Crossover Actors - Chapter 19

Qu Yanting felt as fragile as glass, and those four words struck him like raindrops. He suddenly snapped back to reality, letting go and pushing Lu Wen away.

 

With the warmth of Qu Yanting’s cheek gone from his palm, Lu Wen staggered back half a step, as if waking up from a dream and stepping out of character.

 

Qu Yanting’s expression was hidden in the shadows, making it impossible to see clearly. His voice sounded distant and scratchy: “I don’t need it.”

 

For a moment, Lu Wen was at a loss for words. In the next instant, Qu Yanting deprived him of the chance to speak, his voice now clear and cold: “Shoot if you can, if not, cut the entire scene.”

 

Qu Yanting didn’t pause after speaking, striding away quickly, disappearing from sight.

 

The set fell into a dead silence. The crew, unaware of what had happened, all looked toward the shade of the trees. Lu Wen was completely stunned, and behind him, even Ren Shu was a bit bewildered.

 

A few minutes later, the director’s assistant informed them that Qu Yanting had left in his Porsche.

 

Lu Wen had a gut feeling that this time, things were seriously wrong. He had previously argued, raised his voice, and even acted aggressively, but Qu Yanting had always remained calm and composed. This was the first time he had stormed off.

 

He turned to look at Ren Shu and called out, “Director.”

 

“Why are you calling me now?” Ren Shu asked. “Finally remembered I’m here?”

 

Lu Wen braced himself for a scolding as he walked over to Ren Shu. Suddenly, Ren Shu raised his hand, and Lu Wen instinctively flinched, thinking Ren Shu was going to hit him. Surely not, right? Even if someone were to hit him, shouldn’t it be Qu Yanting himself?

 

Ren Shu pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, lighting one up. “Why are you chickening out? Weren’t you acting all tough just now? Taking a big step, cupping his face, whispering in his ear—I thought your next move was going to be a kiss.”

 

Lu Wen defended himself, “I wouldn’t dare; I would’ve faked it.”

 

Ren Shu was both angry and amused, “What on earth did you grow up on, to be so reckless?”

 

Lu Wen said, “But didn’t you ask me to go through the scene?”

 

“I didn’t ask you to run the scene with Qu the screenwriter!” Ren Shu groaned. “The female lead wasn’t there, so I waved you over, signaling to run the scene with me. Why on earth did you do it with Mr. Qu?”

 

Lu Wen asked, “Did you really wave at me?”

 

“Of course, I did! I almost said ‘Hi’ too.” Ren Shu said, “You weren’t even looking at me, just staring at whoever you thought looked better.”

 

Lu Wen wiped his face with his still-sweaty hand, the palm sliding down over his nose to hold his own cheek. The image of himself cupping Qu Yanting’s face flashed in his mind. At the time, he didn’t dare move his fingers, afraid that if he did, they might brush against Qu Yanting’s earlobe.

 

Now, holding his own face, it felt more like he was dealing with the aftermath of wisdom tooth removal.

 

Ren Shu smoked in silence. Although he had scolded Lu Wen, he was genuinely puzzled by Qu Yanting’s reaction.

 

They had both studied directing, and in this line of work, it was normal to personally demonstrate scenes during coaching. They had known this since their school days. That’s why when Lu Wen foolishly rehearsed with Qu Yanting, Ren Shu hadn’t stopped him immediately.

 

Logically, since Qu Yanting didn’t push Lu Wen away at the start, he was willing to cooperate. It didn’t make sense why he suddenly became unwilling.

 

Lu Wen didn’t understand either, so he asked, “Director, what’s going on?”

 

Ren Shu analyzed, “Probably the scene was too ambiguous. He could hold on at first, but the next step was a kiss. What straight man could handle that?”

 

Lu Wen thought to himself, “Alright then, asking you was pointless.”

 

After this little incident, everyone returned to their positions, and the shoot continued as if nothing had happened. But rumors spread quickly in this industry, and by tomorrow, everyone on set would know about Qu Yanting storming off.

 

They finished shooting late at night. On the way back to the hotel, Lu Wen slumped in the last row of the car, leaning his head against the window, looking like he was halfway paralyzed.

 

“When you’re frustrated, it’s hard not to sigh, when you’re down and out, it’s hard not to be scared…” He sang when stressed, “That sense of hopelessness, getting drunk every day…”

 

Sun Xiaojian, unusually, didn’t interrupt. After everything they’d been through, he had realized that nothing was his fault as Lu Wen’s manager. He saw things clearly now: no matter how good a manager, even if they were the company’s top agent, general manager, or CEO, could handle a screw-up like Lu Wen.

 

Curious, he asked, “Most people find it hard just to meet Mr. Qu, and not only did you act opposite him, but you also held his face. Let me ask you, what did it feel like to hold Qu Yanting’s face?”

 

Lu Wen had been so immersed in the scene that he hadn’t thought about anything else. But if he had to describe the feeling, he curled his fingers, recalling the smooth, delicate texture of Qu Yanting’s skin—cleaner and finer than the made-up faces of other actors.

 

He quickly cut off that line of thought, feeling too annoyed to answer.

 

As midnight passed, in the living room of suite 6206, only a floor lamp was lit. Qu Yanting, having showered, was wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the sofa and responding to emails.

 

Just two minutes after sending a message, Editor Qiao from his studio messaged him, asking if he was free to talk. Since Qu Yanting had finished supervising the night shoot and was already back, he decided to call directly.

 

Next week, the TV Association was holding a seminar to discuss a project that Qu Yanting’s studio had been involved in. He had sent Editor Qiao to attend and wanted to discuss the details in advance.

 

Among those attending was Professor Wu, and Qu Yanting instructed that after the seminar, they should meet with Professor Wu.

 

Editor Qiao, a capable and meticulous woman, casually asked during the conversation, “Mr. Qu, are you feeling unwell? Your voice sounds a bit hoarse.”

 

Qu Yanting brushed it off with “Just tired,” and concluded, “Let me know immediately if Professor Wu agrees.”

 

Editor Qiao replied, “Okay, just don’t ignore my calls.”

 

“Don’t joke like that,” Qu Yanting replied, though he wasn’t entirely confident, “If I don’t answer, just call again.”

 

After hanging up, Qu Yanting placed his phone face down on the sofa, closed his laptop, leaving only the yellowish glow from the floor lamp in the room. Sitting in the dark, his hearing became exceptionally sensitive.

 

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, heavy and dragging, the thick carpet unable to muffle them. The person walking was obviously tired. Since the hotel staff were required to be quiet, it wasn’t hard to guess who was clomping down the hall after wrapping up for the day.

 

Qu Yanting had let his emotions show on set, almost losing control. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the person who had made him lose his cool. He reached out and switched off the floor lamp.

 

The peephole went completely dark, and Lu Wen, who was about to press the doorbell, paused mid-air.

 

He stared at the “6206” plaque on the door, debating whether Qu Yanting was already resting or if he was aware of his presence and was deliberately avoiding him.

 

After hesitating for a while, Lu Wen decided he was being stupid. Regardless of the reason, there was no need to press the bell. He lowered his hand but didn’t turn back to room 6207. Instead, he continued to stare at the plaque for room 6206, as if trying to see through it.

 

Under the trees earlier, only he had heard Qu Yanting say those first words—*I don’t need it.*

 

*I’ll protect you. I don’t need it.*

 

Lu Wen stood there for a long, long time without knocking or making a sound, feeling utterly tangled up inside, unable to make sense of his own thoughts, as he stood outside Qu Yanting’s door, almost as if being punished.

 

The next day, before dawn, Lu Wen got to work, following the routine: makeup, scenes, filming—everything went as planned. The set seemed as usual, but even the woman delivering the lunch boxes had heard that he had angered the head screenwriter so much last night that they walked off.

 

After wrapping up in the evening, Lu Wen went upstairs to the makeup room to change clothes. He paused briefly outside Room 101. The door was locked. Qu Yanting hadn’t shown up on set the entire day.

 

Still angry?

 

Doesn’t want to see him?

 

Lu Wen felt a knot forming in his heart. The closer he got to the hotel, the more complicated the knot became—big, hard, and tangled.

 

When he returned to the hotel, Lu Wen stopped outside Room 6206. He didn’t care whether Qu Yanting wanted to see him or not, nor had he thought of what to say. Seeing light through the peephole, he directly pressed the doorbell.

 

Qu Yanting was in the study when the doorbell rang, causing him to mistype a letter on the keyboard. He hadn’t ordered room service or dinner, so he continued working, ignoring it.

 

But the doorbell kept ringing, almost as if it were malfunctioning, sounding more than a dozen times.

 

When his train of thought was completely disrupted, Qu Yanting leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples in frustration. He had a pretty good idea who was outside, based on this idiotic way of ringing the bell.

 

After five or six more rings, the doorbell finally stopped.

 

Just as Qu Yanting was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a more insistent knocking started. Half annoyed, half resigned, he got up and quietly walked to the foyer.

 

As he grabbed the door handle, the knocking abruptly stopped.

 

Through the peephole, Qu Yanting saw Lu Wen with his head down, rubbing his reddened knuckles. Seeing how his hand was already red and likely painful, he figured Lu Wen would obediently return to his room.

 

He let go of the door handle, turned around, and was about to head back to the study.

 

Just as he took two steps, he heard a faint rustling sound near the door. He stopped and turned back, puzzled, only to widen his eyes in surprise.

 

A piece of paper was slowly being pushed under the door.

 

Qu Yanting walked over, crouched down, and picked it up. It was a regular lined sheet, the edge still ragged from being torn out of a notebook, and on it were four large characters—*I am Lu Wen*.

 

His first thought was that, although Lu Wen wasn’t great at studying, his handwriting wasn’t bad.

 

Then, a second piece of paper was pushed through, reading: *Sorry about last night*.

 

A third one quickly followed: *I didn’t mean to offend you*.

 

The fourth one had lighter handwriting and was a question: *Are you okay?*

 

Qu Yanting stacked the four papers together, unconsciously staring at the gap under the door. After a while, no more papers came through. He stood up quietly and peeked outside through the peephole—there was no one there.

 

Had Lu Wen left?

 

But he hadn’t heard the door to Room 6207 open.

 

After staying cooped up in the room for a day and a night, Qu Yanting finally opened the door.

 

Outside, Lu Wen was squatting on one knee, holding his backpack, and writing on a pad of paper balanced on his thigh. When the door opened, he was startled and looked up, staring blankly at Qu Yanting.

 

Qu Yanting lowered his gaze to the fifth note in Lu Wen’s hand.

 

Lu Wen stood up, feeling embarrassed now that they were face-to-face, especially since Qu Yanting was holding those four notes. He crumpled the fifth one in his hand and tried to shove it into his pocket.

 

“Take it out,” Qu Yanting said.

 

Lu Wen hesitated, “This one doesn’t matter…”

 

Qu Yanting insisted, “Let me see.”

 

Feeling guilty, Lu Wen reluctantly took out the crumpled paper and handed it over. Qu Yanting caught it and carefully unfolded it, deciphering the faint marks on the page.

 

Sure enough, it didn’t matter. It simply read: *Damn, my pen ran out of ink*.

 

Qu Yanting was speechless. But the door was already open, and now they were face-to-face, though still separated by the threshold, like a line between two worlds.

 

After a moment, Qu Yanting said, “How childish can you be? Do you think this is a TV drama?”

 

With his bag hanging around his neck and one leg still numb from squatting, Lu Wen stuck out his foot, looking thoroughly foolish. He sniffled, feeling both confused and conflicted, and replied, “I just wanted you to stop being mad.”