Chapter 94

　 Just after the Lunar New Year, the main creators of the drama Stalking flew to Berlin together to attend the film festival. The festival lasted ten days, and on opening day, the entire crew attended the premiere.

　 For many days afterward, Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing stayed in their hotel, occasionally sneaking out late at night when no one was around. It was bitterly cold outside. The two of them, bundled in thick down jackets, huddled close together. They didn’t do much—just walked the streets of Berlin. For a relationship like theirs, one that couldn’t be exposed, this was enough.

　 Berlin was bitterly cold, the chill especially sharp at night. One early morning around four o’clock, their walk brought them to Berlin Cathedral.

　 Not a soul was around. Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xingqing, both in down jackets, stood at the cathedral entrance. Xia Xingqing wore a deep blue woolen cap, gazing up at the beautiful and solemn building. Streetlights illuminated his face, making his skin glow with a luminous pallor.

“You look so good.”

　 Xia Xiqing shot him a glance and teased, “You don’t look good. Look at you in that black down jacket—you look like a street vendor.”

They both laughed. Zhou Ziheng pulled a lollipop from his pocket, tore off the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth. “What are we doing here? We can’t go inside at this hour anyway.”

　 Xia Xiqing tilted his head back, white mist puffing from his mouth as he spoke, his nose tip flushed red.

“We never could go in anyway.”

　 With that, he reached out to snatch the lollipop from Zhou Ziheng’s mouth. Zhou Ziheng jerked his neck back to keep it, and they tugged at each other for a moment. Finally, Zhou Ziheng relented. He pinched Xia Xiqing’s cheek playfully and teased, “A scoundrel like you won’t get into heaven.”

　 “What’s so great about heaven anyway?” Xia Xiqing kicked a pebble aside, sucking on his lollipop as he gazed up at the cathedral’s ornate dome. “But… if you’re in heaven, forget I said anything.”

Hearing him retract his words for his sake, Zhou Ziheng felt a surge of warmth. “What if I really am there, and you really aren’t allowed in heaven?”

　 Such a meaningless hypothetical—what was the point of discussing it?

But… it wasn’t entirely pointless.

“If someone as cunning and treacherous as me can’t get into heaven…” Xia Xiqing recalled the lyrics of a song. He turned, removed the lollipop from his mouth, and twirled it between his fingers. The crystalline candy ball glistened faintly under the dim light.

Honey-coated lips formed the beautiful syllables.

“kill my way to heaven.”

　 Fight my way through blood to heaven to see you.

As the awards ceremony approached, online speculation about the festival’s prizes ran rampant. Most doubted Zhou Ziheng’s chances—after all, such a young filmmaker winning a top-tier award seemed improbable. Yet since the premiere of Stalker, nearly every review circulating online had been overwhelmingly positive.

　 [Zhou Ziheng and Stalking are both dark horses at this year’s festival.]

This was the most frequently repeated comment.

Though fans hoped Zhou Ziheng would win, they could only keep expectations low online, simply saying “a nomination is recognition” and daring not to say more for fear of being proven wrong. Even words of encouragement were confined to Zhou Ziheng’s own Weibo comments.

The festival days flew by, and the awards ceremony finally arrived. Upon entering, Song Nian walked arm-in-arm with Kuncheng at the front, while Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing followed closely, side by side.

　 Zhou Ziheng wore a full black suit, draped in an ankle-length black coat, radiating the aura of a wealthy young aristocrat. Xia Xiqing sported a dark gray British-style overcoat, cinched at the waist with a belt, his narrow waist and long legs exuding a dapper, sophisticated style.

　 Six Chinese-language films were nominated in the main competition section. The cast gathered for a group photo, with numerous domestic media outlets flying in specifically for interviews. Compared to other films, Stalker—nominated for both Best Actor and Best Director—was undoubtedly the media’s top target. However, the film’s principal creators remained cautiously reserved about the awards, offering few comments.

　 Questions for others were manageable, but when it came to Xia Xiqing, reporters fired off a barrage of diverse inquiries.

“Xiqing? Not being nominated this time—does that leave you feeling a bit unsettled?”

　 “Xia Qing, look this way! Will you act again next time?”

“Xia Qing, Xia Qing! Can you talk about your relationship with Media Asia? Why did you decide to star in this film?”

　 “Xiqing, why did you enter the entertainment industry? Did your family ever try to stop you?”

Xia Xiqing was getting a headache from the commotion. He grabbed a microphone. “Listen up, I’ll say this one last time. I didn’t enter the entertainment industry. After finishing this film, I won’t take on any new projects. I’ll focus on my own career.”

　 He paused. “Also, I do reality shows and movies because I’m a fan of Zhou Ziheng. I participate in these things solely because of Zhou Ziheng.”

He delivered the last sentence with complete candor, and no one interpreted it otherwise.

Only Zhou Ziheng froze for a moment, but Xia Xiqing quickly pulled him away.

　 The crowd was overwhelmingly dense; no one had time for further conversation. After the interview, the crew returned to their designated lounge.

Though Zhou Ziheng had appeared perfectly composed during the interview, Xia Xiqing knew he must have been nervous inside.

　 The moment they entered the lounge, Zhou Ziheng sat silently on the sofa, picking up a glass of water and drinking it without a word. Xia Xiqing sat beside him, gently rubbing his back. Telling him not to be nervous now would be pointless, so he didn’t bother. He simply stayed by his side in quiet support.

　 Kun Cheng was also quite nervous. Although he had won numerous awards abroad, they were mostly niche, non-mainstream accolades. He paced anxiously around the room, repeating to himself, “It’s okay. Just being nominated is great. Really great. Things will get better from here.”

Song Nian couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve come to realize that not getting nominated is actually a blessing. It leaves you feeling completely unburdened.”

　 Seeing her about to dig into the cake in her gift-wrapped outfit, Xia Xiqing cautioned, “Show a little professionalism as a celebrity.”

　 Song Nian stuck out her tongue. Seeing Zhou Ziheng still bowing his head, his hands clenched tightly as if he wanted to speak but held back, she took a sip of coffee.

Soon after, a staff member entered and informed them the awards ceremony would begin shortly. Kun Cheng nodded repeatedly, slipped on his coat, and said, “Let’s go.”

　 Song Nian clapped her hands and grabbed her evening clutch. “Okay.”

Zhou Ziheng stood up blankly, ready to follow them, but Xia Xiqing tugged his elbow. He heard him say from behind, “Director Kun, you guys go ahead. I need to talk to him about something.”

　 “Alright, but hurry back. Don’t be late.”

Once the door closed, Zhou Ziheng turned to him and asked gently, “What is it?” Xia Xiqing lowered his eyes, carefully adjusting his suit jacket.

　 “Truth is, I absolutely detest straightforward expressions. They sound…” He searched for the right words. “…so thoughtless, overly simplistic, lacking that carefully crafted sense of value. Sometimes this approach comes at a high cost, requiring sheer courage. But still, I want to say—”

　 He took a deep breath and lifted his head to look at Zhou Ziheng.

“I love you.”

“This is probably the most direct I’ve ever been in my life.” Xia Xiqing curved his lips and repeated, “I love you, Zhou Ziheng. Don’t doubt it.”

　 “You’ll always be the leading man in my heart.”

Zhou Ziheng’s eyes stung. The taut string holding his emotions suddenly snapped—a sharp, unexpected crack as Xia Xiqing pulled it free. The most crucial matter of his life had found affirmation. In this moment, everything else faded into insignificance.

　 He embraced Xia Xiqing, holding the most precious person in his life in a small corner of this grand awards ceremony.

“I… what about my probation period?”

“Silly.” Xia Xiqing returned the embrace. “It ended long ago.”

　 The ceremony commenced. Director Kuncheng sat between Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing. After Xia Xiqing’s confession, Zhou Ziheng was surprised to find himself less flustered than before. He couldn’t fathom why.

But what he didn’t know was that Xia Xiqing was now flustered.

　 His nerves were so intense he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t recall who had taken the stage before him or what they’d said—not a single detail registered.

The Best Director award had already been presented. Unfortunately, Kun Cheng had missed out on the Silver Bear. Yet he remained surprisingly composed, merely smiling. “There’s always next time. No rush—I’m still young.”

　 And so, all eyes were now fixed on the upcoming Best Actor award. The big screen had already begun showing clips of the nominees’ performances.

　 Xia Xiqing’s palms were coated with sweat, his heart pounding like a drum, panic gripping him. He thought about how he’d console Zhou Ziheng if he missed the award. Tell him there’s always another chance? That there are plenty of awards back home?

No, none of that would do.

He dismissed every thought.

Because he truly hoped Zhou Ziheng would win, more than anyone else.

　 Lost in thought, Xia Xiqing missed the host’s lengthy introduction. When the crowd erupted in cheers, he snapped back to reality, frantically grabbing Kuncheng beside him. “Who? Who won?”

Kuncheng was so overcome he nearly cried. “Ziheng. Ziheng won.”

　 “Really?”

Song Nian clapped while turning to Xia Xiqing. “Yes, it’s Ziheng!”

 So tense he could barely breathe, his heart exploded like fireworks the moment he heard that name. Xia Xiqing’s gaze followed Zhou Ziheng’s retreating figure as he stepped onto the spotlighted podium.

　 That was his lover, his boy.

His nose suddenly stung. So there were moments when even he couldn’t control his emotions.

Zhou Ziheng bowed deeply to the audience below, accepted the award from the presenter, calmly said “Danke” in German, then switched to Chinese. He took a deep breath and flashed a smile.

　 “To be honest, I didn’t expect to win today, so I didn’t prepare a proper acceptance speech. You might just hear the most disorganized speech in history.”

This little joke drew laughter from the audience, lightening the mood considerably.

　 Zhou Ziheng then adopted a more serious tone. “I feel incredibly fortunate to be nominated alongside so many esteemed veterans of the film industry.” He paused. “First, I want to thank Director Kun Cheng. Thank you for your guidance and support. In my eyes, you are the uncrowned king. I must also thank the entire crew—over three hundred dedicated individuals, for your dedication. Without you, there would be no Gao Kun, no Stalker. This award belongs not only to me, but to all of you.”

Applause filled the hall. Zhou Ziheng paused before continuing, “Next, I want to thank my parents and family. They gave me the freedom to pursue my dreams and offered unwavering encouragement. I am deeply grateful. And to my fans who have always supported me—you have been the driving force keeping me going. I know that no matter what happens, you will always be there.”

Xia Xiqing smiled and applauded him. At that moment, his heart was filled with pride and emotion. Zhou Ziheng, standing on stage, was so captivating, so dazzling.

　 “Finally, I have something else to say. Not long ago, someone asked me why, as an actor, I chose to study physics. Actually, this was the first time anyone had ever asked me that. I was both excited and surprised, so I shared an answer I’d never told anyone before. Conversely, I believe you must all be puzzled: since I chose to study and research physics, why do I persist in being an actor?” Zhou Ziheng smiled. “It might sound a bit lofty, but my original thought was to use acting to bring attention to things the world overlooks. Someone once told me I was an immature idealist.”

　 Xia Xiqing paused, then laughed. This guy was getting further and further off track.

“But later, as I kept acting, I realized I’m actually emotionally deficient. Just like Director Kun said, I can’t portray the most complex yet ordinary emotions of an ordinary person. I even started wondering if one reason I love studying physics is a form of escapism. Physics is the most fundamental expression of this world. It distills the principles governing our existence into the most concise formulas—simple, pure, unlike humans, who are far too difficult to understand.” Zhou Ziheng lifted his head, standing on the podium and gazing at the figure below.

The moment their eyes met, Xia Xiqing suddenly understood something.

　 His accelerating heartbeat felt like a powerful omen.

“As an actor, I’ve played so many roles, simulated so many emotions. Deep down, I knew none of it was my life, none of it my feelings. I was merely a reasonably flexible vessel. Until one day, I met someone. Only then did this vessel finally hold what it was meant to carry.”

　 Hearing these words, tears suddenly welled up in Xia Xiqing’s eyes, and his mind went blank.

Only his heart beat urgently, as if trying to leave him behind to chase after the light it longed for.

“After meeting you, the emotions surging in my chest became truly mine. They belong to Zhou Ziheng, originating from Xia Xiqing.” “

The moment these words appeared on the simultaneous translation screen, thunderous applause erupted from the audience below the stage. No one had anticipated that at the pinnacle of his fame, this celebrated young actor would choose to declare his love to the world. Countless heads turned, clapping and gazing toward the other person in this grand confession.

　 Xia Xiqing fought back tears for a long moment before finally holding them back. His eyes reddened as he watched the figure on stage, his lips pressing into a faint smile.

Zhou Ziheng also curved his mouth into a smile, gazing across the sea of people at the eyes he had pursued for fifteen years. “No,” he murmured. “It’s the other way around.”

　 “Originating from Zhou Ziheng, belonging to Xia Xiqing.”

Guided by scattered stardust, the clawed little rose retracted its sharp thorns, trading darkness for moonlight.

With a leap, it plunged into a soft universe.

Forever ensnared.

—————The End—————