“All right, I will go find you someone to fill your dressing room. Satisfied?”
Lu Xianqing nodded. “Hurry. The food will get cold.”
Speechless, An Ning left and headed toward Dressing Room No. 2. On the way, she saw Qin Sizheng eating with the director and several supporting actors. They were chatting and laughing happily.
They were all from Xihua Street and had many scenes together. On top of that, Qin Sizheng had performed exceptionally well in his recent shots. Everyone was curious about his boxing background and kept sticking close, asking about it. They even asked whether the stick-kicking scene from the variety show had been scripted and whether he could demonstrate it live.
Qin Sizheng was about to stand up when Zhou Changjiang said, “No! We have not finished filming yet. What if you injure yourself? He is my treasure—why would I let you all watch him get hurt?”
Qin Sizheng pressed his lips together in a smile. Chen Qiu immediately scooted closer, humming in agreement.
“Exactly, exactly. Can my Brother Qin just perform whenever you ask? There is an appearance fee, okay? A professional boxer is not joking around with you!”
He mixed up his nasal sounds, so when he said “Qin,” it sounded like “qing.” At first listen, it almost sounded like he was saying “darling brother.”
Zhou Changjiang shot him a playful glare but followed along. “Chu Jing has quite a few fight scenes. Smashing bottles and kicking sticks—none of that can be cut. You need to stay in top condition at all times. Rest properly after filming.”
Qin Sizheng nodded. “I understand. Do not worry.”
The more Zhou Changjiang looked at him, the more he liked him. He dared to say there would not be another artist like Qin Sizheng for a long time.
The admiration in his eyes was impossible to hide. Xing Yue, who played Sister Li, let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Director Zhou only likes our A-Jing now. The rest of us are roadside weeds. How pitiful.”
Qin Sizheng smiled and placed a piece of braised pork into her bowl. “Sister Li, do not feel wronged. The biggest piece is for you.”
Xing Yue had only been pretending. She lifted the pork and said to Zhou Changjiang, “Director, I am breaking my diet today, all right? It is not that I refuse to slim down—A-Jing insisted I eat it. I could not say no.”
Female actors rarely ate meat to maintain their figures. Xing Yue had not had any in a long time, and for this drama she had already lost ten pounds for the role. Now she openly popped the braised pork into her mouth, nearly moved to tears.
“Mmm, so good.”
Zhou Changjiang warned, “Just this once. If you gain even a little, you will have to lose it again!”
Xing Yue huffed. “I know, I know. You nag more than my manager.”
When An Ning approached, she saw them laughing together and almost did not have the heart to interrupt. But if she did not, she would not be able to report back to Lu Xianqing.
“Everyone is eating.”
Qin Sizheng quickly asked, “Sister An Ning, have you eaten?”
An Ning’s heart practically melted. “Not yet. We just picked up takeout and ordered too much. We cannot finish it. Fourth Brother asked me to bring some over and add a few dishes for everyone.”
Zhou Changjiang glanced at her sideways. “Oh? How thoughtful.”
An Ning had followed Lu Xianqing long enough to have seen every sort of attitude. She replied calmly, “Of course. Fourth Brother said Director Zhou works the hardest. This sweet-and-sour mandarin fish is especially for you.”
Zhou Changjiang had only been teasing. He was strict while filming, but off set he was the most easygoing person.
He accepted it and shared it with everyone. An Ning continued, “By the way, Sizheng, I remember you like silver fish soup. I cannot carry everything, and Fourth Brother cannot finish it alone. Why do not you come with me?”
Qin Sizheng swallowed the last bite of rice from his lunchbox. “I am full already. Please thank Fourth Brother for me.”
An Ning had only used it as an excuse anyway and did not press further. “All right.”
She returned to the dressing room.
“He has already eaten. Tonight you will have to keep your lonely vigil alone. Tomorrow I will find an excuse earlier, okay?”
“…An Ning, there has never been a moment when I have been this disappointed in you.”
An Ning: “? He is full and that is somehow my fault?”
The entire meal was eaten under a cloud of irritation. If An Ning had He Xing’s courage, she would have rushed over and scolded him. Unfortunately, she did not. All she could do was watch the time carefully and hand him his medication.
“Do not stop taking it.”
Lu Xianqing took the pills, frowned as he swallowed them, then gulped down two mouthfuls of water to wash away the bitterness.
“Was Shen Qing selling quack medicine in his previous life? Why does he love prescribing drugs so much in this one? I am practically marinated in them. If cremation were not the norm now, I probably would not even decompose.”
An Ning quickly put the medicine away so no one would see it and lowered her voice.
“Please watch what you say. There are people walking past outside the dressing room. If someone overhears, it will be hard to explain.”
“Got it.”
Night had just fallen. The moment he stepped outside, Lu Xianqing’s vision blurred. Relying on the streetlights and An Ning’s guidance, he made his way to the set.
Qin Sizheng had no scenes that evening. After dinner, he sat in a corner observing the crew at work, studying the production process and learning whatever he could. Shen Changfeng poured him a cup of hot water and placed it in his hands.
Though it was still summer, the mountain air turned chilly after dark.
“You should sit too,” Qin Sizheng said.
Shen Changfeng sat beside him, staring at the insects circling the lights.
“Are you close with Lu Xianqing?” he asked, almost to himself.
Qin Sizheng turned his head. Shen Changfeng did the same and looked straight at him.
“I can tell he protects you. Everyone on set can probably tell. So the shift in attitude since this morning is not entirely because you acted well.”
“I know.”
Shen Changfeng continued, “What do you think of Lu Xianqing? Do not tell me he is a good person or a bad person. I want to know what you think of him in your heart.”
Qin Sizheng thought seriously.
When he had first transmigrated and opened his eyes, the first “person” he saw had been Lu Xianqing. Because of the original novel, he had told himself to stay away from him, yet circumstances kept forcing them together—meeting, filming the same variety show.
Later, Lu Xianqing had helped him many times—from the promotional video to this drama. The resolution to keep his distance had crumbled before it was even fully formed.
When he had first arrived in this unfamiliar world, claiming he was not panicked would have been a lie. He had trusted no one. The entertainment industry was completely unknown to him. Everything he did felt wrong. He had barely had time to manage his anxiety.
How could he spare the energy to evaluate what kind of person Lu Xianqing was?
Now that he thought about it, “very good” was the only phrase that came to mind. Lu Xianqing was like a fog—impossible to grasp or see through. Though he always took care of him, he still felt distant.
“What I am about to say may sound like I am overstepping,” Shen Changfeng said. “But I am your assistant. I have to think for you. If you disagree, you do not have to listen.”
“Please, just say it. It is fine.”
Shen Changfeng turned fully toward him.
“I think Lu Xianqing wants something from you.”
Qin Sizheng blinked in confusion.
Wants something from him?
Lu Xianqing stood at the top of the industry. He had everything he could possibly want. If he desired the stars in the sky, he could probably find a way to reach them. What could he possibly want from him?
Seeing the blank look on Qin Sizheng’s face—clearly nowhere near the topic of feelings—Shen Changfeng felt a bit deflated.
He had once worked under Xu Jinhán. Now that he had returned to the country, he had many options. He Xing had gone to great lengths to assign him to Qin Sizheng. Beyond the official salary from Shengyu Entertainment, the larger portion came from her own side.
And she essentially represented Lu Xianqing.
In other words, this assistant position had been arranged by Lu Xianqing.
He Xing had only said that the previous assistant had been unreliable and that, out of concern as a friend, she had found someone trustworthy. She had never hinted at anything else, but the care behind it was obvious.
Simply put, either Lu Xianqing wanted to toy with him—
Or he liked him.
The clapperboard snapped.
Qin Sizheng, unaware of Shen Changfeng’s thoughts, quickly said, “I am going to watch Fourth Brother film. If you are tired, go rest in the dressing room. I will call you when we are done.”
Shen Changfeng looked at his back helplessly.
“…I am your assistant. Could you stop treating me like the boss?”
Qin Sizheng quietly moved to stand beside the director, gesturing to Zhou Changjiang to ask if he could watch. Zhou Changjiang nodded, signaling for him to stay quiet.
Lu Xianqing was filming a psychological counseling scene. His illness was beginning to show its first signs. They had initially assumed it was a mental health issue, never suspecting schizophrenia.
Yao Jinwei wore a crisp, elegant business suit. Her long hair was neatly pinned up, her bearing perfectly composed. The moment she sat down, the atmosphere settled.
She looked at Lu Xianqing, who lay on the chair, and drew a breath.
“Let us talk. Have you read anything recently? Or watched any good films?”
Ding Chenhai’s eyes were filled with confusion. He looked nothing like the cold, life-disregarding figure from the morning shoot. Instead, he resembled a lost child.
“Confessions,” he murmured. “I feel covered in sin. So many people condemn me. It hurts like they are gripping my skin. Am I inflamed? Festering? I can smell decay.”
His voice was low and hollow. His gaze was like an ocean, dragging people under with endless despair and torment.
Qin Sizheng’s heart clenched.
At that moment, Lu Xianqing resembled the way he had looked when asleep that day—hands clasped as if in prayer, as though begging for absolution, yet utterly lost about what he had done wrong.
“I walk alone in a filthy pit, in the darkness of mistakes. I want to stand up, but every struggle only makes me sink deeper. Now it has reached my neck. I cannot breathe. I am in so much pain.”
Lu Xianqing clutched his head, curling into himself. His long fingers tangled in his black hair, the knuckles pale against the dark strands.
He trembled, folding inward like a fetus seeking protection.
Qin Sizheng’s fingers tightened unconsciously. With every word, his heart constricted. His breathing grew labored. He struggled to steady himself, the sound of his inhale suddenly loud.
Zhou Changjiang glanced back in confusion.
A tear slipped down Qin Sizheng’s face.
Startled, he hastily wiped it away.
“I am sorry, Director. I got carried away watching.” He apologized in a small voice.
Zhou Changjiang smiled. “That is normal. Countless people have cried watching him act on set, so when they do not have scenes, they try not to watch. See? The ones without scenes have all left.”
Qin Sizheng turned around and looked. Sure enough, even An Ning was off to the side with earbuds in, playing on her phone—probably too afraid to watch as well.
“Learn more from him. It will benefit you,” Zhou Changjiang said.
Qin Sizheng nodded and continued watching him act. Yao Jinwei followed the script step by step, guiding him through the scene. Gradually, Qin Sizheng sensed something was off. She was supposed to be a psychologist—so why did it feel as though she was being led around by the nose by Lu Xianqing?
Was that really right?
“Cut!”
In the next second, Zhou Changjiang’s voice gave him the answer. “Yao Jinwei, what are you doing? Are you listening to a story? You are playing a psychologist who controls the overall situation and guides him through it! Not some simple listener! His emotions are exploding and you stand there expressionless. You are even delivering your lines five seconds late. Stop putting on airs—be natural!”
Yao Jinwei was scolded harshly. She pressed her lips together and said, “I am sorry, Director. I did not steady my emotions just now. Fourth Brother’s performance overwhelmed me. Give me two minutes to adjust.”
“Two minutes. Hurry up,” Zhou Changjiang replied.
Yao Jinwei took a couple of deep breaths to get back into character. Then she suddenly noticed Qin Sizheng standing beside Zhou Changjiang. She frowned, wondering why he was here. Was he deliberately watching her embarrass herself?
She nearly choked on her breath.
Although An Ning had her earbuds in, she was still paying attention. The moment filming paused, she ran over with a cup of warm water. Afraid of ruining his makeup, she inserted a straw for him to drink.
Lu Xianqing took it and had a couple of sips, feeling his throat ease. When he spotted Qin Sizheng beside Zhou Changjiang, he walked over. “Director Zhou, the kid is out of class already. Why are you still keeping him in detention?”
Zhou Changjiang shot him a look of disdain. “He volunteered to stay for self-study. Not everyone is like you, coming late and leaving early, wishing you could teach in place of the teacher.”
Lu Xianqing tilted his head to look at Qin Sizheng. Only then did he notice that his eyes were still damp, the rims red as though he had been crying. He immediately frowned and asked Zhou Changjiang, “Did you scold him?”
Zhou Changjiang was caught completely off guard. “Why would I scold him?”
“Then why are his eyes so red? Do not tell me sand got in them. Why is it that sand never gets in your eyes? Does it only go into his?”
Zhou Changjiang was nearly driven mad by him. He pulled Qin Sizheng over. “Ask him yourself. I am busy. I do not have time to argue with you. Yao Jinwei, come here.”
Yao Jinwei felt a flicker of joy. She thought Lu Xianqing was standing up for her. They had worked together before—surely he still cared about her dignity.
She hurried over. “Fourth—” She had only just begun to speak when she realized he did not even look at her. Instead, he placed his hand over Qin Sizheng’s eyes, his voice gentle and patient. “Why are your eyes so red? Did Zhou Changjiang scold you?”
Yao Jinwei: “?”
Zhou Changjiang saw her standing there blankly and frowned. “Come here. What are you standing there for?”
Qin Sizheng was afraid of being seen, afraid that it would look as though he were taking advantage of Lu Xianqing. He quickly pulled his hand down. “No. I just…”
Lu Xianqing hummed softly, waiting for him to continue.
“I just thought your acting was too good. I got drawn in for a moment, so… Director Zhou really did not scold me.” Qin Sizheng felt a little embarrassed to admit it. No one else had cried—only him. It made him seem overly dramatic.
Lu Xianqing broke into a smile. “So it was for me.”
Qin Sizheng nodded lightly.
Lu Xianqing could not help asking, “You cried just from watching me act. If I were really like that, would you run over crying and hug me? Rescue me from misery?”
“What?”
Lu Xianqing shook his head. “Nothing. I have not asked you yet—what did you think of my performance just now?”
“It was amazing! Even just watching from the side, I felt like I was being pulled into it. If only I could be as good as you.” Qin Sizheng’s eyes shone brightly under the lights, filled with admiration.
Lu Xianqing could not see very clearly. He raised his hand again, tentatively brushing the corner of Qin Sizheng’s eye. “Am I really that good?”
Noticing his slightly imprecise movements, Qin Sizheng suddenly remembered that he had night blindness. The admiration in his heart swelled instantly. “Super good!”
Although Lu Xianqing’s vision was blurred, he could hear the sincerity in his voice. The pure and earnest praise made his heart itch. He could not help pinching lightly at the corner of his eye, then sliding down to his earlobe and tugging him a little closer.
Qin Sizheng thought he wanted to say something, so he lifted his head and leaned in to listen. Just then, someone behind him was moving equipment. The person stepped back without looking and bumped straight into Lu Xianqing.
Qin Sizheng’s eyes burned as warm lips brushed against his.
He froze for two seconds, blinking in a daze. Feeling the resistance, he instinctively pushed him away. His hands did not know where to go, and his breathing fell completely out of rhythm.
The crew member was new and somewhat clumsy. The moment he realized he had bumped into someone, he immediately turned and apologized. “I am sorry, Fourth Brother. I was only paying attention to stepping back and did not see you here. I am sorry, I am sorry!”
“It is fine. Be more careful next time,” Lu Xianqing said.
The crew member was stunned. He was that easygoing?
“Yes, yes, I will definitely be careful next time! But are you all right? Did you get hurt?” The script supervisor dared not offend this great star. If anything happened to him, not even death would atone for it. He anxiously asked again and again, “Does anything hurt? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”
Lu Xianqing laughed. “I am not made of paper. I will not fall apart from a bump. If Director Zhou hears you talking so much nonsense, he will scold me again. Go on, get back to work.”
The crew member laughed as well, relieved. “Thank you, Fourth Brother.”
Lu Xianqing turned back and saw Qin Sizheng still standing there in a daze. He reached out and gently brushed his eyelids. “Does anything hurt? Did I bump you? Are your eyes uncomfortable? Did I hit you?”
Qin Sizheng was still caught in that sudden “kiss.” Lu Xianqing carried a faint trace of cologne, the lingering base note drifting to his nose with every breath. His lips had been a little cool, a little damp. For some reason, the word “kiss” echoed in his mind.
“Why are you not saying anything? Did I really hit you? Lift your head and let me see.” As Lu Xianqing spoke, he reached out and cupped Qin Sizheng’s chin, tilting it up. But his night blindness was severe—he could not make out such subtle changes at all.
Qin Sizheng, however, could see clearly. From this angle, he could see Lu Xianqing’s slightly lowered lashes. Perhaps because of his night blindness, he looked with deliberate focus, as if he were staring intently.
His eyes were beautiful—long and narrow like lotus petals. Even the crease of his double eyelids resembled the veins of a flower. His lashes were dark and long; when they fell, they cast a faint shadow. His pupils were as dark as the sea. When he looked at him, the intensity of his focus made Qin Sizheng’s mouth go dry. The pounding of his heart rushed along his veins to his ears, deafening.
Heat rose to Qin Sizheng’s chin. He swallowed unconsciously.
Shen Changfeng had said that Lu Xianqing wanted something from him. What could he possibly want? Was he being so kind to him because he wanted something in return?
Were all these gentle, anxious gestures fake?
Lu Xianqing’s fingers covered his eyes. Seeing him dazed, he thought he was really hurt. For the first time, he found the night blindness he had lived with since birth utterly irritating.
“An Ning!”
He called out loudly. Qin Sizheng suddenly came back to himself. He shoved him away and took several steps back, his face flushed as he stammered, “Um, I just remembered I have something to do, so I will head out first. Fourth Brother, good luck with filming—go back and rest early!”
Without waiting for a reply, he ran off. The warmth beneath Lu Xianqing’s fingers vanished abruptly. He lifted his head and watched the already blurry figure quickly dissolve into the night, disappearing without a trace. He lightly licked the corner of his lips.
So he was shy.