“…”
Perhaps because the question was too direct, Wen Chaosheng’s throat suddenly tightened.
He felt like he needed a drink of water, but unfortunately, he’d already shattered the glass, and he’d forgotten to ask the server for a refill.
Sensing the deep, unrelenting gaze fixed on him from nearby, Wen Chaosheng had no choice but to pick up the wineglass on the table.
The icy liquid burned going down his throat.
He coughed softly, barely managing to find his voice. “No, I just… I didn’t expect Jin Zhao to call you here. Didn’t you say you didn’t want to?”
The words came out halting and fragmented, lacking a clear beginning or end.
But Xi Zhui understood perfectly, based on what he knew of Wen Chaosheng from before. “He called me here to talk about the movie collaboration, of course.”
Xi Zhui paused, then continued with a touch of deliberate emphasis. “Oh, right—I saw the invitation email from the Rotten Mud crew. I have to admit, I’m really curious.”
“…”
So Xi Zhui had seen that email?
But he’d still turned it down.
A pang of sadness hit Wen Chaosheng. After a moment, he lifted his eyes to ask, “Curious about what?”
Xi Zhui met his gaze, his brow arching slightly. “After all these years apart, what made Director Wen send a movie invitation to his ex-boyfriend?”
He bit down hard on the words “ex-boyfriend.”
It was as if something vital had been squeezed in Wen Chaosheng’s chest, forcing his head down quickly.
Xi Zhui found the sight of him lowering his eyes in silence grating. “You’ve been living pretty comfortably abroad all these years, haven’t you? What made you decide to come back home and get back into the old business?”
“…”
In that instant, Wen Chaosheng’s sadness deepened.
He discreetly clutched the medicine in his inner pocket, as if issuing himself a silent command to calm down.
Wen Chaosheng had never been good at lying, but right now, he didn’t have the luxury. “No, I sent invitation emails to a lot of actors I thought would be a good fit. It wasn’t just to you.”
“…”
“Filming a movie is work. It has nothing to do with personal feelings from the past.”
Wen Chaosheng only “explained” the first question, skipping the second entirely.
Xi Zhui fell silent for two seconds, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “That’s good. Director Wen really knows how to keep work and personal matters separate.”
“Since you sent invitations to so many actors, how come I heard from Jin Zhao that the lead role still hasn’t been decided?”
Wen Chaosheng recalled the purpose of this dinner that Jian Jinzhao had arranged and misunderstood the situation entirely. He seemed to be speaking to the man before him, yet also reassuring himself. “It’s fine.”
“I… I saw the rejection email. I know you don’t want to do my movie.”
“…”
Xi Zhui said nothing.
Wen Chaosheng took that as confirmation of the outcome, but worried it might not satisfy him. “Don’t worry. I’ll message him on WeChat later and make it clear—the crew has already found other suitable actors.”
Time for casting was running short for the production.
As the director, he couldn’t let some unspeakable personal feelings derail the entire crew’s preparations.
“…”
Xi Zhui felt like he was the one who needed a drink right now, but remembering he had to drive later, he held back.
Instead, he pulled out the cigarettes he always carried, rolling one between his fingers as if idly toying with it, before asking casually, “Is that so? Who’s it settled on?”
Wen Chaosheng answered honestly. “Fang Yanzhou.”
All things considered, Fang Yanzhou was indeed the next best choice for the lead role.
They hadn’t reached a formal contract yet, but the crew would soon reach out to his team.
“Him, huh.” Xi Zhui’s fingers tightened around the unlit cigarette. “He does seem like Director Wen’s type.”
Wen Chaosheng didn’t quite catch that, simply nodding along. “Yeah, he fits the script character pretty well…”
“Has the crew signed him already?” Xi Zhui interrupted sharply, shifting gears. “If not, do I still have a shot at going after it?”
“…”
Going after what?
Wen Chaosheng’s thoughts, which had only just started turning again, ground to a halt.
Xi Zhui didn’t expect him to volunteer anything, so he laid it out plainly. “I was planning to take a break this fall anyway, so my team turned down a bunch of offers that didn’t match my schedule a while back.”
“Then I saw the character summary for Rotten Mud and thought Yao Yi was a great role.”
Wen Chaosheng’s eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, terrified that the medication was making him hallucinate. He couldn’t help looking at Xi Zhui for confirmation. “You mean… you want to act in it?”
Xi Zhui took in Wen Chaosheng’s reaction fully, the flicker of eagerness in his own heart neatly tamped down.
“Director Wen had it right just now—”
“Work is work. No need to drag personal relationships into it. It’s rare for an actor to find a role they truly like.”
“I really wanted to go after this one. The crew can make whatever demands they want—my team and I can accommodate anything we can.”
“But looks like I was a step too late.”
Xi Zhui showed a trace of well-timed regret, then magnanimously added, “Fang Yanzhou’s a solid actor. Best of luck with the collaboration.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng opened his mouth, a tangle of emotions choking his chest, unsure how to respond.
Coming back to make a movie was his goal. Having Xi Zhui star in it was a secret personal wish beyond the work itself.
He’d already braced himself for Xi Zhui’s disgust and refusal, but the reality was the complete opposite.
Xi Zhui was the one who could pick up and let go more easily.
Watching Wen Chaosheng hesitate in silence, Xi Zhui pressed his advantage by retreating. “That said, ever since I walked into this private room, Director Wen’s seemed pretty opposed to me being here. Looks like there’s no hope.”
“In that case, I’ll head out first.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng froze.
“Tonight’s bill for the room will come out of my card. Order whatever you want, Director Wen.”
Xi Zhui stood up swiftly, sliding his untouched glass of warm water toward Wen Chaosheng. “This champagne has some alcohol in it. Drink lightly on your own. I won’t disturb you anymore.”
With that, he turned and strode out decisively.
“Xi—”
Wen Chaosheng instinctively wanted to chase after him, but the moment he rose, a wave of weakness hit him, and he collapsed back into his chair.
Sizzle—
The side effects of the medication mixed with the alcohol, suppressed until now, came roaring back. Intense ringing in his ears and dizziness drained the color from Wen Chaosheng’s face in an instant.
He watched helplessly as Xi Zhui’s back receded, countless dreams from the past overlapping before his eyes. No matter how he struggled to pursue, he was always trapped in place.
No!
That’s not it. Don’t… don’t go.
Wen Chaosheng doubled over in pain, gasping for air, the words of retention stuck hard in his throat.
Regret clawed at him like a demon with talons, gnawing at his already overburdened heart—
So Xi Zhui had wanted to act in this film?
It was he who’d backed off after one rejection email. He who’d failed to seize the opportunity!
…
By the time Xi Zhui stepped out of the restaurant, night had fully fallen.
The lingering daytime heat of the evening rushed at him, igniting the impatience he’d been suppressing.
He glanced sideways at his reflection in the door’s mirror. The refined gentleness he usually faked was long gone, replaced by a grim expression.
That man hadn’t followed.
It was expected. Perfectly reasonable.
“Fuck.”
Xi Zhui cursed his own mistake and impulsiveness under his breath, but he had no intention of leaving just yet.
He scanned the area and spotted a vending machine at the edge of the parking lot. He walked over quickly and circled behind it, using the machine to partially shield himself.
From this angle, he had a clear view of the restaurant’s main entrance. He could see exactly when Wen Chaosheng would leave.
“…”
Xi Zhui found his own behavior ridiculous.
He looked down at the cigarette in his palm. What had seemed like casual fiddling had actually crushed it out of shape.
Unable to resist, Xi Zhui pulled out his lighter and lit it.
The spark flared, mirroring the frustration creasing his brow.
Buzz buzz buzz.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Xi Zhui exhaled a puff of smoke and answered. “Yeah?”
“…”
The assistant on the other end paused for two seconds before asking uncertainly, “Brother Xi, you okay? You sound off.”
“No. What is it?”
“Don’t forget the magazine shoot tomorrow morning. The driver and I will pick you up at eight. But where are you staying tonight? Delight Bay or Rong An?”
The former was Xi Zhui’s hotel apartment for short stays; the latter, his house in Haishi City, which he’d barely lived in.
“Delight Bay.”
Xi Zhui’s gaze stayed fixed on the restaurant entrance as he mentally replayed their conversation from the private room. “Xiao Chao, get Sister Hui to handle two things for me.”
“Sure, bro. What?”
“On behalf of the studio, reach out to Whale Shadow about investing. Tell them I’m interested in the Rotten Mud script and want to put some money into the movie. Let them name the amount—doesn’t matter. We don’t care about the backend split.”
Even if he couldn’t be the lead actor, he could still get involved as an investor.
“…”
The assistant thought it over, then asked, “Got it. And the second thing?”
“Have her get an introduction to Director Yan Qingshan as soon as possible. Say that actor Fang Yanzhou is a better fit for the lead in Yan’s new movie, and he should have availability this fall.”
The assistant grew even more confused. “Huh?”
What was this play?
Yan Qingshan was a big-name director in the industry, with actors lining up to work with him.
And their team had no connection to Fang Yanzhou’s—why pave the way for him out of nowhere?
Xi Zhui didn’t bother explaining, his eyes never leaving the same spot. “Just do it. Hanging up.”
…
Outbreaks varied in length.
Perhaps because Wen Chaosheng’s desire to keep Xi Zhui there was so strong, the dizziness and ringing faded quicker than usual. As soon as he felt a bit better, he stumbled out of the private room.
The restaurant had been booked out for the night, so the outdoor parking lot was nearly empty—only five cars total.
Wen Chaosheng clasped his stiff, sweaty palms together, harboring a faint, almost laughable hope as he peered into each vehicle one by one.
Nothing.
Still nothing.
Hope shattered with the last SUV, draining his strength along with it.
Wen Chaosheng’s knees buckled forward uncontrollably.
In the next second, strong hands caught his elbow, spinning him around and pulling him against a familiar yet distant chest. “Who is Director Wen looking for?”
Fresh life surged into his parched heart, pulling him back from the brink.
Wen Chaosheng looked up at Xi Zhui standing there, suddenly thinking his earlier prayer had worked after all. God really had given him a second chance.
Wen Chaosheng swallowed, his throat dry and bitter, trying to make his voice sound less strange. “Y-you haven’t left yet?”
“I took a temporary work call. I was just about to head out.”
As Xi Zhui spoke, he didn’t loosen his grip on Wen Chaosheng’s elbow.
In less than ten minutes, the man before him looked even worse. The lenses of his glasses caught the flush at the corners of his eyes, making him seem terribly fragile.
Xi Zhui assumed Wen Chaosheng was just drunk.
The other man had never been much of a drinker. One glass was enough to knock him out, and when he sobered up, he’d always blacked out and forgotten everything.
Clearly, he hadn’t improved over the years.
“Drunk enough that you can’t even walk straight? Do you need me to take Director Wen home?”
The words had barely left Xi Zhui’s mouth before he worried he was being presumptuous. “Or does Director Wen have someone coming to pick you up?”
Wen Chaosheng shook his head.
He stared at Xi Zhui, who was so close, unblinking. Years of pent-up longing, fueled by alcohol and his worsening condition, surged into a reckless, all-or-nothing impulse.
He didn’t know where the courage came from, but Wen Chaosheng grabbed Xi Zhui’s wrist. “Xi Zhui, do you want to join the production? Do you really want it?”
Xi Zhui’s eyes flickered. He played along. “Yes. Does that mean Director Wen is willing to give me a shot?”
“Mm.”
Wen Chaosheng pressed his lips together, his teeth chattering. “But I—I have a condition—”
It was as if another personality had erupted inside him, devouring all his old cowardice and hesitation. The words tumbled out before he could think. “Spend the night with me.”
Xi Zhui’s expression froze—an unprecedented two or three seconds of stillness—until he felt the tremor in Wen Chaosheng’s hand. “What did you say? What kind of ‘spend the night’?”
“Didn’t you say that for the role, you’d agree to any demand? The kind you’re thinking of.”
Wen Chaosheng could no longer feel himself speaking. He was numb, yet utterly resolute. “Get in bed with me.”
He knew his words and actions must seem like senseless madness to the other man, but in that moment, he didn’t care.
He wanted it too badly.
He craved Xi Zhui’s embrace. He craved everything about Xi Zhui. He craved even a fleeting moment of warmth from him to soothe the incurable ache that had plagued him all these years.
If this was the last chance God had granted him, then Wen Chaosheng would seize the man before him with both hands—no matter if it lasted only one night, no matter if it meant plummeting into hell forever afterward.
Bzzz—
The electric hum swelled again.
Wen Chaosheng instinctively ducked his head against the discomfort, missing the stormy darkness brewing in Xi Zhui’s gaze.
Suddenly, Xi Zhui seized his jaw with brutal force and yanked it upward.
“Mmph.”
Wen Chaosheng winced in pain. In his peripheral vision, he caught the veins bulging on the back of Xi Zhui’s hand. He went dazed for a couple of seconds and stopped struggling.
Xi Zhui stared silently at the face before him—familiar, yet somehow alien. A torrent of questions flooded his mind.
So what?
Why?
Why, all those years ago, had he ended things with a single WeChat message? Deleted him from WeChat just like that? Why had he so easily trampled his youthful sincerity, treating it like a joke? Why had he abandoned him alone in the country while he jetted off to live it up overseas?
And now, why had he come back?
Why, after getting drunk, would he make a demand like this? Get in bed? What the hell did he think Xi Zhui was?
“…”
A seething mass of long-suppressed anger churned in his chest, with nowhere to go. Xi Zhui still couldn’t make sense of it. But his pride—shattered six years ago—wouldn’t let him play the fool and beg for answers.
Their wordless standoff dragged on.
Wen Chaosheng’s soul seemed to float untethered in the air, his body rigid as a marionette. He had no idea if he was stepping into another circle of hell or a paradise as fleeting and fragile as a soap bubble.
At last, Xi Zhui let out an absurd laugh. “Fine.”
The fingers clamped on Wen Chaosheng’s jaw eased their pressure. They brushed lightly, almost imperceptibly, across his skin. “Wen Chaosheng, you’ve really gone and made something of yourself.”
