Crossover Actors - Chapter 41

Zishan Mingzhu arrived. After entering Gate No. 1, the car slowed down. Qiu Yanting, with one hand on the steering wheel, leisurely drove past the outer ring of Zishan Park. Twenty minutes later, he entered Gate No. 2, arriving inside the villa complex.

 

Along the way, only about one-third of the area was visible, including Mingxin, Willow Dike, and the endless Yong Lake. On the lawn by the lake, there were sika deer roaming freely.

 

Apart from Zeng Zhen and Wang Mingyu, many well-known producers and A-list actors in the industry had properties here. Living in Zishan Mingzhu was once joked by the media as “the standard for big stars.”

 

Qiu Yanting didn’t plan to stay long. He parked the car at the entrance and went upstairs with Wang Mingyu to copy the original script, along with a stack of paper documents. He stuffed them into his bag and soon left the villa.

 

Without turning around, Qiu Yanting drove straight along the shady road. At the corner, there was a large delivery truck parked on the roadside, its compartment open, filled with independent wooden crates of various sizes, containing artworks and paintings. Besides the movers, there were also insurance agents and auction house brokers checking everything one by one.

 

As Qiu Yanting passed by, he took a glance. Behind the truck was a white villa, probably newly renovated and now adding decorations.

 

In the afternoon, the street was quiet, and Qiu Yanting drove home swiftly. During the drive, his phone rang once from the dashboard.

 

Huang Commander had only been enthusiastic for two days; today, it had grown tired and paid no attention to Qiu Yanting when he opened the door and came in. But Qiu Yanting ignored it too, heading straight to the balcony to tend to the plants.

 

After finishing his gardening, Qiu Yanting finally had some free time. He picked up his phone to check the unread message he received while driving—it was a WeChat message from his accountant. After a few brief exchanges, the conversation ended. Bored, he scrolled through his chat list.

 

In just three days, Lu Wen’s profile picture had been pushed to the tenth position.

 

Qiu Yanting wasn’t fond of looking at Moments, but at this moment, he opened them and scrolled down past others.

 

At around 10 a.m., Lu Wen had posted a picture of himself with his body double. The body double was holding a Black Forest cake and a gift box.

 

The caption was full of enthusiasm: “Congrats to ‘me’ for wrapping up! Only someone as handsome as you can stand in for someone as handsome as me. Let’s be co-leads next time!”

 

Ordinary body doubles are often an overlooked group, employed by the crew with not-so-high pay, merely standing silently by the lead actor’s side as a substitute, like a shadow. The award-winning film *The Shadow Man* by Qiu Yanting depicted the life of a body double.

 

As per procedure, once filming wraps up, the payment is settled in one lump sum, and the body double leaves the crew, rarely remembered by anyone. So, this picture was lively and vibrant, with Lu Wen personally preparing the cake and gift. That “co-leads” line was an immense show of respect for the other’s dream.

 

Endless socializing, insincere laughter, loveless marriages, messy unspoken rules… Qiu Yanting stared at Lu Wen’s smiling face in the photo, as if cherishing a piece of pure innocence.

 

Below the post, there was a comment from Ruan Feng: “Brother Lu, next time let me be your supporting actor.”

 

Lu Wen replied: “What if Director Qiu wants me to be the lead actor?”

 

Everyone was getting ahead of themselves. Qiu Yanting couldn’t help but laugh. What did this have to do with him? Were they already thinking about his next movie? Since they mentioned him, he left a like with a flick of his finger.

 

Not five minutes later, WeChat notified him of a new message. Qiu Yanting’s like was like a signal, and since Lu Wen had said he wouldn’t disturb him without reason, this signal prompted him to respond quickly.

 

Blockhead: Director Qiu?

 

Qiu Yanting: Hmm.

 

Blockhead: How have you been since returning?

 

Qiu Yanting: Not bad.

 

Blockhead: What did you have for lunch?

 

Qiu Yanting: Something expensive.

 

Blockhead: Were you on a date?

 

Seeing this back-and-forth, Qiu Yanting felt like he was being interrogated. He wasn’t used to being led by Lu Wen, so he took control and typed: Only contact me if it’s something important.

 

Blockhead replied immediately: Oh!

 

Blockhead: I do have something!

 

Blockhead: Don’t go yet!

 

Qiu Yanting didn’t move, sinking into the couch, holding his phone, exuding the same lazy arrogance as the lounging Huang Commander. He had provoked Lu Wen into a rush, and now he slowly responded: What is it?

 

The “typing” indicator at the top lasted for a long time. By now, a 500-word essay could’ve been written. Qiu Yanting waited patiently and even took a trip to grab the documents he’d brought back.

 

Suddenly, Lu Wen sent: You won’t forget me, will you?

 

Stripped of unnecessary words, the six characters conveyed a mix of probing and worry, likely the result of Lu Wen deliberating and editing repeatedly. Separated by thousands of miles and unable to see each other’s expressions, Qiu Yanting heartlessly replied: Not yet.

 

Blockhead: What do you mean by “not yet”?!

 

Qiu Yanting: Maybe I’ll get too busy and forget someday.

 

The chat fell silent. Lu Wen stopped replying. Qiu Yanting drummed his fingers, wondering—disappointed? Angry? He regretted it and wanted to make amends, but despite being a writer, he couldn’t find the right words.

 

Suddenly, Lu Wen’s profile picture refreshed. He’d changed it to a photo of himself.

 

In the photo, Lu Wen wore a slightly puffy mid-length black down jacket, left open, with a hoodie, sweatpants, and sneakers underneath. His hands were in his pockets, smiling brightly like a college student who could run a 3,000-meter race and come in first.

 

The background was familiar—it was the balcony of the scriptwriter’s lounge at No. 101. Qiu Yanting opened the picture to admire it in full size. Just as he did, Lu Wen sent a new message.

 

Blockhead: Director Qiu, check out my new profile pic!

 

Qiu Yanting: I’ve checked it.

 

Blockhead: Am I handsome?

 

Qiu Yanting asked back: Who took the picture for you?

 

Blockhead: Your brother.

 

Qiu Yanting went back to answer the previous question: Handsome.

 

Blockhead: As long as you log into WeChat, you’ll see my profile picture. If you still forget me, I guess I’ll have to send you a red envelope every day.

 

After taking the photo on the balcony of No. 101, Lu Wen didn’t move, leaning against the wall, chatting with Qiu Yanting. He stayed there until the wardrobe assistant shouted from the second floor, telling him and Ruan Feng to go change costumes.

 

Reluctantly, Lu Wen said goodbye to Qiu Yanting, just as Ruan Feng came over, bossing him around in a manner identical to his own brother. “Brother Lu, treat everyone to afternoon tea.”

 

“Why is it me again?” Lu Wen, still holding his phone, hesitated to log out of WeChat.

 

Ruan Feng replied, “I bought breakfast this morning.”

 

Lu Wen suspected that he and Ruan Feng were the designated suckers in the crew. He agreed, then shouted to Sun Xiaojian in the distance to order the tea.

 

Curious, Ruan Feng asked, “Who are you chatting with?”

 

“Huh?” Lu Wen stammered, “Wha-what?”

 

Ruan Feng said, “You’re grinning at your phone all the way to your temples.”

 

Lu Wen hadn’t realized his expression until Ruan Feng pointed it out. He awkwardly ran his hand through his hair, but the attempt to hide it only made it more obvious. He admitted, “I was chatting with Teacher Qu.”

 

“My brother?” Ruan Feng was surprised. “He usually doesn’t like chatting.”

 

Lu Wen was taken aback for a moment and quietly made a mental note to avoid disturbing Qu Yanting too often in the future. Yet, fearing he wouldn’t be able to resist, he quickly made up an excuse. “I… I was just looking at the cat.”

 

Ruan Feng took him seriously and immediately pulled out his phone. “Easy, I have tons. I’ll send them to you.”

 

Feeling stuck, Lu Wen said, “Thanks.”

 

The two leaned their heads together, one sending, one receiving. Ruan Feng was quite generous, rapidly sending over a dozen photos of Huang Siling, emptying out his album’s collection.

 

The phone buzzed non-stop, the screen filled with images of the cat. It almost felt like the screen was shedding fur. Lu Wen politely remarked, “You must have a lot of data.”

 

“Dude, are you dumb?” Ruan Feng replied. “I’m using the Wi-Fi from 101. I thought you knew since you’re always hanging around the balcony.”

 

Finally, the notifications stopped. Lu Wen opened the last picture, scrolling through the sequence.

 

Various poses of Huang Siling – lounging in the bed, sprawled on the floor, grooming its fur, or with its fur standing on end. One after another, Lu Wen was not focusing on the cat itself.

 

The fabric sofa, light wood flooring, and scratched cabinets—Lu Wen felt like a screen peeper, gathering background fragments from each picture, trying to piece together a picture of Qu Yanting’s daily life at home.

 

Unlike the high-end suite of 6206, this place felt warm, simple, even a bit ordinary and messy. Could living in such a house make Qu Yanting feel more down-to-earth?

 

Lost in thought, Lu Wen swiped to the next picture, and then suddenly stopped.

 

The colors in this photo were incredibly vivid—amidst lush greenery, Qu Yanting sat on a beige sofa holding the cat, his head slightly tilted, eyes closed in a light nap. On the table was a vase filled with blooming English roses, their heavy petals drooping, one brushing against his face. The golden sunlight poured in through the glass windows behind him, enveloping him completely, leaving only the delicate shadows of his eyelashes curved like two tiny arcs.

 

This photo, these colors, the flowers, and this person—beyond the word “beautiful,” Lu Wen couldn’t find any other description.

 

Half in awe, half in amazement, he exclaimed, “Damn.”

 

Ruan Feng looked up, puzzled. “Damn what?”

 

After using this expletive for years, it was the first time anyone had asked him to elaborate. The screen was still glowing, his finger still pressing on the image of Qu Yanting, and Lu Wen, startled, quickly withdrew his hand. He explained, “Damn… the photo quality is really high.”

 

As they entered the apartment building, Lu Wen fell a few steps behind, and in the worn, old staircase, he quietly saved that photo. Secretly, only the swirling dust knew.

 

That night after wrapping up work, the production assistant distributed new shooting schedules. The filming tasks ahead were going to be even tighter. The director gave everyone a heads-up that the hard work was just getting started.

 

Previously, Lu Wen and Ruan Feng were in separate A and B units, but now Ruan Feng had been reassigned to the A unit. The two would have a lot of scenes together.

 

Ye Shan and Lin Jie were admitted to the same university and became roommates. To Lin Jie, Ye Shan felt both familiar and unfamiliar. Living under the same roof, Lin Jie gradually noticed the oddities in Ye Shan’s behavior.

 

Lu Wen and Ruan Feng had grown more comfortable with each other, not just on set, but also during breaks, where they would cram together in a trailer, rehearsing lines. When schedules overlapped and they had no time to change clothes, they even borrowed each other’s outfits.

 

On the day of the winter solstice, they wrapped up filming late at night, so late that even the obsessive fans were sound asleep. Ruan Feng took Lu Wen out for hot pot. Lu Wen finally had his first taste of pig brains and felt instantly smarter.

 

The next day, during shooting, both lead actors’ faces were a bit puffy. The camera operator, Duan Meng, shouldering the camera, couldn’t help but ask, “Did you guys get Botox last night?”

 

Usually, Lu Wen took care of Ruan Feng a bit more. After all, he kept calling him “brother” and was Qu Yanting’s younger sibling. However, he had never asked Ruan Feng about personal matters—childhood, family, or his upbringing—not a word.

 

Chongqing’s weather grew colder, but Lu Wen found he adapted well, even though he had expected to struggle. Every day, he worked long hours, but even the smallest corners of the city started to feel familiar. The beautiful mountain city had won him over.

 

During the busiest times, there wasn’t much opportunity to go online, with days passing before he spent any time on his phone. He and Ruan Feng had followed each other on Weibo, and for promotional purposes, Sun Xiaojian insisted he post there. However, Lu Wen preferred posting on WeChat Moments because that way Qu Yanting could see it.

 

Afraid of disturbing Qu Yanting, he rarely reached out. But sometimes, when he couldn’t help it, he’d stupidly send a message like, “Thanks for the like,” only to fall into deep thought afterward, wondering if he still hadn’t eaten enough pig brains.

 

One notable achievement was passing the volunteer probation period. To perform well, Lu Wen had bought a laptop while in Chongqing.

 

At first, the “socially anxious little writer” would often respond to his messages with ellipses. Later, they upgraded to “vomiting blood” emojis, showing some signs of liveliness.

 

Buoyed by this progress, Lu Wen pushed his luck, suggesting they add each other on QQ for more convenient, real-time chat. The little writer pondered this for three days, leading Lu Wen to wonder—if someone proposed to the writer, would it take them six months to decide?

 

To his delight, the socially anxious little writer finally agreed.

 

Both were using burner accounts with no profile pictures or information. Maybe they were the only ones in each other’s friend lists.

 

The crew members gradually finished their scenes, and just before Christmas, Ruan Feng wrapped up his part. Lu Wen went to Jiangbei Airport to see off both the older and younger brothers. He was reluctant to part with the elder brother, but nearly lost his shoe to the crowd of fans when seeing off the younger one.

 

That night, Ruan Feng stayed at Qu Yanting’s place, and the two brothers spent Christmas Eve together.

 

Lu Wen saw the update in Ruan Feng’s WeChat Moments, pushed aside his lunchbox, and jealously started singing, “Other people’s lives are wrapped in gold and silver, while mine isn’t worth a penny… Not a penny!”

 

After New Year’s, the crew of *The First Night* was finally set to return home.

 

However, there was still one scene left to shoot—a scene between Lu Wen and Tao Meifan, which required them to go back to the original location.

 

As soon as the idea of going home set in, Lu Wen felt a surge of homesickness. He no longer felt tired, walked with more vigor, and bought several large boxes of local specialties from Chongqing.

 

On the last day, they had a day off. After packing his bags, Lu Wen took Sun Xiaojian and Li Dapeng out for a day trip. They visited all the tourist hotspots, from Zhazidong to Ciqikou, hitting every must-see spot for visitors.

 

In the afternoon, they drove around the city, admiring the varied heights of the residential buildings, the bustling food stalls, and the elderly couples slowly climbing the slopes.

 

The next morning, they checked out of the hotel. Rooms 6206 and 6207 had always faced each other. The wall vase had been replaced with fresh roses. Who knew what kind of people would stay there in the future?

 

Once again, Lu Wen arrived at Jiangbei Airport.

 

It was time to bid farewell to this city, its skies, its plants. The entire crew was there. Sun Xiaojian stood beside him as people bustled to and fro behind them, and everything seemed to take on the air of parting.

 

Lu Wen took a deep breath, cupping his hands around his mouth, and shouted toward the sky, “—Chongqing! Goodbye! Sayonara!”