After a period of leisurely days, Ming Qi finally had to pack up and head into the production team.
This time, the filming location was quite far from Beijing—about a half-day flight, basically crossing half the country.
On the day of departure, Ming Qi was resting in the VIP lounge with his suitcase when he unexpectedly saw Huo Chengtang.
Huo Chengtang was sitting with his agent, listening carefully as the agent spoke, occasionally responding. Then, as if sensing a gaze from the side, he looked up and immediately recognized Ming Qi.
Even though Ming Qi was wearing a mask and a bucket hat, Huo Chengtang still recognized him at a glance.
He smiled and waved. “Ming Qi.”
“Brother, why are you also flying out from Beijing?” Ming Qi asked. He remembered Huo Chengtang was based in Futai City, so seeing him here was surprising.
“Came here for an event,” Huo Chengtang replied. His gaze then shifted past Ming Qi’s shoulder, casually skipping over Meng She, and landing on the tall, imposing man behind him.
He was wearing the same bucket hat and mask as Ming Qi—at a glance, he also looked like a celebrity.
“That is—”
Ming Qi snapped back to attention and smiled. “My assistant. Surnamed Min.”
Huo Chengtang’s agent couldn’t help thinking that this assistant looked a bit too high-end—both height and presence were outstanding.
After exchanging greetings, Ming Qi and “Assistant Min” sat together waiting to board. Assistant Min was the restless type, constantly reaching over to pinch Ming Qi’s fingers. Ming Qi lightly smacked his hand, but he only smiled and went back to pinching the other hand.
Meng She, sitting across from them, occasionally glanced over with a hand covering his face, looking like he couldn’t bear to watch.
But he had already predicted this scene when he saw Yu Qinzhou come downstairs from the second floor of West Scenic Bay carrying a suitcase earlier that morning.
How could they be this clingy?
He silently complained in his mind and simply picked up his phone to watch a drama.
After boarding the plane, Ming Qi lazily yawned. A half-day flight was a bit long for him, and combined with staying up late with Yu Qinzhou the night before, he soon tilted his head and fell asleep against Yu Qinzhou’s shoulder.
Feeling his soft breath, Yu Qinzhou asked for a small blanket from the flight attendant and covered him.
After landing, they checked into the hotel, attended the opening ceremony, and began filming.
Winter Has Arrived had a much longer shooting schedule than Undercover. Director Zhou Xingxiu was extremely detail-obsessed—he would even reshoot a scene just because a single flower pot was placed slightly off-center. His acting standards were also extremely high. Fortunately, Ming Qi had worked alongside many top-tier actors in Undercover and had improved significantly. Though he was occasionally scolded, most of the time things went relatively smoothly.
Some scenes required filming in mountainous regions. At that time, Yu Qinzhou happened to be away on a business trip and couldn’t accompany him. The conditions were harsh, and without anyone watching over him, Ming Qi often acted more casually, losing a fair amount of weight after several days.
Seeing his noticeably thinner face, Huo Chengtang, who also looked somewhat worn out, chuckled. “That little assistant of yours leaves and you immediately lose weight. When he comes back, he’s probably going to feel heartache.”
Huo Chengtang wasn’t oblivious. He had sharp eyes. He often saw that “Assistant Min” walking with Ming Qi during breaks, both of them wandering nearby paths. Even without doing anything, the atmosphere between them was something no one else could intrude upon.
He didn’t bother prying into the assistant’s identity.
And at that moment, he only meant it as a casual joke.
Ming Qi was already used to it. He lay on the crooked-legged table, touched his face, and smiled. “But Director Zhou is pretty satisfied.”
According to Zhou Xingxiu, this tired, thin look suited the character’s appearance in the mountain storyline very well. He had even considered pausing filming so Ming Qi could lose weight properly, but now those concerns were gone.
“Even if Director Zhou is satisfied, you still need to take care of your health. If you can’t handle it, you have to say so.”
Knowing that Huo Chengtang was concerned about him, Ming Qi quickly nodded.
After filming in the mountains for half a month, Ming Qi and the crew were finally told they could take a day off. He followed Huo Chengtang down to the town at the foot of the mountain to buy some daily necessities and snacks, and took the chance—because the signal was good—to make a video call to Yu Qinzhou.
Yu Qinzhou was still abroad; it was still dark where he was.
Ming Qi held his face in his hands and acted spoiled. “When are you coming back?”
“Missing me?”
“A little bit.” Ming Qi held up his little finger to indicate a tiny amount.
Yu Qinzhou was leaning against the bed, a light-colored soft blanket pulled up to his waist. His upper body wore dark sleepwear that hung loosely, only symbolically fastened with two buttons, revealing a large expanse of fair chest.
Whether intentional or not, the front camera only captured part of his chin and that stretch of spring-like exposure, making Ming Qi feel a little embarrassed.
Yet he deliberately pulled the clothing down a bit more and asked with a smile, “Only this little? Careful, little liars get their noses longer.”
Ming Qi couldn’t help laughing. “I’m already in my twenties. You still use that to trick me.”
Yu Qinzhou raised a brow. “Alright then, let me rephrase it. Little liars should be careful or they’ll get cried to tears.”
Ming Qi: “!”
Those two words landed like a thunderclap in his ears. Even though he was wearing earphones, he still instinctively glanced around guiltily. Seeing that everyone nearby was busy with their own things, he quietly relaxed.
Then he complained, “How can you say that kind of thing outside?”
Yu Qinzhou said meaningfully, “Baby, I’m not outside. I’m in my room, and it’s the middle of the night. What’s wrong with saying this to you?”
Ming Qi: “……”
Ming Qi, flustered and annoyed, almost hung up the video call.
But thinking about how hard the signal was to get, and how rare this chance was after half a month, he endured it.
He stayed in the town café for over two hours, and also stayed on video with Yu Qinzhou for over two hours. Seeing that it really wasn’t early on the other side anymore, he reluctantly ended the call.
Seeing his reluctant expression, Yu Qinzhou softened completely, coaxing him gently, “Be good. My work here will be done soon. I’ll be back in two days to stay with you, and I’ll bring you something good to eat to help you recover.”
He had already noticed Ming Qi’s weight loss, though he didn’t say much.
He felt heartache, but also understood this was Ming Qi’s own persistence.
Hearing this, the faint sadness and reluctance in Ming Qi’s heart were easily soothed. He smiled at the camera and said softly, “Then it’s a deal?”
He raised his hand and made a pinky promise gesture in front of the camera.
Yu Qinzhou also raised his hand. Their little fingers seemed to hook together through the screen.
“Good night,” Ming Qi said softly.
…
After ending the call, Ming Qi sent a message to Huo Chengtang.
Soon, Huo Chengtang drove a crew-borrowed car to the café entrance. As Ming Qi got in, he heard him ask with a smile, “Done video calling your little assistant?”
Teased again, Ming Qi didn’t feel embarrassed and nodded.
Just as he was about to speak, his gaze suddenly paused on the front passenger seat.
On the way down the mountain, it had only been him and Huo Chengtang—but now there was someone else in the passenger seat.
Ming Qi looked over instinctively. He hadn’t meant to pry, but the person suddenly turned his face away sharply, looking extremely guilty.
The atmosphere froze for a couple of seconds before Ming Qi’s faint voice sounded.
“Brother Bo, you can stop hiding now.”
Bo Hongfang: “……”
He removed his mask, sunglasses, and hat, and gave an awkward laugh. “You young people have really sharp eyes.”
Ming Qi said calmly, “It’s alright. You were just making it really obvious you wanted me to recognize you.”
Bo Hongfang: “……”
One stayed silent; the other laughed out loud.
Bo Hongfang immediately looked at Huo Chengtang and frowned. “Why are you laughing? If I hadn’t lost that bet to you, I wouldn’t be here visiting your set.”
Huo Chengtang kept one hand on the steering wheel and used the other to mime zipping his mouth. “Alright, I won’t laugh.”
But the bystander had already caught the key point.
“Oh? So you two are in contact and even making bets.”
Bo Hongfang: “Be good and stop talking, or I’ll expose your husband’s identity.”
Now it was Ming Qi’s turn to shut up.
But none of the three present expected that while they were on the mountain without signal, two trending topics were rapidly climbing the hot search.
#BoHongfangVisitsHuoChengtangSet#
#MingQiVideoCallPartner#
Zheng Liang, in Beijing thousands of kilometers away, nearly fainted when he saw them.
He pressed his finger against his philtrum with one hand and clicked into the marketing posts with the other.
Simple, just two photos.
One showed Huo Chengtang leaning against a car door looking at Bo Hongfang, while Bo Hongfang, irritated by the heat, had just removed his hat and was ruffling his hair, exposing his prominent forehead—fans could recognize him instantly.
The other was more unusual: Ming Qi sitting in a café corner, phone in front of him, smiling softly at the screen. The key detail, however, was that zooming in revealed a man’s collarbone and chest clearly visible.
Zheng Liang already guessed the comments. When he opened them, as expected:
“Damn, Ming Qi is eating well?”