After filming that scene, Xia Xiqing really did have a dream.
In the dream, his mother sat beside him, holding his small, soft hand. She dipped it in paint and drew stroke by stroke on the canvas. The sunlight was so rich it seemed like honey about to drip down, enveloping everything in a sparkling, beautiful glow.
Nothing but good things—no arguments or beatings, no hysterics, no deadening darkness.
When he awoke, Xia Xiqing found himself lying on a folding chair on set. The props crew bustled about, moving things back and forth as they hurriedly set up.
He turned his head slightly and noticed Zhou Ziheng had also fallen asleep, script still covering his head. Only then did he remember they’d just wrapped an outdoor scene and would likely be moving locations soon. Xia Xiqing sat up and searched for a while before spotting Xiaoxiao, who was watching a drama with Xiao Luo on a small folding stool outside the car. The two looked very intimate. Xia Xiqing crossed his arms and leaned lazily against the car, watching them quietly.
“Hey, don’t crowd me.”
“I’m not squeezing you. You’re the one always throwing yourself at me.”
“Who threw themselves? You’re the one leaning on me…” Xiaoxiao raised her hand to swat Xiao Luo, but suddenly noticed Xia Xiqing leaning against the car beside them. The playful smile on his face made her stutter with embarrassment at being caught red-handed. “Xi… Xi… Xi…”
“What’s so funny? I didn’t even get to kiss her yet, and you’re laughing. Your mom sure named you right.” Xiao Luo tried to bump her, but Xiaoxiao dodged him. He lost his balance and fell flat on the ground. “Hey, what’s your problem?”
Xiaoxiao stood up, took a couple steps back, and laughed awkwardly. “Xiqing, did you need something?”
Xiao Luo scrambled up from the ground. “Xi Qing, um, well…”
Xia Xiqing stifled a laugh, still leaning against the car, deliberately teasing them. “I didn’t see anything just now.” He even took out his hearing aid from his ear. “And I didn’t hear anything either.”
Xiao Xiao nudged Xiao Luo with her foot, and Xiao Luo flashed another apologetic smile. Xia Xiqing found the whole scene utterly adorable. “Dating on the company dime really is the best.”
After saying this, he suddenly realized—wasn’t it him and Zhou Ziheng who were officially dating on the company dime?
Fortunately, Xiao Luo didn’t call him out on it, and Xia Xiqing quickly changed the subject. “Don’t worry, I definitely won’t tell Sister Jiang Yin. Xiaoxiao, do you have any ice water? I’d like some.”
“Sure. How about an ice-cold Coke?” Seeing Xia Xiqing nod, Xiaoxiao immediately went inside and grabbed two chilled cans, handing one to him. “Just one today, though. Any more than that isn’t good for you.”
“Got it.” Xia Xiqing took the soda, winked at her, then raised an eyebrow at Xiao Luo. “Let’s go. You two take your time.”
Seeing Xia Xiqing turn away, Xiao Luo finally exhaled in relief. Noticing Xiaoxiao still staring dreamily in the direction he’d left, he frowned slightly. “What are you looking at?”
“Xiqing is so handsome…” Xiaoxiao’s face was utterly captivated by the handsome guy.
It was true—Xiqing was naturally good-looking. But Xiao Luo stubbornly countered, “I still think Ziheng is hotter.”
Xiao Xiao rolled her eyes. “Of course Ziheng is handsome.”
“You fickle woman! Everyone looks good to you!”
“Not at all,” Xiaoxiao replied with an auntie-like smile. “Two super-hot guys standing together? What’s in it for me? I just want to watch the handsome guys fall in love~”
Unaware of the young couple’s discussion, Xia Xiqing walked back alone to the lounge chair where Zhou Ziheng still slept soundly. Xia Xiqing sat down and gently removed the script from his forehead. Zhou Ziheng’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he rolled over to lie sideways facing him. Xia Xiqing glanced at the bustling set before his gaze returned to Zhou Ziheng.
For some reason, he felt like teasing him. Xia Xiqing picked up a can of Coke, hooked his finger on the pull tab, and brought it close to Zhou Ziheng’s ear.
“Fizz—”
The carbonated gas’s eager cheer as it escaped the sealed space.
The sound of summer.
“Xiqing?”
Startled awake by the soda’s pop, Zhou Ziheng didn’t see it coming. Before he could react, Xia Xiqing’s can was knocked from his hand by Zhou Ziheng’s sudden movement, spilling its contents down the side of his neck.
“Damn…” Seeing the mess, Xia Xiqing quickly grabbed a tissue, but Zhou Ziheng was already awake, frowning slightly in confusion. “What are you doing…” He reached out and grabbed Xia Xiqing’s hand, then touched his own sticky neck. “What’s this?”
“Coke,” Xia Xiqing replied nonchalantly, picking up the half-spilled can and taking a sip. “I was going to give it to you, but I spilled it.”
Zhou Ziheng stood up from the lounge chair, tugging Xia Xiqing’s wrist toward a corner. Xia Xiqing protested all the way, bumping into Kuncheng along the path.
“Where are you going? We’ll shoot as soon as it’s set up.”
“Wash my neck.”
Dragged into the RV by Zhou Ziheng, Xia Xiqing watched as Xiaoxiao and Xiao Luo, who had been watching dramas under the car, very sensibly excused themselves and walked away, looking like they were keeping watch. Zhou Ziheng slammed the door shut, then wrapped his arms around Xia Xiqing’s waist and leaned in.
“It’s hot.” Xia Xiqing pushed him away. The car’s AC wasn’t on, making it stiflingly warm inside. But Zhou Ziheng didn’t let go, instead carrying him as they stumbled backward until they found the AC remote. He pressed it, and a blast of cold air rushed in, sending goosebumps up Xia Xiqing’s neck.
“You’re making me all sweaty.” Zhou Ziheng tilted his chin up slightly. That upward angle, combined with the expression he wore when looking up at someone, had been edited into countless viral clips across the entertainment industry.
He was clearly just a kid.
Xia Xiqing curved his lips, leaning back against the table behind him with both hands braced. His pale, long legs, half-exposed beneath his cropped shorts, encircled Zhou Ziheng.
“You’ve covered me in it plenty of times yourself.”
After speaking, he deliberately hooked his foot against Zhou Ziheng’s exposed ankle where it peeked out from his jeans.
That look in his eyes was utterly, unboundedly flirtatious.
Zhou Ziheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he leaned in, his voice deepening. “Didn’t you seem to like it?”
“Did I say I didn’t?” Xia Xiqing pushed the soda can aside, his gaze fixed on Zhou Ziheng’s lips before lifting to meet his eyes. His own eyes were hazy with desire, their breath mingling, yet he hesitated to kiss him directly.
Seeing Zhou Ziheng on the verge of forcing a kiss, Xia Xiqing tilted his head slightly. His lips brushed against Zhou Ziheng’s neck, and he extended his tongue to lightly lick the spot. As he lifted his eyes, his lashes fluttered like feathers, teasing Zhou Ziheng’s heart. “So sweet.”
Zhou Ziheng’s body burned with heat. His arms wrapped around Xia Xiqing’s waist, hoisting him onto the table. He pinned Xia Xiqing’s wrists down, half his body pressing into him. Even now, Xia Xiqing seemed fearless, wrapping his legs around Zhou Ziheng’s waist and blowing a soft breath against his face.
Lately, their interactions had been far too tender—utterly unlike Xia Xiqing’s usual style.
“So patient?” Xia Xiqing’s lips pressed against his, kissing his lower lip gently before biting down with teeth that ground against it with perfectly measured pressure.
Zhou Ziheng’s breath faltered, as if Xia wasn’t biting his lip but the last thread holding his sanity together. His firm chest rose and fell as Zhou suppressed his inner turmoil, his voice steady. “We’ve got a show to do later.”
“Did I say we were doing anything?” Xia Xiqing tilted his mouth into a smile. “Such a young age and already so naughty. What’s going on in your head?”
What else could it be?
“It’s all your fault.” Zhou Ziheng lowered his head to kiss him, his tongue teasing the softness hidden in the warm, wet cavity before quickly withdrawing. “We have to film.”
“What shoot? This is a company-sponsored romance.” Xia Xiqing wrapped his arms around Zhou Ziheng’s neck to keep him from leaving, kissing his handsome face repeatedly. “Don’t forget you’re still on probation. If you don’t serve me well, I’ll dump you tomorrow and find a replacement.”
That remark instantly ignited Zhou Ziheng’s fury. Without a second thought, he pinned Xia Xiqing’s head back and pressed his lips down on him.
Outside the vehicle, cicadas on the sycamore trees chirped in a cacophony, each trying to outshout the next.
The assistant director had circled the trailer at least four or five times, each time asking, “Where’s Ziheng? Is he in the trailer?”
“No, I don’t know where he went either. I’ll go find him for you.”
Seeing it was inevitable, Xiao Luo gave Xiaoxiao a discreet signal, diverting the assistant director’s attention. Taking advantage of the moment, he slipped over to the RV. Just as he was about to knock, the door suddenly slid open from the inside. Zhou Ziheng bent down to step out, colliding head-on with Xiao Luo. His ears flushed instantly.
Xiao Luo, ever the savvy one, cleared his throat at the sight. “Um… Ziheng, the assistant director’s looking for you. Probably means we’re about to start shooting.”
“Got it.” Zhou Ziheng stood by the door, as if shielding something. Seeing this, Xiao Luo quickly made an excuse to leave. “I’ll go buy some ice pops for everyone. You guys hurry over.”
Once Xiao Luo was gone, Zhou Ziheng gripped the car door with both hands and leaned halfway inside. Before he could get a clear look, a long, heavy object smacked against him. Startled, he picked it up.
“You didn’t even fasten your seatbelt. Are you planning to wait until you’re caught out before coming back for it?”
Xia Xiqing’s voice carried a hint of nasal congestion, making his tone sound even lazier. Ignoring the urging, he slowly emerged wearing only sweat shorts. Spotting Zhou Ziheng blocking the doorway, he gently tapped the head peeking through.
Zhou Ziheng smiled, wrapping his arms around him for a brief kiss before letting him out.
“My thighs are rubbing raw.”
“Let me rub them for you.”
“Go to hell.”
The afternoon shoot featured Gao Kun cutting Jiang Tong’s hair. Ever since spotting Zhou Ziheng during lunch break, Xia Xiqing’s mind had been filled with lewd thoughts, completely forgetting which scenes were scheduled for the afternoon. Only when he saw Zhou Ziheng holding scissors and listening to Kun Cheng explain the scene did he remember. Already weak at the knees, Xia Xiqing now felt his spine go limp.
With Zhou Ziheng’s skills, who knew what kind of mess he’d end up with.
Xia Xiqing walked over to the director’s side and negotiated, “Director Kun, how about this? You shoot a few takes of him cutting my hair, then have a real barber cut it the way you want. We’ll just cut the scenes together.”
Kun Cheng slowly nodded, seeming to accept his suggestion.
Zhou Ziheng stood behind Kun Cheng with scissors, snip-snip-ing at the air a couple of times.
“But I specifically want it cut the way he did it for you.”
Xia Xiqing was completely stumped. He could only begin filming, half-believing, half-doubting.
“We can only do this in one take,” Director Kun chuckled. “Once the scissors go down, there’s no going back.”
Zhou Ziheng grinned, then winked at Xia Xiqing with his left eye.
“If you dare mess up my hair, your probation ends immediately.” Xia Xiqing gave him a forced smile.
“You’re so handsome, you’d look good even with a shaved head,” Zhou Ziheng chuckled, gripping the scissors. “Relax, I won’t give you a dog-chewed hairstyle.”
“It already looks like it’s been chewed by a dog.”
Xia Xiqing sighed, resigned to his fate.
“Scene 68, Take 1 of Tracking, action!”
Sitting on the sofa, Gao Kun watched Jiang Tong bend over to mop the floor, his stubble softly brushing against his pale neck.
“Hey, your hair’s really grown out.”
Jiang Tong seemed oblivious, still diligently scrubbing the floor. Gao Kun stretched out his leg, glared at the small stool, and kicked it toward Jiang Tong. Only then did he straighten up, wiping sweat from his forehead with a raised hand. His eyebrows lifted slightly, as if asking what was wrong.
“Your hair,” Gao Kun said slowly, running a hand through his own stubble-like short hair. “It’s too long.”
Jiang Tong frowned, about to bend back down to mop, when Gao Kun stood up and snatched the mop from his hands. “You’ve got good ears, but you only hear what you want to hear.” He reached out to grab Gao Kun’s hair, but his hand froze mid-air.
Seeing Gao Kun like this, Jiang Tong lowered his head and bit the inside of his lip. He signed a few times, glanced up at him, then struggled to explain, “Outside… haircuts… are expensive.”
“How expensive could it be?” Gao Kun tossed the mop to the floor, reached into his pocket, and fumbled around for a while before pulling out a few coins. He scratched the back of his head, spotted the scissors on the TV cabinet, and said, “Right, I’ll cut it for you.”
Jiang Tong thought he must have misheard and repeated his words in a questioning tone.
“That’s right,” Gao Kun stepped forward, waving him over with a dismissive hand gesture that sent him plopping down onto the sofa. “Sit still.” He darted back into the bedroom, emerged with an old bedsheet from somewhere, wrapped it around Jiang Tong, and tied a knot at his neck.
Jiang Tong grabbed the knot, trying to undo it. He tilted his head back to look at Gao Kun, shaking it vigorously. “Now, be a good boy. I used to be an apprentice at a barbershop, working under this guy named Tony. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Barely two sentences out, Gao Kun vanished again, rustling about for a while before bellowing from the room, “Tongtong, do we have any mirrors left in the house?”
Tongtong?
Jiang Tong flinched like a startled rabbit, his shoulders twitching slightly as he ducked his head quickly.
He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had called him by that name.
Gao Kun emerged from the room, clearing his throat. “I asked you a question. Is there a mirror in the house?”
“Huh? …Yeah.” Jiang Tong lifted his head, then quickly lowered it again. Wrapped in a garish old bedsheet, he rose from the sofa and walked to the bedroom wardrobe. Crouching on the floor, he rummaged around for a while before pulling out a plate-sized, old mirror from the deepest part of a drawer. with a red plastic frame worn to a dull sheen, though the glass itself was polished spotless.
Gao Kun took the mirror and placed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa, adjusting the angle. He casually asked, “Why do you have such girly stuff?”
Jiang Tong kept her head slightly bowed and signed a word.
Gao Kun hadn’t mastered sign language yet, but this time he understood. It was a very basic, simple word.
Mom.
So it was a mirror left behind by his mother.
Gao Kun’s eyes darkened slightly. His throat felt scratchy, and he cleared it with a couple of coughs. Putting on his gloves, he cheerfully moved behind Jiang Tong and ran a comb through his soft hair a few times. “They say people with soft hair have gentle temperaments. Looks like that’s true.”
Jiang Tong remained silent, his head slightly bowed. Gao Kun’s gloved hand gently lifted his chin. “Look straight ahead.”
He put on a brave face, but Gao Kun was merely putting on airs. He’d forgotten to wash the hair first and cut it while wet. They didn’t have a hair dryer either, so they had to make do. Clamping a strand between his index and middle fingers, Gao Kun glanced at Jiang Tong in the mirror. The boy looked pitiful, eyes tightly shut. Gao Kun gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, “It’s just a haircut…”
Snip. It was done.
Jiang Tong peeked open his eyes just in time to see a small tuft of cut hair flutter before his vision. He reached out to grab it, but Gao Kun snatched it away again, teasing him deliberately. When Jiang Tong tried to turn his head, Gao Kun steadied his head firmly. “Don’t move. Careful, I might shave your head bald.”
At this point, Jiang Tong could only submit to being led like a lamb to the slaughter. He resigned himself to watching his reflection. At first, he shyly avoided speaking, but gradually, he began to participate in his own hair-cutting project.
“This… this side… it’s growing…”
“Got it, got it.”
“This… this tuft, trim…”
“Whoa, whoa, don’t move, you old soul.”
Watching Gao Kun fumble in the mirror—now cutting hair, now brushing away the fallen strands—Jiang Tong couldn’t help but smile, a faint, gentle smile. That smile, however, startled Gao Kun so much he froze, scissors still in hand.
Jiang Tong turned to look at him in confusion. Only then did Gao Kun snap out of it. “What are you looking at? Turn around.”
He carefully trimmed the back of his neck with the scissors, doing his best to even out the ends.
“Done!”
The moment the director called action, Xia Xiqing immediately raised a hand to summon the stylists. “Teacher Ming! Sister Yue! Come save me!”
The entire crew burst into laughter. Zhou Ziheng stood nearby holding the scissors. “I thought I did a pretty good job. The length is just right.”
Teacher A-Ming jogged over with a smile, deliberately giving Zhou Ziheng some face. “Not bad. Much better than I expected.” He grabbed his own set of tools, laid them out on the sofa, and swiftly gave Xia Xiqing a trim.
The hair wasn’t actually that short—it was similar to the style Zhou Ziheng had kept before filming began. Kuncheng had specifically instructed Zhou Ziheng to leave some length, warning against cutting it too short, as it wouldn’t match Jiang Tong’s character.
Watching his hair regain its vitality under the stylist’s hands, Xia Xiqing’s heart finally settled. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Why aren’t you thanking me?” Zhou Ziheng pouted. “I spent all last night watching haircutting videos in my hotel room.”
“I’ll thank your entire family.”
After rebooting the camera and capturing the remaining shots, filming finally wrapped. They’d been shooting nonstop for several days and nights without rest, with night scenes potentially running through the early hours. Kuncheng deliberately gave them an extra hour for dinner to rest properly before the big night shoot.
Zhou Ziheng, Xia Xiqing, and Yang Bo went out to eat together. All three wore hats to conceal their hairstyles, wary of paparazzi snapping spoilers. After dinner, they deliberately took a detour through a residential complex, passing a basketball court.
Xia Xiqing felt distinctly uncomfortable, constantly reaching behind his neck to touch it.
“Xiqing, your short hair looks great. So refreshing.” Yang Bo thought he might be dissatisfied with Zhou Ziheng’s styling and tried to smooth things over. But honestly, it did look good. His previous shoulder-length hair always seemed too refined, making him look like a pretty girl. Now with the short cut, his youthful energy had skyrocketed.
“I’m just not used to it,” Xia Xiqing said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But at least I don’t have to tie my hair in a ponytail anymore. It’s cooler this way.”
Zhou Ziheng walked beside him. A basketball bounced off the ground ahead of them, then rolled toward their feet.
Just as he bent to pick it up, Xia Xiqing beat him to it, scooping the ball cleanly into his palm.
Not far away, two kids stood beneath the basketball hoop. They looked like high schoolers, still wearing their uniforms. “Hey, bro, toss us the ball, will ya?”
Xia Xiqing tipped his cap, bounced the ball twice on the ground, and dribbled a few steps toward the court.
“Here it comes.”
Pushing off with his heel, Xia Xiqing moved with the agility of a cheetah. Leaning back slightly, he launched the ball toward the hoop.
In that instant, Zhou Ziheng could almost see the taut lines of his muscles, fluid and beautiful.
Landing on both feet, the ball arced smoothly through the air and swished cleanly through the net.
“Nice one, Xiqing—a clean three-pointer.” Yang Bote gave him credit. Xia Xiqing turned back, took off his cap, ruffled his hair, then flipped it back on, revealing a row of neat, white teeth. He grinned like a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old kid.
Zhou Ziheng felt an inexplicable illusion—as if the five-year age gap between him and Xia Xiqing didn’t exist.
In a daze, he seemed to glimpse Xia Xiqing’s proud and dazzling teenage years.
“What are you spacing out about?” Xia Xiqing nudged his shoulder. Zhou Ziheng lowered his head and smiled. “I was thinking about how well-behaved you looked just now during filming.”
Truthfully, his mind was filled with fantasies of Xia Xiqing in high school—sitting in bright, spacious classrooms, either lazily daydreaming or listening intently.
Running freely on the sports field, sweating it out on the basketball court.
All of these were Xia Xiqing he had already missed. He could only cherish these memories in his heart, for time could not be reversed.
Just then, Yang Bo took a call and walked ahead alone. Xia Xiqing tugged at Zhou Ziheng. “Oh, so after all this time, you still like that kind of obedient little angel?” Xia Xiqing curved his lips into a smile. “No problem, I can play the part. If you like it, I’ll act it out for you every day until you’re sick of seeing it.”
Zhou Ziheng shook his head. “Forget it. I still prefer you just the way you are.”
Xia Xingqing raised an eyebrow. “Which way?”
He curved his lips into a smirk, then wrapped his arm around his shoulder with a perfectly natural air.
“The feisty one.”
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