Crossover Actors - Chapter 23

After asking, Qu Yanting felt his intelligence being dragged down by Lu Wen, as if influenced by his surroundings.

 

In the first year of college, while Qu Yanting had not yet fully recognized his classmates, Ren Shu had already started dating a girl from a dance academy. By the end of the second year, they broke up. Ren Shu, drunk and disorderly, clung to the bed ladder and yelled, “Yanting! I swear I’ll never believe in love again!”

 

Qu Yanting corrected himself, “What I meant was, do you prefer looks or acting skills?”

 

“I like both,” Ren Shu answered, “Ideally, someone with both good looks and acting skills.”

 

Qu Yanting dropped the topic. Exhausted from the late night, he couldn’t guess who Lu Wen was hinting at. But on second thought, even if he guessed, he had no standing to interfere.

 

After the last shot, Ren Shu called out, “Alright, that’s a wrap!”

 

The lights were turned on, and the room brightened suddenly. As the crew hurried in to clean up, the stand-in actor got up from the top bunk, creating a chaotic scene.

 

Lu Wen remained seated, unmoving.

 

“Xiao Lu?” the cameraman called out, “Aren’t you done? What’s going on?”

 

Qu Yanting looked over and saw Lu Wen with his back to him, making it impossible to see his expression. The slight protrusion of a vertebra at the back of his neck indicated that his head was bowed low.

 

Lu Wen was deeply affected by the scene. From childhood to now, he had always remembered his absent mother in this manner. After a few more seconds, he wiped his face, got up from the chair, and faced the crew with reddened eyes.

 

Qu Yanting guessed but pretended not to know, jokingly asking, “Did you fall asleep just now?”

 

Lu Wen stepped down and answered ambiguously, “Yeah… I was so tired.”

 

After the chaos of the past few minutes, the photography team had mostly left, creating some space. Sun Xiaojian squeezed in to help Lu Wen with his makeup removal and costume change.

 

Approaching the bedside, Lu Wen, forgetting his sadness, asked dramatically, “Change here?”

 

It was too late, and going to the makeup room or van was too troublesome, so they would change here and wrap up. Sun Xiaojian, who was annoyed by fussiness, said, “We’re all grown men, why are you still shy?”

 

Unable to tolerate the provoking, Lu Wen immediately took off his vest, “I’m afraid everyone will envy my devilish figure.”

 

As he said this, he glanced at the wall. Ren Shu was yawning widely, squinting his eyes, while Qu Yanting folded his script and played with his phone, completely ignoring him.

 

After Ren Shu finished yawning, he said, “Had I known it would go so smoothly, I wouldn’t have made you stay up all night.”

 

“It’s fine,” Qu Yanting said as he messaged the driver to wait for him at the alley.

 

Ren Shu, exhausted, took out a cigarette, lit it, and tried to relieve his fatigue with nicotine. After a couple of puffs, a production assistant came in and asked, “Director Ren, are you leaving now?”

 

“Of course,” Ren Shu replied, puzzled, “Or should I stay and clean up?”

 

The assistant awkwardly said, “We left five drivers for the night, but one went to drop off Teacher Tao and hasn’t come back. He has the A2-3 car keys…”

 

Ren Shu was in the A2-3 car and said, “Call him and tell him to come back quickly.”

 

“The call won’t go through…” the assistant said, “No answer even for voice calls.”

 

Dealing with night shoots, the worst fear is that drivers and logistics might falter, causing trouble. Ren Shu was instantly furious, ready to lose his temper, but Qu Yanting promptly placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

Qu Yanting, realizing other cars might have left and it was hard to get a cab at this hour, suggested, “Don’t wait. Just take your Porsche back.”

 

Ren Shu forgot he had a car and said, “Then I’ll drop you off.”

 

Qu Yanting shook his head. It was almost dawn from the back and forth, so he let Ren Shu head back to the hotel to rest, while he could wait a bit longer and arrange for a hotel car.

 

By the bedside, as Lu Wen just put on his pants, Sun Xiaojian was helping him, and suddenly, with a “whoosh,” Sun Xiaojian unexpectedly darted away.

 

Lu Wen was startled, “Damn! I exposed myself!”

 

Sun Xiaojian had already rushed to the writer and director, eager to seize a prime opportunity to curry favor, and didn’t want to miss it: “Editor Qu, if you don’t mind, would you like to ride back with us?”

 

This arrangement was the most convenient. Qu Yanting, not wanting to drag things out, agreed, “Alright, let’s go together.”

 

At 4 AM, it was dark and cold, and the film set gradually emptied. The old street outside the neighborhood was as dim as the night, with streetlights casting a few faint yellow glows.

 

Qu Yanting went back to the rest room to get some documents, taking a few minutes, and when he came out, the place was almost empty. As he turned from the neighborhood onto the street and walked to the alley, he noticed someone crouched at the base of a wall.

 

Lu Wen had been waiting there for ten minutes, with Sun Xiaojian heading to the car to tidy up, having instructed him to wait here and escort Qu Yanting through the narrow alley where even robbery might be difficult.

 

“Waiting for me?” Qu Yanting asked.

 

Lu Wen replied, “If not for you, who else would I be waiting for, a romantic encounter in a mountain city?”

 

Qu Yanting couldn’t help but admire Lu Wen’s stamina. After a full day and night of shooting, Lu Wen still had the energy for banter. But he was tired, so he silently moved forward.

 

Lu Wen followed closely behind Qu Yanting into the narrow alley, which was pitch black with only a faint draft. He had his hands in his pockets, used to being waited on, and did not think to use a flashlight.

 

Qu Yanting didn’t mind; the darkness was more calming.

 

The footsteps were faint. Lu Wen, with his long legs and big strides, quickly caught up to Qu Yanting and then slowed down to fall back, repeating this.

 

Qu Yanting slightly shifted aside and said, “You go ahead.”

 

“No need,” Lu Wen replied, fearing that if he went ahead, he would completely fall behind, “Leader, you go first, I’ll follow.”

 

Qu Yanting found his choice of words amusing and asked, “Am I a leader?”

 

“Yes,” Lu Wen couldn’t help but bring up past grievances, “I once got kicked out for taking the wrong leader’s car, and now the leader is going to ride in mine.”

 

Qu Yanting didn’t expect this day to come and just let Lu Wen hold a grudge.

 

As they continued forward, halfway through the alley, a crisp sound was heard. Qu Yanting’s shoe toe hit a piece of broken porcelain—a flower pot that had blocked the path. He tripped, losing his balance and falling forward.

 

Lu Wen, quick to react despite being startled, rushed forward and grabbed Qu Yanting, pulling him back with force.

 

There was a dull thud.

 

It was too dark for Lu Wen to see exactly what he had grabbed, or if Qu Yanting’s chest had hit his shoulder.

 

The two were close together, with Qu Yanting immobilized. Lu Wen was pressed against Qu Yanting’s right rear side, his arm across Qu Yanting’s waist, holding him.

 

Lu Wen tilted his head slightly, his chin brushing against the back of Qu Yanting’s head. His low voice filled Qu Yanting’s ear, “Leader, are you steady?”

 

Qu Yanting responded with a “mm,” and Lu Wen’s grip loosened from his waist, creating some distance as he stepped back.

 

Lu Wen took out his phone, turned on the flashlight to help Qu Yanting see, bent down to pick up the pieces of the broken pot, and then carried the pot to the side of the wall.

 

He said, “Let’s go. Be careful.”

 

Qu Yanting said, “Thanks for earlier.”

 

Lu Wen, who had been reliable for only five minutes, yawned and said, “No need to thank me. I’m exhausted, let’s go, leader.”

 

The shuttle bus was parked at the other end of the alley, with two large bags of spare clothes in the back. Sun Xiaojian was in the second-to-last row. Lu Wen and Qu Yanting got in and sat side by side in the front row.

 

Perhaps due to fatigue, the atmosphere in the car was subdued. Qu Yanting closed his eyes to rest, while Lu Wen untangled his earphones for a whole street.

 

Sun Xiaojian, who was quite scheming, took advantage of the red light at an intersection and leaned forward, holding the back of the seat as he spoke, “Editor Qu, do you get car sick? I have motion sickness pills.”

 

Qu Yanting didn’t even open his eyes, “No need.”

 

Sun Xiaojian continued, “Editor Qu, how do you think Lu Wen performed in tonight’s two scenes?”

 

Qu Yanting replied, “Not bad.”

 

“That reassures me,” Sun Xiaojian seized the opportunity, acting as a salesman, “I don’t understand acting, but from an audience’s perspective, Lu Wen’s performance was really impactful. It made me want to cry.”

 

Lu Wen, embarrassed, said, “Go ahead and cry, just don’t talk.”

 

Sun Xiaojian ignored him, “In the second scene, Ye Shan quietly looks at the photo. It’s simply amazing—silence speaks louder than words. Editor Qu, I’m not exaggerating; Lu Wen definitely has unlimited potential.”

 

Qu Yanting recalled the scenes. There were no lines in that part, as Ye Shan’s guilt and pain were fully displayed during the conflict with his mother. When looking at his father’s photo alone, only longing and peace occupied him.

 

Lu Wen’s performance in the first scene was “release.” In the second scene, he stared at the photo without blinking, calm and content, and finally shed a tear quietly—this was “retraction.”

 

Qu Yanting said honestly, “Handled not only very well but also very maturely.”

 

Lu Wen, rarely boastful, as a non-professional actor with little experience, did not understand much about “release” and “retraction.” He simply missed his mother, which Qu Yanting could understand.

 

Suddenly, Lu Wen said, “Ye Shan shouldn’t be blamed.”

 

Qu Yanting’s eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.

 

Lu Wen seemed to be talking to himself, “It’s not Ye Shan’s fault. Ye’s father died in an accident; no one could have predicted it. If we trace it back, I could be blamed for my mother’s death too.”

 

Qu Yanting said, “That’s not the same.”

 

“It’s the same,” Lu Wen countered.

 

Sun Xiaojian, sensing the conversation taking a wrong turn, quickly intervened, “The script is written by Editor Qu, so why argue with him? Just keep untangling your earphones.”

 

Lu Wen wasn’t arguing; he was expressing his feelings, “I’m only speaking for myself. I feel very sorry for Ye Shan. If such a person truly existed, I hope…”

 

Qu Yanting asked, “What?”

 

Lu Wen said, “I hope he doesn’t cry like he did tonight.”

 

The rest of the car ride was silent, and by the time they reached the hotel, it was almost dawn. Lu Wen and Qu Yanting parted ways in the corridor. It wasn’t appropriate to say “good morning” or “good night,” so they silently swiped their cards and went their separate ways.

 

The carnation was still on the entrance cabinet. Qu Yanting lightly touched the petals before heading to his bedroom to rest.

 

After a day and night, the cloudy morning sky was grayish-blue.

 

His phone vibrated on the pillow, displaying “Editor Qiao.” Qu Yanting woke up quickly, guessing it might be a response about Professor Wu’s matter. He answered the call while getting out of bed.

 

Editor Qiao was surprised, “You’re quick today.”

 

Qu Yanting, trying to act cool, replied, “Slipped my finger.”

 

He walked into the bathroom while talking on the phone, turning on the hot water with one hand, unbuttoning, and undressing. After finishing the call, he took a comfortable hot bath.

 

Having slept too long, Qu Yanting needed to stretch his muscles. He didn’t use the driver and missed the morning rush hour by taking the subway. Among the sparse, unfamiliar faces, he felt no discomfort.

 

After exiting the subway station, he walked two streets to the film crew.

 

The A-team was filming on the third floor. Qu Yanting didn’t go up but sent Xiao Zhang to inform Ren Shu that he had something to discuss and asked him to come to room 101 after filming.

 

Ren Shu finished filming without delay and immediately went to find Qu Yanting. Room 101 was unlocked, and there was no one working in the living room. Qu Yanting was leisurely watering plants on the balcony.

 

“Why did you come over this morning?” Ren Shu walked over, “Not busy today. It’s unusual.”

 

Qu Yanting succinctly replied, “I wanted to see you.”

 

Ren Shu, puzzled, stood next to Qu Yanting, both men staring at a malnourished little flower. He flicked a petal, “What’s the matter? Just tell me.”

 

Qu Yanting, not one for jokes, said directly, “The TV Association is holding a seminar in Beijing in a few days.”

 

Ren Shu knew about it and understood that Qu Yanting wouldn’t bring it up without reason, so he waited for further details.

 

Qu Yanting pinched off a yellowed leaf and said, “Professor Wu from the Production Center will attend. Don’t you want to meet him?”

 

The Production Center, formally known as the China Television Drama Production Center, where Professor Wu was the deputy director. When they were in college, Professor Wu was the deputy dean and also a doctoral advisor in the cinematography department, a role Ren Shu had always admired.

 

“Bro,” Ren Shu had always wanted to meet him but had no chance, and asked excitedly, “What do you mean?”

 

Qu Yanting didn’t keep him in suspense, “Our studio is involved in this seminar. Editor Qiao will attend on our behalf. After the meeting, we might organize a dinner or a tea party to invite Professor Wu.”

 

He gathered a small handful of withered leaves and flowers in his palm, his tone softer, “If you’re willing, you could come back to Beijing. I’ll have Editor Qiao arrange it, and you can meet Professor Wu together.”

 

Ren Shu stared at Qu Yanting with bright, fiery eyes.

 

Qu Yanting jokingly said, “Look in the mirror, you look like you’re about to transform into Nezha.”

 

Ren Shu let himself be teased, saying, “How come you’re so righteous?”

 

They hadn’t been in touch much over the years, reuniting for this film. During a late-night chat in the prep period, Ren Shu had mentioned wanting to meet Professor Wu, and Qu Yanting had remembered.

 

Qu Yanting said, “I studied at a funded university, and our major is expensive. Back then, you often bought the wrong clothes or charged the wrong amount on your meal card, and every time I went to your house, I ended up eating and taking things. I have some sense of gratitude and believe in repaying kindness.”

 

During their old-school hotpot night, Ren Shu never mentioned these things. The hardships of youth were like old scars on his pride, and he couldn’t bear to bring them up: “Helping each other is mutual, why bring up gratitude?”

 

“Don’t say unnecessary things,” Qu Yanting turned the page, “Book your flight ticket quickly and arrange the work for the crew.”

 

Ren Shu, still excited, almost forgot he was the director. He hesitated, “I’ll be away for a day or two. What about the crew…”

 

Qu Yanting said, “Just make sure to allocate the crew properly.”

 

Ren Shu responded with a “mm,” staring blankly at the window for a few seconds. Then, he pulled out the shooting notice from his pocket and smiled weakly.

 

“Allocating personnel is simple; the key is to have someone in charge to oversee things.”

 

“Choose someone suitable and—”

 

“Stop fussing over that withered flower,” Ren Shu interrupted, handing over the crumpled notice. “I think you’re quite suitable for it.”

 

Now it was Qu Yanting’s turn to be surprised.

 

He stared at the paper, unable to look away, the black text on white paper sticking in his eyes. After a while, he responded, “Don’t joke around. I’m just a screenwriter.”

 

Ren Shu said, “You’re the top student in the directing department.”

 

Qu Yanting replied, “Studying and working are different. Maybe I only know how to talk theory.”

 

“You’re being too modest,” Ren Shu placed the notice on the windowsill. “Besides, you’ve been influenced by Director Zeng for years. Your skills have surely improved.”

 

Qu Yanting swallowed a breath, his lips pressed together.

 

Ren Shu said, “Just agree to it. You wrote the script, you invested the money, and it’s only natural for me to hand it over to you. You rarely give opinions when overseeing the film. Guarantee me the greatest authority as the director. I know you’re aware of that, so just follow my arrangement this time.”

 

Qu Yanting hesitated, a hint of something almost imperceptible in his eyes.

 

“Alright… I’ll give it a try.”

 

Qu Yanting agreed, reached for the notice, and then realized he had clenched his fist at some point. He relaxed his hand, the thin sweat in his palm moistening the withered flowers and leaves as if spring had returned.

 

Today, there was a review of the work sample. Ren Shu asked, “Want to watch it together?”

 

Qu Yanting had come specially for this and would return to the hotel afterwards, as he had a conference call with the studio in the afternoon.

 

Seeing this, Ren Shu took over the lounge, sending a message for the assistant to notify everyone in A-team—directors, cinematographers, and the male lead—to gather in this room for the review.

 

The male lead received the message, ran down from Unit 3, carrying a box of pastries. After receiving so many praises for the late-night shoot, he felt uneasy unless he treated everyone.

 

The box Lu Wen carried was for Qu Yanting. Since he hadn’t shown up in the morning, the pastries had gone cold. Now, he was heading to the screenwriter’s lounge, just in time to deliver it.

 

On the way, he saw the screenwriter himself walking out.

 

Qu Yanting was holding the director’s shooting notice, looking at it as he walked. Passing by an old utility pole, a shadow fell in front of him. He looked up to see Lu Wen blocking his path.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Back to the hotel.”

 

“Going back this early?”

 

Qu Yanting was puzzled. Did he have to report to this person about his movements?

 

Lu Wen realized he was being too intrusive and awkwardly smiled, handing over the pastry box, “Treating the whole crew to breakfast. Your share—pineapple bun and cream puff.”

 

For the third time, Qu Yanting said, “The salary isn’t enough to treat everyone.”

 

“I’m happy to do it.” Lu Wen shook the box, “So, are you eating or not?”

 

Qu Yanting didn’t take it, “I’ve already eaten. You can keep it as a snack.”

 

Lu Wen didn’t insist, withdrew his hand, and after Qu Yanting walked past him, he looked back at his retreating figure. He had never asked—was his salary really higher than Ruan Feng’s?

 

If so, why did Qu Yanting lie to him that day?

 

Lu Wen kicked a small stone and went to Unit 1.

 

In the lounge of Room 101, seven or eight men were crowded together, with the sofa fully occupied. As the lowest-ranking member, Lu Wen brought a small stool to sit beside them. He opened the pastry box and took out a crispy pineapple bun for himself.

 

Ren Shu said, “The work isn’t done yet, and you’re already eating.”

 

Lu Wen muttered, “I like to have something to eat while watching.”

 

The assistant director was adjusting the footage and laughed, “Watching? We’re reviewing work samples.”

 

The sample footage showed the unedited content from the night before. It depicted the conflict between Ye Shan and his mother, both erupting in emotion, followed by Ye Shan waking from a dream to look at his father’s photo.

 

Without background music or editing, the raw sample was not as polished as the final product but had a raw, documentary-like realism that was striking.

 

Lu Wen gradually forgot about the bun, focusing intently on the screen. After the first playthrough of the sample, the assistant director accidentally pressed the wrong button and began playing an earlier scene.

 

That was from the first late-night shoot—Ye Shan’s solo scene under the grapevine.

 

Under the grapevine at night, Ye Shan sat alone, side-lying, resting his head on his arm, quietly leaning on the edge of the table. The light bulb illuminated his brow bone and nose, while the sorrow in his eyes was hidden in the shadows.

 

Lu Wen was stunned.

 

In the frames, it was him, but in his daze, he saw another person.

 

The cinematographer’s assistant said, “The lighting in this scene is particularly good and doesn’t waste the actor’s performance.”

 

“Yeah, Xiao Lu did well,” Ren Shu, noticing Lu Wen’s reaction, snapped his fingers, “Xiao Lu, what are you thinking about?”

 

Lu Wen snapped back, “Nothing… I was just daydreaming.”

 

The assistant director laughed, “Not focusing on the job, just like Ye Xiaowu. But Ye Shan’s performance is quite on point.”

 

Ren Shu agreed but didn’t take the credit, “It was a bit off at first, and I had to scold him a lot. Still, Editor Qu has a knack for it; he talked to Xiao Lu about the scene, and it helped him grasp Ye Shan’s emotions in one go.”

 

Lu Wen was puzzled, “Director, what scene discussion?”

 

“Forgot already?” Ren Shu replied, “Scene 14, the first scene where you play Ye Shan. That day, there were several takes, and didn’t Editor Qu call you to the office?”

 

Lu Wen murmured, “But he…”

 

“What about him? Criticize you? Put you down?” Ren Shu said, “Editor Qu wanted to teach a young actor, and he didn’t need to close the office door to spare your feelings. He was trying to teach you how to understand the character’s emotions. Do you get it now?”

 

Lu Wen stared blankly, his hands clenched with bits of bread.

 

Did Qu Yanting lie to him about Ruan Feng’s salary deliberately?

 

Was Qu Yanting’s criticism, humiliation, and use of his status all just part of acting?

 

So… Qu Yanting really didn’t look down on him?

 

The pent-up frustration that had been simmering inside him burst out urgently. Lu Wen suddenly stood up and shouted at Ren Shu, “Why didn’t you say so earlier!”

 

Just as he felt relieved for a couple of days, Lu Wen’s mind was troubled again.

 

Since learning that it was a lesson in acting, his emotions had become complicated. He wanted to say something to Qu Yanting, though he hadn’t figured out the exact words, but at least he wanted to say “thank you.”

 

However, Qu Yanting was busy handling the handover with Ren Shu and had no time for him.

 

Two days later, Ren Shu went to Beijing, and Qu Yanting took over the full responsibility.

 

At 5 a.m., at a private hospital in the city.

 

Lu Wen got out of the RV, dressed in patient clothes and makeup. His face was bruised and swollen, with thick blood clots on his brow bone and a realistic, deadly wound on his forehead.

 

He took the elevator to the eighth floor of the rehabilitation department. When the door opened, he saw a busy scene in chaos yet order.

 

Next to the drink machine, the mechanical team was catching their breath; in the rest area, a dozen extras were sitting, including doctors and nurses; other actors waited in the hallway, Tao Meifan, Ruan Feng, Xian Qi, and all the neighbors were there.

 

Lu Wen glanced at everyone, reached the door of the patient’s room, and looked through the small square glass embedded in the door, seeing a room full of people, then spotted the one he had been thinking about these past two days.

 

“Thinking about” might be a bit too sentimental, but his vocabulary couldn’t find a more accurate term.

 

Lu Wen knocked on the door and, after receiving consent, pushed it open.

 

The patient room was in light tones. Qu Yanting stood at the end of the bed at a mobile desk, writing, his back straight, wearing the oatmeal-colored linen shirt from the day they arrived in Chongqing.

 

He was taking over Ren Shu’s responsibilities, from screen composition to scene management and space creation, all needing his oversight.

 

The tall figure in his peripheral vision made Qu Yanting glance sideways, meeting Lu Wen’s pitiful appearance.

 

The assistant director, Kang Danning, said, “Run the scene, test the camera’s positioning.”

 

Qu Yanting looked away, “Put the soft light screen on lens 1, and set it to low hanging mode.”

 

Lu Wen took off his shoes, lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, and heard the footsteps of everyone getting into position. The door opened, and other actors came in one after another.

 

The room was a mix of scents: perfumes of the male and female actors, floral, leather, and the disinfectant smell of the hospital.

 

Suddenly, a fresh scent entered his nose—a faint hint of aftershave. Lu Wen opened his eyes to see Qu Yanting coming to the bedside, picking up the script from the nightstand.

 

He stared at Qu Yanting, hesitating whether to call him “Teacher Qu.”

 

Qu Yanting looked down from his height, not having time for pleasantries. He pulled the blanket over Lu Wen’s head, reminding him through the cotton fabric not to move around.

 

Lu Wen’s voice was muffled, “What if I can’t help it?”

 

With a sharp pain, Qu Yanting tapped him on the head with the script, scaring him, and prepared a sedative ready to administer at any time.

 

The scene was rehearsed, and the filming continued, one shot after another, and a few hours quickly passed.

 

Lu Wen lay on the bed the whole time, nearly falling asleep. When the shoot wrapped up at noon, everyone left, and he lingered by the monitor in the corner. Qu Yanting was still packing up behind the desk and had not left yet.

 

The script supervisor opened the window for ventilation, and a cool breeze blew the forms off the desk.

 

Lu Wen hurriedly picked them up and handed them to Qu Yanting. Qu Yanting took them and said, “Hurry up and remove your makeup; the paint damages the skin.”

 

Without waiting for Lu Wen to reply, Qu Yanting cleared his throat, having neglected to drink water while directing all morning. He gathered his things and headed out, covering his lips with the script.

 

Lu Wen followed him out of the patient room and called, “Teacher Qu—”

 

But Qu Yanting stopped the script supervisor, hoarsely instructing, “Tell the camera crew to gather in the garden. I’ll be down soon to shoot some exterior shots while it’s less crowded at noon.”

 

After saying this, he went to the elevator, and Lu Wen caught up, asking, “Teacher Qu, when will you be free?”

 

Qu Yanting replied, “Do you need something?”

 

Lu Wen said seriously, “I have something to tell you.”

 

Qu Yanting didn’t understand why the young man was so persistent, checked his watch, and estimated a time, “Probably finished by one-thirty. Meet me by the lake.”

 

In the garden behind the rehabilitation department, a semi-circular corridor surrounded a pond, with lush camphor trees and a large lawn in the center. With dual cameras, Camera A was leading, and Camera B was assisting, testing the first shot to see the effects.

 

Qu Yanting reviewed the footage, adjusting the color balance, contrast, and intensity, “The sky is too overcast; increase the EI. Brother Duan, is the frequency of shot 3 a bit low?”

 

This was a courteous way of asking. The assistant director, Duan Meng, immediately responded, “Less than sixty percent; indeed, it’s a bit low.”

 

Qu Yanting said, “Keep it between eighty and ninety percent. Maintain this frequency when rendering the shots.”

 

Duan Meng quickly agreed. Qu Yanting appeared refined but was decisive and efficient in his work, without unnecessary words. Once the adjustments were correct, he started the formal shoot.

 

In the RV, Lu Wen had finished removing his makeup and was eating lunch.

 

Sun Xiaojian returned with fruit, carrying a plastic bag, and took out two large, yellowish-red persimmons. They were fully ripe, bought from an old man at the hospital entrance.

 

He washed and dried the persimmons and placed them on a plate. Lu Wen touched one; it was thin-skinned, juicy, and soft, about half the size of his hand.

 

Sun Xiaojian said, “My mom buys a box every year.”

 

Lu Wen said, “No wonder your face is so yellow.”

 

“Bullshit.” Sun Xiaojian irresponsibly explained, “It’s dry in the north. Persimmons help moisten the lungs and stop coughing.”

 

Lu Wen remembered Qu Yanting’s cough. After finishing lunch and the time approaching, he planned to go to the lake to meet him, bringing the clean persimmons along.

 

With few people around at noon, Lu Wen carried a persimmon and walked to the garden, bypassing the corridor and crossing the central lawn. The garden was almost empty; the camera crew had gone to eat after finishing the shoot.

 

He approached the lake along a path through the lawn, surrounded by camphor trees. About five to six meters from the lake, under the most lush camphor tree, Qu Yanting sat alone on a two-seater bench.

 

Lu Wen didn’t know how long Qu Yanting had been waiting and hurried over.

 

Suddenly, someone appeared by the lake—Ruan Feng.

 

Ruan Feng ran over first, plopped down on the bench next to Qu Yanting. Everything happened so suddenly that Lu Wen stopped in his tracks, staring at the unexpected interruption.

 

Qu Yanting was taken aback, “Why are you here?”

 

“Surprised?” Ruan Feng smiled, leaning on the back of the chair and pressing down on Qu Yanting’s shoulder. “You must be tired today; let me give you a massage.”

 

Lu Wen stopped in his tracks, watching Ruan Feng’s back as he “hugged” Qu Yanting, pulling back the step he had taken. His mind struggled to keep up and almost forgot the relationship between Qu Yanting and Ruan Feng.

 

Indeed, he was only there to thank Qu Yanting; how could he compare with someone who was romantically involved?

 

Perhaps Qu Yanting had only scheduled a few minutes to see him alongside meeting Ruan Feng.

 

Who could blame him for missing the timing?

 

Lu Wen glanced at the persimmon in his hand, which had warmed up. He wasn’t sure if it really helped with coughs. He stayed silent, not showing his face, and wisely turned away.

 

Qu Yanting looked around but didn’t see anyone else. Since it was a public place, he had Ruan Feng sit down. Ruan Feng withdrew his hand, saying, “It’s noon, and you’re still sleeping. I had to search high and low to find you.”

 

Qu Yanting asked, “Do you need something?”

 

Ruan Feng replied, “I saw you didn’t have lunch. The lunch box had braised fish, which I know you don’t eat.”

 

Qu Yanting had already eaten; since then, Xiao Zhang had been ordering meals for him separately. Ruan Feng was relieved, saying, “Director Ren left the work to you. Even though it was only for two or three days, it’s still exhausting. I care even if others don’t.”

 

Qu Yanting turned his head, thinking of the other young man who kept bothering him.

 

Ruan Feng asked curiously, “What are you looking at? Is someone coming?”

 

Qu Yanting avoided the question, “Are you here just to chat?”

 

Ruan Feng was there to ask if Qu Yanting wanted to join the B team’s dinner, as he had promised to treat them that evening. Since Qu Yanting was working with the B team that afternoon, Ruan Feng wanted to check if he’d like to attend.

 

Qu Yanting didn’t hesitate to decline. He found large gatherings annoying, especially social events with a lot of people.

 

Ruan Feng noted, “But the set is crowded too.”

 

“It’s different; this is work,” Qu Yanting said, caressing the script with a calm demeanor. The temporary job was far more enjoyable than burdensome for him.

 

Ruan Feng had no choice but to accept this, suggesting, “How about I come find you tonight?”

 

Qu Yanting was aware that such dinners wouldn’t end until the early hours, and he had no energy to stay up that late. So, he declined again.

 

Ruan Feng complied with Qu Yanting’s wishes. Not wanting to stay too long, he headed back to the RV and, before leaving, said, “If anyone gives you trouble, let me know, and I’ll handle it for you.”

 

Qu Yanting disdainfully replied, “Stop pretending. Do you remember how you used to cry at home whenever someone bullied you?”

 

Ruan Feng’s face reddened. “I’m not talking to you anymore. I’m leaving!”

 

Only a gentle breeze remained by the lake, and it was a bit chilly. Qu Yanting endured it, worried that leaving to get a coat might make him miss the late-arriving Lu Wen.

 

He leaned against the armrest of the bench, feeling very tired. He had interacted with too many people today, and his nerves felt tightly wound, needing to relax like the ripples spreading on the lake’s surface.

 

The minute hand had moved halfway around the dial, and the ducks had drunk their fill of water by the lake.

 

Qu Yanting sat until 2:30 p.m., close to the start of work. Waiting any longer would delay the shoot. He walked back along the lake, feeling both angry and amused that he had been stood up by a young actor.

 

The afternoon shoot was light, and the crew had an agreement with the hospital to finish before 7 p.m. Lu Wen was with the A team, while Qu Yanting worked with the B team. The two hadn’t seen each other all afternoon.

 

In the evening, on the way back to the hotel, Lu Wen sat silently by the car window, his hat pulled down over his eyes.

 

Sun Xiaojian, puzzled, noticed Lu Wen’s sulky expression. “Where did you go at noon?”

 

“To the lake.”

 

The lake was next to a small forest, so Sun Xiaojian found it odd. “Why go to the lake? Were you meeting someone?”

 

Lu Wen’s face darkened further. “I was meeting the little duck. I went swimming!”

 

Sun Xiaojian became more curious. “What happened?”

 

Lu Wen snorted. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

 

“No one knows why you went, and you even brought a persimmon. What an idiot.” Sun Xiaojian, unable to dig out any gossip, switched to sharing news. “I heard Ruan Feng is treating the B team to dinner tonight.”

 

Lu Wen suddenly looked up and shouted at the driver, “Turn around, I’m treating the A team to dinner. Let’s go to Jiangbei’s Guojin Center!”

 

Sun Xiaojian didn’t understand the sudden competitiveness and punched him. “Focus on the main scenes of the script. Go back and review it.”

 

Mentioning the script reminded Lu Wen of the screenwriter.

 

Lu Wen snapped his baseball cap into place. “Forget the script. Let’s go to the Zigzag Hole.”

 

“What’s gotten into you?” Sun Xiaojian suppressed his curses. “You seem restless, like you’re in a mood. Did you not enjoy swimming at the lake? Fine, go to the hotel’s pool and swim twenty laps before heading to your room to sleep.”

 

Having not seen Qu Yanting all afternoon and knowing that Ruan Feng was hosting a dinner, Lu Wen assumed they were probably exchanging glances in front of everyone.

 

He said, “I’ll swim fifty laps.”

 

Returning to the hotel, Lu Wen gathered his things and went to the pool on the 54th floor.

 

The minimalist-style lobby led left to the water bar and right to the changing rooms and makeup room. Lu Wen turned right, only to be stopped by a service staff.

 

“Sorry, sir, the pool is closed to the public tonight. You can relax at the water bar.”

 

Lu Wen asked, “Why?”

 

The staff replied, “A guest reserved the entire pool this afternoon, and it’s closed until 11 p.m. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

 

Frustrated with everything going wrong, Lu Wen asked, “Is there a party?”

 

The staff said, “No, the guest just wants to swim alone.”

 

Lu Wen was shocked. “Does one person really need to book the entire pool?!”

 

The staff looked embarrassed.

 

“A pool of hundreds of square meters, and he wants it all to himself? Doesn’t he feel lonely or bored?” Lu Wen complained.

 

At that moment, a familiar figure appeared from the changing room.

 

Qu Yanting emerged in a calf-length silk bathrobe, dark blue, shimmering under the wall light. The collar was slightly open, partially revealing his collarbone. The belt cinched at his slender waist, making him appear even taller and slimmer.

 

He had heard the commotion and came out to check.

 

Lu Wen was stunned. “…What are you doing here?!”

 

Qu Yanting, wearing flip-flops, walked over and asked, “Where should I be?”

 

He should be at the B team’s dinner…

 

Lu Wen choked on the air, swallowing his words.