Lately, matters had piled up so relentlessly that they’d ravaged his nerves. He hadn’t slept a full night in ages, and his physical exhaustion had long since reached its breaking point.
Wen Chaosheng had just settled down, wrapped in the thin quilt, when his phone buzzed frantically on the bedside table where it charged.
The vibrations felt as urgent as a death knell.
Spotting Chang Xiaomei’s name on the incoming call, he sensed trouble. “Hello?”
But a young nurse’s voice came through instead. “Is this Mr. Wen? You need to come to the hospital right away!”
“The patient in Room 1602 just smashed a glass medicine bottle and slit his wrists! He’s in the operating room being resuscitated now. His mother is so hysterical from the shock that she’s about to pass out!”
—Buzz!
A wave of unprecedented despair shot straight from his soles to his skull.
Wen Chaosheng’s drowsiness shattered in an instant. Ignoring his worsening cold symptoms, he blurted, “I’m on my way!”
Outside the late-night resuscitation room, Chang Xiaomei huddled on the floor, her black hair streaked heavily with silver. She trembled with sobs.
Wen Chaosheng rushed over and tried to help her up. “Auntie, the floor’s cold. Please, get up.”
“Chaosheng, Chaosheng…”
Through tear-blurred eyes, Chang Xiaomei recognized his face—like grasping the last straw. “Auntie begs you. I really, truly beg you.”
She scrambled to adjust her position and knelt squarely before him. “Save our Xiao Ming! He’s my only son! I know him—I understand him—”
“He’s so young, and now he’s crippled. Xiao Ming doesn’t want to burden me. He just doesn’t want to live anymore!”
“These past couple of days, he only listens to you. Taking meds, getting injections… he only obeys you!”
“Only in front of you does he show any will to live! Help Auntie save him! I beg you—save him!”
“…”
The barrage of pleas left Wen Chaosheng rooted in place, flustered. “Auntie, please get up first. Okay?”
Chang Xiaomei collapsed onto a nearby hospital bench, murmuring through utter exhaustion after her crying fit. “It was your movie, your crew that did this to him. Chaosheng, you can’t just abandon him! You have to have a conscience!”
Faced with the blame, Wen Chaosheng fell silent. The blood in his veins seemed to stagnate into dead water, tainting his very vitality drop by drop.
Layer upon layer of guilt shackled his heart, its invisible weight pinning him immobile.
What should he do?
What could he possibly do?
…
Night deepened, and a light rain began to fall outside once more.
Fortunately, the medical staff had discovered the attempt in time, and Chang Ming had survived.
Wen Chaosheng draped the room’s only blanket over Chang Xiaomei. Exhausted after her ordeal of terror and grief, she had fallen asleep on the sofa.
“…”
Wen Chaosheng sank back into the hard wooden chair, too afraid to even close his eyes for rest. The recent events replayed in his mind like a relentless slideshow—
From the freak accident on set to Chang Ming’s amputation just to save his life.
From his parents learning of his romance to Wen Chunshen’s resounding slap of refusal.
From Chang Ming’s sudden suicide attempt to Chang Xiaomei’s utterly desperate pleas toward him.
In a mere half month, his career, family ties, and love life had all ground to a halt. Suddenly, Wen Chaosheng had no confidence in the future. He didn’t know what he could possibly hold on to anymore.
He pulled out his phone and opened WeChat, his gaze lingering on the chat window with Xi Zhui.
Emotion and reason tore at him from opposite sides.
Some unknowable time later, there was a stir from the bed.
Wen Chaosheng snapped back to attention and hurried closer. “Chang Ming, you’re awake? How are you feeling?”
Chang Ming asked weakly, “…Am I not dead yet?”
Hearing the lingering death wish in his tone, Wen Chaosheng mustered his voice. “Why would you do something like that?”
“Because living has no meaning anymore.”
Chang Ming’s eyes lurked in the dimness, their expression hard to discern. “Brother Wen, I looked it up on my phone. There’s not a whisper about the crew accident online. You paid to hush it up, didn’t you?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng didn’t know how to respond.
Chang Ming let out a faint, ambiguous laugh. “It’s fine. I can pretty much figure it out. A nobody like me, not even debuted yet—I’ve got no standing to whine about fairness.”
“Suppressing word of my injury is the only way your directing career stays unscathed, free from backlash.”
“No, that’s not it.”
Wen Chaosheng tried to argue, but he had no solid ground to stand on.
After all, the one who’d paid to bury the story was his own father—for his sake. By now, it was inextricably linked to him.
“Brother Wen, you don’t need to feel any guilt. I don’t blame you at all. Maybe this is just my fate.”
Chang Ming truly was devastated and in agony.
That day, desperate for more of Wen Chaosheng’s attention, he’d climbed without a care.
No one could have foreseen the accident—not even Chang Ming himself.
But it had happened. Rather than raging at fate, better to seize the opportunity. He would exploit Wen Chaosheng’s guilt and sense of duty, doing whatever it took to bind the man to his side.
Selfish possessiveness welled up from the depths of his heart even as he masked it perfectly on the surface. “Brother Wen, you’ve got your career back home, your boyfriend you love. Your heart isn’t here. You can’t look after me forever. Someday you’ll leave and go back to your happy, perfect life.”
He shifted tack, revealing a fragility only Wen Chaosheng could glimpse. “But what about me? Have you even thought about what I’ll do?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng had no answer. He couldn’t map out Chang Ming’s future for him.
“I’m ruined now, no hope left in life. Dragging on will just burden my mom.”
Chang Ming glanced at Chang Xiaomei on the sofa, then fixed his gaze back on Wen Chaosheng, hiding the threat behind a calm tone. “This wrist-slitting didn’t work? Next time it’ll be stabbing my heart or jumping off a building…”
Wen Chaosheng’s breath caught. He cut in sharply, “Chang Ming!”
Seeing the raw guilt surface, Chang Ming smiled and asked, “Brother Wen, if I just died like this, would you remember me for the rest of your life?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng felt himself sinking into an unfathomable vortex, somehow saddled with the weight of Chang Ming’s entire existence. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“What I want? Like that matters?”
“You’re whole-bodied. Your boyfriend’s whole-bodied too. How could you possibly understand what I’m feeling right now?”
In the darkness, Chang Ming’s gaze locked onto him, gloomy beyond measure as he lifted his freshly bandaged wrist. “Brother Wen, if I told you that I’m the one who needs you most—would you get it?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng didn’t reply.
The man on the bed closed his eyes, making his point.
The room’s heater was on, but Wen Chaosheng still felt an awful chill. A long while later, he numbly and stiffly opened WeChat on his phone.
The screen’s glow lit up the anguish deep in his pupils. A thousand words boiled down to the most impotent, most hollow sentence:
“Xi Zhui, let’s break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other.”
Sorry.
He seemed to have reached a dead end. He shouldn’t drag Xi Zhui into this mess. Better to sever the tie himself.
Perhaps ending it here was for the best.
—
In Cloud City of Hua Country, on the set of Wolf River.
Inside the cramped, stuffy rest tent, Xi Zhui sat huddled on a small stool, a thick script densely marked with notes still clutched in his hand.
His assistant hurried in and handed over a cup of coffee. “Brother Xi, here. We’ve got night scenes tonight—probably an all-nighter. This’ll perk you up.”
Xi Zhui looked surprised. “Where’d you score iced coffee?”
To match the story’s backdrop, the crew had spent the past half month filming deep in the mountains. Except for the big shots, everyone else—staff and supporting actors—made do with basics for food, clothes, and shelter.
This late at night, scoring a coffee in the middle of nowhere wasn’t easy.
The assistant grinned. “Nicked some instant from Brother Yang’s assistant, plus some ice. Make do?”
He’d been with Xi Zhui for half a year now and knew the guy was a rich young master in private.
To maintain the low profile expected of a newcomer actor, Xi Zhui fully complied with the crew’s arrangements. During breaks, he could only huddle in this small tent that had been hastily set up.
Due to the unique subject matter, filming for the movie Wolf River was anything but easy.
As one of the few rookie actors on set, Xi Zhui had no stunt double. He had to perform every single scene himself, and scraping his skin or shedding a bit of blood had become routine.
“…”
Xi Zhui had a feeling tonight’s shoot wouldn’t be a walk in the park, so he didn’t care whether the coffee was any good and downed several gulps.
He set the script he’d already memorized by heart aside and couldn’t help asking, “Has anyone messaged or called me on WeChat lately?”
His assistant, who was minding his personal phone, shook his head. “Nope.”
Xi Zhui’s parents knew he was swamped with filming and wouldn’t bother him on a daily basis, but they would check in briefly through the assistant’s WeChat.
“…”
Xi Zhui’s brow furrowed slightly, an inexplicable unease stirring in his heart.
By rights, Wen Chaosheng’s movie should have wrapped production by now. With the follow-up wrap-up work, he ought to be heading back home any day.
Even if the man was reluctant to interrupt his work, he should at least confirm the return date—but there hadn’t been a peep out of him lately.
Xi Zhui asked, “Where’s my phone?”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a staffer’s voice called from outside the tent: “Teacher Xi, Director Sun wants you to come over for the walkthrough and rehearsal.”
Xi Zhui shifted his focus and replied politely, “Got it, on my way.”
He picked up the script from beside him again, stopping his assistant from rummaging around. “Forget it. We’ll check it after we wrap for the day.”
It wouldn’t make much difference in the meantime anyway.
If Wen Chaosheng found out he was trying to sneak a video call during a break, he’d probably get a stern talking-to.
Recalling his lover’s dead-serious expression when laying down the law as a director, Xi Zhui chuckled and rose to his feet swiftly.
…
Tonight’s shoot featured a pivotal explosion scene that both the male lead and second male lead had to perform—one of Xi Zhui’s rare standout moments.
Owing to strict regulations on real explosions in forested mountains, there was only one chance for an actual blast on location.
Xi Zhui trailed behind the other two lead actors, diligently noting every single blast point with utmost seriousness.
The group spent a full hour and a half walking through the scene from every angle, rehearsing repeatedly and confirming every action detail before the official take began.
—Action!
The clapperboard’s snap echoed through the woods.
“Point one, blow!”
At the pyrotechnics team’s command, a fierce burst of flames erupted violently from the ground.
Xi Zhui slipped into character instantly. With nimble movements, he rolled across the jagged gravel, dodging the explosion flames flaring up at his side, then bolted toward the other two men.
—Bang! Bang! Bang!
In mere seconds, the blasts around him multiplied, their rhythm subtly off from the rehearsal.
Boom!
Suddenly, a deafening explosion roared to life, a scorching heat wave surging forward.
Xi Zhui’s eardrums throbbed with pain. He couldn’t make out the pyrotechnics team’s panicked yell at all: “Xi Zhui! Get out of the way!”
