Crossover Actors - Chapter 37

The Porsche pulled over and turned off the engine. Two streets away from the residential area, the mottled shadows of trees fell on the weathered concrete road, and the scene looked familiar. Qu Yanting glanced out the window and asked, “Where are we?”

 

The driver turned his head. “The set, we’re filming here today.”

 

Qu Yanting had agreed to come and watch Lu Wen’s scene on a soft impulse, without checking the filming schedule. After getting out of the car, he climbed five or six steps. The entrance looked like that of an ordinary store, with a narrow sign on the side, the lettering already faded.

 

It was a small market, old and worn, selling vegetables, fruits, meat, eggs, and other groceries. It was crowded and chaotic but had everything you could need. As Qu Yanting walked in, a mix of sounds and smells rushed at him.

 

The A crew was at the far end of the second aisle, getting ready.

 

Qu Yanting passed one stall after another. His heels made squeaky sounds as they pressed on the wet, patterned tiles. The closer he got to the end, the slower his steps became as he caught the strong smell of fish.

 

“Yanting!” Ren Shu spotted him and hurried over. “This place is shabby. What brings you here?”

 

Qu Yanting didn’t reveal the real reason. “I have a flight tomorrow morning. I hadn’t told you yet.”

 

“You should’ve told me earlier! I was worried you’d do this!” Ren Shu said anxiously, running a hand through his short hair. “I’ll change the schedule. Tonight, I’ll see you off, and tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to the airport.”

 

Qu Yanting shook his head. “Just do what you need to do. Don’t worry about me.”

 

While they spoke, Qu Yanting’s gaze drifted past Ren Shu’s shoulder to the crowd. The outermost circle consisted of workers doing odd jobs, with the camera crew and lighting technicians inside. A makeup artist dressed in red was on her tiptoes, touching up the male lead’s face.

 

The powder puff pressed softly against his face, and Lu Wen’s gaze softened as well. He saw Qu Yanting as soon as he arrived and didn’t take his eyes off him.

 

After impulsively sending that message last night, Lu Wen didn’t expect Qu Yanting to actually come. When he checked the filming schedule in the morning, he regretted it deeply.

 

The crew had rented a fish stall, and today they were shooting a scene of Ye Shan selling and preparing fish.

 

After getting his makeup touched up, Lu Wen made his way through the crowd. He felt guilty because Qu Yanting, who didn’t like fish or seafood, was here suffering for his sake. But knowing that Qu Yanting came just for him made him feel a bit giddy.

 

As he reached into his pocket, Lu Wen stopped in front of Qu Yanting and pulled out a box of mints. He took two for himself and handed the rest to Qu Yanting. “Teacher Qu, it smells bad here. Take a mint to mask the smell.”

 

Qu Yanting took it. “Did you do this on purpose?”

 

“Definitely not,” Lu Wen explained. “After everything that happened last night, how could I remember what scene we were shooting? I just… I just wanted you to come.”

 

The mint slowly melted on Qu Yanting’s tongue, cold as ice. He exhaled slightly. He was a man of his word. Even though the environment wasn’t ideal, he would stay and watch this scene through.

 

“When’s your flight?” Lu Wen asked.

 

“Tomorrow morning,” Qu Yanting replied.

 

Lu Wen pressed, “What time exactly?”

 

Qu Yanting wasn’t naive. He knew Lu Wen wanted to see him off. Keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear, he declined, “Xiao Feng will take me to the airport.”

 

Lu Wen didn’t push further. He pursed his lips tightly, so much that the corners of his mouth almost formed a little dimple. Qu Yanting had seen this pitiful look before; it had a charm few could resist. But Qu Yanting was unmoved, turning his face away.

 

“You’re not even willing to look at me anymore?” Lu Wen muttered, feeling hurt.

 

Qu Yanting glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and replied, “You’re tall as a tree. Stop trying to act cute.”

 

Lu Wen protested, “I’m just being sincere.”

 

“Sincere about what?” Qu Yanting straightened Lu Wen’s collar and patted his broad shoulder. “Go show that sincerity to your dear girlfriend.”

 

“I—”

 

Before Lu Wen could finish, the assistant director called for him to get in place.

 

The fish stall was a simple setup, three tables arranged in a square. Next to them were piles of seaweed and dried shrimp. On the tables were fresh fish and shrimp, and a large rectangular basin in front was filled with live fish swimming around.

 

Lu Wen went inside and sat down. The small, rickety chair creaked under his weight. He had never gone grocery shopping himself, so today was his first time in a market.

 

To prepare for the role, Lu Wen had arrived two hours early to observe how the vendors behaved, their facial expressions, gestures, and customer interactions. He then adapted those behaviors to Ye Shan’s character.

 

Honestly, Lu Wen felt out of place no matter where he went. But once the camera rolled, he threw himself into the scene, wiping down the table with a rag, arranging the scale, sharpening a knife, and skillfully opening up a plastic bag.

 

Qu Yanting sat in a canvas folding chair, fully focused on the scene. The way Lu Wen handled these small tasks was vivid and realistic. Qu Yanting chewed on his mint, smiling in quiet satisfaction.

 

An older woman approached the stall and picked out two fish. Ye Shan scooped them up. The lively fish flopped wildly, and with one big jump, it leaped off the cutting board and back into the water.

 

Duan Meng, who was filming close-up shots, got splashed in the face with water. “Lu Wen, I love you, but take it easy, man.”

 

Nervously, Lu Wen tried again with the second fish. This time, he got it onto the cutting board, but the head and tail thrashed about madly. He had to press down hard with both hands, completely forgetting his lines.

 

After struggling to finish the take, it was time for the fish-slicing part. Lu Wen held down the fish with one hand and raised the knife with the other. As the camera zoomed in, he swung the knife down with a loud *thud*, cutting off the fish’s tail instead.

 

Qu Yanting: “…”

 

Before joining the crew, Lu Wen had tried to learn from a housekeeper but failed and even cut his hand. He’d barely healed before coming to Chongqing. Embarrassed, he said, “Director, I don’t know how to kill fish.”

 

Ren Shu was at a loss. The owner of the fish stall, a laid-back local from Chongqing, had handed over the shop and gone home to nap. Looking around, Ren Shu asked, “Does anyone here know how to clean fish? Teach him.”

 

None of the crew members were particularly skilled in this, and those who knew a little were only amateurs. Lu Wen grew anxious. This was the last scene Qu Yanting would watch before leaving, and he had to perform well.

 

Lu Wen grabbed another fish. His left hand pinned down the head while his right hand held the knife, trying to scale it. His arm muscles were tense. Suddenly, the fish’s tail flipped violently, and the knife slipped, grazing the back of his left hand.

 

Several people gasped. Ren Shu called out, “Lu Wen! Don’t push yourself too hard!”

 

The rubber glove had torn. Lu Wen took it off, relieved that his hand wasn’t injured. The scene was chaotic, and everyone was trying to figure out what to do next.

 

Qu Yanting dumped about seven or eight mints into his hand, all at once, and stuffed them into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out slightly. He stood up, took off his coat, and amidst the stunned looks from the crew, rolled up his sleeves and walked over.

 

Lu Wen stammered, “Teacher Qu…”

 

“Move aside,” Qu Yanting said as he stepped in.

 

The pungent smell of fish hit him directly, and Qu Yanting held his breath. With the glove torn, he grabbed the knife with his bare hands.

 

He caught the fish that had leapt away. It was still trying to escape, but with a flick of his wrist, he flipped the blade. In one swift motion, he slammed the knife handle down onto the fish’s head.

 

Everyone stared in disbelief. No one expected Qu Yanting to know how to do this.

 

The space was tight for two adults, and Lu Wen was squeezed against Qu Yanting’s side, their shoulders touching. Lu Wen was an exception. He didn’t feel surprised or impressed, but something tugged at his heart.

 

Those slender, pale wrists—hands that had held pens and typed on keyboards—what had they done before? Had they, in their youth, sacrificed entire weekends to work from dawn to dusk, leaving the scent of fish clinging to them?

 

Lu Wen didn’t know and didn’t dare to guess.

 

The wide sleeve of Qu Yanting’s sweater had slipped down from his elbow. He tried to push it back up against his waist a few times, but when his patience ran out, he nudged Lu Wen in the stomach with his elbow.

 

“Use your eyes for once,” he said. “Help me pull it up.”

 

Lu Wen encircled Qu Yanting’s wrist with one hand, gently pushing the delicate sleeve back up to the crook of his elbow. The cuffs were damp, already inevitably soaked.

 

Qu Yanting instructed him, “First knock the fish on the head, make it stop moving, and it’ll be easier to handle.”

 

The tip of the knife pointed at the fish’s gill, slicing through the gap, cutting open the gill plate, and hooking it with the tip of the knife. As he flipped the fish, he hooked the gill and pressed it against the chopping board, then swiftly chopped it off with a “crack.”

 

After dealing with the gills, Qu Yanting held the knife vertically down, saying, “Hold the knife like this to scrape the scales. Follow the pattern of the scales in rows. If you scrape randomly, it won’t be clean.”

 

Lu Wen listened intently, “Got it.”

 

After scraping off the scales, Qu Yanting gutted the fish, cleaning the insides. Worried Lu Wen wouldn’t remember, he grabbed another fish and taught him again, step by step, until Lu Wen had it down. When they were done, Qu Yanting casually stabbed the knife into the wooden chopping board.

 

Lu Wen handed him a tissue, “Thank you, Teacher Qu.”

 

His palm was slippery, and the base of his thumb was red from being scraped by the fish fin. While wiping his hands, Qu Yanting said, “If you’re not skilled, just reshoot a few more takes. Be careful not to cut yourself. You scared us all earlier.”

 

As the shooting continued behind them, Qu Yanting stepped out of the market, clutching a handful of tissues. He stopped on the steps outside, taking a deep breath of the clean, fresh air.

 

A strange feeling welled up inside him, rising from his chest. Qu Yanting felt a bit nauseous and looked for something to quell the sensation. Spotting a small convenience store nearby, he bought a pack of cigarettes and sat on a stone post by the steps, lighting one up.

 

It was his first time smoking. He’d been curious about the taste of nicotine in his youth, but back then, he was too poor, and just filling his stomach was a big challenge. Qu Yanting reflected on it from a distance, exhaling pale white smoke.

 

Until today, he had thought he would never gut a fish again in his life. He thought that after so many years, he would have lost the skill. Unexpectedly, the series of movements seemed ingrained in his bones, impossible to forget.

 

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting there when the filming wrapped up, and Lu Wen came out. Before stepping out the door, he saw Qu Yanting, half-draped in his designer coat, his tall frame exhaling a faintly warm breath in the chilly early winter air.

 

“Why are you smoking?” Lu Wen asked, familiar in tone.

 

Qu Yanting asked, “Do I look cool?”

 

Only teenagers cared about looking cool when smoking for the first time, wanting to imitate movie stars like Chow Yun-fat. Finally, the tables had turned, and Lu Wen had the chance to laugh at Qu Yanting for being childish.

 

An old lady was selling flowers on the steps, with two bamboo baskets filled with white magnolias, some in bunches, others strung together. Having had no customers for a while, Lu Wen decided to buy a string.

 

He handed it to Qu Yanting. “Here you go, Teacher Qu.”

 

First, it was the carnations in the hotel vase, and now it was a cheap string of magnolias. Qu Yanting remarked, “You’re not picky, are you?”

 

“You don’t get it.” Lu Wen justified his choice, “I can’t give you anything too expensive or fancy, or it’d look like I’m trying to flatter you—doesn’t feel genuine. After all, you are—”

 

Qu Yanting interrupted, “Someone with the power to sleep with you.”

 

Lu Wen blushed. Why bring up such a shameful memory? He pinched out the cigarette from Qu Yanting’s fingers and slipped the string of flowers onto Qu Yanting’s wrist, saying, “Think of it as a parting gift.”

 

Qu Yanting chuckled, “Will this hold up until I get to the airport?”

 

“Depends on how much you care.” Lu Wen nudged his damp cuff, “It’s all wet. Let’s go back to the set and change.”

 

They didn’t take a car but walked through the alleyways, cutting back to the complex. Qu Yanting went into the scriptwriters’ lounge and headed straight for the restroom to wash his hands.

 

Lu Wen went up to the makeup room on the second floor to remove his makeup. He’d brought two sets of clothes in the morning, and after changing into one, he took a shirt downstairs and knocked on the door of Room 101.

 

Qu Yanting was in the bedroom, standing by the bed, folding a small blanket. He recognized Lu Wen’s silhouette in his peripheral vision and said, “I’m not taking the blanket. I’ll leave it here. Whoever wants to use it can use it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“There are some snacks and drinks left in the fridge. Share them with everyone.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“There are two cartons of milk. You drink them. The takeout meals are often spicy.”

 

“Okay.”

 

In this matter-of-fact tone, Lu Wen could fully feel that Qu Yanting was really leaving. He pulled himself together, making sure to properly handle the last day of their time together, and handed over the shirt. “Teacher Qu, wear mine for now.”

 

The damp, cold sweater cuffs were uncomfortable. Qu Yanting didn’t refuse and took it, sighing somewhat sentimentally, “I’ve worn your clothes quite a few times without even realizing it. I’ll return them to you tonight at the hotel.”

 

Lu Wen didn’t mind. “It’s fine if you don’t.”

 

“How could that be?” Qu Yanting replied. “I’ve already kept one of your sweaters, and today you gave me flowers. Now with this shirt, your parting gifts are really piling up.”

 

“It’s a gift set.” Not wanting to hide anything from someone about to leave, Lu Wen said, “The main thing is my sincerity. The items are just tokens.”

 

The curtains weren’t drawn, and no lights were on, making the bedroom dimly lit. Qu Yanting turned his back, lifting his cashmere sweater over his head, ruffling the hair on the back of his head slightly.

 

Lu Wen caught a glimpse of his bare white back—so thin, with his spine gently protruding from his waist to the center of his back, connecting to two wing-like shoulder blades, resembling a faintly visible butterfly kite engraved on his back.

 

Qu Yanting put on the shirt, which was a bit too large, the cuffs hanging down over his hands. Lu Wen approached, taking a pair of cufflinks from his pocket, custom-made for that shirt, and helped Qu Yanting roll up the sleeves and secure them.

 

As Lu Wen leaned in, he caught a faint lavender scent on the fabric, likely from the reed diffusers in the hotel wardrobe.

 

He sniffed the air again, and his nose twitched.

 

Qu Yanting, sensitive as ever, noticed immediately. His raised hand clenched into a fist, and he suddenly pulled back forcefully. The cufflink, not yet secured, fell to the floor with a clink.

 

Lu Wen was startled. “What’s wrong? Did you prick yourself?”

 

Qu Yanting, defensive and distant, asked, “What are you smelling?”

 

“Nothing,” Lu Wen was puzzled, “I just noticed a scent…”

 

Qu Yanting’s expression turned panicked. He shoved Lu Wen aside and strode out of the bedroom.

 

Lu Wen froze for a second, then hurried after him, hearing the sound of rushing water.

 

When he reached the bathroom door, he stood there in shock.

 

The faucet was turned on full blast. Qu Yanting was bent over, frantically scrubbing his hands, his nails scraping against his skin, leaving marks. Water splashed onto the mirror, and his hands turned increasingly red.

 

He seemed possessed, trapped, ensnared in a web of memories.

 

Qu Yanting had always endured. That cramped fish stall in the market, the flapping of the fish tails, his poverty-stricken, humiliating youth, all wrapped in the stench of fish, gnawing away at every pair of cuffs he wore.

 

He had exhausted himself pretending to be an unbreakable wall, but in this moment, he had broken down, revealing the cracks—no more than a pane of glass, shattering inside and out, like the dignity he had scattered on the ground when he was bullied long ago.

 

The water roared. Lu Wen’s heart pounded violently.

 

He rushed over and, as if holding a bouquet of flowers, grabbed Qu Yanting’s wrists. The cold water dripped down as he pulled those hands toward himself, pressing them against the warmth of his abdomen.

 

Lu Wen hugged Qu Yanting, forcefully yet gently.

 

He didn’t know how to start, what to ask, or how to comfort him. Scenes from dramas and reality overlapped in his mind, and countless disjointed fragments flew past.

 

Lu Wen remembered the classroom, the corner by the window, where he had picked up the pages of Qu Yanting’s script that had been blown away by the wind.

 

After a long time, Qu Yanting, buried in his shoulder, softly murmured, “Why?”

 

Lu Wen listened quietly, his heart beating steadily.

 

“When I was sitting in the back, unnoticed by anyone,” Qu Yanting asked bitterly, “why was there never someone like you in front of me?”