The moment Yu Junqing finished speaking, silence fell between them.
Bo Rui’s sharp, commanding brows drew together slightly. The man had always had a strong, heroic appearance, and in that serious expression, with the tense atmosphere, Yu Junqing—someone who had weathered countless storms—felt his heart suddenly start to race.
Bo Rui’s lips brushed lightly, and Yu Junqing felt every nerve in his body tense. He didn’t even know what answer he wanted to hear. Almost thirty years old, yet here he was acting on such impulse…
“No,” Bo Rui said decisively after a moment’s thought, rejecting him.
Yu Junqing felt a pang of disappointment. Rationally, he knew rejection was expected, yet his heart had clung to hope. Being refused like this left a tight, almost suffocating ache in his chest.
“My neighborhood’s good, but it’s an old building. Mostly elderly residents live here; they wander around out of boredom every day,” Bo Rui said, pausing to glance at the clearly disappointed Yu Junqing. He reached over and ruffled his hair.
The hair felt pleasant, softer than his own coarse stubble, and Bo Rui, for some reason, thought it comforting. He continued:
“You’re a big star—easy to be recognized here.”
Yu Junqing’s heavy, stifling feeling dissipated at once. He looked at Bo Rui’s face, and warmth surged up in his chest. What a good person, he thought.
Bo Rui didn’t know what Yu Junqing was thinking. He sat down beside him, pointing toward his room.
“See my room? Only one bed. Last night you were drunk, so I didn’t ask—I just put you up there. I’m not comfortable sleeping fully clothed; I like being naked. You’re not going to sleep naked on the same bed as me, are you?” Bo Rui laughed, the words casual.
Truthfully, when he took over this old house from his parents, he never planned to reserve a guest room. He wasn’t about to let relatives intrude, and as for friends, he wasn’t that socially inclined. Bo Rui lived simply; comfort mattered more than excitement, and he had few companions.
Yu Junqing listened, gradually understanding. Indeed, he had been abrupt. Bo Rui’s house was spacious and mostly empty; the only usable bed was the one he had slept on.
Relieved, Yu Junqing realized that if it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have believed a word—these words sounded lofty, but in reality, they were simply a refusal.
Yet Bo Rui was different. Looking into his eyes, Yu Junqing could see a sincerity rarely found. As someone who had studied acting from a young age, he was adept at reading people.
He remembered his first impression of Xu Zong—cold, calculating, devoid of any real emotion, as if Yu Junqing were a pig on a chopping block. Bo Rui’s gaze, however, was different: it carried a genuine attitude toward life and himself. Sincere, he thought.
A smile appeared on Yu Junqing’s face.
“Thank you, Rui-ge.”
Bo Rui froze for a moment—Yu Junqing’s smile was still just as beautiful as ever.
The truth was, Bo Rui had liked Yu Junqing’s acting because it was so convincing, so real. He loved historical dramas, especially grand period pieces, and The Son of Heaven had caught his attention. He couldn’t take his eyes off Yu Junqing the entire film.
Over time, he became a habitual reader of any newspaper featuring Yu Junqing, unknowingly becoming a semi-fan.
“Rui-ge?” Yu Junqing called, feeling an odd discomfort under Bo Rui’s unwavering gaze, as if Bo Rui were seeing right through him.
“Oh, nothing. Just remembered your acting in The Son of Heaven and got lost in thought,” Bo Rui quickly explained.
Yu Junqing froze. Lost in thought with my face? Can you even ‘borrow’ someone’s face to zone out? He felt slightly embarrassed.
Bo Rui chuckled. Despite knowing Yu Junqing was almost thirty, he instinctively felt this man looked seventeen or eighteen—innocent and endearing.
“Why the blank stare?” he asked, ruffling Yu Junqing’s hair again. His hands found the soft hair irresistible.
“Oh, so you’ve seen my acting?” Yu Junqing finally asked, masking the faint excitement in his voice.
“Yes!” Bo Rui answered freely.
“You act exceptionally well—so expressive. I actually quite like you,” Bo Rui said without hesitation.
Those simple, honest words—expressive—made Yu Junqing realize that his acting truly had impact. His smile now carried a faint, melancholic undertone.
“Why? You’re not happy?” Bo Rui noticed the change instantly.
“No, I’m happy,” Yu Junqing waved a hand, long lashes lowering slightly, conveying feelings he couldn’t articulate.
Being sidelined for so long, Yu Junqing had often wondered if his craft mattered, if perseverance had any value.
“Don’t hide your feelings. If you’re unhappy, say so. I don’t like dealing with pretentious people,” Bo Rui said bluntly.
Yu Junqing blushed at the straightforwardness, realizing that Bo Rui was exactly the kind of person he seemed—unpretentious and genuine.
“By the way… you were drinking last night to escape this, right? You wanted to stay here for that reason?” Bo Rui asked suddenly, recalling the night near the city’s golden den.
Yu Junqing was surprised—he thought Bo Rui wasn’t the type to meddle.
After a pause, he spoke honestly about his situation, a hint of despair creeping into his voice.
Bo Rui’s expression softened as he listened. Yu Junqing noticed, feeling a strange dissonance—their minds seemed to operate on completely different wavelengths.
Then Bo Rui asked:
“After all this, you still want to act?”
The question struck Yu Junqing hard. His face turned pale.
“Wait, hear me out,” Bo Rui said with a sigh, noticing how fragile Yu Junqing seemed.
Yu Junqing pressed his lips together, sitting quietly, eyes fixed on Bo Rui.
Bo Rui patted his shoulder and continued:
“I don’t understand your industry. But from the outside, seeing you—years of acting, no support, constantly suppressed, unwilling to compromise yourself… why keep acting?”
Bo Rui’s voice was firm. Some things, he believed, weren’t meant for everyone—forcing them was pointless.
“Look, if you can’t change the situation, don’t try. Solve a different problem instead.”
“Different path?” Yu Junqing repeated, bewildered.
Bo Rui tapped his cheek lightly. “Yes. The world is bigger than this. If you can’t bend here, leave this circle. Mountains are high, birds fly freely; the seas are wide, fish leap. Why strangle yourself in a narrow alley?”
Yu Junqing had never heard this before. For the first time, he felt… liberated.
Could it be true? Leaving the entertainment world, could he really live as he wished?