After saying this, Zhou Ziheng released Lin Mo’s wrist and slipped his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.
Lin Mo had never had any interaction with Zhou Ziheng before, but his intuition told him that there must be some connection between Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing. He smiled, touched his own wrist, glanced at Xia Xiqing, and nodded meaningfully, “You’re still so naive…”
Xia Xiqing raised an eyebrow in the mirror. Lin Mo found the situation boring and smiled as he left the makeup room. The door closed again, leaving only Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing in the room.
For some reason, the confident aura he had just exuded suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon, vanishing entirely. Zhou Ziheng felt he had meddled in others’ affairs. Perhaps Xia Xiqing had been looking forward to this “reunion,” and perhaps he had ruined someone else’s plans.
The more he thought about it, the more unpleasant it felt. Suddenly, he heard laughter. Zhou Ziheng snapped back to reality and saw Xia Xiqing unable to contain his laughter, lowering his head and laughing louder and louder.
“What are you laughing at?” Zhou Ziheng was a bit annoyed. He had clearly been trying to help him, yet he was being mocked like this.
Xia Xiqing was laughing so hard his tears were about to spill out. He tried to compose himself, then looked up at Zhou Ziheng standing beside him. “Naive?” He bit his lip to suppress his laughter, propping his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on the armrest of the chair, his eyes curved into two crescent moons as he gazed at Zhou Ziheng.
To be honest, the phrase “naive” fit his face perfectly. Zhou Ziheng thought to himself.
Xia Xiqing’s eyes were bright, as if they contained a handful of crushed stars. His fingers lightly tapped his cheek as he repeated what Zhou Ziheng had just said to Lin Mo, “We’re all in the same circle, so there are many things that neither of us finds strange.” As he spoke, his voice slowed, the trailing notes like the remnants of clouds carried away by the afternoon wind.
“Nothing unusual…” He reached out a hand, touching the soft fabric of Zhou Ziheng’s white sweater. His long, slender fingers traced the woven patterns like a paintbrush. The innocent smile at the corner of his eyes gradually faded, giving way to a suggestive curve.
Suddenly, his index finger hooked onto the belt buckle at Zhou Ziheng’s waist, and he raised his eyes to meet Zhou Ziheng’s gaze.
“What things are you used to seeing?”
Zhou Ziheng’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, which was the most sensual expression in Xia Xiqing’s eyes.
This man was simply…
“I’m just looking for an excuse.” Zhou Ziheng reached into his pocket, attempting to remove his restless fingers from his belt, but as soon as he grasped his slender fingers, Xia Xiqing grabbed his hand from behind, forcing his fingers between Zhou Ziheng’s, clasping his hand tightly.
“Why do you have to stick your neck out?”
Interlaced fingers—such a phrase should evoke the warmest, sweetest imagery in Zhou Ziheng’s eyes, but at this moment, Xia Xiqing resembled a villain holding a knife to the victim’s throat. Obsessive, arrogant, and unwavering.
The intertwined fingers created a burning illusion, and Zhou Ziheng’s internal alarm sounded once more. He tried to pry Xia Xiqing’s hand open, but his gaze inadvertently fell on the wound on his lips. Not wanting to hurt him further, he reluctantly gave up, forcing a nonchalant expression and coldly replied, “I didn’t speak up. There are too many people here, and I don’t want rumors spreading about ‘the photographer exploiting the model, and the famous male actor turning a blind eye.’”
“How amusing, even your excuses are so entertaining,” Xia Xiqing raised an eyebrow, tightening his grip to suppress Zhou Ziheng’s attempt to escape. “So it’s okay to offend the photographer before the shoot?”
“What do I have to fear? To me, the finished photos in the studio are no different from the raw shots taken by passersby.”
Zhou Ziheng spoke calmly and confidently, while Xia Xiqing’s gaze swept over his entire body.
He wasn’t wrong.
“Someone like Lin Mo, a perfectionist, wouldn’t ruin his own work over such a trivial matter.” After saying this, Zhou Ziheng felt Xia Xiqing’s grip relax slightly, and he took the opportunity to pry his hand free with the other hand.
He exhaled in relief. Not entirely. Zhou Ziheng rotated his fingers, which had been squeezed until they ached, and slipped them back into his suit pants pocket.
After ending the handhold, Xia Xiqing’s face showed an expression of relief, as if his prey had escaped. He stood up from the chair and reached out both hands to help Zhou Ziheng adjust his high collar. The hand that had been tightly clasped earlier was red from being gripped so tightly. After adjusting the collar, he raised his eyes slightly and looked into Zhou Ziheng’s eyes.
“I like it when you lower your head slightly and look at me from this angle,” Xia Xiqing’s voice was extremely gentle as his hands slid from the edge of the high collar of his sweater to Zhou Ziheng’s broad shoulders. “It makes me want to kiss you.”
Zhou Ziheng reached out and stopped Xia Xiqing from getting any closer, but he didn’t push him away forcefully. “Someone could walk in at any moment.”
Xia Xiqing couldn’t help but laugh.
That statement was so ambiguous.
It was as if something was about to happen between them.
He tilted his head slightly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “So… what you’re saying is, if we were somewhere private, I could kiss you?”
Switching concepts like that was a terrifying skill.
The thought of these tactics being repeatedly practiced on countless people made Zhou Ziheng feel uneasy, a lump forming in his throat. His tone hardened involuntarily, “Do you think I didn’t bite hard enough last time?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Xia Xiqing extended his tongue, licking his lips and the blood crust, as if savoring a delicacy. “Pretty harsh.” His hands slid from Zhou Ziheng’s shoulders to the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly in a posture begging for a kiss.
“Next time, bite somewhere I can’t see.” Who promised to come themselves but then backed out midway, and kept checking to make sure I was coming?”
Each sentence hit Zhou Ziheng’s weak spot, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the right words to counter Xia Xiqing’s questions.
Xia Xiqing asked again, “Why did you back out?”
This was the very point Zhou Ziheng didn’t want to address. He didn’t even want to delve into why he suddenly felt uneasy after seeing Xia Xiqing’s like on that Weibo post.
“I have nothing to say.”
Zhou Ziheng didn’t want to lie or make excuses.
Just as Xia Xiqing was about to press further, Shane returned with the special effects makeup artist, complaining quietly about Lin Mo’s troublesome and trivial demands as soon as he entered the room. Xia Xiqing and Zhou Ziheng pretended nothing had happened, each sitting in their respective seats, while Zhou Ziheng’s hairstylist also returned.
“Ziheng, I just discussed it with them, and we think wet hair would be sexier,” the hairstylist grabbed Zhou Ziheng’s hair that had been blown up, “but not too wet, just the part on the forehead,” she grabbed a section, held the spray, and sprayed it until it was about to drip, but the water droplets would gather at the tips of the hanging hair.
The special effects makeup artist drew a long scar on Xia Xiqing’s face, but he felt it wasn’t enough.
“Can you make it look like the skin is splitting open?” Xia Xiqing smiled at the makeup artist, “I think it would have a stronger impact.”
Once the makeup and hair were ready, Xia Xiqing watched Zhou Ziheng put on the gold-rimmed glasses. His deep-set eyes were framed by the golden borders, paired with a high-neck sweater, giving off an indescribable sense of restraint.
He took one last look at himself in the mirror: the torn black shirt, exposed skin, horrific wounds on his face, and bloodstains and scabs on his lips. He truly resembled a pitiful victim.
The studio was set up with a pure black background, with a Baroque-style light brown walnut upholstered chair in the center.
“Xiqing, sit on the chair first, I’ll take a couple of test shots.” Lin Mo nodded toward Xia Xiqing, who walked over and sat down.
“Spread your legs a bit, that’s right, lean back in the chair, tilt your head up,” Lin Mo directed while pressing the shutter, capturing every expression on Xia Xiqing’s face.
After reviewing the photos he had just taken, Lin Mo was fairly satisfied. “Zi Heng, come over too.”
Xia Xiqing turned his head and saw Zhou Ziheng walking out of the shadows, his long legs encased in suit pants, a white sweater, and a dark gray herringbone coat. He lowered his head, carefully putting on white surgical gloves, and when he looked up, his golden eyes narrowed slightly in the bright light of the reflector.
If all psychopathic murderers looked like this, there would probably be a lot of people lining up to die, Xia Xiqing thought to himself.
It’s not easy to shoot a double cover, and most magazines opt for the safest and simplest left-right stance, but Lin Mo clearly didn’t want to use such a boring pose.
“Xiqing, sit on the chair. Ziheng, go around behind the chair and stand behind him,” Lin Mo said again. “From now on, remember your roles: a psychopathic killer and an innocent victim. Feel free to improvise.”
Zhou Ziheng stood behind Xia Xiqing, and the two tried several different poses, but something was missing. When the shutter clicked, Zhou Ziheng’s mind went blank. He knew he hadn’t gotten into character yet, and the photos taken this way wouldn’t be eye-catching.
Lin Mo took a series of photos, and the makeup artist came over to fix Zhou Ziheng’s hair. “This concept is really hard to shoot.”
Zhou Ziheng nodded. After watching the footage, Lin Mo walked over to him and said to the makeup artist, “I think the makeup needs to be more intense, more gory, more explicit.”
The makeup artist was also confused. “We can’t shoot it too explicitly now. Even if we do, it can’t be used for the cover.”
“Something more subtle is fine.” Lin Mo’s face showed a hint of impatience. “If you can’t do it, let someone else try.” He then walked to the side and lit a cigarette.
The makeup artist’s expression grew awkward. Xia Xiqing looked at Zhou Ziheng standing there. Indeed, a bit more blood would make it better.
“Do you have any paint?” Xia Xiqing walked over to the special effects makeup artist. “I assume you have a lot of red paint here. The kind you used to draw the wound earlier would be fine.”
Zhou Ziheng closed his eyes, letting the makeup artist spray water on him again. Suddenly, the sound of the sprayer stopped abruptly.
“Ziheng.”
Xia Xiqing’s voice. Zhou Ziheng opened his eyes, and a stream of liquid splashed onto his face, nearly blinding him. He quickly closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?”
“Is this okay?”
The red paint that had been flung onto Zhou Ziheng’s face earlier resembled spurting blood, clinging to his sharply defined features—from the strands of wet hair hanging down from his forehead, to the deep-set eye sockets, from the cheekbones to the corners of his lips.
Xia Xiqing handed the paintbrush and the plate covered in thick red paint to the makeup assistant, took the gold-rimmed glasses from Zhou Ziheng’s hands, and gently placed them on his face.
Now he looked like a real murderer.
Lin Mo also walked over, his satisfied expression almost impossible to hide. “Good, very good, that’s the feeling.”
Having resolved this issue, Xia Xiqing returned to his chair. Zhou Ziheng’s peripheral vision followed his figure. He seemed a bit tired, sitting down with his back slightly hunched, his hands supporting his forehead, his slightly curly hair falling to cover his face.
The collar of his loose-fitting shirt was open, and from Zhou Ziheng’s angle, he could clearly see the contours of his collarbone, ribs, and the muscles winding downward, as well as the faintly visible, slightly rising and falling chest.
He suddenly recalled the first time he met Xia Xiqing in the secret room.
Xia Xiqing, bent over, used his hands, which were shackled by handcuffs, to untie the ropes around his legs, adopting a submissive posture of submission.
“Do you have handcuffs here?”
Upon hearing this, Xia Xiqing, who had been lowering his head, suddenly looked up at Zhou Ziheng. He had to admit that Zhou Ziheng unexpectedly enjoyed this look of surprise, and he didn’t even realize that he had already entered that state.
“We do have some.” Shane looked at Xia Xiqing, “Xiqing, can you wear handcuffs?”
Xia Xiqing laughed, “No problem, I’ll follow instructions.”
Shane immediately instructed his assistant to fetch them, smiling as he said, “This fits perfectly with the opening scene of Escape from Heaven.” The assistant brought the handcuffs and was about to hand them to Xia Xiqing when Lin Mo interrupted, “Give them to Zi Heng. Have Zi Heng wear them. Everyone, get ready. We’re about to shoot.”
Zhou Ziheng took the handcuffs from the assistant’s hands, walked over to Xia Xiqing’s side, knelt down on one knee, and leaned against the chair. Xia Xiqing extended both hands toward him, and the silver handcuffs clicked shut.
This feeling was all too familiar. The sound of the shutter echoed constantly in his ears. Xia Xiqing’s eyes met Zhou Ziheng’s as he watched him stand up and move behind him.
“Ziheng, bend down and bring your face close to Xiqing’s ear. Yes, grip his chin.”
“Good, I can feel it. Keep that pose.” Lin Mo changed angles as he photographed, and even his assistant could hear the excitement in his voice. “Ziheng, reach out with your right hand and pinch his chin.”
The first set of photos took nearly an hour to shoot, and the results were truly astonishing. Even the staff in the two studios were marveling at them.
“These two actors’ expressiveness is simply incredible.”
“I can’t believe that’s an amateur. It’s so beautiful.”
“Stop daydreaming and get back to work.”
During the selection process, Lin Mo and the magazine editor-in-chief were almost completely in agreement, both choosing the same photo.
In the image, Xia Xiqing sat on an exquisitely ornate burgundy upholstered chair, his hands shackled. Zhou Ziheng, with blood splattered on his face, stood behind him. His right hand, wearing white rubber gloves, gripped Xia Xiqing’s jaw from behind, forcing him to tilt his head slightly upward.
The other white glove was bitten off and held between his teeth, while his bare hand caressed Xia Xiqing’s jawbone, with his index finger almost reaching into Xia Xiqing’s slightly parted lips.
Both of their eyes stared straight into the camera. The eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were cold and cruel, mixed with a sense of satisfaction from fulfilling a desire.
Xia Xiqing, with his head tilted back, lowered his eyelids, his eyes seeming to cry for help through the lens, yet his face betrayed a look of enjoyment.
It was truly marvelous.
The next two scenes were single-person interior shots. Zhou Ziheng’s scene was in front of a wardrobe in a bedroom, with a full-length mirror embedded in the open wardrobe door. The styling assistant removed his glasses.
“Imagine you’ve already killed him, then you return to your own room and change out of the dirty clothes.” Lin Mo adjusted the camera, aiming it at Zhou Ziheng, “Look into the mirror at yourself. That’s right.”
Zhou Ziheng pulls up the hem of his sweater, hooks his right elbow under the sweater and pulls it up, exposing his right side. Xia Xiqing, standing outside the set, holds a drink in his hand and watches Zhou Ziheng’s exposed abs and V-line with great enjoyment. To be honest, it’s more impactful than he had imagined. Such a physique is truly impressive.
The icy liquid was sucked through the straw, but his throat felt even drier.
“Place both elbows on the clothes, eyes fixed on the mirror, that’s right.” Lin Mo changed angles, moving closer, “Take it off, use your fingers to wipe the bloodstains off your face, lift your chin, very good.”
Xia Xiqing’s eyes fixated on Zhou Ziheng’s exposed back, the muscles contracting with each movement, and the narrow waist extending downward.
His teeth clenched the straw’s tip.
Ugh, the frustration of seeing but not being able to touch was unbearable.
For Xia Xiqing’s individual shoot, the location was moved to the bathroom, where a bathtub filled with hot water was placed. Lin Mo and Xia Xiqing discussed the shooting ideas, while Zhou Ziheng, who had changed into another outfit to rest, watched the previous footage under the arrangement of the photography assistant.
Xia Xiqing lay in the bathtub, the warm water submerging his body, the silk shirt clinging to his skin. Xia Xiqing rested his head on the front edge of the bathtub, with his arms resting on the rim. Lin Mo thought this pose was good, so he took a few shots and then called the stylist over. The stylist brought a three-finger-wide white lace ribbon and walked over to Xia Xiqing.
“Try putting this over your eyes.” The stylist followed Lin Mo’s instructions and gently placed the white lace over Xia Xiqing’s eyes.
“Lighting technician, over there on top, set the lighting to a warm yellow tone.”
Zhou Ziheng sat to the side, watching Xia Xiqing lying in the bathtub with the white lace ribbon covering his eyes, exuding a somber beauty. There were too many androgynous people in this circle, with faces more delicate than most girls, but in Zhou Ziheng’s aesthetic system, the beauty that was packaged and presented was not enough to be called beauty.
After watching the previous footage, Lin Mo narrowed his eyes slightly, “I still think it’s not enough,” he called the director and Shane over, “Turn all the water in this bathtub red.”
“No way,” the director shook his head, outright rejecting the decision. “What was on Ziheng’s face earlier was already pushing the limits; something this extensive is absolutely out of the question.”
Shane shrugged. “I told you so.”
Zhou Ziheng sat on the other side, hearing everything clearly. He turned his head and waved at Xiao Luo.
“It’s just that final push.” Lin Mo was very dissatisfied. His perfectionism simply wouldn’t allow him to compromise at this point. He called the magazine editor again to negotiate, but the result was still a firm no. Several people argued in the studio, almost to the point of shouting.
Zhou Ziheng, sitting at a distance, met his gaze for an instant before standing up and walking toward the center of the argument.
“I have an idea,” Zhou Ziheng said.
The people who had been arguing stopped, and Xia Xiqing slowly sat up from the bathtub, bending one leg and resting his arm on it.
“What idea?” Lin Mo, who had been suddenly interrupted, clearly looked displeased. Unwilling to compromise, he didn’t think a male actor had the ability to persuade him from an artistic and aesthetic perspective.
Xiao Luo suddenly walked in, holding two large bouquets of red roses in his arms. The flower shop delivery person following behind him carried three more bouquets. Each bouquet was lush and vibrant, almost completely obscuring their upper bodies, making them quite eye-catching. “Ziheng, the flowers have arrived.”
Zhou Ziheng took one of the bouquets. The petals were delicate and vibrant, but he reached out with his right hand and ruthlessly grabbed a handful, tearing the petals apart. He walked over to Xia Xiqing and scattered the crushed petals into the bathtub.
“That’s my idea.”
The petals fell gracefully from mid-air, landing on the water’s surface. Through the falling petals, Zhou Ziheng clearly saw a hint of surprise in Xia Xiqing’s eyes. He smiled slightly, turned around, and handed the bouquet to the stylist.
Lin Mo was startled for a moment, then burst into laughter. He was truly taken aback.
A bathtub filled with red—that was exactly what he wanted.
“There are five bouquets of roses, each with ninety-nine flowers. That should be enough to cover the entire bathtub.”
The stylist could tell that Lin Mo was captivated by the idea, so he immediately got to work, tearing the roses apart and scattering them into the bathtub. Zhou Ziheng stood by idly, so he helped the staff spread the petals in the bathtub. He was always willing to help out on set, and it had become a habit.
A petal drifted through his hands, carried by the water’s ripples, slowly floating toward Xia Xiqing’s chest, where it clung intimately to the torn, soaked black shirt.
“How did you come up with this idea?” Xia Xiqing tilted his head back at the edge of the bathtub and spoke softly. The stylist came over to tidy up Xia Xiqing’s hair, placing the white lace over his eyes once more.
Zhou Ziheng remained silent, gently stirring the water’s surface. When his fingers withdrew from the water, a petal clung to his fingertips.
Earlier, while sitting beside Xia Xiqing, this scene had spontaneously emerged in his mind, requiring no aesthetic knowledge or artistic sensibility.
Zhou Ziheng picked up the petal and gently placed it on Xia Xiqing’s lips.
[Only roses are worthy of you.]
That’s how he felt, but he didn’t want to tell Xia Xiqing.
At least not yet.
