Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 21

Long Xingyu would be attending a commercial event. His group somehow got lucky and received a snack brand’s promotion contract. The brand was somewhat well-known, but in today’s world, brand owners wanted to exploit and yet were unwilling to give spokesperson titles, inventing various other titles instead. For example, each member of their group was made a “delicious ambassador” for a specific snack. Still, they had to pretend to be satisfied, and it was mentioned several times that if the promotion went well, there could be “further cooperation”.

During this period, Long Xingyu had been filming. The person with the new core habits didn’t even bother to post on Weibo for publicity anymore. The once rock-solid popularity he enjoyed was showing a downward trend. This wasn’t something he noticed himself but was reminded by others. The brand created a real-time sales ranking, and that teammate, who always felt somewhat competitive with him, immediately posted a screenshot on Weibo to express gratitude to his fans when his sales surpassed Long Xingyu’s. However, Long Xingyu’s sales surpassed his again the very next minute.

Long Xingyu almost fainted. He realized that he no longer had the mood for comparisons. He just found everything incredibly banal; why was he forced into this kind of competition? What’s the point? To get elementary school students to eat a few more boxes of spicy sticks?

People also asked about the recent rumors about Long Xingyu. A teammate replied with, “Don’t say that. He’s not that kind of person. I believe in him.” Because the celebrity himself replied, this comment immediately became the top comment, and everyone who clicked in could see it.

“I heard Long Xingyu hooked up with the Film Emperor as soon as he joined the crew and is now about to leave the group.”

If it was just Long Xingyu’s name, it wouldn’t have much buzz. But it was different now that Yu Ruoyun was involved. Yu Ruoyun had fans, but not many would patrol the search entries and control the comments for him. One could find all sorts of things if one searched.

A teammate was still listening to music when Long Xingyu walked over and yanked his earphones out.

“What are you doing!” the teammate shouted, but he seemed somewhat guilty and didn’t dare to look Long Xingyu in the eye.

“Nothing,” Long Xingyu said. “Just asking you. You play word games, and I can’t understand them because I’m not cultured. You believe I’m not that kind of person. What kind of person? Someone who wouldn’t get into a Film Emperor’s bed or someone who wouldn’t leave the group?”

The teammate, just over twenty and not yet skilled in scheming, was left speechless by Long Xingyu’s imposing manner.

“First of all, I haven’t gotten into Yu Ruoyun’s bed, yet. Second…” Long Xingyu laughed sarcastically. “Give up. Even if you leave, I won’t.”

These words weren’t spoken on impulse. Before coming to the practice room, he had discussed with the higher-ups about his contract and said the same thing. The contracts for promoting film and TV were given to a company run by Yu Ruoyun’s friend, but the group contract remained unchanged. He still fulfilled his contract and didn’t leave the group.

It wasn’t necessary—even the agent was surprised. After all, this kind of behavior—running away halfway and lingering at the door—was quite baffling.

“I remember last time I told you I didn’t want to take that micro-business endorsement, and you told me it wasn’t up to me.” Long Xingyu suddenly brought it up, making the agent somewhat embarrassed.

Long Xingyu said, “There’s no other meaning. You were right. Without Yu Ruoyun, who knows where I’d be cooling my heels, let alone having the chance to change the contract so quickly. Damn, why is living off someone so enjoyable? I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

Actually, it wasn’t true. Long Xingyu understood in his heart that people get jealous when the neighbor buys a new car, but they don’t hate themselves for not being as rich as Bill Gates. Now that the gap was too big, he felt at ease, treating it as if Yu Ruoyun was donating to the poor, and he would send a banner to Yu Ruoyun after poverty alleviation.

“But don’t take on those sponsorships for them,” Long Xingyu finally said. “Starting too low makes others look down on you and think there’s no future for this group. Even though I also think there’s no future, a dead fish has to struggle a bit, right?”

He never understood what being an idol was, and after knowing it, he still didn’t get its meaning. The recent proliferation of domestic idols, with their uniquely-Chinese style, made the concept seem even more absurd to him. The once noble print media had gradually declined over the years. The high threshold was no longer unreachable. If you had sales, you had hope of getting on. It wasn’t those young people’s fault. Times were rapidly changing, and everything was no longer necessary.

During this time, he had to practice dancing. The best way was to find Long Xingyu’s previous dance practice videos and practice accordingly. Long Xingyu would record his practice videos with his phone every now and then, storing them on a hard drive. He found one to watch, and at the end of the video, Long Xingyu hadn’t stopped the recording, leaning against the wall with his clothes soaked in sweat, not getting up to turn it off. He was about to close it when he heard the video’s Long Xingyu asking, “When can I perform on stage?”

No matter how times changed, some things remained the same. The desire to be noticed, to hear cheers and applause, practicing day after day, waiting for that damn luck to come. Because of this, he couldn’t bear to take away the last bit of what Long Xingyu had. So he decided to stay a bit longer, holding on a bit more. Who knows, maybe this lousy company will go bankrupt tomorrow.

“Zhong Mo, right?” Long Xingyu finally remembered the teammate’s name. “I don’t mind you stabbing me. I’m just reminding you not to stab yourself to death.”

He thought he was very kind, but it was a pity. Zhong Mo seemed just scared, not even saying thank you, and awkwardly went back to playing on his phone.

Someone walked over, and Long Xingyu glanced out of the corner of his eye. Here came Lu Zheming, the team captain, to smooth things over again.

“Why the temper?” Lu Zheming said. “Just have him delete it.”

“Meaningless.” Long Xingyu sighed. “I just feel all this is meaningless.”

Competing in snack sales was meaningless, and so was winning trophies.

“What do you want to achieve?” Long Xingyu asked Lu Zheming. “Chasing dreams should bring something in return, right? Otherwise, it’s just wasting time.”

Lu Zheming replied, “Not necessarily. Isn’t pursuing the dream itself enough? I’ve long realized not everyone can succeed, but many people never even had dreams.”

“I don’t think I can,” Long Xingyu said. “I used to think fame, money, and status were very important. Now… they’re still very important. I can’t get rid of my vanity.”

But Yu Ruoyun seemed to be part of his vanity too.

Loving someone, like a dream, was a lottery win. People’s pure imagination of love was often supplemented by entertainment and works related to love; rarely could they make it come true in reality. Career and wealth, he once wanted to have again, but now he felt it was meaningless. Even if he achieved something again, wouldn’t he eventually be forgotten?

But some people wouldn’t—Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t forget him. Despite damaging his brain, he still wanted to recover memories about Jiang Yu.

In the Bible, Jesus was crucified and resurrected because he was the Son of God, destined to save humanity.

What important thing did he have to do? This world seemed not to need his salvation.

“I’m leaving,” Long Xingyu suddenly said. “Tell the teacher I had something urgent.”

He carelessly pushed the door open and left, abandoning his teammates without a shred of responsibility.

In fact, Yu Ruoyun hadn’t even returned. He took that key, just wanting to confirm some things.

Maybe this time, only Yu Ruoyun needed his salvation.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 20

Xu Ye voiced her suspicion. “When I went to your place before, I noticed cigarette butts several times. You don’t smoke, and you’re an anti-smoking ambassador. It’s unlikely that just a regular friend would smoke in front of you. Also… you’ve nearly replaced everyone on your team except for me.”

At first, she thought Yu Ruoyun had some dissatisfaction with her, but he never acted further on it. Once she realized almost all of them used to work in Jiang Yu’s studio, Xu Ye became even more puzzled.

“They’re quite capable, aren’t they?” Yu Ruoyun chuckled at the memory. “They have lots of marketing connections, for instance.”

Jiang Yu’s rise to fame was far more arduous than Yu Ruoyun’s. Few could debut as the male lead in their first film like Yu Ruoyun. Jiang Yu started as a minor character in TV dramas and achieved fame almost on par with Yu Ruoyun. Part of this was due to Jiang Yu’s relentless effort, working nearly every day of the year, seamlessly moving from one project to the next, even appearing on New Year’s TV shows. Part of it was also due to his team’s effective publicity, turning an eight into a ten and consistently keeping his name in the public eye, often alongside Yu Ruoyun’s. Jiang Yu never committed any serious mistakes. Even his temper could be marketed as genuine, a mix of praise and criticism that kept him relevant.

“So it really was him?” Xu Ye confirmed once more.

“Yes,” Yu Ruoyun replied.

Xu Ye sighed. “If this were before, I might have had something to say to you. But now, I don’t even know how to start. Ruoyun, I understand how you feel, but Jiang Yu is dead. You don’t need to…”

“Maybe he’s not,” Yu Ruoyun said softly. “Seeing is believing. I never saw it, so it might not be true.”

Xu Ye initially wanted to tell Yu Ruoyun he didn’t need a low-grade stand-in for Jiang Yu, just for a slight resemblance. But after Yu Ruoyun said that, she didn’t continue.

She remembered when Jiang Yu died, Yu Ruoyun was abroad. She didn’t think much of it at the time, feeling some regret but seeing no connection to Yu Ruoyun. She just mentioned to Yu Ruoyun that they should send a condolence wreath. Yu Ruoyun replied quickly, “No need.”

She explained it wasn’t about personally going, just leaving his name, but Yu Ruoyun reiterated, “No need.”

Fine, no need then. Xu Ye gave up. After all, there were plenty of elegiac couplets wishing Jiang Yu a smooth journey to the afterlife; it wouldn’t miss Yu Ruoyun’s contribution. Jiang Yu’s death was a hot topic for several days, with the media digging into his past, but it soon blew over. Some people trended on social media, some fell in love, some played Honor of Kings and chewed gum on set. The entertainment industry and the world kept spinning, unchanged.

But for Yu Ruoyun, it wasn’t the same. If Jiang Yu had truly been with Yu Ruoyun, then Yu Ruoyun’s outward normalcy was the most abnormal thing. Returning as scheduled, completing pre-arranged work, hanging out with friends during breaks, discussing investment projects, and taking his dog to the vet.

Xu Ye had managed Yu Ruoyun for almost twenty years. He had reshaped her entire life. Back when the mainland entertainment industry was still immature, everything was in a state of exploration. Yu Ruoyun’s family feared he’d suffer as a minor, so they sought someone to look after him. Eventually, Xu Ye, a distant cousin who didn’t excel academically but had gone to art school and entered the workforce early, was chosen. With a bit more experience than others, she transitioned to being Yu Ruoyun’s agent. She endured many hardships but never suffered any grievance from Yu Ruoyun, who never made unreasonable demands and was always strategic about his career. Xu Ye later started her own company, branching into other industries, and Yu Ruoyun had helped her considerably.

“Ruoyun,” Xu Ye said, “Maybe I’m getting old and nostalgic. Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about the past. Do you remember when you went to Hong Kong to shoot a movie?”

That was quite a while ago, when Hong Kong cinema was declining but still far more developed than the mainland market, boasting a more professional film industry. Co-productions were mostly Hong Kong crews with mainland actors, but the city wasn’t one they were familiar with after all, which led to occasional unpleasant experiences with unpleasant people.

“That seems to be the first time I saw you get angry. In the crew, there was a supporting actress with a significant role who was also from the mainland. There was a guy in the camera crew, just a track pusher, who always made fun of her, calling her ‘Beigu*’. She didn’t understand and asked what ‘Beigu’ meant. He laughed, and the other men laughed too, saying, ‘You’re from the north, a northern girl, right? Beigu.’ She was so naive that she believed it. When they were eating, the guy called her that again, and she responded. You were sitting next to her, stood up, took a bottle of wine, and walked over. People thought you were going to toast him. As soon as he raised his glass, you poured the entire bottle over his head.”

*Northern Girl. It’s a derogatory term that was historically used to refer to women from Northern China who came to Hong Kong or Macau to work as prostitutes. It’s considered outdated and not commonly used, which is probably why the actress didn’t know the negative connotation behind it.

“That was a long time ago,” Yu Ruoyun said.

“I never knew what you said to him, but he came out and apologized to the girl. When I asked you what happened, you said, ‘I used to wonder why anyone would care about others’ opinions. Now I know no one can truly ignore them.’”

That was when Xu Ye realized Yu Ruoyun was human, capable of empathy and impulsive actions, because he too had been looked down upon despite doing nothing wrong. Early fame brought harsher criticism from the public, who enjoyed watching a prodigy’s potential downfall. No matter how diligently Yu Ruoyun worked on his films, there were always detractors until he won a second Best Actor award, which gradually silenced them. So much pressure, yet Yu Ruoyun rarely showed it unless it became a burden to progress, allowing Xu Ye to see that even a perfect statue could have cracks.

“Ruoyun,” Xu Ye asked softly, “Are you very sad?”

Have you still not accepted Jiang Yu’s death?

But Yu Ruoyun seemed to read her mind. “I don’t need a psychologist.”

He said, “Maybe I needed one before, but not now. I’ll be fine.”

He thought about how Long Xingyu had accepted his key. He never gave Jiang Yu a key, believing he’d always be there to open the door for him.

Now, as long as Jiang Yu wanted to come, he could freely enter Yu Ruoyun’s world, regardless if he was present.

---

The author has something to say:

“Beigu” refers to mainland Chinese women working as sex workers in Hong Kong, as seen in the movie “Golden Chicken”. According to CEPA regulations, the proportion of main creators from Hong Kong in co-productions is not limited, but mainland actors must account for no less than one-third of the main cast.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 19

Long Xingyu’s last scene had him collapsing with injuries among the bushes, his fate uncertain.

The storyline for this minor boss was temporarily concluded.

Before the blood on him was even wiped clean, Yu Ruoyun called him over.

“What is it?” Long Xingyu asked.

Yu Ruoyun grabbed his wrist, turned it palm-up, and placed a key in his hand. “You’re still living in the company’s dormitory, right? If you’re not used to it, you can stay here. I don’t come back often. I’ll send you the address on WeChat.”

Long Xingyu tried to pull away, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t let go. The grip wasn’t strong, but he couldn’t break free.

“What does this mean?” Long Xingyu asked.

“A new life, isn’t it?” Yu Ruoyun said. “Just like you said.”

He had said that, yeah, but why did this feel so weird?. He hadn’t told Yu Ruoyun to hand someone else a key for a hookup and even send the address, had he? He knew the place well enough to know how many steps were on each floor. He didn’t need the address.

Yu Ruoyun added, “The property management replaced the elevator.”

When Yu Ruoyun first became famous, Beijing’s real estate market wasn’t restricted. Though he didn’t earn much at the time, he could still buy a nice house in a good location with good security. Over the years, the place became a bit outdated, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t move, saying he was used to it. Jiang Yu always felt nervous going there, worried about paparazzi, covering himself tightly even at night. Paparazzi would capture Yu Ruoyun walking his dog or dining with friends, but never suspected Jiang Yu, who was just rising in fame, had any connection with Yu Ruoyun. Surprisingly, there were never any rumors. Sometimes the elevator broke, and he’d have to take the stairs. Halfway up, he’d hear footsteps and run into Yu Ruoyun, who once caught him mid-fall, preventing a tumble down the stairs. Jiang Yu complained, “What a lousy place. Are you planning to die poor? If you can’t afford a house, I can lend you money.”

He remembered it was no longer possible for him to buy property, no matter how much money he had.

Yu Ruoyun said, “I was making coffee and suddenly thought you might be arriving soon, so I came down to check.”

They walked up together, one floor at a time. Halfway through making the coffee, Jiang Yu took a sip and said Yu Ruoyun’s coffee-making skills were poor—too sour and bitter.

Long Xingyu asked, “So what do I do? Clean the place as rent? Or sleep with you?”

Sleeping with him seemed easier.

But Yu Ruoyun’s fingers brushed over the scars on Long Xingyu’s wrist, scars from a suicide attempt later covered by a tattoo. Feeling the scars, Yu Ruoyun said, “You tried to kill yourself, and the cuts were deep.”

Having deduced this, he answered Long Xingyu’s question. “You don’t need to do anything. There’ll be a housekeeper.”

Long Xingyu finally pulled his hand back, feeling goosebumps rising.

It had always been like this. Yu Ruoyun returned to the way he usually saw him—emotionless even while speaking, always leaving Long Xingyu guessing.

The Yu Ruoyun from moments ago, with his emotions spilling over like a flood, was rare. It overwhelmed Long Xingyu, forcing him to turn away, making excuses about starting filming, and fleeing faster than a rabbit.

“I think you’re becoming weirder by the day,” Long Xingyu said, but he still pocketed the key.

Yu Ruoyun really sent him the address. In the car to the airport, Long Xingyu looked at his phone, trying to distract himself, but ended up on Yu Ruoyun’s Weibo page again. The posts were as dull as ever, mostly promotional—something he had scrolled through when he first woke up.

In the year since Jiang Yu’s death, Yu Ruoyun had posted dozens of times, with only one personal post. “Today, Tiger passed away. He was with me for many years.”

The photo showed Yu Ruoyun’s long-time golden retriever, who always needed to run outside, often barging into rooms at the wrong times, begging Jiang Yu for treats. Even it had died.

The comments on this post were filled with condolences, some suggesting getting another pet, countered by those saying feelings can’t be easily transferred.

Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t get another pet, but today he told Long Xingyu it was time to start a new life, to find someone else worth loving.

This was the route Long Xingyu initially envisioned, but reaching this point felt out of his control. This wasn’t some love strategy game that quickly led to a happy ending.

Unless…

Yu Ruoyun was also looking at his phone screen. Long Xingyu hadn’t replied, but Yu Ruoyun received a message from his agent, Xu Ye.

Xu Ye didn’t manage him much, only visiting when Yu Ruoyun had his accident. Yu Ruoyun rarely saw Xu Ye, and most of Yu Ruoyun’s affairs didn’t need Xu Ye’s involvement. In Yu Ruoyun’s early career, Xu Ye, with her excellent networking skills, shielded Yu Ruoyun from many obstacles, while being “Yu Ruoyun’s agent” significantly boosted Xu Ye’s career.

Xu Ye asked, “I heard something’s brewing between you and that little star from Yunteng Entertainment?”

She hadn’t even remembered Long Xingyu’s name.

“Are you here for gossip?” Yu Ruoyun replied. “Maybe you should be prepared—it might not just be that in the future.”

Xu Ye was startled and quickly called.

She was so shocked she didn’t even scold him, just said, “I never expected this.”

“Is it too blatant?” Yu Ruoyun said. “Maybe I was trying to compensate for something. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Having never been exposed to the public before, he was now reckless, like a starving person gorging on an endless supply of food, risking overindulgence. This was unhealthy. Emotions overwhelming reasons could suffocate both him and Jiang Yu.

“Why?” Xu Ye still didn’t understand. “What is he like that made you fall for him?”

“He… He’s good at bluffing, causing trouble,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Wants to touch others, but only uses his claws.”

Xu Ye was silent for a moment.

“I’m looking at his photos,” Xu Ye said. “He resembles Jiang Yu a bit from the side.”

“The person you hid before, was it Jiang Yu?” Xu Ye finally couldn’t resist asking.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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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 visited 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 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 some.”

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?”

“She only got one of this,” 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. We’d have our respective careers, and he could always chase after me and even surpass me eventually, but maybe, one day after many years had passed, he’d realize that we’d still be together outside all that. Those heartfelt lines in movies were all well-written, but there was no point to saying it out loud in our daily lives—he’d realize it eventually anyway, after we’d been together for so long. Or so I thought. But I forgot that saying all that out loud was also an action in itself.”

So, during this time, he kept telling those around him—his father, his mother, Wu Yi. And he asked 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/
Editor: Eli

---

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.”

“You should change out of it,” 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.”

“Did you dream of your old lover?” Long Xingyu asked.

“I dreamed someone was bearing down on me,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I turned over, but they kept draping themself over 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 clip only appeared for a few seconds, but they were all recognizable. 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 behind 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, built up just moments ago, crumbled instantly. “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, would he still love me? I don’t know about that.”

Long Xingyu was furious.

He wanted to argue but found himself tongue-tied, glaring at Yu Ruoyun. He couldn’t speak. So this was how he’d react when someone else hit the nail on the head and he felt guilty about it. 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 and that he shouldn’t think that way.

“Idiot,” Long Xingyu said. He jumped off the bed. “You motherfucking 24k pure idiot. Turns out 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 thinking about 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 because of him, for him to start pondering this matter.

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/
Editor: Eli

---

Chapter 16

At the airport, Yu Ruoyun’s assistant Xiao Qi approached him 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 glass that Yu Ruoyun had accidentally broken. Every time he picked up a piece, he didn’t know which parts he was picking up, and he’d 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 will never 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 don’t worry. I’m going to drag him upstairs now, 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 nattering on about Jiang Yu, I’ll strangle you,” Long Xingyu threatened the drunkard.

Yu Ruoyun laughed. “You’re nineteen this year. If Jiang Yu had started dating in middle school and had a child, he’d be about your age.”

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 over him anymore, because Jiang Yu wasn’t worth it.

Yu Ruoyun’s love suddenly dropped in front of him with a thud, like the Lifetime Achievement Award that was too big for him.

Was it because he was dead?

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 15

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

“You’re gay, right?” His father immediately questioned.

“Yes.” Having already mentioned it once, there was no point to hiding it anymore.

“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 anyway.”

“We don’t need you to tell us that!” His father became even angrier. “Do you think we were blind and 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 know first. 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 do you mean by that?” 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 it was unfair to him—you didn’t know of his existence even after his death.”

“So you were just being a scumbag these past few years?” His father said. “The entertainment industry has really corrupted you. Not only did you have a homosexual relationship, but you also hid 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, they would probably have gotten married after she had gotten 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, they only dialed up the suspense for awards like Best Actor and Best Actress. Even the shortlisted actors were made so nervous to the point of tears sometimes. . The Lifetime Achievement Award, in comparison, 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. He, as Long Xingyu, Jiang Yu’s “illegitimate son”, couldn’t. 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, and he could finally go back to school. Only after meeting Yu Ruoyun did he realize that he wasn’t alive only for the sake of achieving someone else’s dreams, and that he, too, had something he wanted 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, imagined how things would have gone when he was the one receiving the award, with Yu Ruoyun applauding for him. The price he’d paid for this to come true 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 after years and years of trying. The award itself might still be controversial, though. Jiang Yu had the acting skills but lacked luck, but awarding him the Lifetime Achievement Award was simply 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, by individuals and film crews both, and Yu Ruoyun was invited to all of them. 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 as the reporter remained rooted on the spot in shock.

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, that he never thought Jiang Yu as inferior to him.

The cameras flashed brightly, hurting his eyes. 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 thought he’d directed every film he should have, and thus he announced his retirement. A few years later, unable to rest, he found a loophole and returned as a producer, 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 an actress who lacked the emotional acuity needed, 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!”

Said actress cried without complicated emotions,, but that wasn’t the case for Yu Ruoyun. He sounded like Wu Yi’s wife, whose bag had been slashed in Italy.. She had sat at a corner in the square, and she didn’t cry or leave; she just sat there. Wu Yi promised to buy her another, but she said, “The salesgirl said it was the last one.”

Couldn’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 wanted to give him an award even before you did. We debated awarding him the Professional Spirit Award, but I suggested the Lifetime Achievement Award. It’s a bit too heavy a honor for him, but he’d missed out on a lot of awards in the past.” 

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 in private? You’re always nice 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/
Editor: Eli

---

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; no one stayed at the top forever. But it was hard to make demands of Yu Ruoyun. What right did he have to stick his nose in Yu Ruoyun’s business? Only Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t show him any resentment.

Long Xingyu did not want to speak, so he remained silent while he 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 van 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. “Do 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 stole the show a little and worried I might mind.”

Only then did Long Xingyu understand the director’s look from earlier. 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. Long Xingyu wasn’t sure if he believed him. The crew was ready to return, and as the car started, Long Xingyu heard Yu Ruoyun say, “If not for your ages, which don’t match up, 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/
Editor: Eli

---

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; he wasn’t staring at the fish tank in the room.

Finishing the ice pop, Long Xingyu looked for a trash can but couldn’t find one. The remaining syrup trickled out, making his fingers sticky, as cloying as this humid weather; how uncomfortable.

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.

This good person decided to bother Yu Ruoyun on set.

This was a crime drama based on a well-known novel. The novel was mainly about a series of cases, but the main character’s overarching storyline was also progressing throughout albeit a bit subtler. Yu Ruoyun, who would be in the film from the beginning to the end, was 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. One could imagine how it tasted just by looking at its unappetizing exterior.

After laughing, Long Xingyu switched their trays, but Yu Ruoyun stopped him. “It’s worth a try. We need to eat fruit after dinner anyway.”

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 invested more into the series,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I decided on it yesterday. There might even be a second season.”

Yu Ruoyun had already stooped so low when he started filming a web series, and yet he wanted to film a second season. How much more unambitious could he get? 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 stooped so low. 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 one of those celebrities who were famous but with nothing to show for it*, 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.

*Traffic star. 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.

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The author has something to say:

Earlier, Long Xingyu had fans sending gifts and support, and there were fansites. 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.

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Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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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 talent and an astonishing amount of trash. Pure friendships existed, 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, making him so mad that he couldn’t sleep, and he ended up leaving cigarette butts all over the balcony the whole night.

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 as few as a hundred yuan, and he had given it all to Jiang Yu. They were 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’d dream of a BMW while sitting on a bicycle; he wanted ten million dollars, 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.

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