Lin Qinghe remembered the later plot. After thinking, he said, “I have a bit of trouble keeping up with Senior Brother’s acting.”
Jiang Nian wasn’t surprised. He picked the green peppers out of his food and set them aside: “If you have difficulties, you can come to me.”
From a senior’s perspective, Chen Dong hoped he’d give Lin Qinghe a hand. From his own perspective, he couldn’t stand idly by while Lin Qinghe kept getting NGs either.
With the conversation at this point, Lin Qinghe was also frank and open: “I’d like to find Senior Brother to run lines with me in advance.”
Jiang Nian agreed: “Mhm, okay.”
Lin Qinghe had gained the chance for pointers from Jiang Nian, and also his contact information. His mood brightened completely. After finishing his meal, he leaned back in his chair and took a short nap. Xi Nian draped a jacket over him.
Work resumed at two in the afternoon.
This time, he needed to change into the specially tailored mermaid costume. The fish tail was extremely realistic in appearance, shimmering with fragmented light when placed in water. Though the staff had mixed in hot water, the glass tank was too large; Lin Qinghe still felt the chill. He lay against the glass, bare-chested, long hair draped over his front. The makeup teacher stood on a stool to help arrange it neatly.
Seeing things were about ready, Li Ran said to Lin Qinghe, “Hang in there.”
Celine’s first appearance was very important. To create an iconic shot and also spare Lin Qinghe some suffering, Li Ran personally demonstrated every movement and gaze. Lin Qinghe studied diligently.
The first half was Jiang Nian’s domain. He, as Devin, crossed through the corridor to the room, exchanged a look with Celine, then confronted the two pirates. Because Jiang Nian’s expression wasn’t right, he got one NG. Then the pirates’ state was off, causing another five NGs. On the sixth time, it finally passed.
Enduring the discomfort, Lin Qinghe rallied his spirits, looked down at Jiang Nian, and gently swayed his fish tail.
“The sway is too small, Qinghe. A bit stiff. Loosen up a little more.”
He did as told, but still didn’t satisfy Li Ran.
Perhaps because everything before had gone too smoothly, they’d now hit a major snag.
Just for the shot of the swaying fish tail, he was made to repeat it over forty times before the director called cut.
Having been in the water too long, he’d largely lost sensation to the temperature. The staff helped Lin Qinghe out; he shivered. Xi Nian immediately wrapped a large towel around him.
Li Ran’s expression was full of concern: “Tough work. Are you okay?”
Lin Qinghe understood the director’s strict demands and harbored no resentment. He clutched the towel tightly and pressed his lips together: “It’s fine.”
Fan Wenbo handed over a cup of ginger tea and said, “Drink some to ward off the cold.”
Wrapping his hands around the cup, he drank a few sips. Lin Qinghe frowned; the taste was truly pungent.
Li Ran told him to quickly take off the fish tail. There was a space heater off set where he could sit and warm up for a while.
Next up was filming the movie’s opening—a grand scene, not an easy task. They might end up working overtime late into the night. Lin Qinghe wasn’t involved in it, so he said his farewells and left first.
The nanny van drove along the main road. Lin Qinghe leaned against the back seat, looking out the window. His lips were pale, his blow-dried hair obscuring his profile. He was somewhat weary and didn’t want to move.
“Brother Qinghe, these past few days, quite a few people have been paying attention to your Weibo. They’re all praising your looks and talents.” Seeing his low spirits, Xi Nian shared the good news she knew.
Lin Qinghe turned his head and smiled faintly: “That’s good then.”
He wasn’t sure if it was an illusion, but the moment he got into the car earlier, he’d felt a bit dizzy, and his eyelids seemed a little hot. Could he be getting sick?
Xi Nian nodded to herself: “Mhm, it will gradually get better and better.”
.
Lin Qinghe returned to Xiangtan. When he came out of the bathroom after a hot bath, he felt intensely sleepy. The curtains were drawn. He lay down, and before long, his breathing steadied as he fell asleep.
Su Rong had gone to the mall. There were household items that needed to be bought or replaced. She called Master Chen to start dinner first and also asked if Lin Qinghe had come home. Master Chen said he’d heard the sound of someone returning, but they were likely resting in their room.
After finishing her big shopping trip, Su Rong drove the car into the garage. All the household goods would be delivered tomorrow. She carried her handbag up to the first floor. It was just about mealtime, so she prepared to call Lin Qinghe.
But after knocking a few times, no one answered. Thinking he might be strolling in the garden, she took out her phone. A few seconds later, the muffled ringtone sounded through the door. Though very faint, Aunt Su still caught it.
“Hello?” The voice answering the phone was groggy and unclear.
“Qinghe?” Aunt Su thought he had just woken up: “Dinner’s ready.”
A long pause.
“Aunt Su, I’m not feeling very well. I’ll skip dinner.”
“Not feeling well?”
“Mhm. Might have a bit of a fever.”
Su Rong, worried his condition might worsen, said: “What’s the matter? I’ll call a doctor to take a look.”
Lin Qinghe indeed had a fever. When Aunt Su entered the room and felt his forehead with her hand, it was burning. They had a thermometer at home. She asked, “Let’s take your temperature. Did you catch a chill last night while sleeping?”
Lin Qinghe’s eyes were closed. His head ached terribly; his breathing was hot. No matter how he lay, it felt uncomfortable. He slowly spoke: “During filming today, I went into the water. Stayed in there a while.”
“I see.” Aunt Su understood the cause, worried: “Then I’ll make you some plain congee. You should eat a bit. A doctor will come by to check on you soon.”
Whatever Aunt Su said after that, Lin Qinghe couldn’t make out clearly.
After waiting over half an hour, the doctor arrived at the villa with his medical case.
“38.8℃. That’s a high fever, yes?”
“Mhm, let’s see how it is after an antipyretic injection.”
Aunt Su replied: “Yes, okay, Dr. Li.”
Dr. Li administered the antipyretic injection into Lin Qinghe’s arm, telling Su Rong as he did so: “If his temperature starts dropping afterward, it means the shot is working. Just let the medicine take full effect. Make sure to replenish fluids appropriately.”
Aunt Su committed everything to memory.
Later in the evening, Su Rong brought a bowl of congee to Lin Qinghe’s room. He was woken and managed a small half-bowl. Anything more, and he had no appetite—he just couldn’t eat. Aunt Su took his temperature again, only to find it had risen. Her heart immediately grew anxious.
She picked up her phone: “Dr. Li, I wanted to ask—what do I do if his temperature has gone up again?”
“Observe him for another while. You can do some appropriate physical cooling—wipe him down with a damp towel. If it’s still above 38.5 degrees after six hours, then use medication. If that still doesn’t work, he’ll need to be taken to the hospital for further examination.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
After a flurry of activity following the doctor’s orders, Aunt Su found Cen Han in the main hall, discussing matters with a subordinate.
“Mhm. Ignore them. Do what needs to be done.”
“I want to see your capability.”
“You have two months to shape up. Next time, I don’t want to hear certain unpleasant words. Can you do that?”
“That’s settled then.”
Hanging up the call, Cen Han noticed Aunt Su looked like she had something to say: “What is it?”
“Little He is sick. The fever hasn’t gone down even after the antipyretic shot. I wiped him down with a bit of alcohol. He’s fast asleep now.”
First day of filming—left the house perfectly fine and came back sick. Cen Han was silent for a moment: “Why the fever?”
“Little He had a scene filmed in the water. The weather isn’t warm yet. Soaking for that long, it’s easy to catch a chill.” This was Lin Qinghe’s job; Aunt Su’s expression was helpless: “And I feel his constitution isn’t especially strong. It’s something we could have expected.”
“The doctor said to take his temperature again after midnight. If it’s still high, he’ll need medicine.”
Cen Han nodded his chin slightly. His eyes flicked to the screen: ten-thirty.
“Let me know after you check.”
“Alright, will do.”
Cen Han went upstairs to deal with some paperwork for a while, then washed up. Long fingers tied the bathrobe. Under the light, his nose bridge was tall and straight, his thin lips slightly pressed.
Drying his hair, he picked up the phone on the nightstand. There was a message from Xi Nian.
Nian Nian Go!: Brother Cen, is Brother Qinghe alright?
Nian Nian Go!: On the road, I saw his complexion was a bit poor. Thought he was just too tired. But I sent him a message and he hasn’t replied.
Cen Han: Fever. Sleeping.
The other side typed quickly.
Nian Nian Go!: Serious? Should I ask the director for leave?
Cen Han’s hair-drying slowed: 38.9℃.
Nian Nian Go!: Whoa, that high. Then I’ll ask for leave.
Cen Han didn’t agree immediately. He pondered for two seconds: No need. I’ll contact Li Ran.
Calling in sick after just one day of work—though there was a reason, from an outside perspective, it wouldn’t look good.
There was a difference between Xi Nian contacting Li Ran and him contacting Li Ran. After all, the Cen family’s investment in Li Ran’s film was not insignificant.
Nian Nian Go!: Alrighty, I’ll come over tomorrow.
When Li Ran received Cen Han’s call, he was utterly confused. This big shot had never interfered with anything beyond throwing money in. So their interactions were few and far between.
Cen Han got straight to the point: “Director Li?”
“That’s me, Mr. Cen.”
“Lin Qinghe is running a high fever.”
“Oh, oh, is Little He’s condition serious?” Li Ran began pondering the meaning behind Cen Han’s call. He hadn’t known before that Lin Qinghe was connected to Cen Han. Now that he knew, was Cen Han calling to demand an explanation, or to vent his anger?
“Mhm.” Cen Han unhurriedly lit some agarwood incense: “He might not be better by tomorrow.”
He smiled, impeccable: “Ask for leave on his behalf.”
So it wasn’t to demand an explanation, nor to vent anger. Li Ran was considerate: “I’ve seen all of Little He’s hard work. Health is capital. Let him come back when he’s well. Today’s scene conditions were rough; he put his heart into it.”
Both were smart people; a hint was enough.
After midnight, Su Rong took Lin Qinghe’s temperature again. This time it had dropped slightly, but it still hovered at 38.5℃. She told the doctor, who advised using medication.
“Cen Han, I just checked again. We still have to use the medicine.” Su Rong stood in the corridor and said.
Steady footsteps approached. Cen Han opened the door: “I’ll come take a look with you.”
