The Jiangnan region seemed to have only two seasons in a year: summer and winter. Spring and autumn always passed by in a hurry. By May, the weather was already hot, and once June arrived, short sleeves and shorts became the daily attire for most of the crew.
Actors who needed to film had no choice but to wear thick ancient costumes under the blazing sun. Xie Jin had a ton of martial arts scenes in this drama, and some segments required him to be suspended on wires, flying back and forth. Every time he finally wrapped a take, he was drenched in sweat.
Bai Ying would immediately rush over with water, a towel, and a small fan.
Xie Jin originally had other assistants, but somehow, Bai Ying had truly become his little assistant. Xie Jin joked several times that he even needed to pay him an assistant’s salary.
Bai Ying absolutely refused to take it. Because Xie Jin had gotten beaten because of him, the little snake felt immensely guilty deep down and treated taking care of Xie Jin as his own responsibility. Knowing he wouldn’t accept money, Xie Jin changed tactics. Nearby flower shops began delivering a bouquet every morning to the set—baby’s breath, gypsophila, champagne roses… They varied every day, and these flowers always ended up in a vase in Bai Ying’s room.
The crew felt like they had discovered something huge.
At the same time, Tan Ming’s expression toward Xie Jin grew increasingly sour. Though neither let personal matters affect work, the tension between them was visibly thickening.
The crew felt like they had discovered something even bigger.
Yet everyone saw through it but said nothing. Xie Jin clearly had his own plans. However, seeing Little White become a little tail following the film emperor, many thought this was a case of mutual affection, and the film emperor was about to sink his teeth into him.
Xie Jin thought the same. In his view, there was only a thin layer of window paper left between him and Bai Ying—just waiting for the right moment to pierce it, and their relationship could advance further.
After being released from the wires, Xie Jin sat under the shelter the crew had set up nearby, where the temperature dropped noticeably. Bai Ying came running over with quick footsteps, handing him lightly salted water. The towel was thoughtfully pre-soaked in warm water, and he held up a small fan, blowing it vigorously.
Xie Jin drank the water, took the towel to wipe his sweat, then turned the fan toward Bai Ying. “You’re sweating a lot yourself.”
It was over thirty degrees Celsius outdoors that day, and Bai Ying hadn’t had much downtime either. Fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
“I’m fine.” Bai Ying casually grabbed a tissue to wipe it off.
“Then let’s share it.” Xie Jin took the small fan and held it in front of both of them. He used the hand that had wielded the knife earlier—Bai Ying still remembered how Xie Jin had swung the long blade so dazzlingly that no post-production speedup was needed. Yet Xie Jin’s hand didn’t seem sore at all; he held the fan exceptionally steady.
This was his last scene of the day, and starting tomorrow, the crew would go on break. When they returned from the holiday, they would move to a newly built set. Before that, they had been filming continuously for over a month.
Xie Jin asked Bai Ying, “Where do you want to go play tomorrow?”
Bai Ying held Xie Jin’s water cup, the oncoming breeze blowing his hair back. He said, “Didn’t we agree I’d go with you? We should do what you want.”
“I want you to have fun.” Xie Jin said.
Bai Ying thought for a moment, then hesitantly named a place. “How about… Hangzhou? I’ve been there a few times before, but always for business trips. I never got to really explore.”
“Good,” Xie Jin nodded. “I was there several years ago too, rushing in and out. I wanted to stroll by the lake, but my schedule was too packed, and I never found the time before leaving.”
“Then this time we can go together!” Bai Ying’s tone lightened cheerfully.
The crew announced a week off, but actually gave everyone an extra half day. That day’s filming wrapped up entirely in the morning. Bai Ying rested well in the hotel that afternoon and all evening. The next morning bright and early, Xie Jin got a car from his manager and drove Bai Ying to Hangzhou himself.
The two places were very close; it only took about two hours by car. Bai Ying skipped a proper breakfast and just ate a bag of small breads his manager had left in the car to tide him over. They arrived around nine in the morning, and Bai Ying dragged Xie Jin to a street-side breakfast shop still open to eat xiaolongbao.
Xie Jin was fully geared up at that moment.
He wore a duckbill cap and a black mask. If not afraid of looking too much like a criminal, Xie Jin would have added sunglasses. No helping it—Film Emperor Xie’s face was too famous. If he showed it directly in public, their trip would end before it began, swarmed by fans and reporters.
Luckily, the breakfast shop was empty at that hour. Besides them, there was only the owner huddled behind the counter watching an anti-Japanese drama. When taking their money, the owner glanced at them a few times but didn’t recognize Xie Jin, probably because Xie Jin’s works were completely outside the owner’s viewing range. He just thought the two looked exceptionally good.
After breakfast, Xie Jin drove Bai Ying to the hotel where he had already booked a room. While waiting at a red light, Bai Ying spotted Xie Jin’s advertisement playing on a huge outdoor screen on the opposite building and immediately called Xie Jin to look, bursting into laughter himself.
Xie Jin felt helpless. The phone ad was quite proper on paper—the brand hadn’t asked him to do anything fancy—but with the person he liked sitting beside him and another version of himself earnestly reciting lines on the big screen opposite, it inexplicably felt embarrassing.
He reached out and pinched Bai Ying’s soft cheek, pretending to threaten fiercely, “Laugh again and I’ll pinch harder.”
Bai Ying couldn’t stop once he started laughing. By the time the car pulled into the hotel parking lot, Bai Ying took Xie Jin’s hand himself, letting the fingers linger by his cheek.
Xie Jin poked it— so soft, leaving a dent with one press, like a squishy white dumpling that made one want to take a bite.
“I’ll let you off this time.” Xie Jin said. Bai Ying’s skin bruised too easily.
He went to the trunk to grab their luggage. Bai Ying couldn’t beat him to it and could only follow behind into the elevator. Given Xie Jin’s sensitive status, he chose a hotel well-regarded in the industry, frequented by celebrities, to ensure his whereabouts wouldn’t leak. No need for standard check-in; the room card had been sent to Xie Jin in advance. They just took the internal elevator with their bags.
He booked a suite.
Xie Jin wanted to be closer to Bai Ying but knew they weren’t intimate enough for sharing a bed yet. In the end, his selfishness manifested in the room card, placing Bai Ying just one wall away.
The door opened to a floor-to-ceiling window spanning the entire wall. The curtains were already drawn, sunlight flooding the living room and spilling onto the dark carpet. From there, they could overlook the nearby lake, its surface shimmering, crowds milling along the shore.
“Feels like a lot of people.” Bai Ying said.
This was a spot with no off-season, only peak and super-peak.
Xie Jin asked him, “Go play right away?”
Bai Ying wanted to, but he glanced back at Xie Jin, worried that if Xie Jin appeared in such a crowded place, some sharp-eyed fan might spot him.
Xie Jin saw through Bai Ying’s concern and reached out to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll disguise myself well.”
Xie Jin put on a show of transformation for Bai Ying.
He pulled spare clothes from his suitcase, took out disposable hair dye, and some accessories. The clothes were trendy brands popular among young male college students—Bai Ying didn’t know how to describe them, but they looked super stylish at a glance, full of energy, like they could beat ten deadbeat office workers into the ground. He applied the dye only to the tips of his hair, not fully dyeing it; his technique was skilled, easily turning the ends of his black hair into a gradient of light gold. The accessories were an ear cuff and necklace. Xie Jin slung the silver-letter pendant around his neck, clipped on the matching light gold ear cuff, and slipped into hyped sneakers. The mature, low-key film emperor was gone, replaced by a flamboyant street-style trendsetter.
“Wow—” Bai Ying exclaimed in admiration.
Xie Jin hadn’t done much to his face—he’d wear a mask anyway—but a simple outfit change made him look utterly unrelated to Film Emperor Xie.
“Want Little White to try too?” Xie Jin asked him.
Bai Ying’s eyes sparkled. “Like becoming someone else, just like you?”
Xie Jin nodded with a smile.
Bai Ying obediently stood before Xie Jin, letting him take full control. Xie Jin didn’t touch Bai Ying’s suitcase clothes—those were too characteristically Bai Ying. Not that they were ugly, but the light, lively colors made him seem too youthful, too well-behaved, like a good student’s outfit. He picked his own clothes for Bai Ying to wear. Bai Ying said uncertainly, “Isn’t the shirt too long?”
It was indeed quite long. Xie Jin replied, “Mismatched clothes can become a style too.”
Xie Jin then slid off the hair tie holding Bai Ying’s little ponytail.
His hair cascaded down. Bai Ying hadn’t cut it in a long while; it only reached his shoulders, but that was fairly long for a guy. Since he’d been around film people lately, with all sorts of artistic hairstyles, he hadn’t bothered cutting it, planning to do so after the job ended.
Xie Jin took scissors and gave Bai Ying a simple trim.
Bai Ying thought maybe Xie Jin had picked it up from watching others or having it done so often. Though only a little hair was cut, after a few tweaks, it looked completely different. Bai Ying felt like an artist now too.
“Looks great.” Xie Jin pressed his shoulder.
Knowing he’d styled it himself made it even better.
“Then let’s go out and play!” Bai Ying said excitedly.
He was certain that if an acquaintance saw him now, it’d take a moment to recognize him. And that was without covering his face—Xie Jin, with mask and hat, was even safer.
This time, they walked straight out the hotel entrance—no one clocked Xie Jin.
They headed right to West Lake beside it, visiting all the spots he hadn’t had time for before: Broken Bridge, Three Pools Mirroring the Moon, Autumn Moon on Calm Lake… Though crowded, it wasn’t holiday-level packed. Lakeside restaurants had seats without waiting. Xie Jin raised his phone for selfies with Bai Ying at every attraction. Their stylish outfits made them stand out even without showing faces; some tourists guessed they were models and asked for photos.
But no one recognized Xie Jin—not even fans with his fan club merch on their bags. His disguise was a resounding success.
To avoid accidental exposure, they politely declined the photo requests. They wandered the whole day, ending at Leifeng Pagoda.
The legendary place where the White Lady had been suppressed.
“If only we could bring that little white snake here,” Xie Jin said.
White Snake and West Lake went perfectly together.
Bai Ying thought to himself, the little white snake is already here.
