answered it again, “I won’t forget.”

Memory was one thing; memory fading was another. Jiang Yu would never tell anyone he felt inferior to Yu Ruoyun. No matter the time, place, or person, he would never admit it.

Long Xingyu was lying to him. But it wasn’t just a lie.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 11

In the end, Long Xingyu still dumped all the bitter melon into Yu Ruoyun’s bowl.

It wasn’t that his appetite was really that good, able to eat despite everything that had happened. But if he left just like that, people might really think he had been scolded to tears by Yu Ruoyun. It was better to pretend nothing had happened and later tell those watching the scene that he had cried because of an emotional discussion about their roles. Yu Ruoyun would play along anyway.

After the meal, Long Xingyu asked, “What else do you remember?”

Yu Ruoyun said, “Just this for now.”

Long Xingyu felt a bit sorry for Yu Ruoyun.

Yu Ruoyun only remembered that someone named Jiang Yu had died and felt sad about it, without even knowing why. But if he remembered Jiang Yu’s deeds, maybe Yu Ruoyun would feel better, perhaps even thinking Jiang Yu deserved to die.

“If interacting with me more helps you remember,” Long Xingyu said, “then it’s not impossible.”

Even with such a good attitude, Yu Ruoyun didn’t seem grateful. He just sat there.

Long Xingyu stood up. “I’m leaving!”

Yu Ruoyun didn’t respond, so Long Xingyu left awkwardly.

Returning to his room and picking up his phone, Long Xingyu understood why Yu Ruoyun had been acting so strangely today.

“Why did it have to be the anniversary of my death?” Long Xingyu was still baffled, turning over to continue reading.

His fans had organized an event to commemorate him, and the media had praised him, saying that even though he hadn’t won many awards, he had contributed many critically acclaimed works over the years. Overall, the posthumous praise for Jiang Yu far exceeded the recognition he received while alive. Back then, people thought Jiang Yu was a temperamental actor who couldn’t even win awards—a significant failure. Sometimes even the public felt it should be his turn to win, but even when awards were shared, Jiang Yu wasn’t included.

Long Xingyu reflected on his strong vanity. Even now, he cared about whether people remembered him, as if that would make him feel better. He wasn’t a pure person; Yu Ruoyun entered the entertainment industry for acting and always focused on it. Long Xingyu had been pushed into it without understanding the industry, unsure of his passions, only wanting to be seen, recognized, and illuminated, casting light on Jiang Yu.

Scrolling down, he saw a familiar name. A female star frequently appeared in the headlines, though they had no interaction.

Shao Xinghe: [Today marks one year since Jiang Yu passed away. It reminded me of a red carpet event where I wore a dress with a hollowed-out upper body, thinking it looked beautiful. Suddenly, Jiang Yu blocked my view, covering me so only half my face was visible. I initially thought it was unintentional, but no matter how I moved, he followed, blocking me. That high-end dress was never fully photographed.]

He remembered this because it was so obvious. The set of photos went viral online, showing Jiang Yu in the front smiling while Shao Xinghe looked unhappy behind him. People discussed how Jiang Yu even stole the spotlight from female stars.

Shao Xinghe’s last sentence on Weibo was:

[The only thing he ever said to me was, “Your breast stickers fell off, idiot,” while standing beside me. I fixed it behind him before completing the walk.]

Somehow, Long Xingyu found it tolerable when people praised Jiang Yu’s work but couldn’t stand the compliments about his character. It felt like being elected a “Moving China” figure for picking up litter by the roadside, with cameras suddenly popping out. It was unbearably awkward. Yet this Weibo post had far more traffic than others related to Jiang Yu, partly because the poster was a celebrity and partly because the details were touching. No one even minded Jiang Yu’s swearing.

Shao Xinghe hadn’t mentioned it before, and Jiang Yu helped cover it up, so she couldn’t admit it publicly. Opening her mouth would lead others to scrutinize her photos and videos for any slip-ups. Jiang Yu didn’t care. He thought he looked better in that set of photos than Shao Xinghe.

The phone suddenly chimed. Long Xingyu picked it up and saw a message from Yu Ruoyun. The content was even stranger: Yu Ruoyun asking Long Xingyu to come to his room.

Was Yu Ruoyun always like this on set? Calling newcomers to his room in the middle of the night? Long Xingyu almost smashed his phone in anger.

He didn’t break the phone but dropped it on his face, hurting his nose. It proved that playing with the phone in bed wasn’t a good idea.

The pain brought some clarity. If Yu Ruoyun easily slept with young stars, there would’ve been endless gossip. Even if he wanted to sleep with someone now, it was his freedom. The law didn’t require him to stay chaste for three years. Long Xingyu had no right to accuse him of being promiscuous—though he really wanted to. At least now, the person Yu Ruoyun wanted was still somewhat related to him.

Long Xingyu replied that he would be right there but first took a shower. By the time he came out, it was later at night, and Yu Ruoyun might no longer be waiting. But he went anyway.

Yu Ruoyun was still waiting, opening the door and stepping aside to let Long Xingyu in. He handed Long Xingyu a box and said, “My assistant went to Japan on vacation and brought this back.”

Long Xingyu was puzzled. “You called me over just for chocolates?”

Yu Ruoyun said, “I suddenly wanted something sweet.”

Long Xingyu picked up the stack of snacks. They were popular blogger items, as caloric as they were famous.

“These aren’t worth buying,” Long Xingyu said, tearing open a package. “Cheap and space-consuming, not even…”

He stopped, realizing he had opened a packet of White Lover cookies, famous for both taste and name.

Unsure if Yu Ruoyun recognized it, Long Xingyu handed him a piece. Yu Ruoyun accepted it.

“Someone filmed a video and posted it online,” Yu Ruoyun said. “It even trended.”

“Not a big deal,” Long Xingyu was indifferent. “Trending topics are easier than getting a dog these days.”

“Are dogs easy to get?”

“…” Long Xingyu said, “I was just making an analogy.”

He was always like this, talking nonsense, not trying to please, often creating messes that the studio had to clean up.

Yu Ruoyun slowly chewed the cookie Long Xingyu handed him, took a sip of water, and said, “I thought eating something sweet would improve my mood.”

If Yu Ruoyun hadn’t said that, no one would have noticed any difference in him, seeing no sign of bad mood.

“When you said you wanted to be famous today, it reminded me of some things,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I remembered meeting his mother later. He left part of his estate to me in his will. I wanted to return it to his family. His mother wasn’t surprised to see me. She knew me, saying Jiang Yu’s room was once full of posters. Later, many were taken down, but mine remained. She said he must have really liked you to leave part of his inheritance to you. But how did he know your ID and contact information?”

“His mother thought he idolized me,” Yu Ruoyun said. “She wasn’t wrong. But more accurately, he wanted to surpass me. Once he did, he would take down the poster. He wanted to be famous too.”

When the cookie’s sweetness became cloying, it turned bitter. Long Xingyu struggled to swallow it. Yu Ruoyun knew him too well.

But Yu Ruoyun continued, “He was only thirty-four. Why did he write a will?”

Returning to his room, Yu Ruoyun pondered for a long time but couldn’t recall why. His memories of Jiang Yu started from Jiang Yu’s death. He couldn’t remember and could only conclude he had been an incompetent lover.

“Did he ever mention me to you?” Yu Ruoyun asked Long Xingyu. This was the real reason he called him over, though the prelude had been long.

There’s a type of spider called a bird-eating spider. It weaves such intricate and soft webs yet can trap free-flying birds, rendering them helpless. Yu Ruoyun had entangled him and was now injecting poison, making it hard for him to breathe.

He should say something comforting to Yu Ruoyun, like Jiang Yu often praised him and said he was good to him. But Long Xingyu didn’t want to let Yu Ruoyun off so easily. He knew what to do.

“He said he felt he could never surpass you,” Long Xingyu said.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 10

People were coming and going, and no one noticed what was happening here. Long Xingyu sat there, recalling the countless times he had practiced acting with imaginary props.

An empty stage where he had to pretend all sorts of activities were happening. Sometimes, he had to hug the air and perform gut-wrenching cries, throwing his emotions into the void. Just like Yu Ruoyun now, expressing love to someone who was no longer there.

During his college entrance exams, he had passed the retests for several top film schools. He eventually chose a good school that didn’t prohibit freshmen from filming and was lenient toward slightly famous students, whether in terms of entrance scores or attendance rates. Back then, he hadn’t gone independent yet. He told his former agent, “Time is precious. I don’t have the luxury of spending it in school. I want to surpass Yu Ruoyun.”

The goal was too grand. The agent didn’t take it seriously, thinking it was just youthful ambition. They jokingly asked, “Why are you so fixated on Yu Ruoyun?”

Jiang Yu said, “Of course, because the first time I…”

Long Xingyu picked up a glass of water and drank it all in one go. He drank too quickly and ended up choking, splashing water on his face. He looked at Yu Ruoyun and said, “I’ve never heard of Jiang Yu having any romantic relationship with you. Do you have any evidence?”

He knew Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t have any and that none existed.

If Jiang Yu hadn’t died, this year would have been their seventh year together. For ordinary couples, the seven-year itch would be approaching—men would start balding, women would start gaining weight, and even children would become disobedient. They didn’t have these worries, nor did they have anything beyond worries—no photos together, no trips, never pulling open the curtains during the day. Nothing at all.

Yu Ruoyun said, “The road where his accident happened was only three hundred meters from where I lived. He was probably coming to see me that day, but I wasn’t home. I forgot to tell him I wouldn’t be there.”

Long Xingyu realized something was wrong with himself. He looked down to see his hand holding the glass shaking uncontrollably.

Was Yu Ruoyun feeling guilty? He thought, Yu Ruoyun indeed seemed like someone who would take the blame.

“You don’t think it’s your fault he died, do you?” Long Xingyu tried to lighten the mood. “You’re overthinking this. The media reported that he jaywalked, and the driver was fatigued. That’s why the accident happened.”

He focused on covering his own emotions, not noticing the sharp change in Yu Ruoyun’s expression.

Long Xingyu continued to gather his thoughts. “I’ve seen your movie. Actually, almost everyone has. The first time I saw you act, I wanted to kill you. How could you be so lucky, so perfectly timed, to become famous and win awards with just one movie?”

Good luck aside, it was visible talent, something many actors couldn’t achieve in a lifetime. He never faced setbacks. That movie became the director’s final work. He retired afterward, leaving no chance for replication.

But he couldn’t say any of this now. It was better for Yu Ruoyun to see him as a jealous junior striving for fame than to remind him of someone from the past. This wasn’t just about awakening Yu Ruoyun’s memories but also about dredging up his own.

In Yu Ruoyun’s words, what kind of person would Jiang Yu be? He didn’t dare to listen.

“So I just want to become famous—more famous than you,” Long Xingyu said. “I know you’re a good person. Good people do good deeds. So maybe be my sugar daddy. Sleep with me and pay the bill. Help me escape this hellish company. Support me to gain more fans. Get me leading roles, anything. Ignore me like before if you want. Just don’t talk to me about your ex.”

Yu Ruoyun lowered his eyes. Long Xingyu couldn’t help but look at his dense eyelashes, like those of a deer, innocent. Yu Ruoyun finally said, “But I have no one to talk to.”

He truly was an actor. That single sentence carried so many mixed emotions—sincere yet sad. Long Xingyu realized that Yu Ruoyun was telling the truth.

Yu Ruoyun was a rational person. He wouldn’t idly chat with any friend about his affair with Jiang Yu. Just like he didn’t attend Jiang Yu’s funeral even after calling all night from abroad. Yu Ruoyun wasn’t there to show off on the red carpet. He was a film festival judge. And it wasn’t just forgetting to tell Jiang Yu. He had deliberately withheld it, as Jiang Yu’s film wasn’t shortlisted, and Yu Ruoyun didn’t want to upset him.

“What about me?” Long Xingyu asked. “If you can’t tell anyone else, can you tell me?”

“I spoke to the casting director,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Asked how you got into the crew.”

Long Xingyu’s heart tightened.

“You approached an investor Jiang Yu had helped before. You said you were close to Jiang Yu, that he treated you like a brother, asking for support,” Yu Ruoyun said. “That was smart because Jiang Yu indeed wouldn’t have talked about such things. You might have had contact with him before. You told me over the phone to scold you if you were wrong. So here it is.”

Yu Ruoyun leaned forward slightly, as if about to have a close encounter with Long Xingyu. “Since we met, you haven’t said a single good thing about Jiang Yu. You said he died, called him arrogant, said his songs were outdated, and that he deserved to die for jaywalking. Understand this: you have no right to judge Jiang Yu. He might have helped you, but you’re not worth it.”

Long Xingyu was stunned by this barrage.

If Yu Ruoyun hadn’t listed it out, he wouldn’t have realized how many times he had insulted himself. Why was Yu Ruoyun angry? Weren’t these all facts?

Before he could retort, Yu Ruoyun changed his demeanor, handed him a tissue, and said, “Wipe your face.”

Wipe what? Long Xingyu was confused. He touched his face and realized it was wet.

Yu Ruoyun was also somewhat speechless, possibly not understanding why Long Xingyu, who seemed so indifferent, would cry after a few words.

But this time, Yu Ruoyun didn’t apologize. He continued, “If you knew Jiang Yu, we could still be friends. I just hope you won’t say such things again.”

‘Screw you,’ Long Xingyu cursed inwardly. Who wants to be friends with you? Do I need your permission to insult myself? You fucking psychopath.

But outwardly, he nodded and continued to roughly wipe his eyes with the tissue, thinking, if Yu Ruoyun really cared about him this much, maybe they still had a chance to start over.

He hoped so.

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Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 9

In the end, Long Xingyu never really learned to dance well. He could only remember the basic moves to muddle through.

It wasn’t for lack of effort—Lu Zheming truly seemed to jinx things. Long Xingyu’s back injury had indeed flared up again.

Regardless of his singing and dancing, the fan club’s support with flower baskets was impressive. Long Xingyu clicked his tongue in amazement. “Where did all this money come from…”

Of course, he knew. The fans had pooled money round after round. After supporting the production crew, they had to fund the fan meeting activities. He felt a bit guilty, like a robber snatching breakfast money from elementary school kids. Moreover, the fan club probably embezzled some money. The wallet they gave him was an old model and a counterfeit. He wouldn’t have been able to recognize luxury goods, but it just so happened that Jiang Yu once owned the authentic version of that wallet.

“Don’t send any more gifts,” Long Xingyu told the head of the fan club. “People are very sensitive about this now. No more fundraising or gifts, or one day we’ll become an example to warn others.”

He found an excuse that sounded noble. After all, Long Xingyu was an idol and couldn’t bluntly say, “Stop giving me fake stuff.”

“Just issue a statement saying it’s my decision,” Long Xingyu said firmly. He softened the blow a bit, acknowledging the corruption but recognizing that he didn’t have many fans and couldn’t afford to lose the ones who did the work. “There are other things you can do.”

Chasing idols required money and effort. Whenever Long Xingyu looked into it, he felt more exhausted than from work. Naturally, there were private interests involved. But for the current Long Xingyu, he couldn’t meet most of the standards. He could only set expectations to avoid too much disappointment.

He thought if Long Xingyu in heaven saw this unremarkable person occupying his body, doing nothing but going back to a man, he would probably be furious enough to come back and reclaim it.

Well, going back to a man hadn’t succeeded either. Yu Ruoyun’s attitude towards him grew more ambiguous. Calling him with strange concerns and making him listen to his song—what was he supposed to say? “Brother, stop listening to such old songs and try our new track. We can’t even chart.” 

If Yu Ruoyun cooperated, maybe Long Xingyu’s wish to become popular nationwide could come true.

But another of Long Xingyu’s wishes was to stop being criticized.

Long Xingyu suddenly laughed out loud. Lu Zheming, next to him, looked over in confusion.

“Just remembered a joke,” Long Xingyu said. “One day, I was walking in the desert when a genie appeared and offered to grant me a wish. I said I wanted to be famous worldwide. The genie said that was too hard and asked for another wish. I then said I wanted no one to ever criticize me. The genie replied, ‘What was your first wish again?’”

It didn’t amuse Lu Zheming, but he said, “Seems like you’ve really come to terms with things. I always worried you were too fragile before…”

Long Xingyu suddenly felt annoyed. Though his temper had improved, it was still unstable.

“I never thought I was fragile,” Long Xingyu said coldly, then went to change his clothes. “Get ready. It’s time to go on stage.”

Maybe he was being tactless again, but Long Xingyu couldn’t help it. Those who endured were strong, but those who couldn’t aren’t necessarily weak. Everyone had moments where they couldn’t breathe. Jiang Yu had those moments too, so angry he bit his lip until it bled. The protagonist in those cool stories might get to slap back, but he didn’t. He kept living as usual, without shedding a tear.

A fan meeting meant they didn’t have the ability to hold a full concert or sell that many tickets. They found a small venue to barely get by. After the performance, there were many other segments to fill the time and make fans feel it was worth the ticket price.

When the microphone was handed to Long Xingyu, he was absentminded and hadn’t collected his thoughts. He hesitated for two seconds and blurted out, “I’ll sing a song.”

He quickly added, “My back hurts today. Not feeling well.”

So, he could only sing. Everyone accepted this explanation.

He didn’t sing his own part but sang the old song Yu Ruoyun had played for him. With limited time, he sang only the final part.

“Romance has no destiny, the story ended long ago.”

“I don’t remember the earlier parts,” Long Xingyu said with a smile.

Before returning to the set, Long Xingyu was summoned by his agent.

The agent subtly asked if Long Xingyu had recently met anyone.

Long Xingyu feigned surprise. “How could I? I’ve been filming on set these days.”

The agent, half-believing, relaxed and then mentioned that the micro-business endorsement was off the table. It had only been a preliminary discussion, but the company suddenly decided that Long Xingyu wasn’t famous enough after a comprehensive evaluation and needed more consideration.

Long Xingyu sighed in relief. For the first time he was grateful for his lack of fame. Even micro-businesses weren’t interested in him.

The next day, back on set, he sought out Yu Ruoyun.

Eating was a good time to chat, just like he used to talk a lot when he was with Yu Ruoyun in bed. Long Xingyu said, “My company’s trouble got sorted out suddenly.”

“Mm.” Yu Ruoyun asked an unrelated question, “Can you eat bitter melon?”

Long Xingyu looked down, noticing the day’s dishes.

“Should be… okay, I guess,” Long Xingyu said hesitantly, not wanting to continue this topic. “Don’t distract me. Did you do something behind the scenes?”

Bitter melon was indeed hard to eat. Long Xingyu forced it down, his face almost contorting.

Yu Ruoyun said, “Why is it that when I’m with you, I can remember things about him more easily? He was also like this, very picky about food, with many things he couldn’t eat.”

He continued, “Don’t think too much. I just wanted to thank you.”

Long Xingyu knew whom Yu Ruoyun was talking about but pretended not to. It felt degrading, suddenly acting as his own substitute. So, he asked, “Who?”

Yu Ruoyun left a final mystery. “My lover.”

Long Xingyu felt his stomach churn, and the food he had forced down almost came back up. It was absurd. Yu Ruoyun seemed genuinely sad. Why did it take a person’s death for him to become so sentimental? It felt no different from a cult promising 72 virgins in heaven for self-sacrifice.

Yu Ruoyun continued, “That day when you were at the door… after that, I remembered some things about him.”

“What things?” Long Xingyu couldn’t help but ask.

“About when he died,” Yu Ruoyun said.

It sounded ominous. Long Xingyu rolled his eyes. Yu Ruoyun continued, “I was abroad at the time. When I saw the news, it was early morning. That night, I kept calling. I wondered if he was unwilling to answer and was borrowing someone else’s phone to call back. He never answered.”

Long Xingyu lost his appetite, throwing his chopsticks down, “Enough. It’s just he, he, he, he. Doesn’t your boyfriend have a name? Stop being so vague. Do you think no one can tell who he is?”

Every time he met Yu Ruoyun, he told himself not to lose his temper, not to be a powder keg. Since heaven had given him this chance, Yu Ruoyun should have a more considerate, gentle, and younger boyfriend. Someone who could bring simple joy and longevity to their relationship. Yet, he always ended up exposing his true nature.

“He was Jiang Yu,” Yu Ruoyun said.

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