Chapter 53

Six years ago—

A sudden afternoon downpour interrupted the crew’s filming schedule.

Wen Chaosheng had no choice but to let everyone on the set take shelter from the rain and rest. He grabbed his tablet and slipped into an empty business van.

He had just glanced at the first page of his upcoming itinerary announcements when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from Xi Zhui.

“Brother, busy?”

“Not busy. Rain’s holding us up.”

He hadn’t even hit send before a WeChat call request popped up.

Wen Chaosheng couldn’t find his Bluetooth earbuds right away, and he didn’t want Xi Zhui waiting on the other end, so he turned down the volume and picked up. “Hello.”

Xi Zhui, whom he hadn’t seen in ages, filled the phone screen.

His hair was buzzed much shorter, highlighting his already striking features and sharp bone structure. The look amplified his commanding presence.

Wen Chaosheng stared for a solid few seconds. “…Xi Zhui.”

Xi Zhui knew full well he’d left his lover speechless, but he feigned insecurity anyway. “Is the new haircut that bad? Director Wen’s got nothing to say?”

Snapping out of it, Wen Chaosheng praised him shyly. “No, you look great like this.”

They said short hair revealed a person’s raw, unfiltered self.

In Wen Chaosheng’s eyes, Xi Zhui embodied rugged handsomeness. Put that face on the big screen, and the impact would double—no, multiply.

Wen Chaosheng spotted the logo on Xi Zhui’s costume. “Director Sun’s new film kicking off today?”

Xi Zhui nodded. “Yeah, right on schedule at nine-thirty this morning. I’m mostly packed. Just waiting on the group chat notice, then we all head out together.”

Back in early July, Wen Chaosheng’s film Cloud End had gone into production overseas after a month of prep.

Meanwhile, Xi Zhui had fought his way through auditions back home and landed the role of Qiu Yan in Director Sun Maoyuan’s new movie Wolf River.

Qiu Yan didn’t have a ton of screen time, but he was the indispensable right-hand man to both the male lead and second lead.

Put plainly, every scene he was in drove the story around the protagonists.

Word was, the sequels would give him even more solo spotlight. For a newcomer, it was a dream role.

After signing the contracts, Xi Zhui threw himself into the cast’s boot camp training. It ran from early August through early October—grueling stuff, with phones only handed out on Sunday afternoons.

Wen Chaosheng, meanwhile, was spinning nonstop overseas, hopping locations to study and shoot.

So they savored every video call like gold.

“Wen Chaosheng.”

Xi Zhui suddenly called his full name, squinting at the screen. “Hold the phone farther back. Have you lost weight these past couple days?”

“We videoed just last Sunday. I haven’t.”

Wen Chaosheng complied but pushed back. “You hold yours back too. I think you’ve slimmed down.”

Xi Zhui chuckled at his earnest expression. “We’ve got a nutritionist on set. Meals are tailored perfectly. I’m trimming for the camera, but it’s all healthy. You need to eat on schedule, got it?”

Wen Chaosheng nodded.

Still not satisfied, Xi Zhui kept going. “I’m about to get slammed with shooting—no time for my phone.”

“You eat three meals a day on time, got it? Don’t get so wrapped up in filming you skip them.”

Hearing his lover’s familiar nagging, Wen Chaosheng’s lips curved in a secret smile. “You really planning to go phone-free during shoots?”

“Yep.”

Xi Zhui’s agreement came quick and firm. “You told me once: to nail a role, focus on the work. Minimize distractions on set.”

Xi Zhui wasn’t some playboy coasting on charm. If he was committing to acting, he’d seize every shot. With all those heavyweights and vets on set, he’d learn and shine.

Besides, Sun Maoyuan came up as a stuntman—tough as nails. As a director, he was infamous for his no-nonsense approach. No divided attentions allowed.

Xi Zhui teased, “If I clutched my phone between takes, my head would be all with you anyway.”

Wen Chaosheng’s ears tinted pink. “How long’s your shooting schedule?”

“Give or take, my scenes are front-loaded in the first month and a half.”

Xi Zhui gave him the straight rundown. “I’ll leave my phone with my assistant. Hit me up on days off. For emergencies, call my agent direct—she’ll pass it on right away.”

Wen Chaosheng replied, “No emergencies. Focus on filming, take care of yourself.”

Xi Zhui asked, “You? When do you wrap?”

“Early November.”

Wen Chaosheng eyed the thinning pages on his digital schedule. “If we wrap smooth, I can make it back to Haishi before your birthday.”

Cloud End had already chewed up nearly four months since overseas prep in early July and principal photography kicking off.

Wen Chaosheng chased natural visuals and meticulous detail—polishing every shot. For an arthouse short, it was rare devotion.

But the end was in sight.

Staring at Xi Zhui onscreen, the usually laid-back Wen Chaosheng felt a rare, burning itch to hurry home. “Xi Zhui…”

A sudden flurry of flapping wings exploded into frame, cutting him off.

“Good morning! Good morning!”

“Little bird says early early early~ Hungry! Hungry!”

…

Black Boss nearly smashed right into the phone screen.

Xi Zhui swatted the obstructing bird aside with a tsk. “Dumb bird, beat it.”

After months together, Black Boss was thick as thieves with Xi Zhui—zero fear. “No way! Not moving!”

Now perched boldly on Xi Zhui’s shoulder, the myna craned its neck at Wen Chaosheng onscreen, shaking its head dramatically. “Look bird! Bird awesome!”

It even aped Xi Zhui’s voice. “Brother, brother, brother~ Miss you~ miss you~ jay!”

…

Xi Zhui went dead silent as his chatty pet hijacked the call.

Wen Chaosheng laughed outright at the man-versus-bird standoff. “Black Boss looks a bit plumper.”

“Eating non-stop. Who else?”

“It sneaks its own snacks fine, but then it pecks up turtle food to feed Kuai Kuai. Feathers everywhere as it buzzes the house. Tires out, parks on the windowsill, picks fights with sparrows outside.”

Xi Zhui gave the myna’s head a light tap, playing up the gripe. “Brother, how’d we end up with this one? Where’s the ‘cute’? Wrap soon or it’ll be the death of me.”

Black Boss flapped in protest. “Lies! Bird innocent!”

Wen Chaosheng soothed, “Right, you’re innocent~”

Man, bird, and man chatted across the screen until a voice came from outside the van. “Brother Wen! It’s…”

Wen Chaosheng’s eyes snapped to the door. Instinctively, he angled the phone to hide Xi Zhui, shielding their relationship.

Xi Zhui was an actor now. The fewer who knew they were together, the better.

His motion was too obvious. Both men froze—Xi Zhui recovered first. “Gotta go? I’ll hang up.”

Beep.

The call dropped.

A message followed seconds later: “About to head to set. Chat later. Take care.”

Wen Chaosheng exhaled in relief and turned to the door. “Chang Ming, what’s up?”

The young man at the door was Chang Ming, the male lead of Cloud End. Fresh out of Imperial Capital Film Academy, he hadn’t even signed with an agency when Wen Chaosheng scouted him for the film.

With a nod, Chang Ming climbed in and took the front passenger seat. “Brother Wen, sorry—did I interrupt your call?”

“Nope.”

Wen Chaosheng denied it gently, then corrected him. “Didn’t I say on set it’s ‘Director Wen’?”

“But we’re not working right now, right? And off-set, I’m used to ‘Brother Wen.’ Slips out.”

Chang Ming grinned as he handed over a hot cocoa he’d queued up for. “Got this special for you, Brother Wen.”

“Thanks.”

Wen Chaosheng couldn’t brush off the kindness right in his face. Once he took it, he clocked the price tag on the cup and frowned.

Only after working closely did Wen Chaosheng learn Chang Ming’s story.

His dad was a gambler, drunk, abuser—divorced early. Raised in a single-parent home, his mom scraped by with a night market stall to raise him.

To get him into film academy, they’d lived lean.

Overseas, costs were brutal.

Chang Ming’s first trip abroad, and he barely spent on himself—instead buying Wen Chaosheng hot drinks every few days.

Wen Chaosheng didn’t want him splurging. “Chang Ming, I’ll transfer you the money later. Crew’s got afternoon tea covered. Save yours.”

…

A flicker of hurt crossed Chang Ming’s eyes at the rebuff, but he smiled obediently. “Brother Wen, months in and you’re still tallying every cent? I can swing a drink.”

“Besides, without you spotting me, a no-name newbie like me? No shot at a film this good. I’m grateful.”

Wen Chaosheng was always perceptive.

He caught the insecurity beneath Chang Ming’s “grateful” tone and corrected him at once. “Chang Ming, you’re wrong.”

Chang Ming’s face stiffened slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re talented enough on your own. With or without me or Cloud End, you’d have landed great roles sooner or later.”

Wen Chaosheng offered sincere praise, never putting on airs because of his “director” status. “By your logic, I should even thank you for starring in my film—for infusing the character with soul through your acting.”

Chang Ming’s eyes lit up in an instant, his gaze locking onto Wen Chaosheng without wavering. “Brother Wen, thank you.”

“You’re just so nice. If only I’d met you sooner.”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng had thin skin, and the intensity of that stare left him feeling awkward. He quickly changed the subject. “When’s this rain finally going to stop?”

“Sister Zhang just checked the weather forecast. It says it’ll clear up around four.”

Chang Ming picked up a straw, tore open the packet, and poked it into the hot cocoa for him. “Brother Wen, drink it while it’s hot—it won’t taste as good once it cools.”

“Thanks.”

Wen Chaosheng made a mental note of the price tag. He still planned to transfer the money to Chang Ming later.

He took a sip of the hot drink. The flavor was nice enough, but it didn’t compare to the cup Xi Zhui had handed him back when they were on the car roof, taking in the snowy mountain vista.

Wen Chaosheng had no appetite for the beverage in his hand. Instead, he couldn’t help thinking of his lover far away back home, and the corners of his mouth curved up unconsciously.

“…”

Chang Ming noticed the subtle shift in Wen Chaosheng’s expression. He spoke up as if offhandedly. “Brother Wen, were you just talking to your boyfriend on the phone?”

The words “boyfriend” jolted Wen Chaosheng back to reality, a flash of panic crossing his eyes.

Chang Ming knew he’d guessed right. His smile softened even further. “Brother Wen, relax. I won’t tell a soul.”

“…”

“But your boyfriend must be really handsome, right? Is he in the business? How lucky can one guy get…”

“Chang Ming, cut it out. Don’t go making things up!”

Wen Chaosheng interrupted with uncharacteristic seriousness, unwilling to let the questions continue. “Besides, my private life has nothing to do with the production. If you’ve got that kind of energy to spare, put it into your performance instead.”

Chang Ming dropped the subject at once, his face taking on an obedient, apologetic look. “Sorry, Brother Wen.”

Wen Chaosheng set the cup of hot cocoa aside. Behind his glasses, a rare glint of resistance flickered in his eyes. Xi Zhui’s career was just starting to gain traction—he didn’t want anyone prying into his lover’s life on his account!

“Looks like the rain’s almost stopped. I’m heading out.”

Wen Chaosheng stepped past Chang Ming in the front seat and left the car in short order.

Chang Ming’s eyes followed Wen Chaosheng’s retreating back. The light in his gaze rapidly dimmed, revealing the underlying gloom beneath.

Heh, boyfriend?

So that’s why he’d been holed up in the car for so long—just to chat with his boyfriend.

Chang Ming sneered down at the crumpled straw wrapper in his palm, along with the deep nail marks that were on the verge of drawing blood.

A sharp sting welled up, pricking at his sensitive nerves bit by bit.

Suddenly, Chang Ming’s eyes fell on the cup of hot cocoa that Wen Chaosheng had “abandoned.” The man had taken just one sip before hurrying off without a backward glance.

“…”

A thought stirred in Chang Ming’s mind. He reached out and picked up the cup.

His fingertip brushed the lingering warmth at the top of the straw. Only then did he slowly bring it to his lips and take a sip from the same spot.

The sweet aroma of the hot cocoa spread through his mouth, smothering the sour taste that never should have been there in the first place. But an even more frenzied possessiveness surged up alongside the warmth.

Wen Chaosheng was just too good.

He was only three years older, yet he always handled Chang Ming’s moods so gently and capably.

After these past few months working together overseas, Chang Ming couldn’t bear the thought of the film wrapping. He wanted to use the production as an excuse to draw even closer to the man—to get nearer still.

…

A week later.

The string of rainy days had finally come to an end, replaced by a rare stretch of brilliant sunshine.

During a break in filming, Wen Chaosheng stepped to a corner of the set and picked up a call from Song Xuelan. “Hey, Mom. Have you and Dad made it to the airport yet?”

“Yeah, the hotel address is the one I sent you.”

“We’re shooting in a pretty remote scenic spot today. It’ll probably be six or seven by the time we wrap and get back. I’ll rush over for dinner with you two tonight if I can swing it, okay?”

Song Xuelan’s response came through with a warm laugh. “Shengsheng, don’t worry about your dad and me. We’ll be fine on our own. Just give us a call when you’re done—no rush.”

“Got it. Text me if anything comes up, and let me know when you’ve checked into the hotel safe and sound.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Wen Chaosheng hung up and hurried back to the center of the set.

A nearby crew member grinned and asked, “Director, was that a call from family?”

Wen Chaosheng didn’t hide it. “Yeah. My parents have been traveling through Europe. They had some time, so they came to visit.”

Wen Chunshen and Song Xuelan had spent more than twenty years grinding away in the film industry. They’d made their money and their names. Now they were finally willing to set their careers aside for a bit and enjoy life.

Wen Chaosheng made a beeline for the climbing wall. In the meantime, Chang Ming had already let the staff help him tie on his safety harness with practiced ease.

The protagonist of Cloud End was a rock climber chasing dreams of Olympic gold. But his talent had limits, and he kept getting beaten back by harsh reality.

Eventually, at his mother’s urging, he changed his life’s focus.

No more gold medals at the top of indoor arenas—instead, the vast expanse of clouds visible once he reached the summit.

Through his repeated battles with nature, he crossed paths with fellow climbers of all stripes, each with their own reasons, and rediscovered the meaning of his existence.

The film featured a ton of rock-climbing sequences in diverse locations and landscapes, which was one reason the crew had been hopping from site to site since production began.

They were nearing the wrap, so only a handful of these scenes remained.

Wen Chaosheng always put actor safety above all else. He double-checked once more. “Has all the protective gear been inspected? Safety certifications in order?”

This wasn’t Chang Ming’s first climbing scene, and it wasn’t the crew’s first time hearing the question either.

Someone answered, “Director, the site manager confirmed the safety certs for us—no issues. We had someone test-climb this morning, and all the equipment checked out.”

Chang Ming chimed in too. “Director Wen, don’t worry. It’s not my first time.”

“Alright, then let’s make the most of the time.”

The climbing spot might have been remote, but renting out the whole place didn’t come cheap.

The production’s budget was running on fumes. The set manager had already been pinching pennies every way she knew how. If they went overtime today and racked up extra rental fees, it’d probably be the end of her.

Everything was ready. The slate cracked.

Chang Ming had studied climbing techniques systematically before principal photography began, and he’d had weeks of hands-on practice by now. In no time, he scaled to the designated safe height with expert finesse.

High in the air, he worked with the camera for shot after shot of tight close-ups.

Only when the final close shot wrapped did Wen Chaosheng’s suspended heart finally ease.

Panting, Chang Ming touched down and jogged over to him. “Director Wen, how’d I do?”

Wen Chaosheng reviewed the footage—a string of solid takes. He nodded, pleased. “You were great. And faster than we planned.”

Meeting that approving gaze filled Chang Ming with an indescribable satisfaction. He decided Wen Chaosheng was straightforward, easy to read and approach.

Just excel on set, and you’d earn his special regard.

Chang Ming took the initiative. “Director Wen, we’ve got time. How about I climb a bit higher for a full wide shot as backup?”

The assistant director nearby agreed. “Sounds good to me. The light’s perfect right now, and we’re not up on the rental clock yet. Waste not, want not!”

“We could use it for promo clips in post if it doesn’t make the cut. Or even as stills—weather’s ideal today!”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng was a perfectionist when it came to shooting. Backup footage was always better than coming up short.

After a moment’s thought, he gave the nod. “Fine. But stay safe—no pushing it.”

“You got it.”

Chang Ming’s pupils flickered with delight at the personal concern. He strode back to the wall and let the site staff re-secure his harness.

Wen Chaosheng settled in front of the monitor again, watching as Chang Ming ascended step by step.

Before long, the man had passed the predetermined safe height. The safety rope around his waist wasn’t fully taut, leaving some slack that made it sway loosely.

“…”

The sight made Wen Chaosheng’s heart clench as he watched via the monitor. He couldn’t hold back; he grabbed the megaphone. “Chang Ming, that’s enough! Start descending!”

But up in the heights, Chang Ming acted like he hadn’t heard, climbing another half meter higher as if determined to summit in one go.

Wen Chaosheng called out again. “Chang Ming!”

Snap—

An exceedingly faint breaking sound rang out!

The rock anchor plate beneath Chang Ming’s foot shattered in an instant, sending the entire weathered chunk of stone plummeting!

In mere seconds, a cascade of rocks smashed into fragments on the ground below!

Someone cried out in alarm. “Oh no!”

Wen Chaosheng’s eyes snapped away from the shaking monitor feed. The next instant, amid the crew’s collective gasps—

Chang Ming’s safety rope snapped clean through. With no purchase left, he plummeted straight down from the heights!