Italy, Florence.
At three in the afternoon, Ji Yunzhang finished shooting a set of looks and sat down to rest.
Lin Li poured him a cup of ginseng tea and handed him his phone. “Mr. Jing just sent a WeChat message.”
Ji Yunzhang pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed his temples. The moment he heard Jing Li’s name, his expression softened. He took the phone from Lin Li’s hand and said, “Go get me another cup of coffee.”
Lin Li acknowledged the order and left. Ji Yunzhang bowed his head, unlocked the screen, and tapped open his WeChat chat with Jing Li.
Jing Li had sent over two audio files.
[Jing Li]: The first audio is the guqin piece “Listening to Rain on Half Mountain.” The second is the piano piece “Through the Arbor.” Give them a listen.
[Jing Li]: Also sharing some good news with you—I’m teaming up with Cheng Xinghao! I’ll be starring in the MV for his new song. [Happy Penguin Spinning.jpg]
His fingertip glided gently over the screen, as if he could reach through the text and touch Jing Li himself. A smile tugged naturally at the corners of Ji Yunzhang’s mouth.
After saving the audios, he called over his other traveling assistant, Zeng Xiaoxia, to fetch a pair of headphones. He slipped them on, hit play, and closed his eyes to listen in quiet focus.
Jing Li played beautifully.
Guqin or piano—it didn’t matter. Both were flawless.
Ji Yunzhang played piano himself. The Steinway grand piano at home wasn’t mere decoration. Whenever he hit a wall with his acting and needed to unwind or shift his mindset, he’d sit down and play a few pieces.
He wasn’t an expert on guqin, but he could tell quality when he heard it. The melody flowed seamlessly, smooth and uninterrupted, without a single stray note. From his fingertips came the true babble of flowing water.
Perhaps instrumental music really did have healing properties. Or perhaps it was because Jing Li had played these pieces just for him. Either way, Ji Yunzhang truly felt his exhaustion and headache lift.
“Ji.” The photographer Fran walked up to Ji Yunzhang this time. He was the brand’s go-to photographer, and ever since Ji Yunzhang had signed on as endorser, every shoot and promo had been with him. Fran was a natural people person, and the two had grown quite close.
With the headphones on, Ji Yunzhang’s face was serene, a soft smile warming his eyes and brows. Fran couldn’t help but wonder what he was listening to.
Ji Yunzhang had been more distant than usual these past few days—probably from lack of sleep. Outside of work, he hardly spoke, a far cry from their previous collaborations.
Yet now he seemed transformed, like winter’s snow melting away as spring crept in. Warmth softened his features, and that usual unapproachable chill had all but vanished.
“What are you listening to?”
Ji Yunzhang opened his eyes and pulled off the headphones. “Music.”
Fran was surprised. Music had that kind of power?
The tender smile in Ji Yunzhang’s eyes deepened as he finished the thought, clearing up Fran’s confusion: “My lover played it for me.”
~~~
The lead single from Cheng Xinghao’s new album, “Wind,” told the story of a charismatic heartbreaker unbound by anything—like the wind itself, drifting freely through the world of mortals.
The protagonist was brilliant and beautiful, beloved by so many. Countless admirers came bearing sincere affection or priceless treasures, hoping to win his heart and bring him home. All were turned away.
He moved through fields of flowers without a single petal clinging to him. He reveled in their love and flattery, sometimes offering a glimpse of his own sincerity in return—before pulling back with cool rationality, elusive as a passing breeze.
Love could not hold him.
Money could not sway him.
He lived free and unfettered.
The MV shoot was taking place right in A City, so Jing Li didn’t have to fly anywhere. At eight that morning, he and Le Xiaoxiao arrived on set. After meeting up with Zhang Xi, they were ushered in to see the director first.
It was just an MV, but Ninghai Entertainment was treating it like a big deal, shelling out top dollar for Xie Jun.
Xie Jun had made a name for himself early on. Ten years ago, when he’d first met Ji Yunzhang, he was already generating buzz with one solid box-office hit after another—the only thing missing was a major industry award.
That came later, thanks to his collaborations with Ji Yunzhang on the films Joy at the Neighbor’s and The Musician, which netted him Best Director at the Huaxing Awards and the Golden Lion—the top prize at the Venice Film Festival.
He was the real deal, a true heavyweight director.
This marked Jing Li’s second meeting with Xie Jun. The first had been at Xingxiu Entertainment’s annual gala, alongside Ji Yunzhang. That connection made their second encounter feel like catching up with an old friend—their conversation easy and relaxed.
“Yunzhang didn’t tag along?” Xie Jun teased with a grin. “I hold people to high standards. If you don’t deliver, I’ll have to tell on you. But if he were here, he’d have your back, and I wouldn’t be able to say a peep.”
Jing Li laughed. “Teacher Ji didn’t come. He had work and flew abroad.”
“Abroad? Where to?”
“Italy.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“Next Tuesday.”
Xie Jun hummed in acknowledgment. “Then we’ll get together again at that time.” With that, he shifted the topic back to the MV. “Have you finished reading the script?”
“I have.”
Xie Jun grew serious. “Shooting an MV doesn’t normally call for such meticulous attention to detail or strong acting chops, but it’s my habit to approach it like a film and give it my all. So my expectations for you won’t be any lower. Get yourself mentally prepared, perform to the best of your ability, and don’t phone it in.”
Jing Li’s expression turned earnest. “I understand.”
Xie Jun gave a slight nod and went off to make preparations. Zhang Xi led Jing Li to meet the other actors they’d be collaborating with, introducing them one by one: “Tan Rong, Yu Chen, Zhang Rongguang, Xu Feng, Yu Yifan.”
The five were all fresh faces at Ninghai Entertainment, signed just this year. The company planned to give them a bit of exposure by leveraging Cheng Xinghao’s star power before shipping them off to audition shows.
Cheng Xinghao didn’t mind at all. Ninghai Entertainment had treated him well, and helping out a few rookies was no trouble. Besides, they’d only appear for twenty seconds or so in the MV—nothing that would steal the spotlight.
After exchanging greetings, Jing Li smiled and said, “Let’s do our best together.”
The five replied in perfect unison: “Sure.”
Once they parted ways, Jing Li headed into the makeup room with Le Xiaoxiao.
At nine o’clock, Jing Li stepped out in costume and styling. The character he portrayed was a charismatic heartthrob whom everyone adored, a master flirt—but his outfit stayed tastefully understated, nothing garish.
He wore a crisp white shirt in a relaxed cut, not stiffly formal. The top two buttons were undone, exposing his defined collarbone and shoulder line, with just a teasing glimpse of his chest. The hem was tucked neatly into his pants, cinching his waist to a slender taper.
His black trousers narrowed subtly at the legs, accentuating their straight, elongated lines. A stretch of ankle peeked out—slim, pale, exquisite—with a delicate anklet catching the sunlight in shimmering glints.
Everyone knew Jing Li was handsome, yet when he emerged like this, countless eyes lingered, unable to look away.
Cheng Xinghao wasn’t appearing in his own MV this time, but he’d still shown up on set.
The moment he arrived at the film set, he caught sight of Jing Li exiting the makeup room. His gaze locked on involuntarily, only breaking when his assistant called out to him.
Zhang Xi spotted him and approached, lowering her voice for a stern reminder: “Jing Li and Ji Yunzhang are already married.”
She’d noticed that look in his eyes.
Cheng Xinghao: “…”
He was at a loss for words. “I know, all right? I was just blown away by how stunning he looks. Don’t read into it!”
Zhang Xi studied him for another moment. “Just keep that in mind.”
“Come on, I’ll take you to meet Director Xie.” She turned and motioned for him to follow.
Xie Jun was in the middle of blocking a scene with Jing Li when he saw them and paused. He turned to exchange a quick greeting with Cheng Xinghao, traded brief pleasantries, then resumed coaching Jing Li.
“Your character knows full well how magnetic he is and exactly how to flaunt it. He lives carefree, flirtatious yet fully aware of it. You’ll have to gauge that balance yourself—don’t overplay it, or it’ll veer into try-hard sleaze.”
“I got it,” Jing Li replied.
“By the way, do you smoke?”
Jing Li blinked in surprise and shook his head.
Xie Jun was a heavy smoker; the faint yellow nicotine stains lingered visibly on his fingers. He fished a cigarette from his pocket and offered one to Jing Li. “Give it a try.”
Jing Li had never so much as touched a cigarette before. He accepted it clumsily, fumbled to light it, and took a tentative drag.
…It nearly killed him.
He whipped his head aside, clamping a hand over his mouth as coughs wracked him without mercy.
Le Xiaoxiao hurriedly passed him some water. He gulped down several mouthfuls before the fit subsided. At the sight, Xie Jun handed him a portable ashtray to stub out the cigarette. “Forget it.”
Jing Li looked at him quizzically. Xie Jun explained, “I had a shot planned, but since you don’t smoke, I’ll improvise something else.”
He mulled it over for a few minutes, then struck on a new idea.
He summoned his assistant. “Go grab a bouquet of red roses.”
The assistant moved fast, returning in a little over ten minutes with a lush bundle of roses, their petals still beaded with fresh dew.
Xie Jun took the bouquet, demonstrated by dipping his head for a soft inhale, then passed it to Jing Li with a nod to imitate him.
Jing Li did as instructed.
He cradled the flowers loosely in one hand, gaze dropping as a subtle smile curved his lips. He leaned in toward the bloom. The vivid red set off his cheeks, rendering them impossibly fair and softly flushed.
His long, curling lashes quivered faintly; the tip of his nose twitched, as if savoring the fragrance. His smile deepened, crinkling the outer corners of his eyes with delight.
Xie Jun stood with arms folded, appraising him with satisfaction. “Excellent.”
He beckoned the head cinematographer over and outlined the camera positions for the first shot of the opening scene.
At ten o’clock that morning, filming on the MV officially commenced.
~~~
The MV shoot went extremely smoothly.
Under Ji Yunzhang and Zhao Yunjing’s guidance, Jing Li’s acting had improved tremendously. This progress was subtle and gradual—a quantitative change leading to a qualitative leap—and before anyone realized it, he had become truly outstanding.
Xie Jun had witnessed this excellence firsthand over the past few days.
He was especially satisfied with the final scene’s long take under the sunset, which Jing Li had completed with just three NG takes—a stellar performance.
Xie Jun had originally thought it would take at least two days.
After all, the scene was quite challenging.
The MV featured no dialogue at all, so the screenwriter hadn’t given the character a name. For better immersion, Jing Li had named him himself: Chengfeng.
In this encounter, Chengfeng had invested a bit of genuine emotion because he truly liked the other person.
They spent three wonderful months together, but when he sensed himself slowly falling, drowning in the tenderness the other offered, his rationality kicked in. He soberly and decisively ended the relationship.
He still wanted to be the wind—uncapturable, free to come and go without restraint.
After breaking up, Chengfeng felt uncharacteristically low for a moment.
So he decided to give himself the time it took to smoke one cigarette to mourn the relationship.
Chengfeng got out of the car and walked into a convenience store. After buying some water and going to the checkout, the cashier called out to him, snapping him back to reality. As he paid, he glanced at the cigarettes behind the cashier, hesitated for a second, and ended up buying a pack.
Leaving the store, he leaned against the car’s hood, lit the cigarette but didn’t smoke it—just held it between his fingers. The wind lifted his bangs, revealing his exquisitely painted brows and eyes.
His pale eyes lifted to gaze straight at the fiery red sunset in the distance, lips pressed together, brows slightly furrowed, a faint trace of melancholy in his expression.
The entire scene was pure psychological acting.
No lines—just relying on body language and gaze to convey it all.
And Jing Li nailed it.
After watching the playback, appreciation gleamed in Xie Jun’s eyes, and an idea formed in his mind.
“Cut.”
Xie Jun stood up and extended a hand to Jing Li behind him. “Congratulations on wrapping.” He added sincerely, “That final scene—you performed it brilliantly.”
Being praised and affirmed like this made Jing Li unable to hide his joy. He shook Xie Jun’s hand, his eyes curving into crescents. “Thank you.”
Xie Jun released his hand and asked, “Do you have any scheduling availability from May to July?”
Caught off guard by the question, Jing Li looked at him in surprise, suppressing his excitement. “Director Xie’s meaning is…?”
Xie Jun smiled. “I’d like to invite you to star in the movie I’m currently preparing. I’ll have my assistant send you the script later. Take a look and get back to me.”
