Zong Xuan spent the entire evening upset, but after holding Xu Tang in his arms all night, he finally calmed down.
Xu Tang, on the other hand, had nightmares all night from being held so tightly.
He dreamed that he’d been kidnapped. His hands and feet were tied, and he’d been left beside a fireplace. It was unbearably hot and stifling, but the kidnapper never appeared.
Only after waking up did he realize who the “kidnapper” really was.
The blame belonged entirely to Zong Xuan.
Still, as long as Zong Xuan’s mood had returned to normal, Xu Tang could finally relax.
The following week, both of them were extremely busy, trying to finish all the work that had piled up while they were filming The Shape of Love.
As expected, Aya’s statement was met with endless skepticism. However, neither she nor her agency responded further, seemingly hoping that newer trending topics would eventually bury the incident.
In the blink of an eye, another week had passed.
The second episode of The Shape of Love aired right on schedule.
This episode began with dinner on the first day.
Curled up on the couch, Xu Tang finally understood why Aya had been kicked out of the kitchen.
It wasn’t a big deal if a girl didn’t know how to cook.
But screaming at the sight of lobsters and king crabs?
What was that about?
Being allergic to seafood was one thing.
But was she actually afraid of seafood too?
Well… maybe that was possible.
Still…
Did she really have to scream?
Seeing that Aya was frightened of large shellfish, the kitchen staff reassigned her to washing fruits and vegetables. She and Yu Lun stood side by side at the sink, which also made for some nice interaction shots.
Originally, it should have been a pleasant scene.
Unfortunately, Aya’s long fingernails weren’t exactly ideal for washing soft fruits and vegetables.
It wasn’t a complete disaster, but every piece of fruit ended up with nail marks or bits of skin scratched off, making them rather unappetizing.
Xu Tang guessed she probably never did chores like this at home.
Otherwise, even with long nails, she’d have learned how to avoid damaging the produce.
Meanwhile, Yu Lun handled everything quite well.
Ironically, that only made Aya seem even more irresponsible in the relationship—spoiled and unwilling to contribute.
Yu Lun, on the other hand, came across as the patient, capable boyfriend who could do everything.
Xu Tang doubted that was the image Aya had hoped to create.
But once someone seized on an opportunity like this, it was very difficult to change public perception.
Just as he was watching, Zong Xuan returned home after finishing work for the day.
Seeing Xu Tang eating fruit while watching TV, he smiled, walked over, and kissed him.
“Is it good?”
“It’s okay,” Xu Tang answered objectively.
Zong Xuan glanced at the television just as the restaurant manager was telling Aya to leave the kitchen and help take orders in the dining area instead.
After eating the fruit Xu Tang fed him, Zong Xuan said,
“I’m going upstairs to take a shower.”
“Okay. Did you have dinner?” Xu Tang asked.
“I ate a little. Let’s make a late-night snack later.”
“Sounds good.”
By the time Zong Xuan came downstairs after showering, the episode had just ended.
Xu Tang picked up his phone and began reading the comments.
They were almost exactly what he’d expected.
Viewers had overwhelmingly positive things to say about him and Zong Xuan, Yue Yan and He Xin, as well as Zhou Xing and Chen Tina.
The criticism was almost entirely focused on Yu Lun and Aya.
People were especially unhappy about Aya bumping into the waiter and spilling water all over Xu Tang.
Fortunately, the production team had softened that scene with explanatory captions during post-production, so the comments weren’t overly harsh.
However, Aya’s deliberately fragile, almost coquettish tone of voice still irritated Zong Xuan’s fans.
Many felt she was obviously putting on an act.
She didn’t even speak to Yu Lun that sweetly.
Their matching outfits also became a trending topic once again.
Many viewers who hadn’t understood the appeal before watching the show suddenly wanted matching sets themselves.
Young couples, in particular, flooded the comments asking shopping agents to buy them identical outfits so they could be cute together.
Seeing a photo of them wearing those outfits on Xu Tang’s phone, Zong Xuan suddenly remembered that today was the day he was supposed to draw three winners.
He immediately went upstairs to grab his laptop.
“Tangtang, have you ever done one of these giveaways? How do I set the conditions?”
He looked thoroughly confused.
Xu Tang took the laptop from him, glanced at the original giveaway requirements, quickly selected the appropriate settings, and drew the three lucky winners.
“You’re pretty experienced,” Zong Xuan laughed.
Shrugging, Xu Tang said,
“I’ve done lottery drawings for fan meeting tickets before.”
“Then next time, could you secretly rig it in my favor?”
Resting his chin on Xu Tang’s shoulder, Zong Xuan grinned.
“No.”
“I’m a very upright singer.”
Xu Tang rejected him with righteous dignity.
“Oh?”
Smirking, Zong Xuan slipped a hand inside Xu Tang’s pajama shirt.
“Let me see just how ‘upright’ my little King of Singers really is.”
“Stop it…”
His fingers found Xu Tang’s ticklish spot, making him laugh and curl up.
But with Zong Xuan hugging him from behind, there was nowhere to escape.
Laughing helplessly, Xu Tang surrendered.
“Fine, fine…”
“I’ll rig it for you.”
“Happy?”
“I am.”
Zong Xuan kissed him, though his hand stayed inside Xu Tang’s shirt, no longer lingering around his waist.
Straightening himself, Xu Tang picked up his phone and posted on Weibo.
If there aren’t any Weibo lottery tickets for my next fan meeting, it’ll definitely be because I was forced to secretly rig the draw for Zong Xuan. Hmph! (Can you believe Zong Xuan doesn’t even know how to run a giveaway? I had to do it for him. The lucky fans who won the outfits had better thank me! 😤😤)
The moment he hit Post, Zong Xuan’s phone camera clicked.
Looking at the photo with satisfaction, Zong Xuan posted his own update.
I only teased him a little, and he’s already exposing me. Isn’t it perfectly normal for him to secretly rig things for me? (Yes, yes, Tangtang helped me with the giveaway. So what if I don’t know how to run one? I’ve got a precious treasure who does. 😤😤)
Their interaction instantly sent fans into a frenzy.
They’d already been stuffed full of sweetness by the show itself.
Now the couple was feeding them another helping after the broadcast ended.
Staying calm was impossible.
The kind-hearted fans under Xu Tang’s post wrote:
“Aww, let me pat Tangtang’s proud little face!”
“Does Actor Zong even need a rigged drawing? Can’t he hear the live version anytime he wants?~”
“Actor Zong can’t even run a giveaway? Hahaha, you’re such a country bumpkin!”
“Tangtang! I won! Thank you, Tangtang! I’ll post photos once it arrives!”
“I’m so jealous of the person above! I bet it’s going to be the difference between seller photos and buyer photos!”
“Anyone know a shopping agent selling matching outfits?”
“Don’t even bother. I just checked—they’ve already sold out!”
…
Meanwhile, the shameless fans under Zong Xuan’s post commented:
“How exactly did you tease him? We demand details!”
“Please write a ten-thousand-word spicy fanfic!”
“‘Precious treasure’?! You’ve completely blinded my titanium-alloy dog eyes!”
“Rigging the draw and still sounding so righteous—I can only say, well done!”
“Keep teasing him! Don’t hold back!”
“Tangtang definitely looks like the soft, slim-waisted type who’s easy to pin down. Big kisses for Tangtang!”
“Anyone know where I can buy the matching outfits?”
“No, I want a shopping agent selling that ten-thousand-word fanfic about Actor Zong teasing Tangtang!”
…
Xu Tang read comments on both sides.
The result…
He simply couldn’t handle Zong Xuan’s fans.
Blushing furiously, he fled to the kitchen to make their late-night snack.
Now that the busy week was over, Zong Xuan finally had some free time.
Wen Hui promptly delivered a mountain of scripts for him to choose from.
These had already been screened by the studio and were considered worthy of reaching his desk.
There were commercial films, art-house films, and nearly all of them came from famous directors and major productions.
Those renowned directors and producers were all eager to work with Zong Xuan, so the studio received countless scripts every month.
Normally, though, Wen Hui only brought them over when Zong Xuan actually had time.
Otherwise, they’d simply sit unread.
Because there were so many scripts, Zong Xuan usually skimmed the character profiles and synopsis first.
Only if something interested him would he continue reading the full screenplay.
Even with that shortcut…
Five days later…
He still hadn’t found a single script worth finishing.
That day, Wen Hui arrived with another batch.
The moment she entered, she asked,
“Where’s Xu Tang? Not home?”
“He has work today. He left early this morning,” Zong Xuan replied with a smile.
“I see.”
She lifted a bag she was carrying.
“I brought this for Xu Tang.”
“It’s fresh durian flown in from Thailand.”
“I only managed to grab one.”
She had only recently learned that Xu Tang loved durian.
Someone on her social media had been selling imported fruit.
She’d wanted to buy several, but demand had been so overwhelming that only one remained by the time she ordered.
“Okay, leave it in the kitchen.”
“When the housekeeper comes later, I’ll ask her to open it and store it in the refrigerator.”
“Then Tangtang can eat it as soon as he gets home.”
Zong Xuan didn’t dislike durian.
He just wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about it as Xu Tang.
After putting away the fruit, Wen Hui handed him another stack of scripts.
“So?”
“Found anything you like?”
“No.”
“Either the stories are mediocre, or there’s no challenge.”
“None of them are good enough.”
Zong Xuan had never been the type to give famous directors special treatment.
If the script was bad…
He simply wouldn’t make the movie.
Wen Hui had read those scripts herself.
There was plenty of variety.
But somehow…
None of them felt substantial enough for Zong Xuan.
At this point in his career, he no longer needed fame, money, or awards.
His acting ability was already universally recognized.
Producing truly outstanding work had become his only priority when choosing projects.
“Actually,” Wen Hui said, “there’s one script I brought today that’s pretty interesting.”
“It’s the first one on top.”
Zong Xuan took the stack from the paper bag.
The script on top was an ancient costume film called The Return of the Sovereign.
Beneath the title, genre, and screenwriter’s name was a small line of text:
Dedicated to my favorite Zong Xuan and Xu Tang.
“What is this?”
The screenwriter was someone named Xin Yun.
Judging from the name, she was probably a young woman.
Zong Xuan had never heard of her before.
She was likely a newcomer.
Smiling, Wen Hui explained,
“She’s Director Xin Ming’s daughter.”
“She studied under the famous screenwriter Ting Zi for several years.”
“She also contributed to quite a few film and television scripts as part of writing teams, so her name was never credited.”
“This is the first screenplay she’s written entirely on her own.”
“I read it.”
“The characters and story are both very solid.”
“And Director Xin has decided to direct it personally.”
“So I think it’s worth considering.”
Director Xin Ming had won international awards.
Among the industry’s top directors, he might not have been the absolute greatest.
But when it came to coaching inexperienced actors…
No one could match him.
Several popular celebrities with notoriously terrible acting had transformed dramatically after filming under him.
They weren’t quite powerhouse actors afterward…
But they could at least act naturally and even win smaller awards.
Zong Xuan had worked with Director Xin years ago.
The man was incredibly demanding on set.
Off set, however, he was warm and easygoing.
Nearly every actor who had worked with him wanted to collaborate again.
Filming with him wasn’t just making a movie.
It was a chance to improve as an actor.
Director Xin’s partner was also a man—a famous novelist.
Their daughter had been adopted.
The three of them had always shared a close relationship.
Everyone in the industry knew they had a daughter.
But Director Xin had always protected her privacy well.
Today was the first time Zong Xuan learned her name was Xin Yun.
After reading the synopsis and character descriptions, Zong Xuan smiled.
“It’s actually a BL story.”
Since same-sex marriage had become legal, films and television series featuring same-sex couples could now be released openly.
Still, in a society where heterosexual romance remained the mainstream, those stories were still relatively uncommon.
“That’s right.”
Wen Hui nodded.
“Xin Yun is a huge fan of both you and Xu Tang.”
“I heard she was inspired by your relationship when writing this script.”
“She even said that if she couldn’t get the two of you to star in it…”
“…she simply wouldn’t make the film.”
Zong Xuan raised an eyebrow.
“And Director Xin actually lets her be this stubborn?”
Wen Hui laughed.
“You know Director Xin.”
“As long as no one’s breaking the law…”
“The only thing he cares about is quality.”
“If the script is good enough…”
“He won’t worry about anything else.”
“True.”
Zong Xuan began reading the screenplay itself.
The more he read…
The more interesting it became.
“I wonder whether Tangtang wants to act in it.”
“I’ll ask him when he gets home.”
“Has the production team been assembled yet?”
“Not yet,” Wen Hui replied.
“They’re waiting for your answer.”
“If Tangtang wants the role…”
“We should ask Yue Yan to produce it.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
With Yue Yan involved, financing would never be a problem.
And with funding secured…
A film directed by Xin Ming was almost guaranteed to be exceptional.