“What did he say?”
“He said we’re friends.”
Pei Qingjian nodded. “Then we’re friends.”
“Then we are?” Zhou Pengyue enunciated clearly.
Pei Qingjian smiled. “Yes.”
Zhou Pengyue thought… indeed. With Pei Qingjian’s status and Lan Xingchen’s, whether it counts as friendship depends entirely on Lan Xingchen.
If Lan Xingchen says so, then it’s true.
“Alright, go back and study the script. The pre-production is nearly ready. Filming starts in about a month and a half. Memorize your lines, study the character, see how others perform similar roles, and treasure this opportunity.”
“I know. I’ll work hard,” Pei Qingjian said earnestly.
Sometimes, a supporting role in a major production could bring more fame than a lead in a smaller project. He understood that, and on top of it, this role was something Lan Xingchen had helped him secure. Even if it wasn’t just for himself, he had to perform well for Lan Xingchen’s sake.
If Director Zhang invested resources but didn’t see results, he might not blame Lan Xingchen, but he’d still feel some frustration.
The best outcome was a win-win: Pei Qingjian did well in his role, the company gained benefits, and Director Zhang wouldn’t feel like his effort was wasted. His relationship with Lan Xingchen would remain intact.
“Give me a papaya, I repay with jade,” Pei Qingjian thought. Lan Xingchen had been so good to him—there was no way he could let him down.
He felt even more determined to perform well.
“I’ll go home and study the script,” he said.
Zhou Pengyue saw that he genuinely intended to study and smiled. “Rare to see you this responsible. Alright, go ahead, and I’ll pick you up when filming starts.”
“Good luck,” he patted Pei Qingjian on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Zhou Ge,” Pei Qingjian replied, standing up and leaving the office.
He grabbed a cab and headed home.
When Lan Xingchen returned home, Pei Qingjian was already in his pajamas, wearing an apron, standing at the kitchen counter, preparing lunch boxes while glancing at the script.
From a distance, Lan Xingchen spotted the script and asked, “What are you reading?”
“The script,” Pei Qingjian replied with a smile. “I got a new role.”
Not bad, Lan Xingchen thought. Director Zhang was efficient.
He walked over, curious. “How’s the project?”
“It’s pretty good,” Pei Qingjian answered. “My agent said it’s a major production. The leads and second male lead are all big names.”
Leads? Second male lead?
Lan Xingchen frowned. “So which role are you playing? Third male lead?”
“Fourth male lead,” Pei Qingjian said without hesitation.
Lan Xingchen: …
Lan Xingchen immediately turned as if to call Director Zhang.
Was he always this considerate?
Fourth male lead?!
How could he accept this!
Seeing Lan Xingchen silent, Pei Qingjian hurried to clarify, “Don’t think fourth male lead is bad. My agent said his character is better than the third male lead, so the benefits are actually greater.”
“So with the lead and second male lead already set, fourth male lead is the best choice,” Pei Qingjian continued.
Lan Xingchen: …
“Couldn’t he just give you a lead role?”
Lan Xingchen sighed. Was this the only option left at Xinghe?
“You could play a lead, but no one would watch,” Pei Qingjian explained gently. “Think about it. When you watch movies, you probably watch films by big-name actors and directors, right? You wouldn’t watch someone unknown.”
“So I need people to know me first. Then I can slowly become a lead.”
Lan Xingchen realized late, “You’re not popular?”
“Yeah,” Pei Qingjian nodded.
Lan Xingchen: … That explains why he’d never seen him in movies or TV before—he really wasn’t famous.
He had thought maybe it was because he didn’t follow the entertainment world, but now he saw it was really Pei Qingjian’s lack of fame.
Fine, Lan Xingchen nodded. Everything had to happen step by step. Pushing someone too high too fast would be counterproductive—not good for Pei Qingjian either.
“So this role is the best choice for you right now?”
“Yes,” Pei Qingjian replied.
“And are you happy with it?” Lan Xingchen asked.
Pei Qingjian hadn’t expected the question.
People usually assume the best is the most satisfying. That’s not wrong, but Lan Xingchen clearly distinguished the two, which is why he asked.
Lan Xingchen was a gentle person—so considerate it bordered on thoughtful.
“I’m happy,” Pei Qingjian said. “Even though it’s a supporting role, my current skill level fits it. I want to give it my all as a supporting role. That way, when the opportunity for a lead comes, I’ll have built enough ability to avoid embarrassing myself on a bigger stage.”
Like when he first learned English listening and speaking: he didn’t understand or speak at first, so every morning he listened and repeated tapes. When the teacher asked him questions, he could finally answer fluently.
Pei Qingjian was a fast learner. He had come from a rural school with limited resources to a top-tier 985 university.
He always understood his own level and didn’t overreach. He was never greedy, so he was genuinely content.
“Thank you for helping me. Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten such a good opportunity,” he said sincerely.
Lan Xingchen smiled warmly. “Thank what? Do you think I can just keep you at home making meals for me every day?”
He glanced at the lunch boxes in Pei Qingjian’s hands. “Although I do enjoy your cooking, you’re at the age to explore the world. If your work can be done from home, sure, I’d love it. But you’re an actor—you should be on set.”
Seeing Lan Xingchen’s complete selflessness, Pei Qingjian asked, puzzled, “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask,” Lan Xingchen nodded.
“So… you’re supporting me as charity?”
Red envelopes, helping with work… he wasn’t exactly keeping a pet canary, was he?
It was like letting the canary fly free—afraid the little bird wouldn’t see how exciting the world outside could be.
Lan Xingchen: …
He reached up and pinched Pei Qingjian’s cheeks, gently wiggling the soft flesh. “Of course not.”
Pei Qingjian gave him a questioning look—then why?
“Of course, it’s with purpose,” Lan Xingchen said, releasing his face. “It’s just… the time hasn’t come for you to play your role yet.”
Besides, Lan Xingchen glanced at him. If this youthful little bird weren’t full of energy, they’d probably already be riding together, enjoying the scenery—not sitting here lost in thought.
Speaking of which…
“I probably won’t be able to take you to the hospital this week,” Lan Xingchen said apologetically. “Things at the company are hectic. I can’t take leave right now. Next week, I’ll go with you—okay?”
He looked at Pei Qingjian with some unease, worried that if Pei Qingjian heard he couldn’t go this week, he’d insist on skipping the appointment entirely.
“I promise. Next week—Monday for sure—I’ll make time for you.”
After all, the company had three bosses: one abroad, one on a domestic trip, and only he was left in the office. Naturally, everything fell onto his shoulders.
Lan Xingchen was surprised when he saw this week’s schedule from his assistant.
He had originally agreed to start a company with his roommate just to have a safe harbor—to avoid his uncle forcing him to work at Anglai.
But seeing his workload now, he almost wanted to award himself “Outstanding Boss of the Year.”
“No wonder our company has grown so fast. With my dedication, I really deserve it!”
The assistant quickly agreed, “Exactly, Mr. Lan, you’ve worked too hard. Why not take a break when this month ends?”
“And give me a vacation too,” he thought.
Lan Xingchen waved his hand. “No need. Let’s stick to official holidays.”
“…Alright, fine.” The assistant nodded, trying not to cry.
“Okay,” Pei Qingjian said cheerfully.
The next few days should be quiet, so next week it would be next week.
Lan Xingchen exhaled in relief and added, “But I have some good news for you.”
“What?” Pei Qingjian asked, looking at him.
“I’ve already found Geng Wang and Li Xin. Don’t cook tomorrow night—I’ll take you out to eat and help you get your money back.”
“Great.” Pei Qingjian didn’t hesitate. Finally, he could collect the debt!
Lan Xingchen knew he’d be happy and smiled. “Then finish packing the lunch boxes first. I’ll go change.”
“Okay.” Pei Qingjian watched him leave the kitchen and only after a while returned his focus to the lunch boxes.
Once the boxes were mostly packed, he heated the pan and started frying them.
Lan Xingchen, having changed, smelled the delicious aroma and walked into the kitchen, seeing Pei Qingjian carefully taking the golden, crispy boxes out of the oil with chopsticks.
“Try some,” Pei Qingjian said, noticing him, handing over a plate. “Be careful, it’s hot.”
“I know,” Lan Xingchen said, taking the plate and grabbing a pair of chopsticks from the cupboard.
Pei Qingjian went back to frying.
Suddenly, Lan Xingchen said, “Here.”
“Huh?” Pei Qingjian looked up in confusion. Lan Xingchen had somehow extended chopsticks toward him—with the box of food he’d just handed over.
“Try it,” Lan Xingchen said, lifting it to Pei Qingjian’s mouth.
Pei Qingjian blinked, unsure.
“You go first,” he said.
“You made it, you try first,” Lan Xingchen replied gently.
The golden box was so close, steam rising, warming Pei Qingjian’s face.
“It’s too hot,” he said. “You eat.”
Turning back, he continued frying the boxes in the pan. The oil was much hotter, sizzling loudly.
Pei Qingjian glanced sideways and saw Lan Xingchen blow gently on the box he’d just placed near his mouth. Patient, careful.
He kept his focus on the pan, flipping the boxes.
“Alright, it shouldn’t be too hot now,” Lan Xingchen said, returning the box to Pei Qingjian.
“Try it.”
Pei Qingjian looked at the playful smile in Lan Xingchen’s eyes and the box in front of him.
“Eat.”
Lan Xingchen raised the chopsticks, the box touching Pei Qingjian’s lips.
“How is it? Not hot, right?” he said proudly.
Pei Qingjian suddenly recalled the careful way Lan Xingchen had blown on the box. Gentle. Endearing.
He opened his mouth instinctively, took a bite—it wasn’t hot.
“Not bad,” he said.
“Really?” Lan Xingchen asked, withdrawing the chopsticks.
Pei Qingjian followed the movement and saw him take a bite of the same spot he’d just bitten.
Pei Qingjian: !!!
This… this…
“You’re too modest,” Lan Xingchen said with a smile.
“What do you mean ‘not bad’? It’s really delicious!” Lan Xingchen praised without restraint.
Pei Qingjian didn’t reply, awkwardly looking back at the pan, but he couldn’t stop replaying the moment Lan Xingchen bit the food.
Was this… the legendary indirect kiss?
Sizzle— the pan crackled.
Pei Qingjian looked down; the edges of the lunch boxes in the pan were starting to get a little burnt.
He hurriedly grabbed his chopsticks and pulled the boxes out.
Just as he was about to put in a new batch, he turned and saw Lan Xingchen holding out the same box he had just bitten, bringing it close to his lips.
Pei Qingjian looked up.
“Eat,” Lan Xingchen said, his voice pleasant. “I’ve got it. You take a break; I’ll fry the rest.”