Chapter 36

Xi Zhui quickly took a shower, seizing the moment. When he returned to the living room, Wen Chaosheng was sitting on the sofa, poring over that stack of movie materials.

Wen Kuai Kuai had poked his head out of his turtle shell by then and was craning his little neck to survey his surroundings.

Black Boss was circling the edge of the tank, muttering nonstop in his mouth as if teasing the little turtle to play.

One still, one moving—it was actually quite amusing.

Wen Chaosheng ignored the two little guys and stayed focused on the movie synopses.

Suddenly, a piece of pastry carrying the sweet aroma of rice was held to his mouth. “Hungry? Have something to tide you over. The takeout’s still on the way.”

Wen Chaosheng glanced over. “Sugar Cake?”

“Yeah.”

Xi Zhui fed him a piece before continuing, “I tried it last year and thought it was pretty good—sweet but not cloying. Now that I’m in Heng City, I had my assistant pick some up. It’s perfect for a late-night snack after wrapping a shoot.”

“Mm.”

Wen Chaosheng ate the sugar cake and casually lifted the audition synopsis in his hand. “You’re going to audition for Teacher Sun’s new movie?”

“I just got it today. Haven’t looked through it closely yet.”

Xi Zhui answered honestly and asked for Wen Chaosheng’s opinion. “From the perspective of a director, if I go for an audition, which supporting role do you think I’d have the best shot at?”

Wen Chaosheng pointed to the fourth role in the audition list and offered his advice. “I think you’d be a better fit for ‘Qiu Yan.’ The character profile matches your look.”

For a newcomer just starting out, the first priority was finding a role that suited their appearance before diving into performance.

Before this, Xi Zhui only had the arthouse film Contour under his belt. The public still didn’t have a strong sense of him on screen, so he needed to leverage his image to build audience recognition first.

Xi Zhui took Wen Chaosheng’s suggestion seriously. “Got it. I’ll study it carefully when I have time.”

“I’ve heard people in the industry are really optimistic about this movie. The auditions are probably going to be fierce.”

In the film world full of nepotism hires, a big production like this would inevitably have actors shoved in through back channels, sidelining those who showed up to audition in good faith.

Wen Chaosheng gave Xi Zhui a heads-up in advance. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Just do your best.”

Xi Zhui knew where things stood. “Yeah, I know.”

A film directed by an industry heavyweight was bound to be an invisible battlefield.

No matter the outcome, if he had the chance to try, he would give it everything he had.

Xi Zhui fed Wen Chaosheng another piece of sugar cake and shifted the topic to him. “Your new movie—are you really planning to shoot abroad? When do you leave?”

“Yeah, end of the month, flying out of Haishi City.”

The two were already well aware of each other’s work schedules.

Thanks to his Hundred Flowers Award for Best Director, preparations for Wen Chaosheng’s new film had gone exceptionally smoothly.

But arthouse films always came with limited budgets. Wen Chaosheng insisted on location shooting to authentically recreate the story’s backdrop, so Cloud End had to be filmed overseas, hopping between multiple spots in Europe—

Shooting abroad meant high costs and long timelines. The crew would likely have to scrape by in the days ahead.

Xi Zhui probed for details. “Have you sorted out food, lodging, and transport? Is Sister Yang coming along to assist this time?”

Wen Chaosheng shook his head. “Sister Yang’s not joining. Her dad’s sick, and she’s busy preparing her wedding with her fiancé. Sun Xuan and the others are staying in Haishi City to handle studio affairs. I’m taking the team put together by the investors.”

Xi Zhui knew Wen Chaosheng’s temperament all too well and felt a faint worry. “You sure that’ll work?”

“It will.” Wen Chaosheng saw the concern in his eyes and explained, “Some of the team members worked with me on Flower Moon. I’m familiar with them.”

Besides, this wasn’t his first time directing a film.

Whenever work was involved, Wen Chaosheng would push past his social anxiety to communicate and shoot as effectively as possible.

Wen Chaosheng held nothing back from Xi Zhui and volunteered more details. “The male lead’s a senior from the acting department named Chang Ming. He’s not signed with any agency yet, but his acting feels really natural.”

He was quite satisfied with the casting this time.

“He’s six foot one, looks a bit brooding when expressionless, but his smile is surprisingly sunny. It fits my vision for the male lead perfectly.”

“…”

Xi Zhui didn’t respond, a hint of sourness brewing in his eyes.

Wen Chaosheng hadn’t noticed his lover quietly stewing in jealousy and kept sharing. “Oh, right—Chang Ming’s profile reminds me a bit of yours. You both have striking bone structure. But Jin Zhao’s different; he’s the pretty type.”

“Brother.” Xi Zhui lowered his head and nipped at the nape of Wen Chaosheng’s neck, not lightly. “No praising other men in front of me.”

Wen Chaosheng winced. “Ow! Y-you, stop fooling around.”

Xi Zhui dropped the pretense. The hand around his waist started wandering lower. “Director Wen, is the crew’s budget really enough? Do you still need to be so frugal? Once you’re abroad, will the director and lead actor have to share a hotel room?”

He asked leisurely, but his hands didn’t stop.

It had been a long time since they’d been intimate, and Wen Chaosheng’s body softened uncontrollably.

His breathing grew ragged as he curled up in Xi Zhui’s arms, coaxing and pleading. “Xi Zhui, wait—just now, I-I wasn’t praising him.”

“Once we’re abroad and shooting starts, I won’t be rooming with him either. Don’t… mm…”

His words dissolved into a moan.

Before long, the tide of pleasure spilled over.

Xi Zhui let out a faint chuckle and grabbed a tissue from the coffee table to wipe his hand. “Brother, looks like you’ve been good while I was away.”

Wen Chaosheng let out an involuntary choke, accusing him softly. “You’re being completely unreasonable.”

All he’d done was casually compliment Chang Ming a couple times, and this guy was jealous enough to lose it?

Seeing that rare spark of petulance from Wen Chaosheng, Xi Zhui relished it. “It’s been so long since we saw each other. Who told you to praise other men right in front of me?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng fell silent, deliberately ignoring him.

Xi Zhui rubbed his cheek against the other’s neck with a smile, in no mood to stop there. He scooped Wen Chaosheng up from the sofa. “Come on!”

The sudden weightlessness made Wen Chaosheng’s heart lurch. “W-what?”

Xi Zhui quickened his steps toward the bedroom. “What do you think we came back to the master bedroom for?”

Wen Chaosheng scrambled for an excuse. “N-no, we can’t! The takeout hasn’t arrived yet!”

“It can sit by the door when it does. No rush to eat.”

Xi Zhui pinned Wen Chaosheng to the bed, all too aware of his appetite. “Brother, that sugar cake was enough to tide you over. Now it’s my turn.”

…

……

Wen Chaosheng stayed in Heng City for half a month.

His days were spent either playing with the turtles or taking the bird for a stroll, or waiting for Xi Zhui to return from set. Life was relaxed and pleasant.

Until the end of the month, when Director Wen Chaosheng had to depart with the crew for abroad to begin shooting Cloud End.

Xi Zhui had cleared half a day off in advance and personally drove his lover to Haishi International Airport.

He pulled into a corner of the underground parking lot and cut the engine.

Perhaps influenced by his mood, Wen Chaosheng found the dim lighting of the garage oppressively gray. He didn’t rush to unbuckle his seatbelt or look at Xi Zhui.

He’d mentally prepared himself the whole drive, but now that the moment had arrived, the sorrow of parting clogged his throat. All those lighthearted farewell words sank away.

Xi Zhui turned to him. “We’re here.”

Wen Chaosheng took a deep breath and finally unfastened his seatbelt. “Yeah. Guess I’ll go?”

Xi Zhui didn’t answer right away. Instead, he laced their fingers together. “Take care of yourself abroad. Message me anytime.”

“Eat on time—no skipping meals just because you’re worried about waste. If you don’t like the food, don’t force it.”

“I’ll look after those two little guys. I’ll send you videos when I can. Don’t worry.”

Wen Chaosheng’s response was soft, his gaze fixed on their intertwined hands. “Xi Zhui, once this movie’s wrapped and I’m back, I’ll shift to trying new types of scripts.”

Then he’d have a long stretch without needing to travel for work. He could stay by Xi Zhui’s side without guilt—even follow him on set with his laptop.

“Sure.”

Xi Zhui tamped down the reluctance in his heart and made his request with a smile. “But it’s a deal then—I’m the lead in your first arthouse short, and your first commercial film’s male lead too.”

Wen Chaosheng agreed without hesitation. “Deal.”

Beep beep beep.

The set alarm went off, signaling the final moments of parting.

Messages poured into the newly created crew group chat. The core team members had already gathered at the terminal.

Xi Zhui steadied himself. “Let’s get out. I’ll grab your luggage.”

“Okay.”

Song Xuelan had shipped a batch of luggage and gear to him in advance.

All he had now was the small suitcase he’d brought to Heng City—lightweight, its wheels making faint sounds on the ground.

Perhaps because early summer had arrived, the underground garage felt humid and stuffy.

The stagnant air reeked of gasoline and exhaust. The longer he stood there, the more clogged Wen Chaosheng’s chest felt.

He gripped the suitcase handle tighter, steeling himself. “Xi Zhui, the terminal’s too crowded. Don’t walk me up. I’ll take the elevator myself.”

Xi Zhui’s popularity had skyrocketed lately; he risked being recognized if he went out. Better safe than sorry.

Besides, they’d have to part eventually.

“…”

Xi Zhui stayed silent, saying nothing.

Usually, it was Wen Chaosheng sending him off abroad or picking him up on return. Now that their roles were reversed, Xi Zhui finally felt that indescribable melancholy.

With no one around, Wen Chaosheng mustered his courage and took his lover’s hand like a vow. “At most five or six months. It’ll be quick. Once the shoot’s done, I’ll be back.”

Xi Zhui leaned down for a brief kiss. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

One minute later.

The translucent elevator car rose steadily, carrying Wen Chaosheng’s figure completely out of sight.

Xi Zhui stood in silence, his entire being mired in a groundless emptiness and bewilderment. Deep in his heart, it felt as though something had been hollowed out alongside the other’s departure.

Not until several months later—when he awoke from his grievous injuries and clearly saw the breakup message on his phone screen—did he realize, amid the absurd and stupefied shock that crashed over him:

This “emptiness” was a warning from the depths of his soul, a hint from fate itself.

In truth, as early as this very moment, he had already lost what he cherished most, utterly defenseless against it, in this seemingly ordinary early summer.