Chapter 11

Imperial Capital Film Academy.

Summer vacation had begun, and most teachers and students had already left campus. A rain had just fallen that morning, and the muggy heat of midsummer crept through the corridors.

Wen Chaosheng lightly pushed up the black-framed glasses perched on his nose, mustered his courage, and knocked on the door of his mentor’s office. “Teacher Qiao, you wanted to see me?”

“Hey, Chaosheng, come on in.”

Qiao Liang looked up from his computer, smiling as he waved him inside. “Have a seat.”

Wen Chaosheng stepped closer, unable to hide his nervousness. “Teacher, is there something wrong with the revised ending of the script?”

“No, this version of Contour has even more dramatic tension. It’s great.”

Qiao Liang gave it high praise and pulled out a document that had already been approved. “Here, this is the filming assistance permit the school applied for from the Gannan Cultural and Tourism Bureau. Your team just needs to contact their liaison a week in advance.”

“Chaosheng, the department is placing high hopes on your team’s production and presentation. As the lead, you have to shoulder the pressure and perform well.”

Meeting Qiao Liang’s earnest gaze, Wen Chaosheng felt his heart tighten. “Teacher, I’ll do my best.”

After graduating from elementary school, Wen Chaosheng had returned to the Imperial Capital for his studies and had smoothly entered the Directing Department at Imperial Capital Film Academy, where he was now finishing his junior year.

Recently, his carefully polished script Contour had caught the eye of his professional mentor, Qiao Liang, who had submitted it for the “Student Film Creation” seedling support program on his behalf.

As a result, the department leaders had specially allocated funding for the shoot, requiring them to complete the film over the summer break.

If all went smoothly, the finished Contour would be submitted alongside other campus works for literary awards at major domestic and international film festivals.

Qiao Liang asked, “By the way, I noticed your team roster doesn’t list a lead actor yet. Haven’t settled on one?”

The male lead in the script was named Tang Yu, a graduating art student.

Wen Chaosheng’s thoughts flickered, and his response came half a beat late. “…I approached Qin Ke from the senior acting class, but he’s been busy lately. We haven’t nailed down the shooting schedule yet.”

“Him? He’s got a great look.”

Film academies were tight-knit places where students routinely collaborated on each other’s projects.

As an acting undergrad, Qin Ke had already started taking outside roles, and he’d recently gained some fame from a supporting part in a hit drama.

No wonder he was spinning like a top these days.

“Chaosheng, get a backup actor lined up soon. If Qin Ke’s schedule doesn’t work out, at least you’ll have someone else ready to step in. I’ll help scout some options too.”

“Got it, Teacher.”

Qiao Liang knew Wen Chaosheng’s reserved nature well and fussed over his upcoming out-of-town shoot, going over every detail he could think of.

Finally, seeing the time getting late, he waved a hand. “Alright, that’s all for now. I can’t go to Gannan to oversee the shoot myself, so just message me online if you run into issues.”

“Okay.”

…

Wen Chaosheng didn’t fully relax until he left the mentor’s office, letting out a heavy sigh of relief.

It was just his personality—ever since childhood, one-on-one social situations always left him uncontrollably tense.

Bzzz. Bzzz bzzz.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out and answered. “Hey, Mom.”

Song Xuelan’s urging voice came through. “Xiao Sheng, when are you getting to the hotel? Xi Family’s Fourth Uncle’s wedding ceremony is about to start.”

…

Wen Chaosheng realized the meeting had run later than expected. He drew in a quick breath. “I-I’m heading over from school right now. Be there soon.”

Song Xuelan picked up on the hesitation in his tone. “Got caught up again and lost track of time? Don’t worry about being late—just drive safe.”

“Got it, Mom.”

…

The school wasn’t far from the hotel.

Wen Chaosheng took a cab and followed the wedding signs to the edge of the banquet hall, where he spotted Song Xuelan waiting.

He walked up to her. “Mom.”

“You silly boy…” Song Xuelan eyed her son’s outfit, words catching in her throat. “You came like this?”

Wen Chaosheng let her look him over, a hint of grievance in his voice. “I bought this outfit new. Doesn’t it look good?”

“It looks great. It’s rare to see you buy something new on your own.”

Song Xuelan praised him first, then sighed helplessly. “But those black-framed glasses with the baseball cap—you’ve got half your face hidden!”

“What happened to you? Always hiding away like this. You’re even more introverted than your dad was back in the day.”

…

Wen Chaosheng didn’t argue.

He thought he was fine this way—no one recognized him easily, sparing him a lot of pointless small talk.

Song Xuelan linked arms with her son and led him into the banquet hall through a side door. “The ceremony’s over. The bride and groom will be coming around to toast the tables soon. I’ll introduce you to some people.”

“Oh.”

Today’s groom was a cousin of Xi Quxin, who reportedly hadn’t found his lifelong partner until he was pushing forty.

Wen Chaosheng wasn’t familiar with the man, so he didn’t mind missing the highlights of the ceremony.

The wedding setup was lavish and grand.

Crystal chandeliers cast rippling halos of light in all directions, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers, and rows of banquet tables stretched as far as the eye could see for the main meal.

Once inside the hall, Wen Chaosheng’s gaze darted discreetly through his lenses, scanning the room.

Song Xuelan caught her son’s sweeping look. “Who are you looking for?”

“…No one.”

Wen Chaosheng denied it at first, then after a few seconds, he ventured indirectly, “Mom, are Uncle Xi and Aunt Shen back in the country for the wedding too?”

Song Xuelan caught on and poked at his little secret. “Are you looking for Uncle Xi and Aunt Shen Ruo, or for Xi Zhui?”

Wen Chaosheng had always avoided these big family gatherings in the past, dodging them whenever possible, yet here he was today, showing up on his own.

Turned out that was the real reason.

Wen Chaosheng tried to play dumb now that his true intent was out.

Song Xuelan didn’t press him to admit it but helped scan the crowd instead. “Your Aunt Shen said Xi Zhui only got back yesterday and got roped into being his little uncle’s groomsman last minute. I saw him just a bit ago—”

“You know, Xi Zhui’s tall, and he’s really handsome. He stands out in any crowd.”

No sooner had she said it than she pointed. “There, at the groomsmen’s table in the front row. See him?”

…

Wen Chaosheng looked up, and his gaze locked in place.

The round table reserved for groomsmen and bridesmaids sat to the left of the stage. A strikingly handsome young man lounged casually among them.

His tablemates were chatting animatedly, someone calling for a group toast, but he barely moved—just lifted his wrist slightly in response. The champagne in his glass swayed, its cool gleam catching on his finely sculpted features.

…

It was Xi Zhui.

Wen Chaosheng recognized him instantly, his breathing quickening noticeably.

“That’s the one with the dark blue tie. Recognize him?” Song Xuelan patted her son’s arm with a smile. “It’s been twelve or thirteen years since you two last saw each other, right? Want to go say hi?”

Even after returning to the Imperial Capital for school, Wen Chaosheng hadn’t run into Xi Zhui again.

He’d occasionally glimpse him in Song Xuelan’s WeChat moments, through Shen Ruo’s posts sharing snapshots of Xi Zhui’s life.

But such glimpses were rare.

“Oh… yeah?”

Wen Chaosheng pulled his gaze back reluctantly, a touch of awkwardness from the long separation in his voice. “Not right now. He looks busy.”

Song Xuelan chalked it up to her son’s social anxiety flaring up and didn’t push. “Okay, sit with Mom and eat something first then. Once the banquet winds down and the crowd thins out, you can decide if you want to go over.”

“Mm.”

The banquet fare was sumptuous.

But Wen Chaosheng had no appetite for it. His peripheral vision kept drifting to the groomsmen’s table, secretly tracking Xi Zhui’s every move.

The other man stayed seated, as if separated from the group by an invisible barrier, making no big gestures—even when the bride and groom came around to toast, it was other attendants who accompanied them.

As the banquet neared its end, guests began rising in twos and threes, heading out together.

Song Xuelan got pulled aside by old friends she hadn’t seen in ages for chats and photos, leaving Wen Chaosheng alone at the table. He stole another glance, turning his head just a little.

But this time, before his eyes could linger, Xi Zhui suddenly looked up from not far away—

Their gazes collided abruptly in midair, and for a moment, even the noisy atmosphere seemed to freeze.

Xi Zhui’s fingertips loosened on his champagne glass for a second, his cool-toned brows fixing intently on Wen Chaosheng.

One second. Two. Three.

A sudden pang of guilt hit Wen Chaosheng, like he’d been caught peeking. His eyes fled in panic. Without thinking, he grabbed the untouched champagne flute in front of him, mistaking it for lemon tea and taking a sip.

The next instant, the unfamiliar bite of alcohol hit his tongue.

“Cough cough!”

Wen Chaosheng choked hard, coughing into his sleeve as heat surged from his ears to his face in seconds.

Everything was a mess.

By the time he finally quelled the chaos and looked up again, Xi Zhui had already stood and was strolling leisurely toward the banquet hall exit.

…

Why was he leaving?

Had he noticed the staring and felt uncomfortable?

Wen Chaosheng’s brows furrowed in regret at the thought. He hesitated for two seconds but couldn’t hold back—he stood and followed.

…

The groomsmen’s lounge was tucked deep in the hotel corridor, rarely visited by guests.

Wen Chaosheng stood frozen at the door, his mind racing through possible opening lines. Finally, he reached out hesitantly to knock.

At that exact moment, the door swung open—

Xi Zhui stood there, having shed his groomsman tux for casual black clothes.

The embedded hallway light rimmed his silhouette in perfect shadow and glow, accentuating his brow bones and those deep brown eyes, which carried an air of detachment beyond his years.

Up close, the height difference between them was stark.

Wen Chaosheng found himself face-to-face with Xi Zhui himself, his knocking hand suspended midair, all his rehearsed words forgotten.

…

…

Their eyes met, no escape possible.

Xi Zhui said nothing, just lowered his gaze to the person before him.

Wen Chaosheng’s heart leaped to his throat from nerves. When he finally spoke, his words tumbled out haltingly. “Xi Zhui, l-long time no see. Do you… remember me?”

The man before him wore a baseball cap with the brim pulled low, hiding most of his face in shadow.

He was impossible to miss, even if Wen Chaosheng couldn’t see him clearly.

Xi Zhui’s lips curved in a subtle smile, one eyebrow flicking upward briefly. “Lift your head. Let me take a look.”

“Oh.”

Wen Chaosheng let out a soft grunt, slowly but obediently raising his head as he waited for the man’s confirmation.

Xi Zhui stayed silent, his gaze shifting slowly to verify—

Wen Chaosheng’s eyes behind the lenses were perfectly round. The way he stared held a sluggish kind of focus, and a single curl of hair had gotten trapped against the black frames of his glasses. He looked utterly dazed.

Xi Zhui fought back the impulse to reach out and toy with that stray lock. Instead, he spoke in a measured tone. “Sorry, I don’t remember. Who might you be?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng’s head drooped the instant he heard the response.

So, he really didn’t remember after all?

It had been so many years since they’d last seen each other—long enough that even those childhood memories had started to blur. Forgetting was only natural.

He’d prepared himself mentally for this, but even so, a pang of disappointment settled in his chest right then and there.

All these years, he’d held onto the memory of Xi Zhui, cherishing him as the most important friend from his childhood—bar none.

Wen Chaosheng tugged the brim of his cap even lower, trying to hide his sadness completely. “It’s fine. If you don’t remember, then forget it. Sorry for bothering you.”

He had no intention of giving his name. He turned to flee, but he’d only taken two steps when the man behind him followed.

“Wait.”

Suddenly, a strong hand seized his wrist. “After all these years, why are you still hiding like a turtle?”

“…”

Chaosheng almost thought he was dreaming. He looked up in a daze.

In the next moment, Xi Zhui plucked off the baseball cap—like a turtle shell—and leaned down to meet his eyes at the same level. He called out his name without hesitation.

“Wen Chaosheng.”

A faint, irrepressible smile flickered in those previously distant eyes. “How are you so easy to tease?”