Chapter 20

Although the plan was changed at the last minute, they were lucky enough to encounter heavy snowfall the night before. Lin Mo was picky and insisted on shooting on location, so the planning team had no choice but to rush to find a suitable venue. Pei Tingsong shot his solo scenes first. Originally, Fang Jue Xia was supposed to wait in the break room, but for some reason, he couldn’t sleep and kept looking at the piece of paper in his hand.

　[Please indulge me, and treat me to the snow.]

　It was as if a voice in his heart was repeating this line of poetry over and over again.

He had always known that he had little appreciation for such romantic words and was completely disconnected from literature. But strangely, looking at the few lines written by Pei Tingsong, Fang Jue Xia felt a strange sense of reverie.

　But he lacked the ability to express it, unable to describe it.

Emotions and thoughts are truly complex; things that cannot be modeled or reasoned with mathematics are all complex.

Cheng Qiang brought him hot milk and a down jacket. Fang Juexia put the paper back into his front pocket and put on the black sweater handed to him by his assistant. Cheng Qiang urged him to sleep a little longer, as the upcoming shoot would be exhausting. But Fang Juexia knew this was a rare opportunity, and he wanted to capture sufficiently good footage, so he still donned the coat and went to the studio to observe from the sidelines.

Everyone gathered around Pei Tingsong. To evoke the concept of spring, the lighting director went to great lengths to create a warm, greenhouse-like glow, bathing him entirely in light.

　“Pei Tingsong is truly born for this line of work,” Cheng Qiang remarked, “but if he hadn’t entered the entertainment industry, he’d probably be the kind of wealthy second-generation heir who goes viral on social media for his good looks when he takes over the family business.”

　Fang Juexia nodded, but he couldn’t imagine that scenario. In his mind, Pei Tingsong and the stage were inseparable.

Indeed, he was tall and had a face that could be both salty and desirable, a classic example of someone blessed by heaven. Not only did he have the physical attributes, but he also had a natural flair for fashion, or perhaps it was just that people with personality naturally have a strong presence.

　Just standing in the glass greenhouse, Pei Tingsong already looked stunning.

The group show’s camera crew followed them, and Cheng Qiang felt that the two of them were acting too unfriendly toward each other. She nudged Juexia and whispered, “Go over and take a look at Little Pei.”

　Fang Juexia wasn’t very willing, but since Cheng Qiang had pushed her out, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and walk over.

　The greenhouse was filled with various flowers. Clusters of caramel-colored roses crowded together with pink tulips and clematis, while patches of water-blue endless summer flowers were interspersed with scattered grape hyacinths.

　Fang Juexia, wrapped in a light gray down jacket, quietly approached Pei Tingsong from behind. He didn’t know how to start a conversation with him, and he didn’t really feel like talking either. With his makeup on, he looked like a silent snow elf.

　Pei Tingsong stood with his back to him, glancing at the flower bed. Among the overlapping clusters of flowers, he spotted a hint of white. It was almost pushed to the very center by the other flowers. He gently pushed aside the other flowers, revealing a straight green stem trembling slightly.

He wanted to rescue this white flower.

　“Good,” Lin Mo snapped a few photos and checked them. The curve of Pei Tingsong’s lips was subtle, barely noticeable. He was satisfied with this feeling.

　“Why did you choose this one?” Fang Juexia suddenly spoke up. Pei Tingsong only then noticed his presence. The flower branches here were all freshly cut, so Pei Tingsong pulled out the white flower without hesitation. He pinched the stem between his fingertips, brought it to his nose, and found no ordinary floral scent, only a faint plant-like odor.

　He smiled and asked, “Why do you think?”

Fang Juexia lowered his eyes to look at the flower, and this movement pulled his snow-white long eyelashes, like two trembling petals.

He vaguely sensed something.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked,” Fang Juexia raised his eyes again.

　To his surprise, Pei Tingsong raised an eyebrow, handed him the flower, but not to Fang Jue Xia, but held it beside his face, parallel to his features.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied something.

　However, Pei Tingsong did not reach any conclusion in the end. As he withdrew his hand, the blooming flower brushed against Fang Jue Xia’s jawline.

“I think you know,” he said, raising his eyebrow, his tone confident and lighthearted. He withdrew his hand, and the thumb of his left hand gently gathered the scattered petals one by one.

　Fang Juexia admitted he had never felt this way before. This push-and-pull rhetoric was beyond his limited social skills. Pei Tingsong was a completely different person from him. When he was direct, it caught him off guard, but when he was indirect, it was impossible to read him.

　“Good, you’re in good shape.” After finishing the candid shots, Lin Mo changed angles and said to Pei Tingsong, “Be a little gentler, closer to the concept of spring.”

Pei Tingsong’s inherent skepticism flared up again, but he said it with a smile, and his smile actually fit their so-called “concept” quite well.

　“Does the concept of spring have to be gentle?”

　Having spent too long in an environment that values harmony and conformity, even skeptics have lost their sharp edges.

“When we talk about spring, we think of gentleness. Gentle breezes and warm sunshine, winter giving way to spring. It seems like the idea that winter rages and then spring brings warmth and flowers has become a fixed impression, which is pretty boring. Can’t we come up with something new?“ After saying that, he glanced at Fang Juexia, ”For example, the weak winter is imprisoned by spring and never sees the light of day again… something like that.”

　Lin Mo stood up straight, not immediately reacting to his idea. The other staff members dared not speak up, but the magazine editor and chief writer waiting nearby were overjoyed. Plus, the Star Map team was known for being lenient in their reviews, with few taboos, so they were even happier.

After a moment, he began pacing in circles, then suddenly stopped and asked Fang Juexia, “What do you think?”

　Such photographers are rare. Most established photographers in the industry are authoritarian, and Lin Mo was no exception. However, after being overruled by Pei Tingsong once, his tolerance threshold had widened.

“An aggressive spring,” Fang Juexia affirmed, “I like that description.”

He wasn’t merely compliant; he was genuinely interested. Besides, in his eyes, Pei Tingsong was no saint, and his demeanor didn’t match the gentle spring setting at all.

“You know what?” Lin Mo chuckled, turning to Pei Tingsong. “The last time someone argued with me like this and made me compromise was a top-tier leading actress with impeccable taste and a proud temperament.”

　Everyone understood the implication of this statement, so they all sighed in relief.

　The plan was revised time and again, and the final version was worlds apart from the original. Yet every staff member present couldn’t help but be impressed by Pei Tingsong’s performance. Once filming began, Fang Juexia left the studio and stood by the monitor.

　Pei Tingsong sat lazily on the ground, propping one leg up and stretching the other forward. Surrounded by flowers, he held a solitary snow-white blossom in his hand. The camera shot from above. Pei Tingsong’s hair was tousled, with a few strands falling across his eyebrows. When he raised his eyes, their shape narrowed and elongated, the shadows at the corners almost blending with the pink petals of the early cherry blossoms.

However, the aggressiveness in his gaze was unmistakable, like a predator waiting to pounce. The soft, fragrant flowers around him only served to highlight this careless ruthlessness.

　“Very good, nice eyes.” Lin Mo leaned down, the camera zooming in closer, capturing the real sensuality of his eyelashes and the small mole under his eye. Pei Tingsong turned his face, holding the flower branch and bringing the half-open blossom to his lips.

Fang Jue Xia watched quietly, thinking that Pei Tingsong was about to kiss it.

　But his lips only touched it briefly, like a butterfly landing on a flower, then opened, his teeth biting into the tender petals. The corners of his mouth curled upward, like a beast that had successfully bitten through the artery of its prey, the exhilaration of a successful hunt boiling in his eyes and blood.

The shutter clicked incessantly.

　Fang Juexia was distracted; he could almost feel the dull pain the petal endured as Pei Tingsong’s teeth sank in.

　Lin Mo was quite satisfied, so satisfied that he didn’t bother to speak, just kept pressing the shutter as Pei Tingsong changed positions.

“Dear,” Andy’s voice appeared again, pulling Fang Juexia’s thoughts back. He was holding a powder puff in his hand. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I didn’t realize you were here. Your team really gets along well.”

　The relationships weren’t actually that good. Fang Juexia shifted his eyes and gave a nervous smile. Andy touched up his makeup. “The snowy scene has been arranged. They said there’s a park nearby with a particularly beautiful view.” He snapped a few photos, then stepped back to examine them. “Perfect.”

　Andy probably had also reapplied his cologne while stepping outside, but the scent was unusually strong, as if he had accidentally spilled half a bottle on himself, making Fang Juexia’s nose itch. He squinted his eyes and endured it for a while, but eventually sneezed.

“Achoo.”

　The sound was very soft, but Pei Tingsong was immediately drawn to it, lifting his head. Fang Juexia turned her head after sneezing, and their gazes accidentally met.

Pei Tingsong laughed.

　This moment was also captured by chance. His chin and lips were covered by broken flowers, but the curve of his smiling eyes was very lively.

“This one is blurry, but it’s quite lively,” Lin Mo said with satisfaction.

He was a photographer who liked to take pictures of models’ body parts, and this time his target was Pei Tingsong’s hands. With the blurred flowers as the background, Pei Tingsong pulled out another white flower, his fingers gently brushing over the overlapping petals that were almost closed, then grabbed it roughly and tore the petals apart. They were cruelly separated from the green sepals, leaving the broken pistil standing alone, trembling and swaying.

　Though it was clearly an act of destruction, through the lens and Fang Juexia’s pupils, it resembled the full bloom of genuine desire.

The rapid shutter sounds served as a metaphor for breathing. The white petals were crumpled into translucent folds, resembling bruises. Light does not lie; it shone through these tiny wounds. The fibers inside are illuminated, like the capillaries of a flower.

“Let them fall.”

Following the photographer’s instructions, Pei Tingsong stops his rampage, his fingers loosening without a trace of reluctance. The petals, like broken butterfly wings, drift from between his fingers and the edges of his palms, completing their mission.

　The staff brought over a small bowl of bright red cherries. Originally, it was also a prop in the shooting plan, but when Fang Juexia saw the bowl, she noticed it was exquisitely crafted, made of translucent white porcelain with ice-crack patterns.

“This is beautiful,” Fang Juexia couldn’t help but praise.

　Little did she know that Pei Tingsong walked over and took the bowl from the staff member’s hands.

“What’s so beautiful? This?” He looked innocent, sitting cross-legged on the ground, but his hands held the bowl as if he were about to smash it on the ground.

Fang Jue Xia was unusually flustered, “Ah—”

　Seeing that his prank had worked, Pei Tingsong laughed like a triumphant child, withdrew his hand, and dipped his index finger, still covered in flower juice, into the small cherry pool, stirring it around.

　The camera focused again.

　“Excellent!” The photographer’s raised tone unhesitatingly revealed his satisfaction with the work.

　On the monitor, he raised his hand to wipe away the crimson juice from the corner of his mouth, smiling wickedly. Unconsciously, Fang Juexia’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

The final frame froze on this image, Pei Tingsong’s satisfied gaze almost piercing through the screen.

Gripping his throat with a steady gaze.