After filming Pei Tingsong, everyone gathered in front of the monitor to view the original footage, and everyone praised it highly. As the crowd grew larger, Fang Juexia instinctively stepped back to make room for everyone else.
As she stepped back, she accidentally ended up in someone’s arms.
Fang Juexia instinctively looked down and apologized, but the person instead wrapped their arms around her shoulders.
“Do you like it, Juexia?”
Having just washed his hands, his hands were still wet, so Pei Tingsong simply rested his wrist on Fang Juexia’s shoulder, leaving his hand hanging empty. Fang Juexia didn’t even have to lift his head; just hearing the words “Juexia Ge” made him realize there was a camera nearby.
“Hmm.” He could only respond in a brotherly manner.
Pei Tingsong pressed further, “Which one is the best?”
Cheng Qiang was even more satisfied than Pei Tingsong himself, smiling nonstop. He turned around and remembered something, “Oh, Juexia, did you put on a heating pad? It’ll be cold outside later.”
Fang Juexia nodded, “I did.”
“Put on more.”
Pei Tingsong felt playful, “How many did you put on? Where did you put them?” He looked down at Fang Juexia’s sweater, trying to find some clues. Relying on the camera, Fang Juexia wouldn’t resist, so his hand slid down from his shoulder, resting on his shoulder blade, then moving downward.
“Found it.” Pei Tingsong smiled, rubbing his shoulder blade with his palm, “Two pieces.”
“Only two?” Cheng Qiang started worrying again, “Two isn’t enough, you need to put on more.”
Pei Tingsong’s hand continued to slide down, “There must be more.” His motive was simple and childish—he just wanted to test Fang Juexia’s threshold, to push the boundaries. Fang Juexia’s shell was too thick; he seemed fake.
“There are more.” Fang Juexia calmly slipped out of his half-embrace. “I posted four pieces, plus a hand warmer.” He pulled his face into the down collar and looked at Cheng Qiang, trying to change the subject. “Can we go now?”
“I’ll go ask.”
Fang Juexia followed Cheng Qiang as they walked away. Watching him try to avoid him, Pei Tingsong found it amusing.
After finishing the solo shots, the crew began dismantling the set. He had been feeling sorry for the flowers, but it turned out the props team was taking them away again—probably for the duo shots. As they passed by, Pei Tingsong casually asked,
“What’s the name of this white flower?” He pointed to the flower he had just used for the photo.
The props assistant replied, “This one? It’s called a white bellflower.”
White bellflower… Pei Tingsong nodded, took out his phone, and searched for it.
The name was quite nice.
The phone screen displayed various images of the flower, and at first glance, the pure white one was the most beautiful. Below the images were listed its alternative names and the various meanings people had attached to it.
The group’s photographer followed them, and Pei Tingsong put away his phone, tilted his head toward the camera, then turned the small monitor screen toward himself and tidied his hair.
“Do I look handsome?”
Pei Tingsong had already put on a thick coat and was playing a game of logic with the group show’s cameraman, making the camera shake constantly. Hearing his name, Pei Tingsong finally turned his face.
He wanted to sleep and was about to say he wouldn’t go, but then he heard Fang Juexia answer for him, “He doesn’t need to go.”
“That’s true, it’s cold outside. Xiao Pei, you can go ahead and shoot the duo in the studio and wait for me…”
Pei Tingsong stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m going.” He deliberately curled his lips. “When I was taking photos, my brother was always by my side. Now that my brother is taking photos, I have to go. Otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense.”
There’s no need for that. Fang Juexia was headache, but could only mutter to himself.
They had chosen a snowy scene of a cold spruce forest. After a night of snowfall, it truly lived up to its name. Although Pei Tingsong spoke eloquently, he fell asleep next to Fang Juexia as soon as he got into the car.
“These photos are too good to be used as inner pages,” Andy said dramatically, but his words were not exaggerated. Lin Mo, who was usually sharp-tongued, also spoke up, “The expressiveness is good; most troublemakers make good model candidates.”
Cheng Qiang smiled politely. Fang Juexia silently gazed out the window, feeling the head of the person next to him nodding forward like a fishing rod.
The wound at the corner of his eye hadn’t healed yet, and if this continued, he’d end up with another scar on his forehead. In the past, Fang Juexia wouldn’t have cared. But in the past, Pei Tingsong wouldn’t have sat next to him either.
Just as Pei Tingsong leaned forward again, Fang Juexia’s palm protected his forehead, guiding him back until the back of his head rested against the chair’s backrest. After completing this arduous task, Fang Juexia exhaled in relief, glancing at Pei Tingsong’s hands, which were red from the cold.
“Hurry up and set up the lighting equipment!”
“We’re about to start shooting!”
His demeanor was indeed cold, almost blending in with the snow here.
The photography assistant sprinkled some snow on Fang Juexia’s hair, echoing his white eyelashes. His nose tip was frozen red, and even the birthmark at the corner of his eye appeared a deeper shade of red. This face was undeniably more suited for a close-up.
Lin Mo had him lie down in the snow, the camera positioned extremely low, capturing the curve of his profile as he lay flat—from his forehead to his nose bridge and down to his lip peak, like a continuous snow-capped mountain range. At the base of the mountains, a hint of crimson remained, like a wound left behind before spring departed. He already envisioned a double exposure composition in his mind, such curves juxtaposed against the cold, desolate spruce forest.
He was right; Fang Juexia was perfect for winter.
Pei Tingsong fell asleep, his head tilted to the right, and woke up suddenly. He opened his eyes and saw that no one was in the car. He vaguely felt that something was wrong. He looked down and saw that he was holding a small spherical hand warmer in his hand, which was very warm.
He opened the car door and stepped out, the cold wind rushing into his neck, instantly waking him up. He walked step by step through the snow toward the main group. From a distance, Pei Tingsong saw Fang Juexia standing in the snow-covered forest, not like a human, but like a deer lost in the snow.
A person’s aura can truly be this pure.
The temperature outside was much colder than inside, so Fang Juexia had to stop mid-shoot to warm up. His assistant handed him hot tea and a down jacket to help him regain his body heat as quickly as possible. Lin Mo saw Pei Tingsong approaching and said with satisfaction, “You’re quite talented.”
Pei Tingsong smiled and asked, “In what aspect?” He instinctively knew that the other party was not referring to his performance during the shoot.
“Aesthetic sense,” Lin Mo paused, “perceptiveness, creativity.” After speaking, he handed the camera to Pei Tingsong, lit a cigarette, and said indistinctly, “He is indeed very suited for winter.”
“And a non-aggressive winter.” Pei Tingsong looked at the original photo of Fang Juexia’s gaze, which was straight and resilient, hiding a hint of moist softness.
“I heard from your sister that I thought you were some kind of hip-hop enthusiast. I didn’t expect the real you to be like this.”
“It’s your prejudice against hip-hop,” Pei Tingsong retorted bluntly. “Its core spirit is about freedom and depth.”
Lin Mo nodded, making no effort to hide his attitude. “Then don’t you feel it’s a pity to be an idol?”
When he asked this question, Pei Tingsong’s first reaction was not regret, but rather a recollection of his previous argument with Fang Juexia.
[Dreams have no hierarchy of nobility or inferiority; there are only those that can be realized and those that cannot.]
He exhaled deeply, white mist swirling around him, wanting to say it was a pity, but also knowing it should be a pity.
His gaze drifted far away, and he saw Fang Juexia ten meters away, wrapped in a thick down jacket. The staff were preparing for the next round of filming and set design near him, while he stepped on the snow a few times, as if it had turned into dance steps. What had started as just stepping on the snow turned into small dance moves, and with the wide, loose down jacket, he looked like a penguin slipping on the ice.
His phone vibrated once. Pei Tingsong looked down and unlocked the screen. It was their group chat.
[Besides being pretty, she’s useless: @Dalian City Cao Lu Bu Fang, I suddenly thought of a move that would be perfect to incorporate as the killing part. Let’s discuss it when we get back.]
He also sent a cheesy sun emoji.
It turned out that he could also get emotional and happy when chatting. Pei Tingsong looked up at Fang Juexia and noticed that he was tapping his feet lightly on the snow until Andy, who was touching up his makeup, stopped him, and he returned to his previous “little ice cube” mode.
Lin Mo saw that he wasn’t answering, so he smiled and squatted down to extinguish his cigarette in the snow. “You still think it’s a pity, don’t you?”
Who knew that at this moment, Pei Tingsong spoke up, “Maybe not.” He kicked the snow and put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.” After saying that, he walked towards Fang Juexia and heard him humming a tune, which was very pleasant.
Fang Juexia obediently closed his eyes as Andy applied transparent lip gloss to his eye sockets. Suddenly, he felt a chill on the back of his neck, and he snapped his eyes open and turned his head. He saw Pei Tingsong standing behind him, smiling and saying, “I threw a snowball in there.”
Seeing Fang Juexia’s wide eyes, Pei Tingsong burst into laughter, “I’m kidding you.”
The filming proceeded smoothly, but it was too cold outside. After just finishing the head of a snowman, Pei Tingsong was shivering from the cold, kicked away the snowball he had been rolling for half an hour, and quickly躲回 the production team’s shed to sit down. His gaze was drawn to the raw footage on the monitor. There were two monitors, one on the left and one on the right. The left one showed the direct output from Lin Mo’s camera, while the right one showed the behind-the-scenes footage from the magazine.
In the footage, Fang Juexia was lying on his back. Unlike the previous scene, after retouching his makeup, his eye sockets were damp, and a translucent liquid trickled down his cheeks, resembling tear stains. His snow-white eyelashes framed his dazed expression.
The birthmark was red, the tip of his nose was red, and his lips were red as well. They were slightly parted, with a crystal-clear ice cube pressed against them. Inside the transparent ice, a cherry was frozen.
This one was too beautiful. Pei Tingsong stared at it intently, snapping back to reality when he heard a sound.
He looked at the screen on the right. In the video, the ice cube was melting steadily, water trickling from the corner of his mouth. When Lin Mo’s voice saying “OK” appeared, Fang Juexia turned her face, parted her lips, and gently pushed the ice cube out with her tongue, catching it in her hand. She sat up, snow clinging to her hair, the birthmark at the corner of her eye as red as her lips, her entire face breaking into a smile. “It’s so cold.” “ He pressed the back of his hand against his lips, then removed it, repeating the motion several times. ”My lips are numb.”
Pei Tingsong suddenly recalled the sensation of passing candy wrappers.
Though it had been a long time ago, that feeling had not been forgotten.
“He was born for this job,” a staff member nearby remarked, “His face is more beautiful than a girl’s.”
“Yes. If he were a woman, he would be so beautiful. It’s a pity, otherwise he would have many admirers.” Another male planner wore a meaningful expression, “No wonder…”
Before he could finish, someone placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Pei Tingsong’s innocent smile.
“No wonder what?” He asked kindly and curiously, “I want to hear it too.”
