Yu Junqing furrowed his brows as he stared at the script in his hands. He had been sitting upright for a long time without moving an inch, as if he had been petrified.
The room was so quiet that it seemed a pin dropping to the floor would echo. His steady, unhurried breathing was unusually prominent in the silence, accompanied by another sound: the gentle pss-pss of tea being sipped, which added a leisurely rhythm to the atmosphere.
“How’s it going?” Director Wang, having already gone through four rounds of tea, finally saw Yu Junqing set the script down. He had been getting a little anxious.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Yu Junqing took a deep breath, returning his attention from the script.
He had initially thought that Director Wang’s call was some kind of death sentence—but unexpectedly, it was a pleasant surprise. At first, he hadn’t quite believed it, but it was true: Wang had prepared a decent script for him, and he would play the lead role.
At a time like this, on the edge of public scrutiny, Wang’s gesture was nothing short of a lifesaver for Yu Junqing.
“You live in an old property in the city, right? Seems like the price isn’t low, and the management looks pretty good.” Wang drained the last cup of tea and surveyed the apartment, whistling in appreciation.
Yu Junqing felt his cheeks flush. His lips twitched slightly, and he refrained from saying anything, recalling Bo Rui’s instructions.
Before heading to work, Bo Rui had reminded him that if he had a trustworthy assistant or friend, they could come over here directly. Bo Rui had already coordinated with Lao Li, as the apartment’s management was strict and most residents were older. For a short time, no one would really notice the comings and goings of entertainment industry people.
Additionally, Bo Rui specifically instructed Yu Junqing: if anyone asked about the apartment, tell them the publicly exposed address was fake and that this apartment was his real residence.
Though he didn’t fully understand Bo Rui’s reasoning, Yu Junqing decided to follow it.
Seeing that Yu Junqing didn’t respond, Wang assumed he was shy and didn’t press further; after all, that wasn’t his main concern.
“小 Yu, where’s the bathroom in your place?” Wang asked, unable to hold back.
Yu Junqing blinked, glancing at the teapot on the table. He realized Wang had already gone through several pots of tea.
“Just go to the room at the end of the hall,” he said calmly, describing it as naturally as he would his own home’s layout. Wang glanced over and understood why the door had looked different earlier.
Getting up, Wang shuffled slowly toward the bathroom.
Yu Junqing didn’t continue to observe Wang, instead lowering his gaze back to the script.
The script was intriguing. On the surface, it appeared to be a comedy, but a closer look revealed moments that could bring one to tears.
The protagonist, Luo Xu, was an ordinary office worker. After more than ten years, he had reached a middling position, but every day felt like a mechanical routine between home and office. The only relief came on non-overtime evenings, when he could have a drink with old colleagues who had joined the company around the same time.
In his heart, he struggled with the desire to pursue a different life, yet lacked the courage to act, numbing himself only when drunk.
Everything changed one drunken night, when he rescued a strange man from the streets.
The man had lost all memory of himself, completely blank. Luo Xu, inebriated, brought him home and gave him a name: Luo Er.
That night, drunk and exhausted, Luo Xu and the filthy Luo Er fell asleep right on the bedroom floor.
The next morning, Luo Xu’s wife returned home to this chaotic scene. Her long-suppressed anger erupted, and she slapped him, insisting he deal with Luo Er on his own, while she took their child back to her parents’ house.
Luo Er’s amnesia made everything fascinating to him. Luo Xu, frustrated by constant questions, had to guide him even through basic tasks like eating. Their antics created endless chaos in the household.
Once Luo Er learned to eat, he began mischievously destroying things at home, just like a child. Luo Xu couldn’t leave him alone and had no choice but to bring him to work.
Together at the office, they caused even more hilarious mishaps. While constantly cleaning up after Luo Er, Luo Xu gradually discovered something he had long lost: a sense of purpose and joy.
Luo Er, like an innocent child, was genuine and unpretentious, playful yet clever. Through him, Luo Xu rediscovered his long-lost dreams—his passion for work, love for his wife, and devotion to his child. Just when he was about to give in to society’s grind, Luo Er reminded him of what truly mattered.
The story’s ending was almost open-ended. When Luo Xu returned to his initial state, Luo Er mysteriously vanished, while his wife and child were conveniently right outside the door.
Yu Junqing rubbed his brows; his eyes ached slightly after focusing on the script for so long.
What made the script especially peculiar was that Luo Er had no face. The man in the script was faceless. Yu Junqing was cast to play both Luo Xu and Luo Er.
If not for this unique twist, Yu Junqing might not have realized that Luo Er was, in essence, Luo Xu’s lost part of himself.
The comedic elements were abundant, almost constant, yet the ending left a subtle ache in the heart.
“Hey, what’s this? A bit of a knee-jerk reaction, huh?” Director Wang noticed the familiar expression on Yu Junqing’s face upon entering. The expression wasn’t meant to ridicule the actor—more like an arrow hitting his knee.
Yu Junqing’s earlier whirlwind of emotions vanished instantly. He looked at Wang with a tinge of conflict, unsure what to say about the director’s behavior.
“Come on, so? Are you taking it or not?” Wang, relaxed and satisfied, wanted Yu Junqing to give him a straightforward answer.
With Zhu Wen’s recent scandal, his own project would likely be on hold. This script was ready, and Wang wanted to lock Yu Junqing down immediately.
Wang was clever—better to help someone in need than add to their success. Though Yu Junqing had been heavily suppressed before, he had access to certain insider knowledge. For instance, his contract with Xingyu was set to expire this year.
Yu Junqing nodded, and with no further options, Wang left.
He watched the director safely depart from the window, then returned to the sofa to tidy the tea table.
Just then, the door clicked open. Bo Rui entered and asked,
“Someone’s been here? I smell tea.”
Yu Junqing turned toward him. Bo Rui was changing shoes, his suit crisp and commanding. For a moment, Yu Junqing felt a flicker of admiration, then smiled.
“Yeah, the director for my current project came by.”
“Looking this happy, that’s good news,” Bo Rui observed, bending slightly to take a look. Assessment complete.
Yu Junqing leaned back slightly, touching his lips. Had his smile really been that obvious?
“Stop touching it. If I were to sum up your face right now in a single word, it’d be: happy!” Bo Rui remarked. Seeing Yu Junqing so relaxed eased his mind as well.
He couldn’t explain why, but seeing Yu Junqing’s earlier lifeless demeanor had been unsettling. Otherwise, there was no way he would have invited him to stay at his place.
Yu Junqing, unaware of Bo Rui’s thoughts, was in high spirits. So high, in fact, that he was already thinking of ways to tackle the challenges ahead.