Chapter 13: Arrogant Big Star

Lin Wu finally rested for two weeks, had his cast removed, and returned to the drama crew wearing a removable brace.

By then, most of the other parts of the script had already been filmed. All that remained were the scenes between Lin Wu and Ji Xingci.

The two hadn’t seen each other during those two weeks. When Lin Wu spotted Ji Xingci on set, he walked right up to him.

A faint blush colored his cheeks as he gazed at Ji Xingci without saying a word.

Ji Xingci spoke first. “What is it?”

Lin Wu ducked his head. “Um… thanks. You talked to the director.”

Ji Xingci found it amusing. As if he’d said anything to the director. The man had never planned to replace Lin Wu from the start.

And… was this thanks, or a reminder that they’d kissed that day?

Ji Xingci’s gaze drifted to Lin Wu’s lips. He deliberately said nothing. “Mm.”

Sure enough, Lin Wu looked disappointed. He stared for a moment, then asked another question.

“Is your forehead better?”

Ji Xingci found it even more entertaining. After all, Lin Wu had been the one more seriously hurt.

Impatiently, he patted the seat beside him. “Can’t you see for yourself?”

Lin Wu immediately flashed him a grin. “That means it’s better.”

The corners of Ji Xingci’s mouth curved upward. Then he lowered his head to check his phone, ignoring him.

Lin Wu obediently stayed glued to his side like a little dog until filming started.

Deep down, the big star felt immensely satisfied.

Unfortunately, once the morning scenes wrapped, his expression soured again. He headed straight for the bathroom.

In the two weeks without seeing Lin Wu, he hadn’t fainted inexplicably again, but Ji Xingci’s mood was far from good.

He just felt off all over. He’d inexplicably lost his appetite not long ago, but over the past few days, it had swung to the opposite extreme—his manager kept warning him to watch his weight.

Ji Xingci didn’t care. He had far bigger problems.

For instance, just shooting a scene with some close contact alongside Lin Wu had him breaking out in sweat, nearly embarrassing himself.

He used to control his condition. Now it struck every day—anytime, anywhere…

On top of that, he kept needing the bathroom. Mornings, he’d wake up rigid from a full bladder.

Even peeing was a hassle… because it wouldn’t go down, sometimes he couldn’t go at all.

Ji Xingci was driven to the brink of madness.

At this point, he could only rely on a touch of pain to make it subside. But after too many times, even the pain had started to feel… addictive.

Ji Xingci’s ears burned red. Whenever discomfort hit, he suddenly itched to take it out on Lin Wu.

Where was he?

When Ji Xingci emerged, he saw Lin Wu hadn’t followed. Instead, he was napping against the bay window.

Ji Xingci bristled with dissatisfaction and soon planted himself beside Lin Wu.

Lin Wu’s eyes were closed; he didn’t notice at first.

How could he look so comfortable sleeping?

Ji Xingci took in the sunlight spilling over Lin Wu, the sun-warmed blanket cradled in his arms, the fair and slender hand resting on his stomach.

For no reason at all, that spot suddenly seemed perfect—cozy and inviting. Ji Xingci wanted to nap there too.

Ji Xingci had always been domineering. If he wanted something, he took it. So he lay down.

Lin Wu jolted awake. His first instinct was to share the blanket, draping part over Ji Xingci’s stomach. Only then did he blink at him in confusion.

Ji Xingci felt zero shame.

“Go somewhere else.”

Lin Wu had slept up a cowlick. In his drowsy state, he shuffled away.

The moment Lin Wu left, the spot felt hard as a rock, baked by the sun, and the blanket was anything but comfy. Ji Xingci’s irritation flared anew.

Where had Lin Wu gone now?

Why cover his stomach like that?

Whose habit was it?

Xu Qing’s?

Did he still nap with him?

The afternoon shoot included a kissing scene between them.

Since Lin Wu’s one hand was mostly off-limits, Ji Xingci gripped his arm to shield it during the take.

The sensation was vaguely like clutching a chain.

As long as he held that arm, Lin Wu couldn’t move. Ji Xingci found himself hooked.

By some impish whim, as they kissed, Ji Xingci eyed Lin Wu’s face and deliberately slipped in his tongue.

Lin Wu froze for a beat, his face flushing obviously. Then he closed his eyes and returned the French kiss on camera.

“Cut.”

The director scratched his head. “Lin Wu, the emotion’s off in this scene.”

It was the kiss where Xing He ditched his prior plans with Jiang Fan and their friends to meet secretly that night.

Jiang Fan’s illness was worsening by then, and he’d realized the vast gap between their social circles. It was time for farewell.

The kiss carried sorrow.

“Lin Wu, you came on a bit too eagerly.”

The director was puzzled. The scene was straightforward, and Lin Wu rarely flubbed anything.

Lin Wu bowed his head, his face turning even redder.

Ji Xingci, meanwhile, felt a rush of inexplicable delight.

Delight so intense that watching Lin Wu blush took real effort to keep his own expression neutral while standing still.

His ears tinged red bit by bit. Countless people had chased him before, but he’d never found it this entertaining.

On the retake, he flicked his tongue out again. This time, Lin Wu reined himself in.

He nailed the required emotion perfectly.

Ji Xingci felt oddly dissatisfied.

So quick to obey the director.

Obeying Xu Qing too, no doubt.

Listening to everyone but him.

Filming wrapped for the day. As Ji Xingci looked up, there was Xu Qing at the door.

Clearly there on purpose for Lin Wu.

Lin Wu spotted him, nodded, grabbed his things, and started to leave.

Ji Xingci frowned.

“Lin Wu.”

Lin Wu whipped around instantly.

“Come here.”

What? Calling him like a dog… Xu Qing’s face tightened. He stepped inside.

“Isn’t it over?”

Ji Xingci repeated. “Come here.”

Lin Wu hesitated, then ditched Xu Qing and walked over.

“Tell him you’re not going back.”

Lin Wu stared at him in shock.

Ji Xingci just frowned.

Lin Wu had no choice. He went to Xu Qing.

“Bro, I… I’m not heading home tonight.”

“???” Xu Qing whipped his head toward Ji Xingci.

The big star stood with arms crossed, expression lofty and at ease.

Xu Qing’s face darkened, his hands trembling faintly.

“05, I need a word with you.”

He reached for Lin Wu’s hand.

Lin Wu didn’t budge, but someone yanked him backward from behind, making him stumble.

Ji Xingci said nothing, just glowered, gave another tug, and stalked off.

“Uh…” Lin Wu hurried after him.

“Bro, you head back first.”

“05!”

Xu Qing stomped in frustration.

Once they were out, Lin Wu knew.

Ji Xingci was mad again.

Lin Wu trailed him into the elevator, then down to the garage. He stayed silent the whole way.

Lin Wu tried tentatively, placatingly. “…Where are we going?”

Ji Xingci turned back.

“I only told you to talk to him. I didn’t say you could hold his hand.”

Ji Xingci suddenly pinched his face with a fierce glare.

“Who are you listening to—him or me?”

Lin Wu blinked in confusion. “But, bro, he…”

The moment Ji Xingci heard that word, fury ignited in him. He whipped around and stormed off, slamming the car door with a resounding bang.

The car roared to life moments later, leaving Lin Wu standing there alone.

Lin Wu’s face drained of color. He bowed his head.

He wondered inwardly: Ten minutes? Five?

Just three seconds passed before Ji Xingci’s car screeched to a halt.

Lin Wu looked up at the car, still frozen in place, when it impatiently honked at him.

He bolted over and yanked open the door.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

Ji Xingci merely glanced at him.

Lin Wu’s eyes reddened. “I’ll listen to you.”

Ji Xingci made no reply, turning his gaze to the window instead.

Lin Wu pressed his lips together, sitting there all pitiful and forlorn. After a moment, he wiped at his eyes.

Ji Xingci ignored him. In the end, though, Lin Wu scooted closer of his own accord, like a loyal little dog.

“Where are we going?”

“To record a song.”

Lin Wu’s eyes widened.

Ji Xingci knew the director was still hunting for a singer for the theme song. No one had heard Lin Wu sing yet, and he figured that someone with such raw acting talent couldn’t possibly have been doubly blessed by the heavens in singing too.

But he’d heard Lin Wu sing. Once he took him to the studio at his company to cut a demo and send it over, the director would sign him on the spot.

“Really? Can I…?”

Lin Wu’s face flushed with excitement, his cheeks rosy. Singing was clearly his true passion. His eyes, still puffy from crying moments ago, now sparkled like they were filled with stars as he gazed at Ji Xingci.

Ji Xingci chuckled. “If I say sing, you sing.”

Ji Xingci’s car was a spacious business model, with plenty of room in the back and a partition that could separate it from the driver’s area.

Right now, the partition was up, giving them the illusion of complete privacy.

Lin Wu kept staring at him, and Ji Xingci stared right back.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Ji Xingci’s deep eyes. They weren’t pure black after all, but a lighter shade—hazel, really—with mesmerizing layers that almost dazzled when examined closely.

They sat so close their shoulders and legs brushed against each other.

In the end, Lin Wu couldn’t resist the temptation. His face turned red again as he leaned in to kiss him.

Ji Xingci’s lips curved upward.

This kid had him completely bewitched, head over heels.

So easy to toy with, right in the palm of his hand.

Lin Wu liked him this much… Maybe he could consider… rewarding him.

After the kiss, Lin Wu pulled back and opened his eyes to find Ji Xingci’s shut.

His hand clutched at Ji Xingci’s shirt, and even his forehead had flushed pink.

Lin Wu watched him. Ji Xingci’s eyes were pitch black now, utterly calm—like a still, unruffled lake.

…

Over the following week, all the scenes for this movie wrapped up completely.

The director had deliberately saved the final shot for last.

It was the moment Xing He learned that Jiang Fan had died long ago—a breakdown.

A quiet collapse, yet one that shook the earth and split mountains.

Xing He visited Jiang Fan’s grave, only to find a shabby little stone marker overgrown with weeds.

That was when his numb composure finally shattered. He couldn’t help wondering: If he’d only known sooner, could he have saved him? If he’d shown even a scrap of concern, would he have noticed?

Regret changed nothing.

Ji Xingci had a crying scene here.

Unfortunately, after multiple takes, he still couldn’t muster the tears.

In the end, they settled for distant shots and implication.

Thankfully, the emotional buildup from earlier scenes made the ambiguity work in their favor.

The director had to console himself with that.

The director wasn’t satisfied, but Ji Xingci didn’t care much.

How could he possibly sob his heart out over someone like that?

He simply couldn’t relate to such feelings.

Once filming ended, promotion for that ancient costume idol drama he’d shot earlier kicked into high gear. As the male lead and the biggest draw, he had to throw himself into it. His focus shifted there instead.

As for Lin Wu, ever since he’d left with Ji Xingci that day, he could tell Xu Qing was upset.

Xu Qing had always been mild-mannered, never once getting mad at Lin Wu before.

This time, though, his anger was palpable.

He still left food out for him…

Lin Wu found it oddly fascinating.

He deliberately didn’t approach first. A few days later, Xu Qing couldn’t hold back anymore and cornered him in the living room.

“If you get too close to Ji Xingci—”

His fists clenched tight as he spoke.

“—it won’t end well!”

“He doesn’t know the first thing about respecting people.”

Lin Wu’s eyes widened slightly.

In the original plot, Xu Qing had died and come back to life multiple times, always making excuses for Ji Xingci, and ended up with a happy ending with the scumbag top in just a few chapters. And now here he was, saying something like this.

He hadn’t expected his efforts to reshape things from the protagonist shou’s side to succeed so thoroughly.