Chapter 31

Lately, Nan Xing had no desire to entertain guests. He’d been using illness as an excuse for several days now, skipping his evening performances and spending his time lounging against the railing, gazing down at the street below—one whole day blending into the next.

Whenever he spotted a figure that resembled Chu Huian, he’d linger on it with extra glances.

The maid at his side was one he’d bought from the madam and kept close ever since. She’d grown rather spoiled under his care, bold enough now to tease him. He shot her a sidelong glare.

But she wasn’t afraid of him at all. He never hit or scolded her.

“Young Master, have you fallen for Lord Chu?” she asked with a grin.

Nan Xing paused, then lightly tapped her with his folded fan. “Nonsense.”

“How is it nonsense? These past few days, whenever Lord Chu shows up, you’re over the moon. When he doesn’t come, you look so lost and wistful.” She ticked off another point. “Lately, when you set those riddles, if Lord Chu hasn’t appeared, you make them impossibly tricky and obscure, so no one can solve them in time. That’s not how you used to be.”

Ever since Chu Huian had started coming here, no other patron had set foot in Nan Xing’s room.

These last few days, Nan Xing hadn’t even shown his face.

“I’ve asked around. Lord Chu is a fine man—a good official who truly cares for the people. He’s not married yet, and he keeps no concubines at home. He’s remarkably upright.”

The maid spoke with conviction. “He’s come for you so many times. He must like you.”

Her words set Nan Xing’s heart racing. He felt flushed and fanned himself vigorously with his fan, his lips curving up into a smile without him even realizing it.

But in the next instant, he lowered his gaze, letting the smile fade until his mouth was a flat line.

He’d almost forgotten his own place. What right did he have to speak of liking someone? Especially to delusionally imagine that such a fine man might like him in return.

What on earth had he been doing these past few days?

The maid kept chattering, but Nan Xing wasn’t listening anymore.

He rose to his feet, speaking as if to punish himself. “Tell them to hang up the sign tonight—”

Before he could finish, the maid excitedly tugged at his sleeve. “Young Master! It’s Lord Chu!”

Nan Xing turned instinctively, following her pointing finger. Sure enough, there was Chu Huian, striding straight toward the building below. As if sensing his gaze, Chu Huian suddenly looked up and smiled at him.

Chu Huian had come to invite Nan Xing out for a spring outing.

Nan Xing wasn’t a stranger to leaving the pleasure house—he’d been taken home by patrons before—but this was the first time anyone had invited him out for a simple excursion into the countryside.

They strolled through the market, where Nan Xing’s curiosity was piqued by everything. He wanted to see it all, laughing with the pure joy of a child.

Chu Huian smiled indulgently, staying by his side. Wherever Nan Xing wanted to go, he went too. When Nan Xing paused at a stall selling masks, unable to put down a fox mask, Chu Huian paid for it and gently placed it on his face himself.

Leaving the market behind, Chu Huian led Nan Xing out of the city.

They arrived at the peach forest at the foot of Phoenix Mountain.

The peach blossoms were in full bloom, blanketing the hills in a sea of pink. Everywhere Nan Xing looked, the scenery evoked the idyllic beauty of a mid-spring day. The picturesque vista reflected in his eyes, and he suddenly turned to Chu Huian.

“Why are you so good to me?” He wanted an answer—anything to end his endless overthinking.

“Because I fancy you,” Chu Huian replied. His voice was like the gentle breeze whispering through the mountain valley, brushing softly against Nan Xing’s cheek.

A flush bloomed swiftly across Nan Xing’s cheeks, shyness filling his eyes, his heart soaring like a kite on the wind.

“But you’ve never touched me.”

He hesitated. “Do you find me… repulsive?”

Chu Huian cut him off. “Nan Xing, don’t belittle yourself.”

“I fancy you, so I cherish you. I want to marry you, to hold your hand and spend my life by your side.” He gazed at Nan Xing, each word deliberate. “Will you have me?”

Nan Xing threw himself into Chu Huian’s arms, shouting loudly as if afraid he wouldn’t be heard. “Yes! I will!”

…

At Chu Huian’s confession, Director Ding called “cut” again. This was already Jing Li’s seventh interruption.

He pulled back from Ji Yunzhang’s embrace, wiped away his tears, and apologized to the staff.

Everyone was kind about it—no one blamed him.

Working under Ding Yixiang, they were used to this sort of thing. The director had a fiery temper and sky-high standards; he’d often run a single scene through a dozen or even twenty takes. This was nothing for Jing Li.

Guessing the reason Jing Li kept stumbling here, Ji Yunzhang signaled to Ding Yixiang. “Let’s take a break. I’ll talk to Jing Li.”

Ding Yixiang’s face was sour, but out of respect for Ji Yunzhang, he held back his scolding. He waved them off. “Ten minutes.” Any longer, and they wouldn’t finish the scene today.

Ji Yunzhang pulled Jing Li aside to a quiet, empty spot.

Jing Li hung his head dejectedly, saying nothing. Suddenly, something pressed against his lips. He blinked, realizing it was a piece of candy.

Milk candy, at that.

He instinctively parted his lips and took the candy from Ji Yunzhang’s hand.

Ji Yunzhang tossed the wrapper into the trash can and spoke up, his voice low and gentle. “Feeling better?”

The milky sweetness spread through Jing Li’s mouth. His cheeks puffed out as he lifted his head, about to reply when Ji Yunzhang’s finger tapped his cheek.

Jing Li’s eyes flew wide open, his chewing forgotten.

Ji Yunzhang withdrew his hand as naturally as ever, a smile playing on his lips. “Not ready for the kiss scene?”

Jing Li’s attention snapped to the question. He admitted honestly, “Yeah.”

The closer the moment loomed, the more tense he felt. There was no way he could treat this kiss like just another scene. He had no idea what was going on with him.

Ji Yunzhang suggested, “Want to rehearse?”

Jing Li hesitated for two seconds. “The kiss?”

“Yeah, the kiss scene.”

Jing Li opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, Ji Yunzhang drew him back into his arms and adjusted their positions—Nan Xing leaning trustingly against Chu Huian.

“We don’t have much time,” he explained.

Jing Li blinked. Fair enough—they only had ten minutes. Talking would just waste it.

He tilted his face up and met Ji Yunzhang’s lowered gaze. Those eyes held such tenderness, like spring rain awakening the world, summer’s balmy breeze, or winter’s warming sun. Jing Li couldn’t help but sink into them.

Ji Yunzhang’s palm was large and warm, cradling his face with one hand. His thumb brushed ever so lightly over Jing Li’s cheek, sending tingles racing across his skin and straight to his heart.

His heartbeat sped up.

His limbs felt light, almost weightless.

Ji Yunzhang’s breath grew nearer, closing the distance between them until their breaths mingled. Jing Li’s eyes fluttered shut on instinct.

He heard Ji Yunzhang let out a soft chuckle.

“Jing Li, not yet.”

Jing Li opened his eyes again, his gaze locking onto Ji Yunzhang’s.

In the next instant, a featherlight touch brushed his lips.

Ji Yunzhang had kissed him.

It wasn’t deep—just the pure press of lip against lip.

—Chu Huian’s kiss was tentative, brimming with infinite care and adoration.

Jing Li’s lashes quivered faintly before his eyes drifted closed once more.

His breathing grew shallow. Something slipped into the still lake of his heart with that kiss, sending ripples across the surface that lingered without end.

Jing Li knew now why he’d been so nervous.

Because it was Ji Yunzhang.

Because he’d fallen for Ji Yunzhang.

The kiss didn’t last long. Ji Yunzhang was every inch the gentleman, perfectly restrained. After a few seconds, he drew back a step and gazed at Jing Li with soft eyes. “Need to run it again?”

His thoughts cleared and reason returned. Jing Li shook his head, breaking into a radiant smile. “I’m all set.”

They returned to the set, and this time it went off without a hitch. The post-confession kiss scene nailed it in one take—no nitpicks from Ding Yixiang.

Ding Yixiang sat in front of the monitor with a cigarette dangling from his lips, replaying the take. Their expressions filled the screen, and he let out a scoff. What the hell—he’d just gotten stuffed with dog food for no reason?

~~~

Ji Yunzhang’s guest role had far fewer scenes than Jing Li’s. Chu Huian was really just a figure from Nan Xing’s memories. By the time Nan Xing met the female lead in the story, Chu Huian had been gone for over six months.

So Ji Yunzhang wrapped his part in less than five days.

The final scene was a last-minute addition from the screenwriter’s personal bias.

She’d racked her brain and decided a bad ending was too heartbreaking. How could she let her favorite pairing go without their happy conclusion? She argued her case fiercely with Ding Yixiang and won a reunion ending.

It fit perfectly, too.

Nan Xing shared his story with Chu Huian in front of the female lead, and she could feel the depth of that love. The happiness Nan Xing found in his next life surely included reuniting with Chu Huian to fulfill their fated bond.

Ding Yixiang directed the finale with real romance.

The reincarnated Nan Xing and reincarnated Chu Huian crossed paths again during the Shangyuan Festival, amid a sea of lanterns. Chu Huian accidentally knocked off Nan Xing’s Fox Mask, and in one glance, it felt like an eternity.

That wrapped Ji Yunzhang’s filming.

Ding Yixiang handed Jing Li a bouquet of fresh, vibrant red roses. “You give them to Yunzhang.”

Jing Li cradled the flowers and nodded.

A crowd of actors and staff surrounded Ji Yunzhang, clamoring for photos. It was a fair request, so he obliged without complaint.

Spotting Jing Li approaching with the bouquet, the group parted to let him through.

Jing Li stopped in front of Ji Yunzhang, his eyes crinkling in a smile, shallow pear dimples forming at the corners of his mouth—pure sweetness. He offered the flowers. “Teacher Ji, congratulations on wrapping.”

Ji Yunzhang accepted them, his gaze lingering on Jing Li’s face. His deep voice carried a magnetic warmth. “A hug?”

Jing Li nodded.

The next second, Ji Yunzhang pulled him into his arms.

The people around them instantly turned into CP fans:

“Aaaaaah, my CP is super sweet!”

“Perfection!!”

“Once Director Ding posts Teacher Ji and Jing Li’s behind-the-scenes clips in the Set Diary on the official drama blog, I’m sharing too. I’m gonna shout it from the rooftops—my CP is sweet as hell!!”

Leaning into Ji Yunzhang’s embrace, Jing Li took advantage of the moment to let the corners of his mouth curve up shamelessly.

Ji Yunzhang had a charity event to attend tomorrow night and needed to leave early the next morning. Jing Li, drifting in and out of sleep, heard the sounds of someone washing up. He sat up clutching the quilt, then stumbled out of bed in a daze.

In the bathroom, Ji Yunzhang was brushing his teeth. Hearing footsteps, he opened the door. Jing Li rubbed his eyes and perked up a little. “So early?”

“Nine o’clock flight, and it’s two and a half hours to the airport from here.” He finished brushing and asked, “Need the bathroom?”

Jing Li shook his head. “Just woke up from the noise.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jing Li leaned against the doorframe. “Teacher Ji, I don’t like hearing apologies.”

Ji Yunzhang paused, then gazed at him with warm, profound intensity. A clear smile tugged at his lips. “All right. No more apologies.”

Jing Li was pleased.

He covered his mouth with one hand and yawned. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Ji Yunzhang soon finished packing and dragged his suitcase toward the door. But at the threshold, he lightened his steps and doubled back to the bedside. Jing Li hadn’t drifted off yet. He opened his eyes at the sound and met Ji Yunzhang’s gaze.

“I’m off.”

Jing Li’s lips curved. “See you at home.”

Home.

Jing Li smiled. “Yeah. See you at home.”

~~~

After Ji Yunzhang left the crew, Ding Yixiang wasted no time instructing the promo team to post stills and behind-the-scenes clips of him and Jing Li in the Set Diary on the drama’s official blog.

Without breaking a sweat, the drama rocketed up the hot search alongside their names.

【??? Collaborating?】

【Holy crap, when was the last time Teacher Ji did a drama?】

【Gotta say, the styling is gorgeous.】

【Insider scoop: Director Ding snagged Jing Li first, then leveraged him to rope in Teacher Ji. They filmed a tragic love story?】

【Stingy Director Ding’s wool-shearing saga.】

【Tragic love? For real? I’m a dirt dog and I’m here for it!】

【Nah, fake. Only the tragedy’s real.】

【Tragic how? Oh wait, did the screenwriter get stuffed with sugar on set and rage-quit into abuse?】

【Me? No way, don’t spread lies. Though yeah, I’m stuffed to the gills with sugar. Sisters, try not to be jealous!】

【Snag a screenwriter and pluck those feathers. Sis, you’re one of us—spill more set tea!】

【Overlooked corner: Marketing accounts say Teacher Ji’s joining a variety show with Jing Li on Romantic Journey!】

【Holy crap!】

……

Amid the lively online buzz, Jing Li wrapped up Nan Xing’s final scene.

After covering the heroine’s escape, Nan Xing stared at the soldiers massing outside the building. He couldn’t leave.

Nor did he want to flee.

He wiped off his makeup, shed the courtesan’s garb, downed the poisoned wine, and set a fire. Then he lay on the bed cradling the fox mask Chu Huian had given him, closing his eyes peacefully.

A smile lingered on his face as he slipped into eternal slumber.

~~~

Ding Yixiang announced Jing Li’s wrap party. He presented him with a bouquet of lilies and a red envelope, then asked, “Really no wrap banquet?”

Jing Li smiled gratefully. “No need.”

“All right.” Ding Yixiang shrugged.

He clapped Jing Li on the shoulder, his words sincere. “You’re good. But you’ve still got room to grow. Here’s hoping we get a real collaboration someday.”

He extended his hand.

Jing Li shook it, then tilted his chin up with confident pride. “We will. I’m looking forward to it too.”

He would work hard. He would grow.

One day, he’d climb to the summit and stand beside Ji Yunzhang, taking in the view together.