Chapter 45

The first month’s filming had been busy but smooth, with the entire crew meshing together exceptionally well.

By month’s end, Wen Chaosheng fully appreciated the importance of balancing work and rest. He had the production team quietly revise the schedule ahead of time.

Once the afternoon’s shoot wrapped that day, everyone would enjoy three unified days off—but Wen Chaosheng hadn’t announced it yet. He worried the news would get them too excited to focus on work.

The schedule now showed just one final scene: Brother Yao Yi’s solo shot. Xi Zhui had already headed to the dressing room to change his look.

Wen Chaosheng stepped onto the set himself, directing the lighting crew as they tweaked the setup. “Right, that overhead light’s a bit dim…”

Suddenly, a wave of excited murmurs erupted at the entrance, drawing the eyes of staff throughout the set.

Wen Chaosheng glanced over. There was Xi Zhui’s agent, Wen Hui, escorting a pretty young woman inside.

Wen Hui scanned for Wen Chaosheng but didn’t spot him right away. Instead, she waved to the nearby Jian Jinzhao.

After he nodded his approval, she raised her voice. “Everyone’s worked so hard! This is our agency’s actress, Nainai. She’s here to visit the set and treat you all to some afternoon tea.”

“The support truck’s parked right outside. Help yourselves whenever you get a break.”

Set visits were nothing out of the ordinary during a shoot.

From the center of the set, Wen Chaosheng peered through the clutter of equipment at the visitor, Nainai.

She was politely greeting Jian Jinzhao and Yu Yan.

The next instant, Jian Jinzhao shot him a precise look. “Chaosheng.”

Wen Chaosheng tightened his grip on the script in his hand, quashing his faint nervousness around strangers. He walked over at his friend’s call.

Jian Jinzhao played introducer. “And this is our director, Wen Chaosheng—Director Wen.”

“I know~”

Nainai’s voice bubbled with energy. “I’ve heard my brother talk about you.”

…

Her brother?

Wen Chaosheng’s mind snagged on that detail. Then he heard Nainai introduce herself with easy poise. “Hello, Director Wen. I’m Nainai, an artist signed with Quansheng Entertainment. It’s truly an honor—and a pleasure—to meet you.”

Nainai carried herself with polish and charm, the sort of young woman who effortlessly won people over.

Up close, her vibrant energy shone even brighter: striking, sculpted features with a hint of ethnic flair.

Wen Chaosheng adjusted his glasses and replied politely, “Hello.”

“Our Director Wen isn’t standoffish,” Jian Jinzhao said, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. “He just doesn’t talk much. Anyway, we’ve got some time before the next setup. Perfect chance for everyone to grab a bite and refuel?”

“Sure.”

Wen Chaosheng had no objection. He simply told Nainai, “That’s very generous of you.”

“It’s the least I could do—a little token of appreciation. As long as I’m not disrupting your shoot.”

Her response stayed gracious.

Nainai’s gaze slowly swept the set, and she was about to speak up. “By the way, Director, Teacher Jian, I…”

Wen Hui chimed in seamlessly. “Xi Zhui’s in the dressing room. I’ll take you over.”

Nainai beamed. “Perfect.”

Wen Chaosheng watched the two women head toward the dressing rooms, a vague emptiness settling in his thoughts.

Jian Jinzhao spoke up. “Chaosheng? What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

Just then, Yu Yan hurried back, practically glowing with enthusiasm. “Teacher Jian, check this out!”

He held three coffees and a tray of tea snacks, his expression pure pride, like a kid showing off a good deed.

Jian Jinzhao stifled a chuckle and ignored him on purpose, turning to Wen Chaosheng instead. “Chaosheng, why don’t you sit and take a break?”

They still had time, and the crew deserved a chance to eat and drink.

Wen Chaosheng nodded and settled back in front of the monitor.

Undeterred by Jian Jinzhao’s feigned snub, Yu Yan plopped down on a stool he’d grabbed, passing out coffees without missing a beat. “Teacher Jian, Director Wen—here you go.”

“Thanks.”

Wen Chaosheng took the iced coffee but didn’t drink yet.

He knew little about this Nainai and was mulling how to broach the subject.

Before he could, Yu Yan piped up casually. “Teacher Jian, you should’ve seen that truck outside. This spread has to be at least six figures.”

Jian Jinzhao blinked in surprise. “For real?”

Yu Yan nodded. “Yeah. Top-shelf coffee—they flew in four baristas to grind and brew on-site, plus two tea specialists. Even these pastries aren’t off-the-shelf; I’d bet they hired a brand-name baker special.”

…

All for a set visit?

Six figures dropped on afternoon tea?

Wen Chaosheng stared down at the coffee in his hand, hesitating. “Nainai, she…”

Jian Jinzhao seemed to read his mind. “I’m not totally in the loop either. I just know she’s been with Quansheng Entertainment for about half a year.”

“But her bookings are killer. Before her official debut announcement, she was already cast as the lead in Director Yang Fusheng’s new film.”

The movie hadn’t hit theaters yet, but industry previews had racked up rave reviews.

“Right after her debut dropped, she stacked fashion gigs and brand endorsements.”

That kind of high-profile rollout naturally drew sniping about her being a “nepo baby,” but Nainai and her team brushed off the noise. They never bothered clapping back.

A nearby set coordinator who’d overheard couldn’t resist chiming in. “Teacher Jian, you haven’t heard the real tea?”

“There are whispers in the industry that Nainai’s contract was with Teacher Xi’s personal studio from the start—just nominally under Quansheng Entertainment.”

“Three or four months back, some big marketing account with a million followers posted straight-up slander. The language was nasty—way out of line for a girl like her.”

“Quansheng Entertainment came out swinging: evidence, lawsuits, the works. The account got nuked that same day, and the company behind it caught heat too.”

The response was brutally efficient, spooking all the copycat rumor mills into scrubbing their Weibo posts.

“Then netizens noticed the law firm stamp on Quansheng’s legal notice—it wasn’t their usual go-to.”

The coordinator shot a gossipy glance toward Xi Zhui’s dressing room. “It was Teacher Xi’s personal legal team!”

…

Wen Chaosheng unconsciously tightened his hold on the support coffee. The chill from the cup seeped into his palm, numbing it.

Yu Yan eyed the coordinator skeptically, unconvinced by the implication. “Brother Jiang, didn’t peg you for such a gossip. Better not spread unverified stuff—Teacher Xi might overhear.”

Jian Jinzhao smiled faintly, declining to weigh in on the chatter.

“Aw, I just overheard some girls chatting on my last set,” the coordinator said, scratching his head sheepishly as he backpedaled. “Heard it in passing, y’know? Just mentioning it now.”

With that, he pretended to remember something urgent and scurried off.

Jian Jinzhao glanced at the subtly off-kilter Wen Chaosheng, his eyes flickering.

He shot Yu Yan a look, but his words were for someone else. “She’s right here on set. If you’re that curious, just ask your Brother Xi later.”

Yu Yan sipped his coffee, playing it smart. “Fair enough. I’ll corner him privately sometime.”

No sooner had he spoken than the dressing room door swung open nearby.

Xi Zhui emerged, makeup refreshed. Nainai walked beside him, her face lit with smiles.

No one knew what she said, but as they walked, Xi Zhui glanced at her—his usual sharp gaze softening with a touch of helpless indulgence.

Anyone with eyes could tell they were close.

In a second or two, Xi Zhui’s attention shifted, locking straight onto the monitor station.

…

Wen Chaosheng hurriedly looked away, setting down his untouched iced coffee.

Xi Zhui caught the subtle move and approached. “Where’d this coffee come from?”

Yu Yan raised his own cup. “Nainai brought it as a set visit treat. Teacher Jian, Director Wen, and I snagged three.”

“Thirsty anyway.”

Xi Zhui picked up Wen Chaosheng’s pristine coffee, as if certain he wouldn’t mind. “Mind if I take this one?”

Nainai, at his side, blinked in surprise. “There’s tons outside. Why snag Director Wen’s?”

Xi Zhui countered, “Got juice?”

She nodded.

He turned to his assistant at once. “Xiao Chao, grab Director Wen a fresh mango juice. Weather’s cooling off—room temp’s fine.”

Yu Yan spotted the subtext and teased under his breath. “Guess I only rate iced coffee. Brother Xi’s the real thoughtful one.”

“No need. I’m not that thirsty.”

Wen Chaosheng politely declined Xi Zhui’s gesture, retrieving the script from the monitor instead.

He shoved aside the swirling thoughts, acting as if nothing had registered, nothing had happened—forcing himself back into work mode.

“Xi Zhui, let’s make this quick. Nail the last scene, wrap early.”

Xi Zhui’s brow furrowed faintly, but he went along. “Got it.”

…

Xi Zhui was no longer the greenhorn actor who struggled with inner beats. Six years on, even with scenes shot out of sequence, he seized the character’s heart in a flash, delivering it with nuanced finesse.

The final scene flew by, flawless.

Wen Chaosheng grabbed the megaphone to call wrap—and announced the three-day break. Cheers erupted across the crew.

Xi Zhui shook off the role and returned to the monitor.

Jian Jinzhao was still scrutinizing the footage, his focus unyielding amid the noise.

Not wanting to interrupt, Xi Zhui asked around casually. “Where’s Jin Zhao?”

His agent, Wen Hui, replied. “Teacher Jian stepped out mid-shoot for a call—probably to the dressing room. Yu Yan bolted the second Director Wen mentioned time off. Kid was hyped.”

…

Xi Zhui understood immediately and chuckled to himself inwardly.

“The crew’s wrapped up for the day, right?” Nainai stepped forward with a suggestion. “Bro, I had someone reserve a private room at a restaurant ahead of time. Why don’t you invite the crew out for a gathering tonight under your name?”

Xiao Chao raised his hand in vote. “I agree!”

The assistant director nearby jumped in excitedly. “Sounds perfect! I’m in too!”

After grinding non-stop for a full month, they finally had a break for rest and recuperation. Tonight, no matter what, they were going to let loose and knock back a few drinks with abandon!

Xi Zhui didn’t rush to agree. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Wen Chaosheng nearby.

Nainai caught on quick and called out right away. “Director Wen, you coming along? We can invite Teacher Jian and the others too—we’ll set up a separate private room so it won’t get too rowdy.”

Wen Chaosheng had already finished reviewing the footage. He’d heard Xi Zhui and the others chatting idly, but he’d deliberately kept his eyes fixed on the monitor.

He caught Nainai’s invitation, but he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for it. “I’ll pass. I’m pretty beat and just want to head back to the hotel early to rest.”

…

Xi Zhui detected the genuine weariness in his voice, and his brows furrowed once more.

Wen Chaosheng grabbed his backpack and shot a quick glance at Xi Zhui and Nainai. An indescribable bitterness welled up on the tip of his tongue. “You all have fun.”

With that, he turned and headed out.

…

What was going on?

Hadn’t he seemed in pretty good spirits during lunch break?

How could just a few hours later leave him so drained? Was it really just fatigue? Or was he coming down with something?

Xi Zhui instinctively wanted to follow after him, but his manager called from nearby. “Xi Zhui.”

“There’s a supplementary promo agreement for the last movie that needs signing. Lawyer Zhang’s already vetted it—no issues. Squeeze in some time over the next couple days to sign.”

Xi Zhui reluctantly shifted his gaze back. “Got it.”

With the dinner gathering confirmed, Xiao Chao, the assistant director, and the others split off in different directions to round up invites.

Xi Zhui had lost all interest in the meal. He let out a sigh.

Now that the usual staff had cleared out from around the monitor, he eyed Nainai, who had traveled all this way to see him. “No heads-up before showing up early? How much did you blow today?”

Nainai shrugged it off without a care, finally letting a touch of her spoiled heiress attitude slip through. “You never check your phone while you’re shooting anyway. And I didn’t spend a dime—put everything on Shen Zhaoye’s card.”

Xi Zhui shot her down. “That’s your big brother. Don’t get too casual calling him by name.”

Nainai was her stage name. Her real one was Shen Jialan—Shen Zhaoye’s blood sister. They were nearly ten years apart in age, but their sibling bond ran deep.

Xi Zhui had always been cousins with Shen Zhaoye and Shen Jialan, staying in touch since they were kids.

That said, Shen Jialan had picked her stage name and buried her family background when she entered showbiz. She’d never breathed a word of their relation to the public.

Nainai explained, “I popped back to Haishi City for a couple days on short notice. Had nothing better to do, so I swung by to visit the set.”

“By the way, I’ve got work in Cloud City tomorrow afternoon. Third Bro’s out there on a medical aid stint, and I’m heading to see him. Want me to pass along a message?”

The trio of childhood pals—Shen, Xi, and Xia—got a “Bro” from Nainai when addressing them one-on-one. She’d tack on numbers by age for distinction, calling Xia Fengyi “Third Bro.”

Xi Zhui remembered Xia Fengyi’s comment on his Moments feed from not long ago and turned it down politely. “Nah. Not close enough for that.”

Nainai was long used to Xi Zhui’s sporadic sharp jabs and just laughed it off. “Here we go again.”

Xi Zhui still had Wen Chaosheng’s state on his mind. “Hang on a sec. I need to go find someone.”

In the month since filming kicked off, he’d always contrived grand excuses like “script discussion” to drag Wen Chaosheng out for lunch or dinner.

Wen Chaosheng’s cheeks had finally started filling out a bit, and Xi Zhui worried that without him there, the director would just brush off meals with energy bars or slices of bread again.

Nainai had the good sense not to press who he was looking for. “Okay.”

They were shooting in a prefab studio shed, so all the key creatives had dedicated lounges.

Xi Zhui made a beeline for the director’s lounge. He knocked—no answer. Pushing the door open, he found the room empty. Even the transparent turtle tank on the desk was gone.

—

The prefab film studio was a good hike from their hotel.

Actors with team vans had their own rides, but the production ran shuttle minibuses for crew staff—every twenty minutes, three runs an hour.

For once, Wen Chaosheng hadn’t stuck around the set till the bitter end. The moment wrap was called, he’d scooped up Kuai Kuai and made a break for it.

At the moment, he was huddled in the very last row of the minibus, baseball cap pulled low, mask up, presence dialed down to zero.

The shuttle pulled out right on schedule. The first post-wrap run wasn’t packed.

Up a row ahead, three makeup artists from the set had jumped straight into gossip the second they boarded.

Wen Chaosheng’s mind was elsewhere, and industry chatter held zero appeal for him—it went in one ear and out the other. He just quietly toyed with Kuai Kuai in its tank.

Then, out of nowhere, someone up front brought up Xi Zhui.

“I’d say with Nainai dropping by the set and all, that rumor about her and Teacher Xi Zhui is most likely legit.”

…

Wen Chaosheng’s fingers stilled. His wandering attention locked right in.

Someone else piped up. “What rumor?”

The first makeup artist answered, “What else? Perfect match—they’ve gotta be dating.”

“Huh? Doesn’t track. Xi Zhui’s had zero scandals or dating rumors in years. If it was real, his fans would go berserk!”

Not to mention, Xi Zhui and his team had zero tolerance for romance buzz. Over all his years in the biz, he’d never been linked to anyone.

“Just date on the down-low. Plenty do in this industry—they might split tomorrow anyway.”

The window-seat makeup artist scoffed at the skepticism. “Announce it when things are solid enough for marriage. Same diff.”

“I agree,” the third one listening in chimed. “Even if they aren’t official yet, that visit today? It’s gotta be imminent!”

“Same agency, lawyers quietly running interference, Brother Xi looking out for her like that—whew, can’t even picture a catch like Xi Zhui dating. What would that even look like?”

“What else? Outsiders stay clear, that’s all. Not like it’s for the likes of us anyway.”

…

The three up front pivoted to fresh gossip, but Wen Chaosheng couldn’t process another syllable. From the depths of his mind, a voice from long ago—years, almost six—faded in blurry, then sharpened crystal clear:

“Wen Chaosheng, it’s been almost six years. People change.”

“Tastes change. What you like changes. Everything changes.”

“It’s not work hours. You knocking on my hotel door first thing in the morning—if someone walks by, they’ll assume we’ve got something shady going on.”

…

A familiar, razor-thin electric hum reverberated in Wen Chaosheng’s ears. A certain agony, dormant for nearly a month, loomed ready to erupt and gnaw away at his soul.

His chest clenched with raw bitterness; even his breath hitched to a halt. Belatedly, it hit him—crystal clear realization dawning:

So that was it?

No wonder Xi Zhui had insisted on distance before, to dodge needless misunderstandings. All they could ever be was a standard, run-of-the-mill working relationship.

At this point, he was nothing but one of those “outsiders” on people’s lips. No other path forward with Xi Zhui—ever.