Apart from the first two days upon arriving in Wuhan, Xia Xiqing and Zhou Ziheng spent most of the week leading up to filming honing the script in their hotel room.
This film featured numerous plot conflicts and involved a large cast of characters, including several flashbacks spanning significant time periods. Additionally, Zhou Ziheng’s character Gao Kun underwent a progression from early illness to worsening condition. All these elements meant the actors had to portray substantial physical transformations.
“I think you should get an ear piercing.” After silently reviewing the script for over twenty minutes, Xia Xiqing suddenly looked up at Zhou Ziheng. “And you should dye your hair.”
Zhou Ziheng scratched his slightly longer hair, grown out for the role. His hair had never been longer than four centimeters before, and now he looked like a genuine young heartthrob. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.” Xia Xiqing picked up his phone and sent a message in the main creative group.
[Xia Xiqing]: Director Kun, I suggest Gao Kun dye his hair and get an earring—it’ll make him look more like someone who’s been around the block.
Only four people were in the group: the two leads, the director, and the screenwriter. Kun Cheng replied almost immediately.
[Kun Cheng]: Good idea. Gao Kun is an immigrant worker who almost went off the rails. He’s been hustling on the streets for two or three years—dyeing his hair makes sense.
[Xu Qichen]: Yeah, Gao Kun’s character is pretty outspoken and rough around the edges. He needs to contrast with Jiang Tong. This image design works.
[Kun Cheng]: Xi Qing really knows his art. Why don’t you and the scriptwriter sketch out concept art for all the leads? Hahaha.
[Kun Cheng]: Just kidding.
Xia Xiqing considered it. It wasn’t particularly difficult, but he could only manage two leads at most. He didn’t immediately take on the task, pondering internally. Unexpectedly, Zhou Ziheng sitting beside him also picked up his phone and replied.
[Zhou Ziheng]: Memorizing lines is tough enough for him. Speaking of which, what hair color would actually suit me?
Seeing Zhou Ziheng’s reply, Xia Xiqing felt a warm glow inside. He’d just casually shifted the task away from himself, smoothly changing the subject.
[Kun Cheng]: Yellow, then. Like that super tacky, super gaudy kind. Hahaha.
[Xu Qichen]: Hmm… I guess so.
Xia Xiqing pictured Zhou Ziheng sporting a bright yellow mohawk and found it hilariously incongruous with his usual demeanor. Glancing at Zhou, who sat cross-legged beside him, head bowed over his phone, Xia reached out and turned his face toward him. Examining it from every angle, he grabbed the tablet and stylus lying nearby.
“You wanna draw me?”
“Shh…”
Zhou Ziheng, ever the quick reader of the room, lowered his head again. The chat window displayed the message he hadn’t sent earlier—Are you guys serious?? Fine, if you really think yellow hair works, I’ll dye it. Sacrifice for art.
Glancing at Xia Xiqing, who was bent over sketching on the tablet, Zhou Ziheng deleted his previous message word by word and rephrased it.
[Zhou Ziheng]: Hair color is a big deal. We need to think this through. Give me three minutes to decide.
[Kuncheng]: You just don’t want to dye it, do you?
[Xu Qichen]: LOL.jpg
Before long, Xia Xiqing lifted his head, tilted his neck to examine the tablet in his hands, made some adjustments, and finally sent a screenshot to the group.
[Xia Xiqing]: Do you think this look fits Gao Kun?
Zhou Ziheng didn’t open the image. He moved closer to Xia Xiqing, resting his chin on Xia’s shoulder as he peered at the tablet. The screen displayed a concept sketch reminiscent of those often drawn by fashion design majors. It depicted a tall, muscular man with an indistinct face, sporting a deep red buzz cut and a black earring in his right ear that looked like a mole. He wore a black tank top, a tattoo on his left upper arm, and a pair of dirty dark blue jeans, wearing a pair of worn knockoff sneakers, and holding half a cigarette between his fingers.
“What do you think? Is it okay?” Xia Xiqing turned his face to ask. Zhou Ziheng lifted his eyes slightly, pursing his lips. “I don’t think so.”
Xia Xiqing frowned, straightening his back as he stared down at the tablet. “What’s wrong with it? I think it’s great.“ After saying that, he cleared his throat again, pursed his lips slightly, and muttered under his breath, ”I feel like this is exactly how Gao Kun should be in my mind.”
Zhou Ziheng only chuckled softly. He rose from Xia Xiqing’s shoulder, ruffled his hair with a hand, then sat up straight to send a message.
[Zhou Ziheng]: Kung’s look is finalized.
[Kun Cheng]: Nice one, Xiqing. Fits the character perfectly. I’ve already sent it to the styling team lead.
[Xu Qichen]: As expected of Xiqing. It also matches my vision of Gao Kun’s early days.
Xia Xiqing glanced at the messages, then kicked Zhou Ziheng squarely in the side. “Can’t you say something nice to my face?”
“Just messing with you,” Zhou Ziheng chuckled, grabbing Xia Xiqing’s ankle and pulling down the cuff of his sweatpants that had ridden up to his knees. The AC was blasting too hard.
“But yeah, it is a bit too handsome.” Xia Xiqing’s mind was entirely on his concept art. He was usually pretty laid-back about everything else, but when it came to drawing, he was ridiculously picky. “Darken it? Add a scar?” After making adjustments and still not satisfied, he took his frustration out on Zhou Ziheng, pouncing on him and grabbing his face. “This isn’t my fault. Blame yourself for being too handsome. I just need to disfigure you a bit, and it’ll be perfect.”
Zhou Ziheng was knocked flat onto his back by the sudden assault, yet his hands still cradled Xia Xiqing’s waist. He let the other pull at his face without a cry of pain, merely teasing with a smile, “Go ahead then. Would you really do it?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Zhou Ziheng regretted them. He felt he’d been too full of himself. Seeing Xia Xiqing’s hand pause, Zhou Ziheng quickly added, “You only fell for this face, didn’t you?”
“Pfft. And the body,” Xia Xiqing released his grip and climbed off him. “But your body’ll be as skinny as a chicken by the end.”
“And then?” Zhou Ziheng sat up abruptly, his expression slightly displeased. Xia Xiqing quickly realized the remark had upset him. He crouched down again and patted Zhou Ziheng’s head. “It’s fine. Even when an artwork shatters, it remains an artwork. Every tiny porcelain shard still glows with humanistic brilliance.” Finishing, he planted a smacking kiss on Zhou Ziheng’s lips. “Aesthetic value doesn’t depreciate just because the canvas fades.”
Smooth talker. Zhou Ziheng curved his lips, satisfied as he scraped his fingernail lightly across Xia Xiqing’s nose.
“Can’t win an argument with you artists.”
Xia Xiqing flushed slightly at the gesture. His usual way of hiding embarrassment was to act tough. “Touch my nose again, and I swear I’ll get that mole removed.” Recalling Zhou Ziheng’s earlier remark, Xia Xiqing suddenly grinned mischievously, his rogueish streak surfacing instantly. His hand darted inside Zhou’s collar and groped wildly. “Yeah, I am an artist—in the worst sense.”
He deliberately emphasized the word “worst.” Zhou Ziheng grabbed his hand. “Wait, who’s doing what exactly?”
“Stop showing off. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be the one doing you.”
“Who was the one too weak last time? I didn’t stop you… Mmm… Don’t cover my mouth. Afraid people will talk?”
“Next time, I’ll definitely do you!”
“Go ahead.”
The two wrestled on the floor for a while until Xiao Luo knocked to deliver the opening ceremony program, finally ending their childish game.
The biggest hidden investor, Zhou Zijin, didn’t trust anyone else. After much deliberation, he still had his wife serve as the production manager. To outsiders, it was simply the boss of Zhou Ziheng’s talent agency taking on the role of producer—a fairly common occurrence in the industry. Besides, Jiang Yin rarely had flops on her hands; otherwise, she wouldn’t be known as a gold-medal producer. To Xia Xiqing, however, it seemed rather amusing.
“So this whole production is basically your family’s operation—your brother investing, your sister-in-law producing, and you acting. How funny.”
Zhou Ziheng shrugged.
Not only that, but the person he liked was acting alongside him, and her friend was the screenwriter.
A few actors with smaller roles hadn’t joined the crew yet, so the kickoff ceremony was kept simple. The director led the main actors in lighting incense and paying respects. To avoid spoiling the plot, the actors skipped makeup and styling, completing the ceremony in their own clothes.
However, Jiang Yin’s marketing campaign last time had been exceptionally effective, its impact still resonating. The kickoff ceremony alone drew countless media outlets for interviews. Kuncheng, accustomed to producing niche independent films, wasn’t particularly adept at handling such events. The media meet-and-greet lasted only half an hour, with all attention focused on Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing. Ironically, it was the “outsider” Xia Xiqing who handled most of the media Q&A.
After the ceremony, the actors rushed straight into styling. Xia Xiqing’s look was relatively simple—a haircut and a costume change sufficed. Jiang Tong’s character was originally modeled after Xia Xiqing himself—even the pallor from chronic malnutrition matched perfectly. No extra foundation was needed; just a touch to cover his natural lip color sufficed.
Zhou Ziheng, however, was a different story. He required a haircut and dye job, plus temporary tattoos and ear piercings. On the first day, Xia Xiqing only had one scene scheduled, set at dusk according to the script, requiring several hours of waiting. In this scene, Jiang Tong encounters a group of thugs demanding protection money as he leaves home. Gao Kun happens by and beats them up. This marks their first interaction after “following” each other—a crucial dramatic exchange.
Their styling room was in a rented apartment in Hua’anli. After finishing his makeup, Xia Xiqing left the dressing room and headed to the styling area. At the doorway, he encountered a tanned, slender-eyed young man about 5’9“, radiating energy. The guy immediately greeted Xia Xiqing, ”Hi there, hi there.”
As the boy shook his hand vigorously, Xia Xiqing suddenly felt a sense of familiarity. He might have appeared in some TV drama, though Xia didn’t watch much television. Perhaps he’d seen him on Weibo. He probably wasn’t a top-tier actor like Zhou Ziheng. Xia Xiqing instinctively offered a gentle smile. “Hello, I’m Xia Xiqing.”
“I know. I absolutely love Escape from Heaven!” The boy chuckled twice, then realized he’d been a bit too forward. Releasing Xia Xiqing’s hand, he scratched his head awkwardly. “My name’s Yang Bo. Um, I play A Long in this production.”
Xia Xiqing quickly recognized the name. Ah Long was a supporting character in the show—a blood trafficker indirectly responsible for Gao Kun contracting AIDS. “Oh, hello! Your first scene is today. Nervous?”
“Kind of,” Yang Bo replied with vivid expression. Though not conventionally handsome, he clearly had natural talent for this line of work.
Sister Su, the makeup artist who’d just finished on Xia Xiqing, walked over carrying several large bags. Spotting the two chatting by the dressing room door, she nudged Xia Xiqing’s arm. “Why stand at the door? Come inside. There’s room to sit.”
“Right.” Yang Bo’s Northeastern accent surfaced instantly. Xia Xiqing smiled too. “Let’s go in then.”
As soon as the door opened, Xia Xiqing spotted Zhou Ziheng’s back at the makeup mirror. His head was covered by a heated cap, likely having his hair dyed. A man was pressing tattoo stickers onto his left arm. Zhou Ziheng had been tilting his head to examine his own arm, but at the sound of the door opening, he lifted his head. Spotting Xia Xiqing and another guy entering, his eyes lit up with Xia Xiqing’s face. He called out to him through the mirror, “Xiqing!”
When they were together, Zhou Ziheng rarely called him by name, so Xia Xiqing felt slightly unaccustomed to it. He flashed Zhou Ziheng a smile. Yang Bo, unaware of the shift in his gaze, asked, “So, after filming, are you guys going back to shoot the reality show?”
Xia Xiqing withdrew his eyes. “Not for now. The production team found other artists.”
Not getting the attention he deserved left Zhou Ziheng feeling a bit sour, but with so many people in the room, he couldn’t make a scene. He’d just have to swallow his frustration for now.
“Don’t get it wet, Ziheng. Let it dry first.” The tattoo artist hired by the styling team fanned him gently with a small fan. The scene felt oddly surreal: a tough-looking guy with a tattoo running from his fingers to his neck, sporting a buzz cut, crouched before him, waving a pink fan.
“Bro, how many copies did you guys make of this?” Zhou Ziheng felt awkward and took the fan to fan himself. The tattoo’s patterns were intricate—flames, twisting vines, and if you looked closely, the face of an aged woman hidden within. That was Gao Kun’s grandmother.
Gao Kun was a left-behind child. His mother had run off with another man right after he was born, and his father worked in Guangzhou. He had always lived with his grandmother. To Gao Kun in the play, his grandmother was the most important family member.
“A hundred copies or so. Don’t worry, we can print more if we run out.”
Staring at the tattoo on his body, Zhou Ziheng drifted into thought. He unfolded his hand to look at it, then asked blankly, “Bro, if we really got tattoos, it wouldn’t take too long, right?”
“Not necessarily. It depends on the complexity and size of the design,” the tattoo artist chuckled. “What’s up? Thinking about getting inked?”
“Nah, just asking,” Zhou Ziheng shook his head. “People in our line of work can’t just get tattoos. Besides, my dad wouldn’t approve.”
“True. They’d have to pixelate you on TV.”
After finishing the tattoo, Zhou Ziheng’s hair dye was nearly set. Stylist A Jie led him over, carefully rinsing his hair clean, afraid of smudging the temporary tattoo.
Xia Xiqing and Yang Bo sat on the sofa discussing the script. Yang Bo, hailing from Harbin, radiated the straightforwardness typical of Northeasterners. He pulled Xia Xiqing close like a close buddy. After going over the script, they moved on to discussing their looks.
Xia Xiqing tugged a strand of Yang Bo’s blonde hair and chuckled, “The director actually suggested Zhou Ziheng dye his hair blonde at first.”
“Really?” Yang Bo gave a low chuckle. “He’d definitely look better with blonde hair than I would. Hey, you two did that reality show together and now this drama—you must be pretty close, right?”
The question made Xia Xiqing suddenly feel a bit embarrassed. He glanced sideways. “It’s okay.”
To say it was okay felt downright dishonest. They were clearly in a “negative distance” relationship.
The one implementing the “negative distance” policy kept stealing glances at Xia Xiqing’s corner while blow-drying his hair. Watching him play with someone else’s hair and laugh with them only stoked the fire in his heart.
“All set.” Stylist A Jie placed both hands on Zhou Ziheng’s shoulders. “Ziheng, this hair color actually suits you pretty well.”
Zhou Ziheng glanced at the mirror. And damn, this red hair matched the flames surging in his heart perfectly—it was spot on.
No. Zhou Ziheng shot a glance toward that little corner.
Green would have been more fitting.
In truth, Xia Xiqing kept glancing over at Zhou Ziheng. Now, lifting his head, he saw the finished hairstyle—deep red, short, almost exactly as he’d imagined. He sprang up from the small sofa and walked over to Zhou Ziheng, offering sincere praise. “It looks pretty good.”
“Just nice?” Zhou Ziheng turned his head and raised an eyebrow at him.
“Handsome.” Xia Xiqing reached out to pinch his cheek, but suddenly realized such intimacy was too forward on set, so he pulled his hand back. “Really handsome.”
Zhou Ziheng’s usually meticulously groomed eyebrows had been left untouched for this role, growing into his natural wild shape. Paired with his deep-set eyes and prominent brow bones, his facial contours radiated a uniquely resilient masculinity.
The Zhou Ziheng of before carried an indelible aura of righteousness. Despite having the face of an utterly ruthless alpha male, his core remained gentle and kind. Now, with this thug look, he was exactly as Xu Qichen had described: a streetwise rogue.
Xia Xiqing’s fingers lightly flicked his newly pierced ear, where a black stud now hung. “You’re gonna be the sharpest kid on the block now.”
Zhou Ziheng’s joy at Xia Xiqing’s praise nearly spilled over. His lips first curved in smug satisfaction before tightening slightly.
A-Jie, standing behind the chair, chimed in with a joke, “Director, why not pair our Kunzi with a high-profile female lead? The sharpest kid deserves the sharpest girl.”
No, no, no. The hottest guy should be paired with the hottest guy on the other side of the street. Zhou Ziheng mentally retorted.
But as he leaned in closer, he noticed Xia Xiqing had cut a lot of his hair. What had once nearly reached his shoulders was now trimmed to just below his chin, roughly the same length as when Zhou had first met him.
“Nice haircut.”
“Of course. The stylist is professional.” Xia Xiqing’s hand rested casually on Zhou Ziheng’s shoulder, familiar yet not overly intimate. “Unlike you. Just so you know, don’t go snipping me bald. I won’t let you off the hook.”
Xia Xiqing was referring to a scene in the script where Gao Kun cuts Jiang Tong’s hair. This scene had only been added in the final draft, likely inserted later by Xu Qichen.
“No worries, even a bald head won’t affect your beauty.” Zhou Ziheng suppressed a laugh as he teased.
“Get lost.”
The assistant director pushed open the door, wiped sweat from his bald head with the back of his hand, and spoke in a thick Beijing accent, “Ready? Let’s move over there and shoot?”
The bald guy’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. This time, both Xia Xiqing and Zhou Ziheng burst out laughing, doubled over like kids, leaving the assistant director utterly confused. He rubbed his bulbous head again.
The first scene featured Zhou Ziheng and Yang Bo. Yang Bo played Ah Long, a black-market blood dealer who, like Xia Xiqing’s character Jiang Tong, lived in a dilapidated rental in Hua’an Lane. But his role was minor, and the crew had only rented the apartment for one day, so they had to shoot his scenes there first.
This scene depicted Gao Kunsheng, who had just learned he was HIV-positive, storming to confront Ah Long in rage, blaming him for his condition. The two engaged in a fierce argument through the iron gate.
Starting with a conflict scene on the first take demanded a lot from the actors. Zhou Ziheng, with years of experience, was used to it, but Kuncheng was more concerned about Yang Bo.
“Try running through it first. It’s fine—it’s still daylight, so we have time.”
As dusk approached, it was time for Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing’s scene. The director had to capture this pivotal confrontation within just two or three hours—a major time constraint. Xia Xiqing was completely new to acting. Though he had no scenes during this time, he stood on set watching, absorbing and learning as quickly as possible.
Once the actors were in position, the script supervisor walked up to the camera holding a black-and-white clapperboard. Glancing at the cinematographer’s hand signal, he called out, “The Stalker, Scene 1, Take 1, Action!”
