Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

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, “We can do that, sure.”

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.

“Oh, it’s the anniversary of my death today?” Long Xingyu still found this hard to believe.. He turned to the other side and continued 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 to 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, wanting the spotlight to be cast on himself.

Scrolling down, he saw a familiar name. A female star whom he did not have any interactions with, but also a frequent presence in the headlines.

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 nipple covers 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 on social media, 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. “Topping the trending topics is easier than topping a dog these days.”

“Is topping a dog that easy?”

“…” 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 his subdued 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.

A tarantula 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 how Jiang Yu often praised him and said you were 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/
Editor: Eli

---

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; they had been torturous.

In this empty space, 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? How could everything be so perfectly timed, for you to become famous and win awards with just one movie?”

Good luck aside, Yu Ruoyun had 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 about this.”

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 share an intimate gesture 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.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 9

In the end, Long Xingyu never really learned to dance well. He could only remember the basic moves; enough 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 a bad example that was dealt with as a warning to 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 that this was more exhausting than working. Naturally, this meant that there were private interests involved. But for the current Long Xingyu, he couldn’t meet most of the standards, so 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, he hadn’t succeeded in the latter either. Yu Ruoyun’s attitude towards him grew more ambiguous. He’d call him to express his strange concerns and make him listen to his own song—what was he supposed to say? “Bro, 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 the wishes Long Xingyu had made when he’d died was that he’d no longer be 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 weren’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 dishes of the day

“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 overthink it. 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.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 8

“Anything else?” Long Xingyu asked him.

Yu Ruoyun was listening but didn’t speak. It seemed like he was driving. The background was filled with faint songs from the car stereo with the volume slightly amplified.

“Have you heard it?” Yu Ruoyun asked. “Jiang Yu’s song.”

Long Xingyu’s heart suddenly tightened.

The music industry had once flourished. Back then, it was popular for actors to transition to singing, releasing albums, and providing tracks for commercial performances to increase their appearance fees. Jiang Yu had also sung, but even he had almost forgotten about it.

“No,” Long Xingyu said. “What an old song.”

As he spoke, he suddenly felt uncomfortable, squatting down against the wall and pressing on his lower back. It turned out Lu Zheming wasn’t lying. Long Xingyu really did have a back injury.

He was so unlucky. He would rather have been reborn as any random extra in Hengdian, doing a job he was more familiar with. Instead, he was a small idol, trapped by a contract, without freedom. Even among idols, his company was particularly unreliable. Its parent company was in the gaming industry, initially recruiting pretty girls as streamers. Later, they had the bright idea of entering the idol industry, recruiting male trainees. Even Long Xingyu’s agent had only just received their performance agent qualification certificate a few days ago and had celebrated by treating them to a meal.

He didn’t understand. By his standards, neither Long Xingyu nor his group had the qualifications to become popular. Yet, they had unexpectedly risen to fame, with the company’s unreliability becoming a selling point. Fans lamented that such good-looking idols had fallen into a den of thieves, believing that only they could save them. The young girls did their best to help him, but his fate was still in someone else’s hands.

Long Xingyu wondered if Jiang Yu’s bank card had been canceled. If not, Jiang Yu’s savings would be enough to pay the breach of contract fees.

“There’s something I want to ask you,” Yu Ruoyun said. “For a friend. If a company wants to separately sign your film and management contracts, would you consider it?”

Long Xingyu, pressing on his lower back, stopped moving.

“Which company is so clueless?” Long Xingyu said.

Yu Ruoyun’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “I recommended you.”

He didn’t seem at all bothered by Long Xingyu’s indirect insult.

“Maybe,” Long Xingyu said. “I’ll quietly wait for a pie to fall from the sky.”

“Not quite,” Yu Ruoyun said. “They’re selective. They might wait to see how your first project performs. So, before that, you should put in more effort to make yourself visible.”

Long Xingyu’s sensitivity suddenly pricked like a thorn, piercing his skin. Despite Yu Ruoyun’s kindness, he could sense the condescension in his words because Yu Ruoyun said, “Make yourself visible.”

“So, you think singing and dancing on stage, winking at the audience, doesn’t count as being seen, isn’t real work,” Long Xingyu said. “Of course, an actor like you wouldn’t appreciate it.”

He didn’t know what he was trying to mock. Was this even mockery? He was just stating facts. Yu Ruoyun was indeed an award-winning actor who never thought highly of him, no matter who he was.

If Yu Ruoyun hung up, Long Xingyu might have felt better, but Yu Ruoyun said, “If I have to reflect, I might indeed have a bias. China doesn’t have the soil for idols. The model is copied from abroad, but the audience is limited. Maybe it will be accepted by mainstream culture in the future, but that takes time, consuming the youth of these young people.”

“I just think this company might not be suitable for you,” Yu Ruoyun said.

Long Xingyu was silent for a long time before saying, “Forget about signing with another company. Can I discuss something else with you?”

“Go ahead.”

“Damn it, can you just scold me when I do something wrong? Am I holding a knife to your throat for you to just accept all this?”

After yelling, Long Xingyu realized how perverse his request was.

“For instance, right now. You should call me crazy,” Long Xingyu added.

Yu Ruoyun actually laughed.

The laughter made Long Xingyu so embarrassed that he hung up. Looking at Yu Ruoyun’s name on his phone screen, he remembered how he’d found the other man’s name effeminate, like a woman’s name. It indeed felt like a cloud—gentle, distant, and unreachable*.

*Clarity: The [Yun] (云) in his name is cloud.

……

Yu Ruoyun was no longer laughing.

He was indeed driving, parked by the roadside. There was a lighter in the storage box next to the driver’s seat, probably left behind by someone who had taken a ride because Yu Ruoyun didn’t smoke and had even appeared in anti-smoking ads.

Someone once blew smoke rings into Yu Ruoyun’s face and said, “Hey, anti-smoking ambassador, come catch me.”

Yu Ruoyun would reply, “I don’t have the authority to enforce the law.”

That person loved such childish provocations, like a cat climbing up his trouser leg, claws out, scratching people without realizing it, just wanting to sit on his shoulder and declare ownership while rubbing against his chin. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone.

So Yu Ruoyun would take the cigarette from his lips and compensate with a kiss.

What happened next?

His head started to ache, and he couldn’t remember.

……

Yu Ruoyun had returned temporarily for an event scheduled before joining the crew. That day had been cleared for him to walk the red carpet and exchange pleasantries with people he hadn’t seen in a while. Someone asked about his amnesia, and Yu Ruoyun smiled, saying it was temporary and he would recover soon. “Look, I remember you, don’t I?”

He had remembered most of what was important. It didn’t affect his daily life. The people he couldn’t remember probably weren’t that important. He could continue living like this—working, acting, dining at expensive restaurants with friends, signing autographs for fans, asking their names, and writing them down carefully.

But Long Xingyu was a shadow of someone else, carrying fragments of Jiang Yu. Each time he tried to get close to Yu Ruoyun, those fragments would pierce Yu Ruoyun, drawing blood and awakening memories of Jiang Yu.

Perhaps because of this, Yu Ruoyun felt he owed Long Xingyu something and wanted to help him more. He used Long Xingyu’s strangely familiar behavior to recall memories of Jiang Yu. It sounded a bit underhanded, and Yu Ruoyun wasn’t good at such things.

The most rebellious thing he had done was to film a movie at sixteen against his family’s wishes. His parents were intellectuals who expected him to teach at a university, not become an actor. Winning Best Actor for his first movie made everyone see him as a prodigy. His parents said he should return to his studies once he had enough of acting. The director even visited his home to persuade his parents, promising he would complete his education, which allowed him to continue acting. He did finish school, attended a film academy, and had a higher attendance rate than many classmates.

There might be another thing, but Yu Ruoyun would have to ask his family about it.

He made a call home, and his mother was surprised. “Why are you calling at this hour?”

They talked about his accident and recovery, then Yu Ruoyun suddenly asked, “Mom, did I ever tell you I like men?”

“…” His mother didn’t seem to register the question, uncertainly asking, “What did you say?”

Apparently not.

“Nothing,” Yu Ruoyun said softly. “Just wanted to tell you. Goodnight.”

Yu Ruoyun thought it must have been a very secret affair. The public didn’t know, colleagues didn’t know, his manager didn’t know, and even his family didn’t know.

Now he no longer had the chance to announce it. Jiang Yu was dead.

Yu Ruoyun looked at the message on his phone. A director he had worked with before sent a WeChat: [Ruoyun, the movie is finally being released. We might need you to shoot some promotional material.]

Yu Ruoyun agreed. Promoting a movie was part of an actor’s job, although this movie had been made years ago. It had been promoted once before, but suddenly couldn’t pass the review. No one knew what sensitive content had caused it, but it couldn’t be shown.

Being an actor for a long time, one would encounter such unexpected situations. Back then, Yu Ruoyun had wondered if a movie that no one could see after all the effort put into making it really existed.

Now it was finally being released, but it would likely be heavily edited. It was no longer the original story but a patchwork of old scenes. Would it still be the original movie?

Yu Ruoyun didn’t know.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 7

Long Xingyu knew nothing. As soon as he returned, he started getting scolded in rehearsals the next day.

He danced poorly, couldn’t keep up with the rhythm, and was criticized harshly. Long Xingyu didn’t mind that much. What annoyed him was when the criticism turned into accusations about his restless mind, claiming he was getting arrogant and complacent now that he had a bit of fame.

Long Xingyu thought, ‘If this is arrogance, you must be eating boneless wings all the time*.’

*Clarity: The line is “If these are tough wings, then you must be eating boneless wings all the time. Tough wings in this case is referring to “arrogance/acting tough”, followed by the rhetorical remark that the person making the criticism doesn’t even know what “arrogance” is (implying he only eats boneless wings).

He considered himself patient, enduring the harsh words without a peep. But after the lecture, he overheard some whispering. “I heard he’s hooked up with a sponsor and might go solo…”

They didn’t even bother to badmouth him in private. Long Xingyu was so angry he wanted to smash something, but all he had in the room were cosmetics, so he ended up smashing a compact powder case. Everything else he had to keep for use.

Before acting, he rarely wore makeup, only occasionally applying black powder to avoid reflections. Now, he had to wear full makeup and even be asked if he wanted to get fillers. Of course, he felt wronged.

The company also wanted him to endorse some sketchy facial masks. They were crazy for money. He refused the endorsement outright. He had read Long Xingyu’s contract—it was unreasonable, exploitative, long-term, and had high penalty fees. Jiang Yu could see through it instantly, but it was more than enough to deceive a young man in his twenties. A lawsuit was possible but time-consuming, and others might hesitate to hire him due to contract disputes.

He thought this was karma. He used to look down on these idol groups, thinking they were just pretty faces with no real talent, exploiting opportunities. He’d often get asked by the media for his opinion. Although he wanted to keep quiet, the reporters would provoke him by saying young people loved these idols, implying that only the older generation liked him. This angered him, leading to some harsh comments that went viral (not bought this time). Some said Jiang Yu had the right to comment, while others argued he was just jealous of the younger generation. They pointed out that, despite being in the industry for over a decade, he hadn’t won any major awards and could never catch up to Yu Ruoyun.

Now he knew—he wouldn’t fare any better in this job either.

Speaking of which, what happened to that sketchy facial mask endorsement? Why did it suddenly disappear?

A hand holding a water bottle extended towards him. Long Xingyu looked up to see a smiling face. “Drink some water before you practice again.”

It was Lu Zheming, the group’s leader. When he first woke up, he couldn’t understand why Lu Zheming was the leader if he was supposedly the most popular. Later, he found out it was because Lu Zheming was the oldest and most experienced—he had been in a boy band before but had to disband due to a lack of opportunities. As the domestic industry grew, Lu Zheming returned, going from the youngest to the oldest—over 25 years old.

Long Xingyu took the bottle, thanked him, and set it aside, not planning to drink. He didn’t trust someone he wasn’t familiar with, fearing it might be poisoned.

Lu Zheming said, “I spoke to the choreographer about your back injury. Some of the moves are too difficult for you. For non-synchronized parts, he’ll simplify them.”

Long Xingyu felt a bit embarrassed. He didn’t even know if he had a back injury, so he just said, “I do feel a bit uncomfortable.”

Lu Zheming didn’t expose his lie and comforted him instead. “Most of the tickets are sold because of you. We should thank you. Don’t mind what others say. I’ve already spoken to them.”

Long Xingyu found it disdainful and boring. “It’s fine. They’re just jealous. If they have the guts, they can report me to the Trade and Industry Bureau for unfair competition, daring to have individual resources and a sponsor…”

He had indeed used some connections, but not Long Xingyu’s. A film company investing in the show was run by someone Jiang Yu had helped during its early days, even lending money when funds were tight. Long Xingyu approached the person, claiming to be Jiang Yu’s friend, saying nauseating things like “Jiang Yu Gege* always treated me like a little brother.” He wondered if the person thought he was a kept man.

*Brother (哥哥) Address towards men who are older than you and are close to you or your actual older relatives.

Saying this made him feel uncomfortable. The person eventually agreed to his request. After thanking him and leaving the company, he tried to hail a cab but found all taxis were occupied, and it started to drizzle.

Only after having died once did Jiang Yu realize he had connections and wasn’t doing too badly, but he couldn’t find a single friend with whom he could share his true identity without hesitation.

Except for Yu Ruoyun. But when he finally saw Yu Ruoyun, Yu Ruoyun had lost his memory.

He had to continue being Long Xingyu.

Lu Zheming didn’t comment on him, but Long Xingyu suddenly wanted to hear his opinion. Leaning forward slightly, he asked, “Don’t you want to know how I got the role?”

Lu Zheming didn’t refuse. “If you want to tell, go ahead.”

“Just like they said, I slept with the director.” Long Xingyu started spouting nonsense.

Lu Zheming patiently continued the conversation. “The new director doesn’t have that much power.”

“Then I threatened the investors with a knife,” Long Xingyu quickly said. “I told them that the knife would enter white and come out red* if they didn’t pick me for the role.”

*(白刀子进红刀子出) Colloquialism refers to fighting to the death. It conveys a situation where the stakes are high and there’s no room for error, so you either come out of it unharmed (white knife) or injured/killed (red knife). Basically, he’s saying “pick me for this role, or else.”

Seeing Lu Zheming’s helpless expression, Long Xingyu stopped. “Just kidding.”

“Actually, I took out a naked loan to buy the role. If I don’t pay it back soon, I’ll be ruined.” Long Xingyu said with a serious face.

Lu Zheming laughed. “I noticed your personality has changed a lot. You’re more cheerful.”

Long Xingyu paused, realizing he should tone it down, but since it was already like this, he decided to let it be. “I’ve come to terms with it. One should have a good attitude. I should learn that from you.”

He wasn’t joking. If he were like Lu Zheming, never becoming popular, he’d go crazy. If someone in the group had significantly more popularity, he’d go even crazier.

As if he hadn’t already gone crazy over this before.

His phone suddenly rang. Long Xingyu stood up. “I need to take a call.”

He spoke quickly, somewhat anxious, because it was Yu Ruoyun calling.

“Are you practicing?” Yu Ruoyun asked. There were noises in the background.

“Yeah.” Long Xingyu walked further away, leaving the corridor and entering the stairwell, closing the door behind him.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t have much to say. The questions he wanted to ask, Long Xingyu probably wouldn’t answer. After a few seconds of silence, Yu Ruoyun spoke first. “I went to the hospital a few days ago. The nurse told me that when I was in a coma, you stayed by my bedside. She thought you were family.”

“Thank you.” Yu Ruoyun said.

You’re welcome. I just wanted to make sure you died. Jiang Yu wanted to say this.

“You’re welcome.” Long Xingyu only said the first half.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 6

Long Xingyu’s practiced motions surprised both Yu Ruoyun and the director.

“I thought he was just someone who slipped in,” the director whispered to Yu Ruoyun. “I didn’t expect he might have some acting talent.”

“Maybe your expectations were too low,” Yu Ruoyun replied.

The director thought that might be true. He had low expectations for Long Xingyu, so even a slight improvement was astonishing.

“Let’s not talk about him,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I need to take a leave to get a follow-up examination. I feel like I’ve started to recover some memories.”

“That’s good news!” the director said. “No problem. Go ahead. Have you remembered anything specific?”

Yu Ruoyun chose his words carefully. “For example, our first meeting when you talked to me about this project.”

The director, being a newbie, had no real power, but the producer was a friend of Yu Ruoyun and had complained to him about various issues. The lead actor hadn’t been decided, sponsors were hard to find, and what was supposed to be a joint broadcast on TV and the internet stations was now facing difficulties…

The producer wanted Yu Ruoyun’s help because of his extensive connections, but Yu Ruoyun went above and beyond by directly taking on the lead role.

The director laughed. “I didn’t think you would come. I thought Lao* Cui was joking. Really, thank you so much. I hope you get better soon. Someone posted set photos recently, and Lao Cui said you didn’t look happy.”

*Old (老) It’s a friendly way to address someone, often indicating familiarity, respect, or affection.

Did he? Yu Ruoyun didn’t think so, but he didn’t know what he was like before either. He also didn’t know how a complete novice like Long Xingyu could tell if the lighting was off.

…..

The doctor had said that the reasons for amnesia were complex. Although Yu Ruoyun didn’t have major external injuries, he should have recovered quickly.

“It might be psychogenic,” the doctor said. “Something traumatic that you don’t want to remember.”

“I’ve recalled some things,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Like my parents and friends, but only fragments. It feels like something is missing.”

He paused, then described the situation in a way that obscured his sexual orientation, “Maybe I even forgot my own wife.”

The doctor took it as a joke and laughed, “Mr. Yu, stop joking. You don’t have a wife.”

“Really?”

“Definitely not, unless you’re secretly married,” the doctor said. “If that’s true, congratulations. My wife is a fan of yours.”

……

When Yu Ruoyun returned to the set, he saw Long Xingyu at the entrance.

“I waited for you all day,” Long Xingyu complained. “If you hadn’t come back, I would’ve left.”

Yu Ruoyun didn’t need to report his leave to him, and no one would inform Long Xingyu. He waited like a fool, not feeling bored.

The young had privileges; they could ask questions freely, and people would think they were foolish and explain things to them, like teaching a child.

“This is for you.” Long Xingyu handed Yu Ruoyun a paper rose, still practicing how to speak like a normal person to the other man. “I made it for the stage manager, and this is an extra.”

It was the ugliest one Long Xingyu had chosen after a long time. Wrinkled and stained, it had probably been held too long. He didn’t want to give a nice one to Yu Ruoyun. If Yu Ruoyun rejected it, he could throw it away without feeling any regret.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t take it. Long Xingyu continued, rushing through his words. “Our group has a fan meeting. I need to go, so I’m leaving tonight.”

He had originally thought being an idol was just about looking good in front of the camera, not realizing there was so much to do. To ensure his performance was passable, he hadn’t rested these past two days, hiding in his room to practice unfamiliar dance moves with video tutorials.

After speaking, Long Xingyu tossed the rejected paper rose into the trash and suddenly leaned close to Yu Ruoyun’s face. “I’ll be back soon.”

It sounded like the declaration of the Big Bad Wolf.

Yu Ruoyun blinked. Long Xingyu had approached him like this several times. He noticed that every time, Long Xingyu stopped breathing briefly when delivering his fierce words, eyes fixed on him, clearly nervous.

But Long Xingyu might have lost his senses. Already close enough to see each other’s facial hair, he moved even closer, ignoring personal space.

Then, very lightly, he pressed a kiss to Yu Ruoyun’s lips.

Long Xingyu startled himself, springing back like he’d been shocked, and left without waiting for Yu Ruoyun’s reaction.

Yu Ruoyun stood there until the corridor’s motion-sensor lights went out. Then he came to his senses. He walked over, squatted down, and picked up the crumpled paper rose from the trash.

Capricious, eccentric, unpredictable, sensitive, and easily angered—the celebrity who was both loved and hated—this wasn’t Long Xingyu, but Yu Ruoyun tolerated Long Xingyu because he felt familiar. Even his breathing habits were familiar.

These traits were all Jiang Yu’s.

The floodgates of memory finally opened, but the first image in his mind wasn’t the real Jiang Yu. It was a news photo of Jiang Yu.

It was the scene of the superstar’s death.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 5

Yu Ruoyun watched Long Xingyu take one step, two steps, three steps away.

On the fourth step, Long Xingyu turned back.

Reluctantly, he returned and said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” though Yu Ruoyun didn’t really know what he was apologizing for.

Long Xingyu seemed to want to compromise, lowering his tone, but his words were still harsh. Long Xingyu said, “You don’t even remember your lover’s name, do you?”

He continued, “Your accident news has been out for nearly a week, yet no intimate lover has shown up to care for you. Maybe you broke up a long time ago, or maybe there never was such a person. Otherwise, why haven’t they come to check on you? Look at me—I came to see you as soon as you had an accident, and you treat me like this. It makes me sad.”

It wasn’t clear if he was sad, but his ability to spout bullshit was evident.

“You can reject me,” Long Xingyu continued, “but at least wait until you recover your memory.”

“Isn’t that right?”

Even without regaining his memory, Yu Ruoyun knew that it would be hard to encounter another young person like Long Xingyu. “Don’t you care about your reputation?”

Long Xingyu, however, seemed oblivious. “Who cares about reputation?”

Three months weren’t enough for Jiang Yu to fully assimilate into this idol identity. While he could still pretend most of the time and refused to stoop to endorsing some minor brands, seriously maintaining his reputation was still a challenge.

“I care about mine,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Now go and rest. People are watching.”

He even lightly patted Long Xingyu’s head, as if affectionately joking, but he didn’t answer any of Long Xingyu’s questions.

In just a few minutes, Long Xingyu lost the unique honor of being disliked by Yu Ruoyun and became just another ordinary newcomer.

What if he started from the very beginning as an admirer, following Yu Ruoyun’s footsteps from afar? Would the result be different?

He had been jealous of Yu Ruoyun in every way. Strangely, upon waking, these feelings had faded significantly, almost disappearing. The gap between their statuses was so vast now that unless Long Xingyu transformed into a superstar, there was little hope of having their names mentioned together.

The greater the gap, the more comfortable it felt, compared to a smaller gap.

Jiang Yu recalled complaining to his assistant once in his past life, “Why am I placed behind Yu Ruoyun?”

The assistant replied, “That’s the organizer’s arrangement.”

Jiang Yu nearly exploded. His assistant liaised with the organizers for a long time, but the result pissed Jiang Yu off nevertheless. Their positions were moved to the same row, but Yu Ruoyun was in the center, and Jiang Yu had to count several seats from the edge to see him.

For Best Actor, both Jiang Yu and Yu Ruoyun were nominated. When the presenter called Yu Ruoyun’s name, he stood up and passed by Jiang Yu, who then regretted fighting for the position. He had to watch Yu Ruoyun accept the award. Yu Ruoyun, accustomed to winning, showed little emotion, giving a brief speech where he said thank you again and again. Jiang Yu clapped from his seat, knowing the camera would capture his defeat once again. Normally stern-faced, he forced a smile for the cameras.

But it was okay. His outfit today cost much more than Yu Ruoyun’s. His studio had prepared extensively, bringing photographers. Marketing accounts would soon spread news of Jiang Yu wearing XX brand’s spring collection, the first in the world, or highlight his breakthrough performance in his nominated film, with numerous influencers sharing the posts…

If it weren’t for Yu Ruoyun, he wouldn’t have had to waste so much money!

But now things were different. To others, Yu Ruoyun giving Long Xingyu a bottle of water and talking to him a bit was enough for Long Xingyu to feel grateful. Jiang Yu wasn’t grateful or satisfied, but he had no choice. Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t tolerate Long Xingyu causing trouble as he had with Jiang Yu. With just a flick of his finger, Yu Ruoyun could crush Long Xingyu.

This was a rational analysis of why he needed to control his temper. Plus, the way Yu Ruoyun looked at him under the sun was truly captivating. Despite his gentle personality, his portrayal of a rogue in movies seemed effortless, and his smile could charm anyone. Even with wrinkles around his eyes, his gaze was as deep and bright as stars.

If heaven gave Jiang Yu another chance, it was to correct past mistakes. Yu Ruoyun was the root of his errors. If the old approach didn’t work, he needed to change his attitude towards Yu Ruoyun.

Getting along well and starting over—this was Jiang Yu’s hope and his ideal future.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 4

Yu Ruoyun thought, ‘Dreams can’t be this real, but this is indeed a dream.’

That person was kissing him, passionately. It was the same person who had previously, out of the blue, announced another breakup and disappeared, only to suddenly return, pretending nothing had happened, and walked right back into his life. Yet, Yu Ruoyun still opened the door for him.

In the midst of their kissing, that person said, “I went to Thailand.”

“To watch a ladyboy show?” Yu Ruoyun asked.

“I went to see a master to see if he could cast a spell on you,” the other person said. “But those scammers only wanted to introduce me to raising spirits because it was more expensive. So, I came back.”

As he spoke, he bit Yu Ruoyun’s neck, his hair brushing against Yu Ruoyun’s chin, making it a bit itchy.

“What kind of spell?” Yu Ruoyun looked down at the person, but his face was obscured by hair.

He could only feel the other person pause for a second before saying, “Of course, a spell to curse your career, make you unlucky every day, and die early.”

I will wake up soon, Yu Ruoyun thought, Why hadn’t the curse come true yet?

But in the dream, the person left and didn’t return.

……

Before resuming work, Yu Ruoyun watched some of his own scenes.

The director observed Yu Ruoyun’s expression and asked for his thoughts.

“It might be my problem.” Yu Ruoyun didn’t avoid the topic. “I feel like I’m not in good condition.”

The director thought the film emperor was too hard on himself. While directing, he only saw Yu Ruoyun stand out, too prominent, but it wasn’t his fault. This was Yu Ruoyun, after all, undeniably eye-catching.

“I’m wondering why I took this role,” Yu Ruoyun said.

The director was stunned and couldn’t answer.

Yu Ruoyun didn’t need to; everyone thought so. Even though there had been few good movie scripts in recent years, Yu Ruoyun could afford to wait. He wasn’t a rising star who would be overtaken if he didn’t work for a while. But Yu Ruoyun had taken the role. This big project was a coveted opportunity for others, but a poison pill for Yu Ruoyun. Because of his participation, the original setting was altered, and the script had to be modified to age the main character a few years.

Of course, there were people online mocking him, saying the film emperor had lowered his standards. Others felt sorry, wondering why the young stars of Yu Ruoyun’s generation had such strange career paths. The top star Yu Ruoyun had fallen into a pit, and Jiang Yu, who used to be able to compete with him, had suddenly died.

But fortunately, this was Yu Ruoyun. Despite the doubts, Yu Ruoyun still said, “Since I took the role, I will give it my all and get back in shape.”

This reassured the director, and Yu Ruoyun added, “There’s one more thing. If it’s possible…”

“Can you keep Long Xingyu away from me?” Yu Ruoyun made what was possibly the most unreasonable request of his career.

……

Everyone thought this had to be Long Xingyu’s fault.

Yu Ruoyun wasn’t someone who made things difficult for others. For him, this was already the equivalent of losing his temper. The director couldn’t do much, nor did he know how to handle it—what could he do, set up a barbed wire fence between Yu Ruoyun and Long Xingyu? But at least he could pass the message along.

By the time Long Xingyu heard it, the message had been distorted. “Yu Ruoyun wants you to get lost. He said he doesn’t want to see you.”

Long Xingyu was stunned, dropping his half-eaten whole-wheat bread. “Did he really say that?”

“Yes,” the messenger said. “What did you do to make Mr. Yu so angry? I don’t think you’ll last long in this crew.”

Long Xingyu had mixed feelings.

On one hand, he wanted someone to leak this to the press so he could make it to the trending topics, letting everyone see how Yu Ruoyun bullied newcomers.

On the other hand, he wanted to rush to Yu Ruoyun and ask what he meant. How could someone who hadn’t even exchanged a few words with him earn such high-level contempt? If Yu Ruoyun could so easily hate someone, he wouldn’t have lived over thirty years before dying. He would have been stabbed to death by Yu Ruoyun long ago.

Before anyone could speculate about his possible blacklisting, Long Xingyu dashed off.

The place wasn’t big, and he ran fast. Soon he saw Yu Ruoyun from a distance. Stopping several meters away, Long Xingyu sat down against a wall under the scorching sun.

Under the sun, Long Xingyu calmly pondered his past.

Yu Ruoyun probably knew who Long Xingyu was—a member of a boy band with some fame, clinging to him with ulterior motives, naturally needing to be shaken off quickly.

But he wouldn’t know that Long Xingyu had died once—a failed suicide attempt—crushed by online trolls, feeling unrecognized, and overwhelmed by numerous trivialities. Long Xingyu had a diary filled with the worries of someone his age. The last entry was nearly frantic, asking what he had done wrong to deserve such abuse.

He couldn’t understand, having entered the entertainment industry too young and cared too much about others’ opinions, ultimately losing control. When he woke up, another person inhabited his body—Jiang Yu.

The same Jiang Yu who had died last year, whose ashes had been scattered long ago, and whose body he never saw.

Jiang Yu never had the chance to tell Long Xingyu that people cursed him out of jealousy for his looks, wealth, and love. They lacked all three. The criticism Long Xingyu received was nothing; it didn’t even rank in the top hundred of full-on cyberbullying, so he shouldn’t have taken it too seriously.

This was what Jiang Yu had believed. He had lived happily, with the exception of Yu Ruoyun, who troubled him, so he decided to trouble Yu Ruoyun in return.

The ugliest way to live was to drag on. This applied to both career and love. Their relationship was like that in the end—resentful from past and recent wrongs, dreading each other’s name. Yu Ruoyun never proposed that they break up; it was Jiang Yu who repeatedly left and returned. He never had a key to Yu Ruoyun’s house, but every time he knocked, Yu Ruoyun would open the door.

Yu Ruoyun always made Jiang Yu’s unreasonable behavior look truly unreasonable. But they must have had good times. Why couldn’t he remember them now?

Jiang Yu wanted to tell Long Xingyu that the entertainment industry wasn’t a place for genuine emotions. Every heartfelt agony could become spectators’ perfect gossip, just like now, with people watching him approach Yu Ruoyun, hoping for a confrontation.

Yu Ruoyun noticed him and walked over.

“Want some water?” Yu Ruoyun handed him an unopened bottle, like a caring person who came just to deliver some to him.

Jiang Yu took it, glaring at Yu Ruoyun.

“Maybe I was too harsh,” Yu Ruoyun reflected, then added, “But don’t joke around like that anymore.”

Saying things like pursuing him.

“I have someone I love.” Even though he couldn’t remember who that was, at least he couldn’t continue accepting baseless affection or pursuit from this young man.

“What did you say?” Jiang Yu frowned, either not hearing clearly or hallucinating.

“I said…”

“You’re spouting bullshit!” Jiang Yu interrupted, snapping, not wanting to hear more. He turned and left.

……

The first time Jiang Yu met Yu Ruoyun, he introduced himself, “Jiang Yu, ‘yu’ as in steadfast till death*.”

*Clarity: The Yu (渝) from the idiom (至死不渝) which means will never change until death.

He might really be an illiterate idiot. It sounded passionate at first, till death without change, not noticing the negative word in it*.

*The idiom is often used in a romantic context to express undying love (like “I love you to death”) or an expression of loyalty to a country, cause, or person.

Now the name had changed.

He became the ‘redundant’ Yu*.

*Clarity: He’s now Long Xingyu, the [yu] (余) from redundant (多余).

Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t think about these things. He didn’t even remember who his so-called lover was, yet he used it as an excuse to keep Long Xingyu away. He just said he had someone he loved, as if he truly loved someone.

What is love? Is it dopamine? Hormones? Libido? A trick of the suspension bridge effect? Is it putting your name on a house? Buying a carat diamond ring? Handing over all your bank savings?

Jiang Yu had discussed such topics with Yu Ruoyun.

Of course, not seriously asking what love is. He had been reading Bible stories, trying to seem dignified. Yet, he lacked patience, stopping after the first few.

To Jiang Yu, Jehovah was always getting himself into trouble. In the last story he read, Abraham’s loyalty was tested by God, demanding he sacrifice his son. And this 24k pure idiot actually complied, without questioning God.

Jiang Yu said, “I suspect he’s a delusional gay. If he were alive now, he’d be swindled out of all his money by an online lover. Only such madness can explain this love—it’s irrational and illogical.”

And he would only lose his mind over Yu Ruoyun.

---

Kinky Thoughts:

Just a note, the author often switches between using Long Xingyu and Jiang Yu, which can make things extremely confusing at times, like in the chapter here. I debated whether or not to make changes to keep the consistency so it wouldn’t be too confusing, but decided against it, since I don’t want to impact the original text too much.

---

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

Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

---

Chapter 3

Long Xingyu brought a boxed meal to Yu Ruoyun.

“The great film emperor is really approachable and down-to-earth,” Long Xingyu said, “If I were at your level, I would hire a private chef to cook just for me.”

He casually added, “Some celebrities do that, you know. I read in the news about one who wouldn’t even drink the local water and had mineral water shipped in, getting criticized by the media for being pretentious.”

In retrospect, the criticism wasn’t unwarranted. He was indeed fussy and pretentious.

Yu Ruoyun just ate his meal, not really paying attention to Long Xingyu, only speaking after he finished eating. “There might be a reason for that.”

“What reason?” Long Xingyu asked.

“Maybe some people have sensitive stomachs. Drinking untreated water could give them diarrhea. Ensuring their health is a form of professionalism,” Yu Ruoyun said, though it seemed he didn’t actually remember who he was talking about.

But Long Xingyu felt no gratitude.

He thought, ‘You knew? Then why the hell didn’t you speak up at the time? Why didn’t you say something good? You just let the media use you as a positive example, praising how tough Yu Ruoyun is, never asking for special treatment, unlike…’

But recalling the promise he made to himself yesterday, Long Xingyu decided to stay calm, forgive this hypocrite, and even gave Yu Ruoyun a piece of meat.

“I’m full,” Yu Ruoyun refused.

“This is out of concern for you. We need to develop our relationship now,” Long Xingyu said. “The plot is about to progress to where we meet and get acquainted. We need to interact more in daily life to bring that into our acting.”

“That’s not how you act,” Yu Ruoyun retorted, clearly disapproving of his unorthodox approach. “Later, we also have a falling out. Are you planning to kill me in real life too?”

Long Xingyu stared at the uneaten piece of meat for a long time, only saying, “Who knows,” after Yu Ruoyun had already walked away.

……

Outside the crew, there were fans with long lenses taking photos. Once taken, the watermarked previews were immediately posted on Weibo. The crew initially made a show of stopping it once or twice, but soon stopped bothering. Gaining some heat wasn’t a bad thing, seeing it as free promotion from the fans.

Oddly, today’s photos didn’t crop out or pixelate Yu Ruoyun next to Long Xingyu. This was rare and against the principle of “focusing on one’s idol”, but fans didn’t mind because it was Yu Ruoyun. It perfectly demonstrated that Long Xingyu and Yu Ruoyun had a good relationship, making Long Xingyu’s recent joke seem less offensive. As if Yu Ruoyun had many fans to defend him. In reality, those who disliked Long Xingyu were just using Yu Ruoyun as a tool to attack him.

Long Xingyu knew all too well how the public perceived Yu Ruoyun.

Once ubiquitous on posters and billboards, with a handsome face and excellent acting skills, but at the same time, that face had become overly familiar and tiresome.

Others saw him and praised him, unable to recall any negative incidents, even asking for his autograph like Long Xingyu’s fan had. Any passerby who heard Yu Ruoyun’s name would know who he was, unlike Long Xingyu, who despite getting tens of thousands of likes on Weibo, would be despised by straight men and disliked by parents in real life, seen as just another pretty boy.

However, despite Yu Ruoyun’s seemingly perfect reputation, few people would truly pay to watch him anymore.

This was no longer Yu Ruoyun’s era.

But Long Xingyu soon realized he wasn’t in a position to pity Yu Ruoyun.

He was the one at the bottom of the entertainment industry, with nothing but fleeting fans and a draconian contract with his company, where he had no autonomy.

In the past, he never thought he would have to bargain over such trivial matters. “What… What micro-business endorsements? No way, cancel it!”

His manager was surprised. Pushing back was one thing, but Long Xingyu’s firm tone was as if the manager was working for him. To Long Xingyu, he was already being exceedingly polite, negotiating gently while suppressing his anger and even refraining from using foul language.

The back-and-forth eroded their patience. The manager’s message was clear: Long Xingyu’s objections were meaningless. They could sign the endorsement deal without his consent.

“There’s no need to make things ugly. Your contract has five more years,” the manager said, sounding affectionate. “Xingyu, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, ever since you…”

Long Xingyu hung up.

He understood the threat. From their perspective, making money for the company was only fair. The cost of training an idol had to be recouped. Besides, the company had only managed to make this one group successful. Who knew when their next lucky break would come? They had to cash in while they could.

If he were truly Long Xingyu, he might see it that way.

“Fuck off.” But the current Long Xingyu could only curse under his breath. “This is a great time to break the contract anyway. It’s holding me back…”

Even speaking to himself, he faltered. What was the contract holding him back from?

Surely he should be doing something big, like seeking revenge? Building a career? Acting for the rise of China?

Getting into this position took tremendous effort, all for a small role, just to be close to someone who had forgotten him.

But that wasn’t Yu Ruoyun’s fault. Most people had probably forgotten him.

“What contract?” someone at the door asked. It was Yu Ruoyun.

Long Xingyu jumped up from his chair. “What are you doing here?!”

Yu Ruoyun held up a bag. “This is your gift. I got it mixed up.”

Long Xingyu liked the first part of that sentence. He took the gift and shut the door behind them.

Yu Ruoyun indeed looked at him speechlessly.

“What are you looking at? I’m just asking for acting advice. Don’t worry. I won’t assault you,” Long Xingyu said. “Just chatting.”

“Chat about what?” Yu Ruoyun asked, surprisingly patient.

Long Xingyu got angry again.

Had Yu Ruoyun always been this casual? Easily dragged into a room to chat? Who knows if Yu Ruoyun had done the same with others in the crew, possibly even slept with those actresses for real, not just for publicity.

“No chat. Just leave,” Long Xingyu said. “Next time, knock before entering someone’s room.”

“You didn’t close the door,” Yu Ruoyun calmly explained. “And I knocked. You were on the phone.”

“Fine, I get it. You eavesdropped on my call,” Long Xingyu said, even pushing Yu Ruoyun. “You should go.”

But Yu Ruoyun just stood there, asking, “Are you terminating your contract with the company?”

“If there’s a problem, maybe I can help,” Yu Ruoyun offered.

Long Xingyu stared at Yu Ruoyun, not answering. After a while, he realized what was bothering him.

He was the one trying to get close to Yu Ruoyun, but any small kindness from Yu Ruoyun made him tremble. He feared Yu Ruoyun would easily accept him, rendering his past efforts meaningless. Yet Yu Ruoyun seemed genuine, without ulterior motives, just sincerely offering help because that’s the kind of person he was.

Unlike Jiang Yu, whose reputation was never as good as Yu Ruoyun’s. When Jiang Yu died, the public was shocked. Not the “such a good person is dead” kind of shock, but “even he can die too? I thought I’d always keep him blocked.”

“Nothing much, just some conflict with the company.” Long Xingyu lowered his head, hiding his expression from Yu Ruoyun. “Sorry for taking it out on you.”

Yu Ruoyun said it was fine and left this time without being stopped.

In the room, a full-length mirror reflected Long Xingyu’s unfamiliar face.

He reached out to touch it, feeling the cold surface. This idol had a delicate face, maybe lacking substance, not suited for prestigious directors’ films, like cheap candy wrapped in shiny foil—it would only attract young girls. He might have looked down on it before, but now it was all he had.

He remembered that the root cause of his bad mood today was the news he saw in the morning about Jiang Yu.

Oddly enough, there was still “news” about the dead Jiang Yu, unrelated to the entertainment industry. A poor mountain family had been receiving an annual scholarship, but this year the money hadn’t arrived. As the deadline for tuition fees approached, the student’s father borrowed a phone from a young man in the village and called the number on the remittance slip, asking for the money. The person on the other end said they had never funded a student. After a heated exchange, they discovered the issue: the phone number now belonged to someone else, as Jiang Yu’s number had been recycled.

Jiang Yu was the benefactor.

Comments on the news discussed how unexpected it was that Jiang Yu had been helping poor students. But now, who would take responsibility for the student’s funds was a tough question.

He laughed at the news for a long time. Even China Mobile was heartless, deactivating a number for unpaid bills, and now, without internet in the mountains, people had to track him down for money.

If it were Yu Ruoyun, it wouldn’t be like this. Everyone would mourn, recalling how much Yu Ruoyun had helped, praising his virtues and spreading love everywhere.

Not like Jiang Yu, whose unexpected death in a car accident made people suspect suicide because of his volatile personality, possibly depression.

He was perfectly healthy and had no desire to die. After all, if he died, Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t accompany him to the grave.

Damn it, why wasn’t it Yu Ruoyun who died?!

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Author: 反舌鸟 / Mockingbird

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

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Chapter 2

Long Xingyu immediately retracted his impulsive voice message.

Yu Ruoyun paused for a second, deciding not to deal with this person anymore. He reopened the main page, which was blank.

Yu Ruoyun’s old phone had been smashed to pieces in the accident. The current phone was a new replacement, and none of the chat records had been transferred over, just like his memory, which had been completely wiped clean. The only contact remaining was Long Xingyu, clinging to the top of the list like a stubborn adhesive*.

*Dog skin plaster [gou pi gao yao] (狗皮膏藥). It refers to a person who’s clingy, annoying, and difficult to get rid of. This comes from dog skin plasters that were used in the past as medicinal treatment, where herbal medicine would be smeared onto a dog skin, which is then attached to the area to be treated.

Yu Ruoyun switched to the contacts interface. He needed to understand his social circle.

He had many WeChat friends, and fortunately, because there were so many, to prevent forgetting, Yu Ruoyun had added notes: the boss of which company, the stylist of which crew. He even had the tea server’s WeChat, and a quick scroll down revealed all the people he knew. Even Long Xingyu, whom he had just added, was promptly labeled with his idol group and crew role.

Except for one person.

Yu Ruoyun’s finger stopped scrolling when he saw that name—no prefix, no suffix, just the name.

Jiang Yu.

Modern technology was very convenient. Yu Ruoyun could immediately search online to find out who Jiang Yu was.

Before he could look, the door to the hospital room sounded.

The sound of the door slamming wasn’t small either. Yu Ruoyun looked at the approaching Long Xingyu. “Didn’t you already leave?”

“The last bus is already gone,” Long Xingyu said. “There are no scenes to shoot tonight. I’ll go back tomorrow.”

But he wasn’t here to tell Yu Ruoyun this. Long Xingyu asked, “Did you delete me as a friend?”

This could have been confirmed by sending another message, but Long Xingyu insisted on coming over to confirm it in person. If Yu Ruoyun had indeed cut him off due to his emotional outburst, Long Xingyu would grab the phone and try again.

Before Yu Ruoyun could respond, Long Xingyu glanced at the page displayed on his phone.

“Ha, Jiang Yu.” For some reason, Long Xingyu’s tone became very mocking. “I didn’t expect you to still remember him.”

“What about him?” Yu Ruoyun turned the phone over and continued to look.

The news that came into view was accompanied by Long Xingyu’s cold voice. “He’s dead.”

Not only dead but had been dead for almost a year. A well-known actor about Yu Ruoyun’s age, he died in a car accident. He and Yu Ruoyun didn’t seem to have much interaction. Yu Ruoyun checked and found that he hadn’t attended Jiang Yu’s funeral or made any public statements.

There might be more, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t look further because Long Xingyu was still pestering him.

Long Xingyu said, “Although I cursed, I wasn’t wrong. You really are gay. I need to tell you, lest you find out you can’t get it up after getting with a woman.”

“I seem to have dated women,” Yu Ruoyun said.

“Fake.” Long Xingyu replied, “It’s just a mutually beneficial fake relationship.”

“You sure know a lot.” Yu Ruoyun didn’t comment. “I didn’t delete you. Can you leave now?”

Long Xingyu pulled a chair over, changed his attitude again, and began apologizing. “I did something wrong and offended my senior today. I can’t just leave you alone here overnight.”

Yu Ruoyun realized that, despite Long Xingyu’s attractive appearance, he was quite shameless. He put down his phone and calmly looked at Long Xingyu.

But Long Xingyu wasn’t intimidated at all. He even laughed. “I suddenly feel that it might be good if you never recover your memory. Maybe this time, you’ll fall in love with me.”

After saying this, Long Xingyu suddenly stood up, causing the chair to make a grating noise. He didn’t bother putting the chair back, showing no manners at all.

“I’m leaving,” he said, reversing his earlier statement about staying overnight. With his back to Yu Ruoyun, he waved. “Remember to return to the crew soon.”

That night, before going to sleep, Yu Ruoyun reviewed the information he had learned.

Yu Ruoyun, male actor, unclear sexual orientation, numerous awards including multiple Best Actor trophies, both domestic and international. However, his popularity had waned in recent years, with his recent films performing poorly at the box office and in reviews. This decline was likely why he decided to take on a web drama.

What else? Was there anything more? It seemed not.

Jiang Yu is dead.

A voice said.

……

“Are you coming back today?” The director sounded pleasantly surprised. “It’s not necessary. You should rest well first. It was our mistake, after all.”

“I discussed it with the doctor. He said normal activities are fine,” Yu Ruoyun said. “The brain CT showed only a mild concussion. I might be fine by tomorrow.”

Though it wasn’t a small matter, Yu Ruoyun seemed the least concerned. The doctor had also suggested more rest and observation, but staying an extra day would cost the crew tens of thousands of dollars.

“I need to reacquaint myself with the crew’s environment,” Yu Ruoyun explained, putting the director at ease.

But the first person Yu Ruoyun saw when he returned was Long Xingyu.

When idols filmed for the first time, regardless of the role size, their fans would always make a show of support. Long Xingyu’s fans had prepared an elaborate spread of desserts and fruit, with a vertical banner of Long Xingyu smiling at passersby. The crew members all received gift bags, and the main actors got special customized gifts.

Yu Ruoyun’s gift was a Montblanc fountain pen, which was a pretty generous gift from a fan to a colleague. The fan representative personally handed it to Yu Ruoyun. “Teacher Yu, Xingyu said something wrong the other day. Please don’t mind.”

The girl looked young, in her early twenties, dressed beautifully, yet here she was apologizing for someone else’s mistake. Yu Ruoyun said, “It’s nothing.”

She immediately relaxed and asked, “Teacher Yu, can I have your autograph?”

Of course. Yu Ruoyun signed while joking, “Are you switching sides?”

The girl wasn’t fazed. “Liking you is perfectly normal. You’re Yu Ruoyun. Even the most loyal fans in our circle wouldn’t mind. They might have grown up watching your movies.”

She got enthusiastic and started reminiscing with Yu Ruoyun. “Really! The first movie I watched was yours, called “Encore”, right? It was so good. I still rewatch it often…”

Halfway through, Long Xingyu appeared.

He handed Yu Ruoyun a sickeningly sweet cake, asking if he liked it or if he wanted more.

Since Yu Ruoyun had just reassured the fan he didn’t mind, there was no need to show a bad attitude to Long Xingyu. He took the cake and told the fan, “He’s alright. I didn’t take it to heart.”

Bringing it up again, of course, prompted more apologies and concern from the fan. “Teacher Yu, do you really not remember anything?”

All of this trouble was caused by Long Xingyu, but Yu Ruoyun just smiled. “It’s not a big deal. I haven’t completely lost my memory.”

“You see, I remember you now,” Yu Ruoyun joked, not noticing Long Xingyu’s face suddenly darkening.

Once the girl walked away, Long Xingyu switched modes again, giving Yu Ruoyun a sidelong glance. ““Encore” was a movie from ten years ago.”

“Really?” Yu Ruoyun didn’t know what he was getting at.

“It means, first, you’re old. She was watching your movies as a child, and now she’s an adult.” Long Xingyu moved closer, so close Yu Ruoyun could see his eyelashes clearly. “Second, you’re irrelevant. She can’t even remember your recent works, only your peak.”

“So what?” Yu Ruoyun genuinely found it amusing. He had observed that Long Xingyu behaved normally with others, who found him cute. But when facing Yu Ruoyun, he suddenly became aggressive.

Long Xingyu fell silent.

“I ended up like this because of you,” Yu Ruoyun suddenly said. “If you had trusted me a bit more back then, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”

The further he spoke, the more it felt off, so Long Xingyu didn’t respond.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to act with me?” Yu Ruoyun said, still expressionless. “Then remember your lines properly.”

Someone called Yu Ruoyun, and he walked away, leaving Long Xingyu standing there.

Long Xingyu then remembered those were his own lines.

In the drama, he played a minor villain, grateful to the protagonist for helping him initially. But when he was framed and fell from grace, he didn’t hate the mastermind but instead the protagonist, wanting revenge. This line was from their final confrontation scene. A story of ingratitude.

This person was still the same, memorizing not only his lines but others’ as well, down to the last word, making notes and analysis, even discussing changes with the director if something didn’t make sense.

What’s the point of being so perfect, so meticulous? In the end, didn’t he end up like this?

It might be funny, but Long Xingyu couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

He looked around to see what Yu Ruoyun was doing, spotting him under a tree, holding the dessert Long Xingyu had given him, frowning slightly but still taking a bite.

Cream smeared on Yu Ruoyun’s lips, and despite the distance, Long Xingyu wanted to approach, to wipe it off with his finger.

This was the third month since he’d woken up. He had finally found a chance to get into the crew and be close to Yu Ruoyun.

And then? He lost control again—said things he shouldn’t, leaving Yu Ruoyun speechless, causing him to turn away.

It shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t have deliberately chosen a flavor Yu Ruoyun disliked. Long Xingyu thought, tomorrow, when he sees Yu Ruoyun again, he would be nice to him.

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