“…”
Wen Chaosheng got out of bed immediately. He didn’t bother putting on a jacket and instead hurried straight to the curtains by the window.
Whoosh.
Bright snow light poured in from outside, somewhat blinding in its glare.
Wen Chaosheng squinted, his gaze slowly focusing amid the vast whiteness on the ground floor—
Xi Zhui was standing in the snow of the mansion’s backyard. To his side stood what appeared to be a half-meter-tall snowman, though a closer look revealed it didn’t quite match the traditional image of one.
Through the glass, their eyes met.
Gentle morning light scattered over Xi Zhui, his figure standing out with exceptional clarity in the snow. He lifted his phone to his mouth, but his upward gaze remained fixed on Wen Chaosheng by the second-floor window.
“Morning. Want to come down and pick up the gift I made for you?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s breath hitched for a beat, his fingertips unconsciously pressing against the edge of the window. He reached to open it, but Xi Zhui stopped him in an instant from below. “Don’t open the window.”
“Brother, it’s cold outside. Put on a jacket before you come down.”
“Oh.” Wen Chaosheng obediently withdrew his hand and added, “Then wait for me a sec.”
Xi Zhui chuckled over the line. “Sure, I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”
Wen Chaosheng made quick work of washing up, throwing a down jacket over his pajamas before rushing impatiently downstairs.
The backyard door stood slightly ajar. The moment he pulled it open, the crisp, biting wind of a snowy day rushed in.
In his haste to get down, the zipper on his down jacket wasn’t pulled all the way up, and he shivered right away.
Xi Zhui’s sharp eyes caught the tremor and he stepped closer before Wen Chaosheng could head out. “Hold on, don’t come out yet.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng immediately drew back the foot he had just stepped forward and stood obediently in place, like a little robot.
Xi Zhui unwound the scarf he’d been wearing and draped it around Wen Chaosheng’s neck. Then he grabbed a pair of thick cotton slippers from the shoe cabinet on the first floor. “Put these on.”
Wen Chaosheng swapped into them at once, noting that they fit perfectly.
Xi Zhui’s gaze dropped to his hands. “I’d love to hold your hand, but not right now.”
“Why?”
Wen Chaosheng sniffed, his nose already reddened from the cold, a trace of regret threading through his tone.
Xi Zhui smiled faintly by way of explanation. “No spare gloves in the house, and the pair I’m wearing are a bit damp. Holding hands would just freeze you.”
With that said, he tugged out a section of his sweater cuff. “You can hold on to this instead.”
Wen Chaosheng reached out with his fingertips and pinched the cuff happily. “Mm.”
“Let’s go take a look at the snowman I built for you?”
Wen Chaosheng nodded and followed Xi Zhui into the yard.
Up close, he could finally see the snowman’s design clearly from the front: a little bear standing sideways with one paw raised.
Xi Zhui came to a stop beside him. “Recognize it? There’s a bit of a resemblance, right?”
In truth, Xi Zhui hadn’t slept well the night before. He’d spent it replaying whether his confession had been too abrupt, and before he knew it, he was awake at six in the morning.
Noticing the fresh layer of snow in the backyard, inspiration had struck. He’d headed out and spent nearly three hours piling it up.
A flicker of surprise passed through the depths of Wen Chaosheng’s eyes, and he nodded slowly. “Is this a trophy?”
The Berlin International Film Festival’s highest honor, the Golden Bear Award, took the form of a little golden bear standing upright.
Xi Zhui laughed softly and asked, “Director Wen, ready? Time to present you with an award.”
“What?”
Wen Chaosheng hadn’t caught on yet.
Xi Zhui picked up a small shovel from nearby, crouched down, and wrote in the snow in front of the Snow Bear:
“Best Director Award, Wen Chaosheng, Contour.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng sank into a crouch beside Xi Zhui, his fingertips brushing gingerly over the words that were meant just for him.
Xi Zhui gazed at his profile. “I know you were prepared from the start not to win anything—just to learn and experience it. But I still don’t want you heading back with any disappointment, not even the tiniest bit.”
Wen Chaosheng paused, a hidden corner of his heart suddenly stirred.
Ever since Contour had been shortlisted for the Berlin Film Festival, jealous colleagues lurking behind their screens had unleashed their envy on industry forums. They’d spread rumors of “backdoor deals” and “buying awards,” tearing into director Wen Chaosheng as utterly worthless.
Once it was confirmed their film hadn’t won, those self-righteous barbs only grew sharper—
“See? Mommy and Daddy can’t pull strings at a real international festival.”
“Backdoor flop. Trash film from a trash director, thinking the judges are just money-hungry idiots!”
As a highly sensitive person, reading too much of that had inevitably planted seeds of self-doubt.
Wen Chaosheng didn’t see himself as overly fixated on wins and losses, but there had been that one moment when he’d truly hoped to claim an award at the Berlin Film Festival—to prove his talent and worth.
Unfortunately, the moment the results were announced was the moment that hope shattered.
Wen Chaosheng had buried that fleeting disappointment as quickly as possible. He hadn’t imagined Xi Zhui would fill that subtle emotional crack in such a way.
“…”
Moisture welled faintly in Wen Chaosheng’s eyes.
Not wanting Xi Zhui to notice, he ducked his face deeper into the scarf. “Why go and write this? The category I was nominated in wasn’t even for the main awards. I couldn’t have won Best Director anyway.”
Xi Zhui replied, “But I believe that one day, you’ll stand on that stage and claim a Best Director trophy that’s truly yours.”
Wen Chaosheng’s eyes brightened a touch, his voice carrying a soft warmth. “Then I’ll write one for you too, okay?”
Xi Zhui handed him the little shovel. “What award is Director Wen planning to give me?”
“Mm—”
Wen Chaosheng wrote with careful, neat strokes right above his own “award”: “Best Actor, Xi Zhui.”
Xi Zhui let out a chuckle. “Skipping straight past Newcomer Award to Best Male Lead?”
Hearing that light laugh, Wen Chaosheng suddenly felt a bit shy. “…This is pretty childish, isn’t it?”
Xi Zhui shook his head. “Childish is fine. I need to snap a photo for my Moments anyway—gotta save the memory.”
It was the first winter snow they’d shared in their lives. They had to preserve some memento of it together, even if it was childish. That made it all the more precious.
Xi Zhui tugged him to his feet. “Come on.”
Wen Chaosheng wobbled as he stood and bumped right into Xi Zhui’s chest.
Xi Zhui took the chance to wrap his arms around him, rubbing his chin against Wen Chaosheng’s fluffy hair. He didn’t forget to bring up the important matter. “Did you think it over last night? Do you want to be with me?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s heart pounded wildly as Xi Zhui held him. “And you? Have you thought it through about coming back to develop your career in China?”
Xi Zhui answered, “I have. Wait for me to return.”
He would do his utmost to align his career with Wen Chaosheng’s—sharing contacts, common ground, and perhaps even future collaborations and successes.
Sensing Xi Zhui’s sincerity, Wen Chaosheng’s heart settled into calm. “Okay.”
Through the scarf, he gave his response—restrained yet resolute. “Then I… have too.”
The future brimmed with unknowns. He had no idea how their parents might react upon learning of their relationship. But Wen Chaosheng had settled on one conviction long ago—
To him, Xi Zhui and filmmaking were dreams of equal importance.
If he could seize them, he had no intention of letting either slip away.
…
Perhaps because Xi Zhui had made clear his intention to return to China for his career, this parting—though still reluctant for Wen Chaosheng—stirred more anticipation and drive in his heart than sorrow.
The moment he was back in the country, Wen Chaosheng threw himself into preparations for filming Flower Moon. Of course, he made time each day to stay in touch with Xi Zhui.
In the blink of an eye, mid-July had arrived.
The airport’s air conditioning shut out the oppressive summer heat. In the arrivals hall, a new round of announcements echoed: “Dear passengers, welcome to Haishi International Airport…”
Likely due to peak travel season, a dense crowd of greeters packed the area outside the secure exit.
Wen Chaosheng’s social anxiety kicked into overdrive. He felt too awkward to shove to the front barricade and could only linger at the edge of the throng, occasionally rising on tiptoe to crane his neck for a glimpse—
Xi Zhui’s international flight had already landed. By his calculations, he should be out any moment.
Afraid Xi Zhui might not spot him, Wen Chaosheng was just about to snap a photo of his location when someone tapped his shoulder. “Who are you waiting for?”
“…”
The familiar voice rang right by his ear—no longer filtered through WeChat. Wen Chaosheng whipped his head around in delighted surprise, locking eyes instantly with that face he’d longed for day and night.
Xi Zhui wore a mask too, but the chill had faded from his eyes, replaced by a gentle, soft smile.
In that first shared gaze after so long apart, an inexplicable wave of shyness washed over Wen Chaosheng.
Good thing for the mask—he could hide his embarrassment. “H-how did you find me? I was just about to send you a message.”
Xi Zhui pulled off his stuffy mask, understanding him all too well. “I saw this huge crowd of greeters and figured with your personality, you definitely wouldn’t push to the front.”
Sure enough, by circling around to the back of the group, he’d easily zeroed in on the little curly head at the tail end.
Xi Zhui studied Wen Chaosheng. “I flew into Haishi to see you first. Will it mess up your shooting schedule?”
Flower Moon had already been filming in Heng City for over a month.
Xi Zhui had been meant to fly straight to the Imperial Capital and settle in at home first. But he’d wanted too badly to see Wen Chaosheng, so he’d routed through Haishi instead, planning a stay of a day or two.
Wen Chaosheng had it all arranged. “No, the crew’s off for the next couple of days.”
Having Xi Zhui arrive even smoother than expected left him thrilled inside. “Let’s go? I’ll take you to the hotel first?”
He’d gotten his driver’s license and had driven himself this time.
Xi Zhui inclined his head. “Sure. You lead the way.”
The hotel was one Wen Chaosheng had booked in advance, right in the heart of Haishi—a Bulgari suite with a view, running six or seven thousand a night.
Once they were inside the hotel suite, Xi Zhui couldn’t hold back a teasing remark. “Upgrading me from a county big-bed room in Gannan to a Bulgari vista suite? How much money have you raked in over these two short years, Director Wen?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s face flushed red. “I didn’t earn much money. I was just afraid you’d be tired from sitting on the plane for so long. I wanted you to stay somewhere comfortable tonight.”
This was a hotel he had booked out of his own pocket for Xi Zhui.
Back in Gannan, the conditions hadn’t allowed for it. Otherwise, he would have gladly booked the best hotel in the area for Xi Zhui.
Xi Zhui understood Wen Chaosheng’s intentions. A flicker passed through his eyes.
He reached out and removed the mask that the other man had worn the entire way, chuckling softly. “There aren’t any other people here anymore. Why are you still reluctant to take it off? Isn’t it stuffy?”
“Mm.”
Wen Chaosheng let out a muffled hum and instinctively avoided meeting Xi Zhui’s gaze. Without the mask to hide behind, the shyness of their long-awaited reunion and the subtle awkwardness were suddenly on full display, leaving him nowhere to hide.
An inexplicable tension gripped Wen Chaosheng, urging him to flee. “W-well then, get some good rest. I’ll head out first.”
But before he could take a step back, Xi Zhui was already pulling him into his arms with quick reflexes. Amused yet exasperated, he said, “What are you dodging for?”
“Wen Chaosheng, do I need to clarify our relationship again?”
Wen Chaosheng mumbled, “…No need.”
He was simply used to their long-distance chats on WeChat. Switching back to real life all of a sudden left him feeling a little unadjusted.
Xi Zhui gazed down at him, enunciating each word to emphasize his own sacrifices. “So, your boyfriend flew all the way back from abroad. Instead of heading straight home, the first thing he did was come see you. You get that, right?”
Wen Chaosheng nodded vigorously, like a chick pecking at rice. “I know.”
“And now you’re planning to just leave me here in the hotel and walk off?” Xi Zhui’s hand came to rest on the back of his neck, his tone righteous and demanding. “Brother, you scumbag?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s face burned bright red. He protested in a small voice, “I’m not a scumbag.”
“Too late. I’m not happy right now.” Xi Zhui arched a brow, his expression utterly serious as he made his demand. “You have to make it up to me. Coax me a little.”
Wen Chaosheng pondered for a moment, but he truly lacked experience in face-to-face dating. So he asked earnestly for guidance. “How do you want me to make it up to you?”
Xi Zhui held back his laughter. “Figure it out yourself.”
“Alright.”
Without a clear answer, Wen Chaosheng felt a bit troubled. But by some coincidence, his gaze landed on Xi Zhui’s lips. In that instant, a bold idea popped into his head.
He double-checked several times. “Any way at all is fine?”
Xi Zhui’s calm tone carried a thread of encouragement. “Mm. Any way at all is fine.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng hesitated for two seconds, then mustered his courage. He tilted his head up and pressed a quick kiss to Xi Zhui’s thin lips.
The long-missed tingling sensation sparked between them, parting as swiftly as it had come.
Xi Zhui’s breathing grew imperceptibly heavier. His gaze fixed even more intently on the man before him.
But Wen Chaosheng felt like he had scored some kind of huge bargain with that easy kiss. A spark of delight glimmered in the depths of his eyes.
“Is this okay?”
“It’s okay.”
Xi Zhui leaned in close, rubbing his nose against Wen Chaosheng’s in a teasing nudge. “But it’s not enough. Take off your glasses first.”
Wen Chaosheng suddenly caught the implication hidden beneath those understated words. His breath hitched. But he had always been obedient to Xi Zhui, so he dutifully raised a hand and removed his glasses.
In the next second, Xi Zhui deepened the kiss in his own thorough way.
Wen Chaosheng let out a small, animal-like whimper. His hand trembled, and his black-framed glasses dropped onto the thick, plush carpet.
His vision blurred for a moment. Then Xi Zhui nipped at his upper lip in gentle punishment. “Mm.”
“Focus. Close your eyes.”
“…”
The hotel’s air conditioning was cranked up high, but Wen Chaosheng still felt sweat beading on his skin. In just a few short minutes, he was kissed senseless. His legs turned to jelly, and he slumped weakly into Xi Zhui’s arms.
Xi Zhui drew back just a fraction, showing restraint by not pressing further.
He tilted his head toward Wen Chaosheng’s flushed ear, showering it with light, fragmented kisses. A rare domineering edge crept into his voice. “You’re not going anywhere. Stay here at the hotel and keep me company while I shake off this jet lag.”
