“Xing Xing-jie.”
He Xing ground her teeth and let out a tirade. “If I could just jump off a plane, I would’ve done it already! I step away for a moment, and he goes posting nonsense on Weibo. Where is he?”
An Ning hurriedly said, “He’s filming, really busy.”
He Xing snapped, “I know he’s not filming right now! And he’s hiding from me out of guilt? My little A Jing? Is he upset that Qing Shan You Si’s fans aren’t enough and personally cooking now?”
An Ning forced a smile, “No, no, it’s under control. We’re keeping things in check.”
“He has control? Right now, delete the second Weibo post.”
An Ning didn’t dare do it herself. Carefully, she bargained, “Should we ask Fourth Brother first?”
“Ask what? Now’s not the time. I’m telling you to delete it—do it.” He Xing’s head ached from anger.
Just from the commotion now, she could already imagine what it would be like when it went public.
An Ning said, “Actually, Fourth Brother didn’t specifically protect him. Deleting it would just make it obvious.”
He Xing paused, thinking, “Hmm, okay. My PR team will cover it as a subtle promotion for Between Good and Evil. Tell him to focus on filming and not say anything. Leave the rest to me. This is the only time—never again!”
An Ning quickly acknowledged.
After scolding Lu Xian Qing, He Xing turned her attention to Jiang Zhen. “What kind of idiot is this? Riding hype straight onto Lu Xian Qing’s forehead. Who does he think he is?”
“Xing Xing-jie, calm down. Fourth Brother still knows what he’s doing.”
“He knows? He knows jack!” He Xing started to calm down, muttering as she hung up, “Tell him to stop teasing Qin Si Zheng on set. If he wants to flirt and take him to the room—heard me? I’ll be there tomorrow.”
An Ning immediately said, “Understood.”
Meanwhile, the first major scene was being prepared.
Qin Si Zheng’s screen time in the film was limited, mostly appearing in Ding Chenhai’s flashbacks and hallucinations during his episodes.
These fragmented moments filled the void in Ding Chenhai’s soul.
Zhou Changjiang worried Qin Si Zheng wouldn’t get into character, so he cleared the set in advance, leaving him alone in the room to prepare.
Qin Si Zheng held the script and soon became lost in thought. Did he really snatch Jiang Zhen’s role? Lu Xian Qing liking his Weibo—was it, as people online speculated, his way of supporting him?
His mind raced, unable to calm down. He bit himself to regain focus, forcing his eyes back onto the script.
“Little one, want me to rehearse lines with you?” Lu Xian Qing leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him.
Qin Si Zheng suppressed the urge to say yes, choosing denial instead. If Lu Xian Qing truly liked Jiang Zhen, he should keep his distance.
It didn’t matter if Lu Xian Qing disliked him. He just wanted that even if things went badly between them, some part of him would remain in Lu Xian Qing’s heart.
Lu Xian Qing still felt anger at Jiang Zhen—the fool wouldn’t cherish Qin Si Zheng’s feelings and came here to ride hype, wasting his own affection.
Of course, if Qin Si Zheng submitted obediently, he would let the anger ease.
He leaned casually aside, waiting a long moment for a single sentence: “No need for trouble, sir.”
What was that?
Qin Si Zheng said seriously, “I can’t always rely on your help. I’ll handle it myself from now on. Thank you.”
Lu Xian Qing frowned slightly. Was he upset because Qin Si Zheng had felt reprimanded and was holding a grudge here?
“Really don’t want help?”
Qin Si Zheng gritted his teeth and reluctantly said, “No.”
Filming demanded cooperation; outside of the set, he couldn’t cling to Lu Xian Qing. He needed to learn restraint.
Lu Xian Qing held back his temper, stepped forward, and took the script from him. “No, you must listen in class.”
Qin Si Zheng’s chin was tilted up and when Lu Xian Qing pressed his lips to his, he froze on the spot.
Lu Xian Qing held the kiss, saying, “In the scene later, I’ll take the lead, but you need to respond. Your character, Chu Jing, is somewhat like you. No experience with kissing—bring a little hesitation. Ever seen a kitten lap milk?”
He was satisfied seeing the shock and shy avoidance in Qin Si Zheng’s eyes. His mood finally improved.
“Come, lick me like a kitten drinking milk.”
Qin Si Zheng resisted fiercely, “I understand, I get it already.”
“Check your homework—hurry!”
He took a deep breath. Submitting his work now was better than facing Zhou Changjiang’s scolding later and embarrassing himself on set. He leaned forward, imagining a kitten lapping milk, and lightly brushed his tongue against Lu Xian Qing’s lips.
His neck flushed red. Lu Xian Qing watched him, heart pleased, seeing the tension in his brows tremble. He intentionally pushed further, “Bite me once.”
“Uh… Xiao Qin…” Zhou Changjiang pushed open the door and froze. Qin Si Zheng quickly dodged. “Director, please don’t misunderstand, I’m just rehearsing with Fourth Brother.”
Zhou Changjiang couldn’t bear to scold him. Lately, he adored Qin Si Zheng, so he turned to the other, “Lu, you’re quite responsible. Less need for me to explain the scene in the future.”
Lu Xian Qing grinned, playing along: “Not at all.”
Zhou Changjiang had just heard gossip about trending topics outside. Coming in, he saw Lu Xian Qing standing there, coaxing a kiss like a sly fox.
Shameless.
Lu Xian Qing said, “Director, teach me the scene. Come on, treat me like a rookie.”
“Teach you? Scripts are only reference answers in your eyes anyway,” Zhou Changjiang said, flipping the script.
Even if he didn’t teach Lu Xian Qing, he would guide Qin Si Zheng through it.
“Ding Chenhai willing to step into this dirty Xihua Street is like opening his heart to let you in. Chu Jing knows this, so he is surprised.”
“Chu Jing has long liked Ding Chenhai, but the place is too awful. His response is hesitant, cautious, holding his heart out, hoping Ding Chenhai won’t reject it. Understand?”
Lu Xian Qing immediately clapped enthusiastically. “Ah, that makes it so much clearer. See? You’re really good at teaching.”
Zhou Changjiang didn’t even want to pay him any mind. He instructed Qin Si Zheng to adjust his emotions and get ready for filming. Before leaving, he asked, “Do you want to go take care of it first? I can give you half an hour.”
Qin Si Zheng blinked in confusion. “Take care of… what?”
Zhou Changjiang glanced at Lu Xian Qing, then turned and left. Lu Xian Qing chuckled, “That old fox.”
Qin Si Zheng continued to stare blankly—what did he mean by “take care of it”?
Lu Xian Qing beckoned him over with a curl of his finger. When Qin Si Zheng leaned in uncertainly, he said softly, “He means—do you want to practice first so you won’t be awkward later?”
Qin Si Zheng’s eyes widened, unsure where to look. “N-no, that’s not necessary…”
Lu Xian Qing tilted his head, teasing, “Are you sure you won’t have… feelings?”
Qin Si Zheng couldn’t be certain—he had never done this before. Was he supposed to go to the restroom now?
Seeing his flushed cheeks, Lu Xian Qing cleared his throat to ease the tension and kindly offered, “If you’re embarrassed, I can have An Ning bring over the protective tape. Just stick it on, that should help.”
Qin Si Zheng hesitated, then nodded lightly.
An Ning was quick and efficient, setting the materials on the bed. Qin Si Zheng had expected teasing, but she merely placed them and left, which earned her a bit more goodwill in his eyes.
But then he noticed two sets. “Why are there two? You want one too?”
Lu Xian Qing shot him a glance. “What? You want to see if I can actually do it? Then I won’t wear one—I’ll show you later.”
Qin Si Zheng waved him off immediately. “No, no, you should wear it, just in case.”
Lu Xian Qing snorted, thinking: Compared to Jiang Zhen, I’m definitely better at this.
“Fourth Brother, could you step out for a moment? I’ll call you once I’m ready.”
Lu Xian Qing leaned back. “If you’ve got one, I’ve got one. Why be shy? I’ll turn away and let you do it yourself.”
Qin Si Zheng waited, making sure Lu Xian Qing wouldn’t peek, then picked up the protective gear—but had no idea how to use it. “Fourth Brother, do you know how?”
Lu Xian Qing, facing away, restrained a smile. “Of course I do.”
Qin Si Zheng asked timidly, “Could you show me how to use it? I don’t know.”
Lu Xian Qing deliberately made a sound but didn’t finish, thinking: Want to hide from me? Now you have to beg.
“Fourth Brother?”
Lu Xian Qing hesitated. “But if I demonstrate, I’ll have to turn toward you and touch you. Just now, you had me turn away and not look—like I was trying to take advantage of you. Now you just say I can turn? Nothing’s that easy.”
Qin Si Zheng felt guilty. But if he didn’t do it, he’d have to ask someone else for such a private thing—and he didn’t want that.
Lu Xian Qing imagined his discomfort and, holding back laughter, teased further, “When you ask for help, you need the right attitude. Don’t you agree, Yan Yan?”
Qin Si Zheng gritted his teeth and grabbed his suit sleeve. “Teacher Lu, please teach me.”
“Teach you what? When asking a teacher, you have to specify what you don’t understand—how else will I know?”
Lu Xian Qing felt a rush of heat in his chest but forced himself to persist.
Qin Si Zheng bit his lip. “Forget it. I won’t trouble you. I’ll ask Changfeng.”
“That’s all the patience you have?”
Lu Xian Qing took the tape and protective gear, explaining carefully: “Don’t wrap it too tight. When pulling the tape, it might pull out some hair—that can’t be avoided. But don’t leave it too loose, either. If you react, it could come off.”
Qin Si Zheng watched his hands demonstrate, imagining what it would be like if Lu Xian Qing removed it. He had heard Lu Xian Qing didn’t react during filming—would he this time?
Seeing his breath becoming uneven, Lu Xian Qing leaned close, lowering his voice. “A Jing, if you wait too long, you’ll have to go to the restroom before you can put it on.”
Qin Si Zheng snatched the tape and gear, urging him to face away—completely unaware of the cracked little mirror in the room, reflecting glimpses of the scene.
Lu Xian Qing looked down, unabashed, watching those long fingers handle the tape clumsily, careful not to touch the wrong place. The more Qin Si Zheng avoided him, the more his pulse raced.
That birthday, he had been generous, helping Qin Si Zheng once. Even trembling through fabric, he had been unbearably cute—sweet and intense.
Tomorrow’s scene would wrap filming. He needed to find a way to get him to visit the set more often.
“I’m done.”
Lu Xian Qing came back to himself. “Can I turn now?”
Qin Si Zheng replied, “I’ll turn around. Put everything on first, then you can turn.”
Lu Xian Qing grabbed the gear from the bed, huffing, “Turn away, don’t stare at me, or it’s useless.”
Qin Si Zheng silently thought: He won’t get a reaction just from looking, right?
Lu Xian Qing moved efficiently, finishing in three quick motions, then dashed to the door. “An Ning, call them in.”
Set cleared, cue board ready—filming officially began.
Chu Jing was at home, lounging with legs crossed, when he heard noise below. Lifting the small attic window, he peeked outside and saw a black car stop at the Xihua Street entrance.
A man in a black suit stepped out, pale and handsome, his hands gripping an umbrella as white as snow.
He lifted his head from under the umbrella, meeting Chu Jing’s gaze, yet it was as if he hadn’t seen him at all.
Xiao Yu had been beaten by him before, and San Yang had witnessed his ferocity. Believing trouble had come, they shouted for reinforcements.
He walked step by step into the filthy, stinking Xihua Street, mud splashing onto his pristine shoes, leaving speckles behind.
“Where does Chu Jing live?” he asked.
Xiao Yu held up a stick, eyes wary. “What do you want? We don’t owe you anything! If you try to hurt A Jing, I won’t be nice to you!”
The people of Xihua Street all came out, anger and hatred blazing in their eyes. “You lot—bullying someone, you can’t even leave them at their own doorstep! That’s too much!”
Ding Chen Hai’s voice remained flat. “Where is he?”
He stood in the middle, umbrella in hand, surrounded and about to act, when Chu Jing shouted down from the window, “Don’t hit him! He came looking for me!”
Slipping on his slippers, Chu Jing ran downstairs, grabbed Ding Chen Hai’s hand, and guided him upstairs. “Come, let’s talk at my place.”
Uncle Jiu said, “A Jing, how did you get mixed up with him?”
Chu Jing didn’t mention the trouble Xiao Yu had caused. “I borrowed money from him, and he came to collect.”
Uncle Jiu didn’t believe it, so Chu Jing pinched Ding Chen Hai’s hand. “Say it.”
Ding Chen Hai nodded. “He lent me money.”
“Then give it back quickly! Make him leave! We don’t welcome him here!” Uncle Jiu said.
“Got it, got it.” Chu Jing led him upstairs. His grandmother had gone out to buy groceries and would be back soon. He quickly got him into his tiny attic room.
Ding Chen Hai looked around the cramped space. “You live here?”
“Yeah, it’s messy and small,” Chu Jing admitted.
His place wasn’t even as clean as Ding Chen Hai’s doghouse. A musty smell drifted into his nose, and Chu Jing felt a pang of self-consciousness. The disparity between their worlds was stark.
“You came all the way here? My competitions are over, I don’t owe you anything now.”
“You still owe me,” Ding Chen Hai said, putting his umbrella aside and brushing off rain from his shoulders, sending a faint chill into the air.
“You can’t just go back on your word! We agreed—after your competitions, it’s settled. You can’t…” Before he could finish, he was pulled into a cold embrace, icy breath against his neck.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Chu Jing patted his back. “Another nightmare?”
“Mm,” Ding Chen Hai’s voice was icy, with the faintest tremor.
“You’re so grown-up, yet scared of nightmares? Even the little girls on our street aren’t afraid anymore.”
“I’m not scared,” Ding Chen Hai said.
“You won’t admit it, huh? Look at your lips—they’re pale. Clearly frightened.”
Chu Jing pulled him away slightly, brushing damp hair from his forehead and wiping away what might have been rain or sweat. Remembering how helpless he’d looked that day, Chu Jing felt a sharp pang in his chest.
Ding Chen Hai’s gaze was intense, as if trying to peer into his very soul. Chu Jing instinctively turned his head to avoid it, only to have his chin gently lifted back.
“Can I… kiss you?”
Chu Jing froze. Ding Chen Hai held his chin, repeating, “Can I kiss you?”
Chu Jing quickly withdrew his hand and pushed him slightly away. “Uh… have you eaten?”
Ding Chen Hai shook his head. Chu Jing pursed his lips. “I still have some porridge from earlier. Would you… like some?”
Worried Ding Chen Hai might find it dirty, he thought to offer to take him home after eating.
Ding Chen Hai simply nodded and sat on his bed, a creak beneath him.
“Then sit here for a bit. I’ll heat the porridge and bring it to you.”
Chu Jing hurried out, and a few minutes later returned with the porridge—a mix of millet and rice, poorly presented.
“It’s clean. My grandmother cooks very hygienically. Try it?”
Ding Chen Hai scooped a spoonful into his mouth. The porridge was soft, with a faint sweetness.
“Is it good?”
The young boy’s hopeful eyes met his, distant and untouchable like the night sky Chu Jing had glimpsed through the skylight the previous evening.
After a long moment, Ding Chen Hai nodded. “Good.”
“Good? Then drink more. There’s still some downstairs. If it’s not enough, I’ll get more for you.” Chu Jing sat beside him, noting how straight he sat, the black suit clashing with his faded sheets.
Instinctively, he asked, “Your clothes are wet—want me to help you take them off and hang them to dry, then you can put them back on when you leave?”
Ding Chen Hai didn’t answer, instead standing and stretching his hands out. Chu Jing realized he wanted help. Mumbling, “What a gentleman… I even have to serve you,” he helped remove the suit and hang it.
Sitting quietly beside him as he ate, he noticed how refined Ding Chen Hai was—even his Adam’s apple rolled with a subtle allure.
Such a clean, restrained person… what would he be like if desire took over? Chu Jing wondered.
“Mm… careful… too much… I’ll die…” The discordant sounds from upstairs, mixed with the bed scraping the floor—“creak creak”—made Chu Jing’s cheeks flush instantly. He instinctively covered Ding Chen Hai’s ears. “Don’t… don’t listen.”
Upstairs was a massage parlor doubling as an adult service, noises like this were frequent. He was used to it, but now it sounded unbearable.
Ding Chen Hai’s eyes stayed fixed on him. The faint sounds were indistinct; all his attention was on the young boy’s reddened lips, moving slightly, tempting him.
He threw the bowl, shattering it into pieces. Chu Jing panicked. “What are you doing? The bowl’s broken! Are you going to use your hands next time?”
Before he could finish, Ding Chen Hai pressed him onto the bed. His eyes were dark, like the sea at night—calm on the surface, but a violent current underneath.
Chu Jing tensed. “D-Ding… Ding Xiansheng, calm down! I won’t make you replace the bowl. Please—calm down.”
Ding Chen Hai’s fingers traced from his mouth to his ear, lingering, then returned. Though seemingly questioning, his touch was intoxicating. “A Jing… can I kiss you?”
Chu Jing began to speak, but another creak came from upstairs. He turned away and whispered, “I’m a boy.”
“I know,” Ding Chen Hai murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss to his eyes.
Chu Jing felt his eyelashes dampen, tingling from eyes to fingertips. “I’m from Xihua Street… I don’t deserve you.”