It had been four years straight without heading back to the Imperial Capital for New Year’s. With no filming commitments this year, it was high time he carved out some proper family time.
Xi Zhui released Wen Chaosheng and slipped out of bed. “But before we crash, there’s one more thing.”
Wen Chaosheng looked puzzled. “Mm?”
“I’ll grab the hairdryer. Dry your hair before bed—you don’t want to catch a cold.”
“Oh. Sure.”
…
Ten minutes later, the room plunged into darkness.
Xi Zhui pulled Wen Chaosheng unhesitatingly into his embrace, his fingertips gently kneading the man’s curls, still warm to the touch. “Tired? Want to chat a bit more?”
Wen Chaosheng murmured obediently. “Sure. About what?”
Xi Zhui couldn’t shake his worry over Wen Chaosheng’s mental health. He needed to confirm things himself to put his mind at ease. “I know a great psychologist. When I get back from Thailand, I’ll take you to meet her. She can run a full professional eval and see what’s really going on.”
In fact, he’d just stashed away a few pills, planning to consult that doctor friend tomorrow.
“…”
Wen Chaosheng suddenly felt a pang of guilt.
He could dodge around Xi Zhui by leaning on his “I never lie” excuse, downplaying big issues into small ones. But a real psychologist and proper tests? No way to slip through that.
Xi Zhui pressed gently. “Sound good?”
“Mm. We’ll play it by ear.”
Wen Chaosheng gave a vague reply, already scheming to stall on the matter.
To pivot the conversation, he even brought it up himself. “Xi Zhui, truth is, I’ve been through some stuff overseas these past years. Still figuring out how to tell you.”
After all, everything involving Chang Ming was too tangled, too drawn-out, too heavy.
Wen Chaosheng needed time to sort his thoughts—and to tackle that lingering thorn of a problem.
He didn’t want to drag Xi Zhui into the mess. He wanted their reconciliation to be open and unburdened.
Softly, he pleaded. “Just give me a little more time, okay?”
Xi Zhui was heading out with the elders tomorrow. No sense souring the trip.
“No worries.”
Xi Zhui was fine with the secrets, so long as he held a place in the man’s heart. “Tell me whenever you’re ready. Or never. No pressure.”
Wen Chaosheng nestled closer into his chest without thinking, his voice dropping even lower. “Mm.”
Xi Zhui picked up on the drowsiness. “Sleepy? Then let’s call it.”
“Good night.”
“Good night. Sweet dreams.”
They held each other close through another peaceful slumber.
At six sharp, the alarm blared.
Xi Zhui silenced it in a flash. By the faint glow of his phone, he gazed at Wen Chaosheng, still deep in sleep. Heart aching to disturb him, he eased out of bed and fumbled through his morning routine in the dark.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, the man who’d been soundly asleep had propped himself up in a daze, rubbing away the remnants of sleep from his face.
“You heading out?”
“About that time.”
Xi Zhui hurried over. “Did I wake you?”
“Nope.”
Wen Chaosheng shook his head and reached for the wall switch. “Need the light to pack?”
Xi Zhui waved it off. “No lights needed. Not packing anything—clothes and bags are already loaded in the trunk. Go back to sleep.”
Wen Chaosheng insisted. “I’ll walk you out.”
“It’s freezing out there. Stay put and rest up.”
Xi Zhui gently nudged him back under the covers and launched into a litany of reminders. “Heat up anything from the fridge before eating it. No shoots lined up, so stick to three meals a day, right on schedule.”
“Text me every day. No more ghosting without warning. Got it?”
“…”
The nagging was straight out of their playbook from six years back.
Wen Chaosheng’s lips curved despite himself. He nodded meekly. “Got it.”
Only then did Xi Zhui crack a satisfied smile. He leaned in for a quick kiss on the forehead. “Oh, and I grabbed the spare keys for the front door and bedroom?”
“Yep. Drive safe. Have a blast.”
“Count on it. Catch you at the wrap-up banquet.”
“Mm.”
Once Xi Zhui had left the bedroom and the front door clicked shut—
Wen Chaosheng flopped back onto the bed in a daze, tugging the covers up to smother his reluctance.
But soon enough, Xi Zhui’s distinctive scent rose from the sheets. Wen Chaosheng burrowed in deeper, letting that comforting aura wrap around him completely.
“…”
Sleep wouldn’t come. He lay awake until full daylight.
Xi Zhui’s text came through: boarded and cleared for takeoff. Only then did Wen Chaosheng drag himself up for a wash, let Black Boss out of its cage, and yank back the pitch-black curtains.
—Whoosh!
The instant the curtains flew open, Wen Chaosheng spotted the change on the seaside poster wall.
The LED display no longer looped that one familiar still photo. Now it cycled through dynamic videos.
Every single one showcasing Xi Zhui’s striking features.
“…”
New year, new vibe?
Even the posters on Quansheng Entertainment’s exterior had switched up?
Wen Chaosheng stared, mesmerized, watching a full rotation without realizing.
Black Boss’s hungry squawks finally snapped him out of it. He sighed despite himself. “Damn, he’s gorgeous.”
…
Time flew to the twelfth of the first month.
The wrap-up banquet for the movie Rotten Mud was set at Oceanview Grand Hotel.
Wen Chaosheng had never been to the place. Social anxiety had him geared up head to toe, but he bumped into Jian Jinzhao and Yu Yan stepping out of the same car at the entrance.
Their eyes met, and Jian Jinzhao clocked his buddy right away.
“Chaosheng.”
Yu Yan, next to him, caught on and chimed in. “Director Wen, happy New Year!”
Running into familiar faces dialed down Wen Chaosheng’s nerves. He tugged off his mask with a warm smile. “Happy New Year to you too.”
Jian Jinzhao gave him an appraising once-over—nothing intrusive—and nodded approvingly. “Looking good today. Put on a little weight lately?”
Wen Chaosheng smiled shyly. “Mm-hmm.”
With Xi Zhui overseeing his meals remotely, packing on a few pounds was inevitable.
The trio headed inside together.
In the elevator, Yu Yan tossed out a casual question. “Brother Xi here yet? He’s heading to the Hundred Flowers Award film festival in a couple days, right?”
Wen Chaosheng had just WeChatted with Xi Zhui. The words tumbled out. “He’s stuck in traffic right now. Probably half an hour behind.”
Xi Zhui and his team had tickets booked for tomorrow’s flight to the Imperial Capital event. Timing was no issue.
“Oh ho.”
Yu Yan’s tone turned teasing. “Director Wen, you track Brother Xi’s schedule that closely?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng realized his slip, ears burning.
Jian Jinzhao knew his friend blushed easy. He shot Yu Yan a knowing glance laced with a smile—ease up.
Yu Yan got the hint and grinned back.
Oblivious to their little flirt-fest, Wen Chaosheng bolted out the moment the doors parted, cheeks aflame.
…
The banquet had rolled on for nearly forty minutes when male lead Xi Zhui finally strolled in late. Flashing apologies to the crew, he quietly claimed the empty seat right beside Wen Chaosheng.
Wen Chaosheng’s heart fluttered at the nearness, but the hand hidden under the table pinched his palm hard—stay cool in front of everyone.
After downing three penalty shots for his tardiness, Xi Zhui shifted his focus back, teasing with intent. “Director, got something on my face? You’ve been staring.”
Wen Chaosheng yanked his gaze away. “Nope.”
The next instant, Xi Zhui snagged his right hand beneath the tablecloth.
Wen Chaosheng froze, breath hitching in panic at the risk of being spotted. He tugged to free it, but couldn’t budge against that grip.
“Hold still. No one’s looking.”
Unfazed by the exposure, Xi Zhui murmured in his ear. “Miss me?”
Wen Chaosheng scanned the room cautiously before sidestepping. “You look a touch tanned.”
“That so? Sharp eyes, Director Wen.”
“…”
Heat flooded Wen Chaosheng’s face again.
Right on cue, the assistant director brought the camera crew over. “Director! Time for a toast from us too!”
Xi Zhui wouldn’t put him on the spot and let go at once.
Wen Chaosheng exhaled in relief, lifting the glass nearby. “Thanks, everyone. You’ve all worked so hard.”
He knocked back half a beer in one go.
Xi Zhui took it in, then murmured once he sat. “Toasts all night. Pace yourself—don’t want a hangover headache.”
“Mm. I’ve got this.”
Meeting those caring eyes, Wen Chaosheng’s flickered with emotion.
He tightened his grip on the glass and whispered bravely. “Xi Zhui, you free tonight? After the banquet, I want to have a real talk.”
Ten days of mental prep had him ready to lay it all out. A few drinks first might steel his nerves even more.
Xi Zhui had no reason to turn down the bold invitation from the man right in front of him.
With a smile, he clinked his glass against Wen Chaosheng’s and readily agreed. “Sure, I’ve got time.”
“Mm.”
After a few rounds of drinks, the wrap-up banquet only grew livelier.
Wen Chaosheng had always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol. He couldn’t handle the group’s repeated toasts, so Xi Zhui had volunteered to take a couple of rounds for him. In the end, though, he’d become the target of all the attention.
At that moment, he was being dragged off to another table by the assistant director, who was already drunk and rowdy, kicking off yet another round of boozy greetings and chatter.
Wen Chaosheng stayed seated in his spot, occasionally glancing over at Xi Zhui. He worried the man might drink too much himself.
Suddenly, Yu Yan from their table walked over. “Director Wen, you got a minute? It’s Teacher Jian on the phone. He says he has something to discuss with you.”
“With me?”
Wen Chaosheng blinked in surprise. Only then did he realize Jian Jinzhao wasn’t in the banquet hall. With a puzzled frown, he took the phone from Yu Yan and answered. “Hello, Jin Zhao?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Jian Jinzhao’s voice came through from the other end. “Chaosheng, I just stepped out to use the restroom and ran into someone arguing with the staff at the entrance to the outer hall. He’s insisting he’s here to see you.”
Wen Chaosheng’s alcohol-fogged thoughts ground to a halt for a moment. He couldn’t quite process it. “Who?”
The next second, Jian Jinzhao on the line dropped a name that felt like a nightmare. “He says his name is Chang Ming. Do you know him?”
