After being soothed by Xie Jin and eating her favorite lime-flavored mini cake, Bai Ying turned back into a little snake, burrowed into the bedding, and slept soundly. However, when he woke up the next day feeling clear-headed, the unease crept back in.
The little snake rustled out from under the covers and slithered onto the phone by the pillow. With the resolve of someone marching to their death, he tapped open Weibo, only to find that Xie Jin’s scandal had been removed from the hot searches. The marketing accounts either went silent politely or got outright banned. Xie Jin usually appeared mild and humble, but this thunderous display reminded people that few in the entertainment industry had a bigger backing than him.
Bai Ying didn’t relax just because the hot search was gone. He checked the fan group next, where people were sporadically discussing the matter. The moment he entered, two new messages popped up.
[Wasn’t the hot search taken down manually? Brother Xie is taking this so seriously this time. He used to ignore scandals like they were nothing. Could this one be real…?]
[Maybe because it involves a regular person this time. Brother Xie has always hated dragging non-celebrities into the public eye.]
The little snake nodded along as he read. It had to be for that reason.
Bai Ying actually wanted to keep scrolling through the current public opinion, but it was time for him to go to work. Ever since joining the crew, his schedule followed the production team’s, which wasn’t very fixed. The production team sent out the schedule three days in advance, and today’s call time was seven in the morning.
After May arrived, the sun rose much earlier. Bai Ying hadn’t drawn the curtains tightly before bed, and from the sunlight filtering through the gap, he knew the sun had already climbed high. Nights grew shorter, days longer, and temperatures rose accordingly. Bai Ying shifted back to human form, and the thin blanket slid off his bare back. His skin was exposed to the air, but he didn’t feel cold.
He grabbed the colorful shirt from the bedside table and put it on—no need for a jacket. By noon or afternoon, he could even roll up the sleeves. After washing up, Bai Ying took the camera issued by the company and headed downstairs straight to the makeup room. In the time he’d been with the crew, he’d learned a lot about photography, and his behind-the-scenes shots were starting to look professional.
Xie Jin had gotten up even earlier than him. When Bai Ying arrived at the makeup room, Xie Jin’s makeup was already half done. Bai Ying recorded a short clip—there were plenty of similar ones already—and set the camera down while the makeup artist checked Xie Jin’s wig.
“Have you not eaten breakfast?” Xie Jin knew Bai Ying couldn’t have gotten up that early and come without eating anything. “I warmed some buns and youtiao for you. You know where to get them.”
Xie Jin had a private resting room equipped with a fridge and warmer, which Bai Ying ended up benefiting from most of the time.
The makeup artist laughed. “Aww, Xie-laoshi, why are you so nice to your scandal partner? I’m starting to think it’s real.”
Bai Ying, who had been nodding along, suddenly froze, his neck stiff like a rusty gear.
Woo woo woo, the scandal had already spread through the entire crew!
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Xie Jin said with a smile. “Xiao Bai will get embarrassed.”
His attitude was so natural that it gave Bai Ying the illusion that this really wasn’t a big deal.
However, for the rest of the day, the familiar colleagues on set would smile and tease him as the “scandal partner” whenever they saw him, embarrassing the little snake so much that he wanted to shift back to his original form and flee. He secretly resolved to keep his distance from Xie Jin and defend their reputations to the death. But every time Xie Jin offered snacks or wanted to see photos of the cute little snake, Bai Ying’s legs would carry him over without listening to him.
After it happened too many times, Bai Ying gave up struggling.
Once he stopped resisting, the teasing actually died down. For one thing, everyone was just joking around and didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable—overdoing it wouldn’t be right. For another, whenever they teased, Bai Ying would blush and stare at the ground, while Xie Jin just smiled faintly without explaining much. Their reactions weren’t particularly noteworthy, but someone else’s gaze looked murderous.
That someone was usually Tan Ming, who was also with the crew, but occasionally it pointed at a few visiting men.
Qin Juanshu, Yun Ze, Zhong Qian who came in place of Mr. Liu… and Lu Changjun, whom Bai Ying dreaded facing the most.
One day, Bai Ying spotted a familiar figure from afar and instinctively hid behind Xie Jin. He gripped his phone tightly. With Liu Qingzhang’s encouragement and Yun Ze’s prodding, he’d temporarily blocked Lu Changjun’s contact. Bai Ying felt this was too hurtful—even he thought he was being awful, to the point of secretly shedding tears in the dead of night. But Xiao Lu wouldn’t give up and kept finding ways to see him. The Lu Family was one of the investors in Xia Dao, so even with other backers holding sway, Lu Changjun always found opportunities to show up.
“Xie Jin, let me hide in your resting room,” Bai Ying almost begged. “When Xiao Lu comes, can you say you haven’t seen me?”
Xie Jin agreed, but he asked, “Why is Xiao Bai avoiding him? I remember you two used to get along great.”
“It’s… it’s my problem,” Bai Ying lied to Xie Jin, wracked with guilt. “Xiao Lu and I had a little conflict over his internship.”
The little snake’s conscience ached terribly.
But he also felt that lying might be better for Xiao Lu. After telling Mr. Liu and Yun Ze why he was avoiding Xiao Lu, Bai Ying resolved not to tell anyone else the truth. He didn’t want Xiao Lu to seem too pathetic.
He wasn’t sure if Xie Jin bought it. As Xiao Lu’s figure grew clearer, Bai Ying bolted.
He didn’t dare look back, so he didn’t know that Lu Changjun had already spotted him and was about to give chase when Xie Jin blocked his path in the middle of the road.
“Get out of the way!” Lu Changjun’s gaze was ferocious, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. “I’m not looking for you!”
Xie Jin didn’t budge. “He doesn’t want to see you.”
“I’m not wasting words with you. Last warning—move!” Lu Changjun wasn’t listening at all. His mind and eyes were filled only with Bai Ying.
Every time he thought of that name, Lu Changjun ground his molars with a creak, as if he wanted to swallow both the name and the person it represented.
How could he be so heartless…? How could he be so heartless?
Not giving him even a shred of chance, refusing to hear him out or meet him, stingy with even a glimmer of hope.
For the first time, Lu Changjun realized that when desire went unfulfilled, hatred could grow alongside love. He wanted to grab Bai Ying, lock him up, make it so he could only see him every day since he refused to meet. Make it so he could only hear his voice since he wouldn’t speak to him.
Lu Changjun had never shown such a violent side before—like a docile, clingy house dog suddenly discovering it was a feral stray.
Xie Jin still didn’t yield an inch. He couldn’t let Lu Changjun in this state go after Bai Ying.
What Bai Ying had said earlier definitely wasn’t true. An ordinary student might care about an internship, but the young master of the Lu Family probably never took it seriously from start to finish—he’d gone purely for the person. With his lovesick loser vibe, Xie Jin could tell exactly what had happened at a glance.
He was too young, couldn’t control his emotions, and had always had everything handed to him growing up. He probably couldn’t accept failure. Xie Jin worried he might do something extreme and had already mentally blacklisted him from the crew. There was no way he’d let him near Bai Ying; he just wanted to get rid of him fast.
“Mr. Lu, please leave.” Xie Jin maintained basic courtesy, but his words weren’t polite. “This isn’t the Lu Family’s production. You can’t force the crew to see you.”
Lu Changjun stared at his face.
“I remember now,” he said suddenly. “You’re the one who had the scandal with him before, right?”
His fists clenched tight, veins bulging on the back of his hands.
Xie Jin’s tone was cold. “That’s me. What’s it to you?”
Their words didn’t mesh, and they started brawling.
As the sole direct heir of the Lu Family in his generation, Lu Changjun had been trained in combat by special forces instructors since he was young, for self-defense when bodyguards weren’t around and to handle potential threats. Xie Jin came from a family of artsy middle-aged folks and seemed to lack any violent streak, but he himself had started in action films, learning both domestic martial arts and foreign fighting styles as a minor. For a moment, they were evenly matched—fists flying with solid impacts, the thuds of punches landing making bystanders wince. Soon, someone called the crew’s security.
The security guards were all tall, burly, and well-trained, but they couldn’t pull apart the two red-eyed fighters until a voice rang out nearby.
“Stop fighting!” The familiar voice made Lu Changjun and Xie Jin pause instinctively.
Lu Changjun whipped his head toward the sound, only to see a pair of reddened eyes.
“…Sorry.” Lu Changjun murmured.
Before seeing Bai Ying, his mind had been full of dark thoughts—wanting to imprison the little snake, make him his possession, bully him ruthlessly, vent the resentment of rejection. But the moment Bai Ying looked hurt, he crumbled instantly.
“If… if you have a problem with me, if you’re upset or unhappy, take it out on me.” Bai Ying helped Xie Jin up, but his eyes were on Lu Changjun. His voice choked, making his words halting. “Why hit someone else?”
“Sorry,” Bai Ying’s sadness made Lu Changjun feel like his heart had died again. He could only apologize futilely, enduring the pain that felt like it was splitting his heart in two. “…I won’t bother you anymore.”
**
Lu Changjun left in a daze, the security guards watching him go in case he caused more trouble. But Xie Jin knew Lu Changjun was like an empty shell now.
As for himself, Bai Ying helped him back to the resting room.
Bai Ying held back for a long time but still shed a few tears. Xie Jin, on the other hand, managed a smile and asked, “Am I too heavy?”
Bai Ying shook his head and helped Xie Jin sit in a chair.
The agent soon brought the on-set doctor, and the director followed. Bai Ying was unusually silent, quietly moving aside to give them space.
The doctor quickly checked Xie Jin’s injuries. No open wounds since it was all fists, but there was bruising in several places—the worst on his face.
It was just red now and not obvious, but it would swell overnight. Xie Jin still had filming, and face issues were major problems. The doctor pulled out an ice pack for him to apply, but it was just first aid. Lu Changjun had hit hard; it would still swell by morning.
“We can shoot the injured scenes first,” the director sighed in relief. At least no major issues. “No need for much makeup now.”
She tried to find humor in the hardship, and Bai Ying nearby felt a bit better hearing it. At least it hadn’t delayed production much.
But the guilt still weighed heavily, leaving Bai Ying speechless.
“Xiao Bai,” Xie Jin called suddenly. “My arm’s getting sore. Can you hold the ice pack for me?”
Bai Ying nodded vigorously and hurried over.
Xie Jin sat on a cushioned bench and patted the empty spot beside him, gesturing for Bai Ying to sit. Bai Ying took the ice pack from his hand and carefully pressed it to Xie Jin’s cheek.
Xie Jin glanced at his agent.
The agent, who’d worked with him for over a decade, read his eyes instantly and quietly ushered the doctor and director out of the resting room. Soon, only Bai Ying and Xie Jin remained.
“Why isn’t Xiao Bai talking?” Xie Jin asked gently. “If your hand gets tired, it’s fine to set it down.”
Bai Ying shook his head and finally spoke, his voice thick with tears. “…Sorry.”
Xie Jin smiled. “You didn’t hit me. Why apologize to me?”
Bai Ying said, “But Xiao Lu came for me, and I asked you to block him for me.”
“That’s not your fault,” Xie Jin replied. “Xiao Bai, don’t apologize for someone else’s mistakes.”
Bai Ying fell silent, clearly still blaming himself.
Xie Jin sighed softly.
“What should we do then? We can’t fire you. Everyone on the crew likes you so much—they’d hate me if we kicked you out over this.” Xie Jin pretended to ponder. “Here’s an idea. It’s just some superficial injuries anyway, and it didn’t delay filming. If Xiao Bai feels that guilty, you can take charge of applying my medicine every day.”
Bai Ying whispered, “This is already what I should do. Punish me with something else.”
Xie Jin thought to himself, Who could bear to punish him?
“In early June, the crew will take a break, giving everyone a week off,” Xie Jin said. “I plan to wander around the nearby area, but since I’m unfamiliar with the place, how about I make Xiao Bai keep me company?”
Clearly, he wasn’t a local either.
Bai Ying knew Xie Jin was still comforting him. Feeling both guilty and grateful, he nodded earnestly.
