The next day, Lan Xingchen and Pei Qingjian returned to their residence.
They lazed around together for a day and a half before finally heading back to the set.
Pei Qingjian suggested he could return on his own, but Lan Xingchen insisted on sending him, and Pei Qingjian had no choice but to agree.
“You don’t need to come this weekend. Rest well,” Pei Qingjian said.
At first, Lan Xingchen disagreed, but eventually relented. “Okay.”
Pei Qingjian gave him a comforting kiss before getting out of the car.
He waved from the window as Lan Xingchen watched, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face.
He raised the hand wearing the birthday gift Pei Qingjian had given him and waved, reluctantly driving the car backward.
Pei Qingjian watched his figure fade into the distance, a sudden pang of melancholy striking him.
It was May, and the time until their separation was drawing ever closer.
Once a person gains a clear awareness of something, once they start noticing and caring about it, that thing presses sharply against the heart, impossible to shake off.
Pei Qingjian felt as though he hadn’t fully reacted yet, and when he looked up, the calendar had already flipped from May to June.
For a moment, he felt a brief sense of disorientation.
To form an intimate bond only to part ways—this was a difficult lesson for Pei Qingjian.
Having grown up with little family connection, and losing his grandmother, his only remaining relative, he had once thought he wouldn’t experience such separations again. But now, time repeated itself. He was about to part once more from the person he cared about most.
Pei Qingjian sat on the bed, dazed.
But it was only for an instant.
Soon, he regained his usual composure and calm.
—If it cannot be changed, then all he could do was accept it, adapt, and find a way to make himself happy.
Pei Qingjian was never one to make life difficult for himself. He had experienced separations—many of them—and had grown from a small, clueless child into who he was now.
This was just a temporary parting; far less terrifying than death. Moreover, they could remain friends even after the separation.
Thinking this way, Pei Qingjian even felt that the outcome held a certain tenderness.
With that mindset, he reached the end of filming for the movie.
Young Officer Zhou Hai finally discovered that the friend he had been investigating all along was actually the culprit. He looked at his friend, tears welling silently in his eyes.
His friend spoke, “It’s okay.”
He stretched out his hands, clasping them together into fists. “Arrest me.”
So Zhou Hai took out handcuffs and cuffed his hands.
The dust settled, and the case was closed.
Pei Qingjian and Xiao Jin also finished filming.
They held flowers and posed for a group photo with Director Jiang, who smiled warmly. Today, he hadn’t scolded anyone, instead praising them: “Well done, well done. Great progress!”
“That’s thanks to your guidance and critiques,” Pei Qingjian said.
Director Jiang laughed again, patting his shoulder. “You’ve got great intuition yourself, haha.”
As they spoke, Pei Qingjian noticed Lan Xingchen had arrived without him realizing when.
He was surprised—he hadn’t told Lan Xingchen his wrap date, not wanting to disrupt his work, yet Lan Xingchen had still shown up.
“How did you come?” Pei Qingjian walked over to him, then glanced at Zhou Pengyue. “Did you tell him?”
Zhou Pengyue: ……
Helplessly, Zhou Pengyue replied, “He asked me. Could I really have kept it a secret?”
Pei Qingjian guessed as much.
Lan Xingchen smiled, speaking for Zhou Pengyue: “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Of course, I didn’t want to trouble you,” Pei Qingjian replied.
“It’s fine,” Lan Xingchen waved off. “Come on, pack up. Let’s go home.”
Hearing “let’s go home” from him, Pei Qingjian’s heart thought: this might be the last time he would return to the same home with him.
He didn’t refuse, simply nodding with a smile, and returned to the hotel to gather his luggage.
Lan Xingchen’s place hadn’t changed since he last left.
If anything, the only difference was a slight mess in the bedroom, evidence of Lan Xingchen’s hurried departure.
But a little clutter was normal for a young man’s bedroom.
Pei Qingjian placed his suitcase in its original spot, hesitating about whether to unpack. Their contract only had three days left, and taking out things now would mean packing them back later—a bit bothersome.
While he pondered, Lan Xingchen walked over. “Why are you squatting there doing nothing?”
“Nothing,” Pei Qingjian smiled, opening the suitcase and pulling out a few clothes.
Lan Xingchen didn’t notice that some things remained in the suitcase. Once Pei Qingjian had placed the clothes, Lan Xingchen came up behind him, hugged him, and kissed him.
Pei Qingjian turned to meet the kiss warmly.
Afterwards, looking into Lan Xingchen’s eyes, he asked, “Want to shower together?”
Lan Xingchen hadn’t expected him to take the initiative and immediately laughed. “Sure.”
Pei Qingjian’s smile grew even brighter.
He hooked Lan Xingchen’s neck, and the two of them stepped into the bathroom together.
It was a joyful night, for both of them.
When everything was done, Pei Qingjian leaned against Lan Xingchen’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling a strange serenity.
Lan Xingchen affectionately kissed his forehead and asked, “What’s your schedule after this?”
“First, a few days off,” Pei Qingjian replied. “Then Marry Me? goes on promotion, and I’ll need to attend publicity events.”
There were also endorsements. Zhou Pengyue had arranged advertisements during the months Pei Qingjian was filming, but he had been too busy to shoot them. Now that filming was finished, it was time to catch up.
“That’s pretty busy,” Lan Xingchen remarked.
Pei Qingjian brushed against his chin, softly replying, “Not that busy. At least, not as busy as filming.”
Feeling his playful affection, Lan Xingchen bent down and kissed him on the face, returning the intimacy.
When apart, three days felt long.
Together, three days passed in the blink of an eye.
Pei Qingjian hadn’t even realized it—three days had flown by.
He looked at the paper contract he had kept; the dates overlapped with today. One year, so long, yet somehow unexpectedly short.
He should probably leave.
Or rather, he should have left when he woke up that morning.
But he didn’t.
Part of the reason was obviously their reckless night together—he had overslept and, upon waking, hadn’t seen Lan Xingchen, so he had no chance to tell him he was leaving. Yet more than that, it was his own lingering attachment and reluctance to part.
Still, no matter how unwilling, there comes a time to go.
He had already stayed half a day longer; he couldn’t remain any further.
Pei Qingjian kept track of the time, went to the kitchen, and prepared one last meal for Lan Xingchen, then quietly waited in the living room for him to return.
Lan Xingchen arrived home at the usual time, and the moment he stepped in, he saw Pei Qingjian sitting on the sofa.
He affectionately kissed Pei Qingjian’s face and said, “I’m going to change my clothes.”
Entering the bedroom, Lan Xingchen vaguely noticed the room seemed a bit different today, but he was too focused on going to eat with Pei Qingjian to think much of it.
He quickly changed into pajamas, washed his hands, and walked into the dining room.
“This is quite a feast,” Lan Xingchen said, surprised at the dishes he liked laid out before him. “Is there some good news?”
Pei Qingjian shook his head.
“Then why make all this food?”
“Just wanted to eat with you,” Pei Qingjian said.
“Alright,” Lan Xingchen’s voice unconsciously softened with affection.
He sat beside Pei Qingjian, helping him put food onto his plate before taking some for himself.
Pei Qingjian ate quietly, saying nothing he shouldn’t.
It wasn’t until they finished eating, washed the dishes, and Lan Xingchen asked if he wanted to watch a movie that Pei Qingjian finally spoke the words he had been holding back all day.
“No,” he said. “I should go.”
Lan Xingchen froze, confused. “Go? You have work today?”
That was when Lan Xingchen noticed he wasn’t wearing pajamas or loungewear, but a short-sleeved shirt and jeans—the clothes he would wear to go out.
Pei Qingjian shook his head.
Lan Xingchen’s confusion deepened. “Then where are you going?”
Pei Qingjian met his gaze, heart racing. He steadied his emotions and spoke as calmly as he could: “The contract’s up. Did you forget?”
Only then did Lan Xingchen recall—they had signed their contract around this time last year.
“The contract’s up. That’s why I should leave,” Pei Qingjian said evenly.
“But didn’t we agree that once the contract ends, we’d just be friends?” Lan Xingchen asked.
Pei Qingjian nodded. “Yes.”
“Then why leave?”
“Friends don’t necessarily have to live together.”
“But some friends do live together,” Lan Xingchen said, unable to understand why Pei Qingjian insisted on leaving. “Can’t you just be the kind of friend who lives with me?”
Of course not, Pei Qingjian thought. If they had been clean and pure from the start, they could have been friends living together—but they weren’t.
“Where would I stay?” Pei Qingjian asked.
“The same as before,” Lan Xingchen said.
He had expected that answer.
“So when we lie on the same bed, do we share a blanket? Hug? Kiss? Or do more intimate things?”
Lan Xingchen opened his mouth but didn’t speak.
He wanted to say: of course.
He wanted to say: just like before.
Yet even someone as slow to realize as he was could sense the problem before the words left his mouth.
This wasn’t right.
It wasn’t normal.
Friends shouldn’t do this.
Pei Qingjian smiled. “See?”
“Then you could stay in the guest room,” Lan Xingchen said, not wanting him to leave. “We don’t have to do anything. You stay in the guest room, problem solved.”
Pei Qingjian looked into his pleading eyes and slowly shook his head.
“Lan Xingchen, moving from one kind of relationship to another takes time—and space,” he said.
“Just because we’re used to intimacy now, even if I stayed in the guest room, living under the same roof could lead us to act out habits that don’t belong in this new relationship. That’s why I think we shouldn’t live together for now.”
“Give you some time, give me some space. Let us fully and clearly recognize the change in our relationship, so that our friendship can last longer. What do you think?”
Lan Xingchen felt this was nonsense.
Logic told him Pei Qingjian was right; even if he stayed in the guest room, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wanting to kiss and hug him whenever he saw him.
But emotion screamed that this was absurd.
What’s wrong with living together!
He just wanted them to live together—so what?!
Lan Xingchen was about to speak when Pei Qingjian took out a card and pushed it toward him.
“There’s three million four hundred fifty thousand in here. The first payment was three million, and later you transferred another four hundred fifty thousand in front of Li Xin. Now, I’ve returned the money to you.”
Lan Xingchen: !!!
“I don’t get it,” he said. “What do you mean by this?”
“When we signed the contract, I didn’t intend to be your friend. But because of Lan Rui, I had to go along with it. You gave me the money, and I accepted it. Now, I want to be your friend, which means I can’t take your money anymore. Otherwise, our relationship would always be tainted by it—not pure.”
Lan Xingchen thought it unnecessary. “If you return it now, what about before?”
“Can’t it just be consensual?”
Lan Xingchen: ……
He was left speechless.
Consensual, without money involved. So that made them… friends-with-benefits?
Lan Xingchen fell silent.
As a friend-with-benefits, he had no right to stop the other from leaving.
But he couldn’t stop Pei Qingjian from leaving…
Lan Xingchen didn’t even want to think about it. How could he possibly let Pei Qingjian go?!
He had never once imagined that Pei Qingjian would actually leave.
Of course, he knew their contract was about to expire, but he thought that didn’t change anything, right?
Yet now, Pei Qingjian was even returning the money—they were officially undoing the contract!
Lan Xingchen opened his mouth to refuse the money, but when he saw the sincerity in Pei Qingjian’s eyes, he swallowed his words.
He genuinely wanted to be friends, which was why he wanted to return the money.
He didn’t want their friendship tainted by financial ties, nor did he want money to make it impossible to interact as friends naturally.
But…
But…
Seeing Lan Xingchen hesitate, Pei Qingjian feared he would refuse, or worse, say something that might shake his resolve to leave.
“Then it’s settled,” Pei Qingjian said, standing. “I’ll go first.”
“Wait.” The next second, before he could even react, Lan Xingchen grabbed Pei Qingjian’s wrist.
Pei Qingjian looked at him, puzzled.
Lan Xingchen’s mind was in turmoil, unsure of how to speak.
Finally, he said, “It’s too late… tomorrow. Leave tomorrow instead.”