Chapter 21

Rustle—

The wind whistled past his ears, carrying the unique chill of the plateau. The jolting motion on horseback brought a constant sense of weightlessness, as if he might tumble off at any moment.

Wen Chaosheng’s heart pounded faster and faster. Instinctively, he grabbed the wrist of the man beside him and shrank back into his embrace.

“Xi Zhui! Don’t ride so fast—slow down, slow down!”

“…”

Xi Zhui sensed the reliance from the person in front of him, and the corners of his mouth curved up slightly.

He freed one hand to wrap tightly around Wen Chaosheng’s waist, while the other steadily gripped the reins. “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”

Another reassurance whispered right in his ear amid the rushing wind. Wen Chaosheng’s breath hitched, and he couldn’t help lowering his gaze to Xi Zhui’s hands.

He stared at the faint veins bulging on the back of those hands, and in that moment, a vague, indescribable sense of security welled up inside him—

These hands had once steadied him while fishing in the stream, thrown punches when he’d been bullied, and gripped his wrist time and again, pulling a hesitant him forward.

“…”

As he’d grown up, Wen Chaosheng had recalled that childhood version of Xi Zhui more than once.

Those trivial childhood memories—insignificant to outsiders—had been dismantled, examined, and carefully archived deep in his mind, piece by precious piece.

Later on, he’d seen photos of the grown-up Xi Zhui on Song Xuelan’s phone and in Shen Ruo’s social media feed.

“Long time no see.”

In just a few glances, Wen Chaosheng had committed the adult Xi Zhui to memory.

Days passed one after another.

Perhaps from that moment, his heart had begun harboring faint, unconventional thoughts about that treasured friendship, about this friend he hadn’t seen in years yet felt so connected to.

Then came that dream, followed by the tide’s retreat upon waking. Wen Chaosheng, who had never experienced anything like it, panicked. He didn’t dare dwell on it or mention this stir of adolescent awakening to anyone. Instead, he tried every way to suppress and bury it.

But now, Wen Chaosheng felt like he could no longer keep it hidden.

The galloping horse finally began to slow and come to a stop.

“What are you thinking about?” Xi Zhui noticed Wen Chaosheng’s distraction and leaned over, trying to catch his eye. “Really that scared?”

As he shifted, the horse beneath them pawed the ground twice.

The jolting started up again.

Wen Chaosheng snapped back to attention and shouted hurriedly, “D-don’t move around like that! What if you fall off?”

Xi Zhui saw his timid, cautious expression and couldn’t help chuckling. “What then? At worst, I’d break a leg.”

“…”

What kind of nonsense was that?

Wen Chaosheng frowned and shot him a glare.

But there was no menace in his eyes; he couldn’t look fierce at all.

Xi Zhui laughed softly and pressed on purpose, “If I really got hurt during filming—say, broke my leg—wouldn’t the director have to take responsibility?”

“Don’t talk like that out of nowhere.”

Wen Chaosheng shot back, then muttered under his breath, “Ptoo ptoo.”

Spit out the bad luck—may it not come true.

“Fine.”

Xi Zhui mimicked his tone. “Ptoo ptoo.”

Only then did Wen Chaosheng relax with a satisfied breath.

A couple of seconds later, he answered Xi Zhui’s silly question. “It wouldn’t just be you. If any crew member got hurt, I’d take responsibility.”

Wen Chaosheng might seem introverted and socially awkward, but he was someone with a strong sense of order and duty. He had his own principles for how to conduct himself and handle his work.

As director, he didn’t want anyone getting injured on his set, but if an accident did happen, he would absolutely shoulder the corresponding responsibility—caring for them as needed, compensating as required.

“…”

Xi Zhui hadn’t expected such a serious answer. A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes, and after a brief silence, he said, “Wen Chaosheng—”

Hearing his own name, Wen Chaosheng turned his head instinctively. “Yeah?”

Xi Zhui met his gaze and gave his approval. “You’re already a great director.”

“…”

The sudden praise left Wen Chaosheng stunned for a moment.

Riding the same horse, they were naturally pressed close together.

In the biting mountain wind, their subtle breaths inadvertently crossed the safe boundary, intertwining and parting.

Once, twice—the seemingly negligible warmth clamored with ambiguity.

The horse shifted its hooves again.

Wen Chaosheng jolted awake. He awkwardly turned his head away and made small talk. “Thanks. Y-you’re a really talented actor too.”

Xi Zhui’s expression shifted slightly, and he tightened his grip on the reins.

The black horse immediately settled down.

“…”

Xi Zhui glanced once more at the flush on Wen Chaosheng’s earlobe, now slowly spreading to the back of his neck.

That faint little mole amid the pale skin suddenly stood out, made all the more striking by the blush.

Xi Zhui stared at it intently, a wicked impulse surging from deep within—

He wanted to rub his fingertip over that mole, watch its color deepen with the flush, even take it between his teeth and bite.

Feeling the intense gaze from behind, Wen Chaosheng panicked and tried to scoot forward.

Xi Zhui immediately clamped an arm around his waist, his voice low. “Don’t squirm, or you really will fall.”

Wen Chaosheng obediently froze but didn’t dare look back, his heart in turmoil. “Should we head back? Time’s about up.”

Xi Zhui pulled his eyes away, unhurried. “Still early.”

He steadied his breathing and took up the reins again. “I’ll take you for one more loop. Slower this time.”

“…Okay.”

Wen Chaosheng couldn’t refuse.

With no other transport besides this horse, he couldn’t very well dismount and walk all the way back.

Fortunately, the plateau wind swept over them again, cool enough to dispel the heat stirred by his fluttering heart.

From behind, Xi Zhui said, “Wen Chaosheng, look up—”

In the distance, the snow-capped mountains were bathed in crimson light from the setting sun, stretching endlessly across the horizon.

Wen Chaosheng felt the steady warmth of the chest at his back and grew a little dazed, a little reluctant for the ride to end.

Everything in Gannan felt like a beautiful dream.

In the years that followed, he would relive this scene in his dreams again and again.

…

A week later, filming in Gannan wrapped up successfully.

In the hotel restaurant, Lin Keyang stood gracefully and spoke on behalf of the socially anxious Wen Chaosheng. “Thank you all—the crew, the actors—for your cooperation and support these past twenty-odd days!”

“How about we raise a glass together? You’ve all worked hard!”

Cheers of agreement rose from the surrounding tables:

“Sure, let’s do it!”

“Your core team worked the hardest!”

“Yeah, a bunch of college kids with bright futures ahead.”

Everyone clinked glasses enthusiastically, and the dinner officially began.

Sun Xuan sidled up between Wen Chaosheng and Xi Zhui with a beer bottle. “To our great director and outstanding lead actor—cheers?”

“No problem.”

Xi Zhui agreed and glanced at Wen Chaosheng beside him. “He probably can’t. One glass and he’s out.”

“Seriously? Chaosheng’s tolerance is that bad?”

Sun Xuan eyed him with a grin, coaxing. “But we’ve known each other three years in college and I’ve never seen you drink. Break the rule tonight?”

Wen Chaosheng figured a drink would liven up the occasion, so he mustered his courage. “Sure, a little’s fine.”

“Here we go! Fill ‘er up!”

Sun Xuan poured eagerly, half encouraging, half egging him on. “Drink up bold! If you pass out, no worries—so many people here, we’ll all head back together!”

Wen Chaosheng clutched his glass like he was making a major decision. “Mm!”

Unfortunately, he really didn’t know how to drink, and his tolerance was shockingly poor—

Less than half an hour later, the drunkenness showed plainly on his face. But he didn’t cry or make a scene; he just sat quietly in his seat.

“Chaosheng?”

“…”

“Director?”

“…”

Lin Keyang and the others called out, but Wen Chaosheng didn’t respond, sitting even more upright.

Sun Xuan gaped. “Whoa, he’s already wasted?”

Lin Keyang laughed too. “And so well-behaved about it.”

Wen Chaosheng ignored them entirely, fixated on sleeping. He patted his empty pocket and let out an ambiguous hum. “Mm.”

Xi Zhui caught the small gesture and instantly understood. “Tired? I’ve got your room card.”

Wen Chaosheng held out his palms expectantly. “Hello. Please give it to me. Thank you.”

“…”

Alright then.

Drunker than last time—now using polite speech.

Xi Zhui chuckled despite himself and pulled him to his feet. “You all keep eating. I’ll take him back. I’ll handle tonight’s bill with the boss over WeChat transfer—you don’t need to worry.”

Sun Xuan gave a thumbs-up. “Cool, Young Master Xi. Zero pay for the role and picking up the tab.”

Lin Keyang called after them. “Be careful on the way back. Call if anything comes up.”

“Got it.”

The restaurant was just a couple minutes’ walk down the back street from their hotel.

Drunk as he was, Wen Chaosheng wobbled along but didn’t resist or fool around. He let Xi Zhui hold his hand the whole way, following obediently back to the hotel.

Once inside the room, Xi Zhui flicked on the lights first.

He noticed the heavy drunkenness in Wen Chaosheng’s eyes and asked with concern, “You okay? Dizzy?”

Wen Chaosheng tilted his head and stared at him without speaking.

Xi Zhui patted his jaw lightly. “Hey, Wen Chaosheng? Director Wen? Do you know who I am? Don’t go mute on me.”

“Mm.”

Wen Chaosheng nodded slowly. “Hello, Xi Zhui. Good evening.”

Xi Zhui responded patiently. “Yeah, good evening to you too. Want some water? Or straight to bed?”

At the words “to bed,” Wen Chaosheng replied, “Gotta shower first.”

Xi Zhui was skeptical. “Can you even manage a hot shower like this?”

Wen Chaosheng answered belatedly, “Yes, I always shower myself. I can get clean.”

He’d answered, but veered a bit off-topic.

Xi Zhui sighed helplessly. “Okay, you’re a champ.”

He opened the wardrobe by the door, where Wen Chaosheng’s luggage bag was stored, and pulled out the items one by one.

Bath towel, pajamas, and… underwear.

Wen Chaosheng trailed after him like an automated little drone.

Xi Zhui led him into the bathroom and set the change of clothes on the rack, instructing him uneasily, “Don’t lock the door—leave it cracked. Don’t take too long with the hot water, or you might get dizzy and fall.”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng came to a halt right in front of him and fell silent again.

Those eyes were hidden behind the lenses of his glasses, blurred by the reflection of the bathroom light, impossible to make out clearly.

Xi Zhui’s heart skipped a beat. He reached out and deftly removed Wen Chaosheng’s black-framed glasses. “No need for those when you’re taking a shower.”

“Oh.”

Wen Chaosheng’s eyes were steeped in drunken haze, shimmering with a moist, watery glow. He gave Xi Zhui a thorough once-over from head to toe, bold evaluations surfacing in his mind—thoughts he’d never dare entertain while sober.

Hm.

Tall.

Handsome.

His build has to be amazing too.

“…”

A wicked impulse, entirely foreign to him, sparked in Wen Chaosheng’s mind, and he acted on it without hesitation. He tugged at the hem of the man’s shirt in front of him. “Xi Zhui, hello.”

Xi Zhui let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Why say hello again?”

Wen Chaosheng explained with dead seriousness, “Because you have to be polite.”

Xi Zhui coaxed him gently. “You’re already plenty polite.”

“Mm!”

Wen Chaosheng nodded vigorously, affirming himself.

Under the influence of the alcohol, he blurted out an invitation that was as bewildering as it was straightforward. “So, do you want to take a shower with me?”