Chapter 6: Arrogant Big Star

Lin Wu stepped out of the drama crew’s set, and Xu Qing was still waiting for him outside.

The moment he spotted Lin Wu, Xu Qing walked over, and the two headed home together.

“I never imagined this would be the set for Ji Xingci’s new movie,” Xu Qing said.

On the way, he glanced at Lin Wu several times, hesitating as if he wanted to say something.

“05, when you decided to audition here…”

Did you know Ji Xingci would be involved?

“Bro,” Lin Wu said suddenly, turning back with a smile.

“The director just mentioned that if I perform well, he’ll even consider letting me sing the theme song. Once this movie wraps, I’ll make a nice chunk of change.

How about you borrow some from me and open your own shop?”

Xu Qing stared at him in stunned silence.

He had casually mentioned the idea a few times before—wanting a chance to run his own place someday—and hadn’t realized Lin Wu had taken it so seriously.

A smile broke across his face too, like a weight lifting off his shoulders, and he reached out to sling an arm around Lin Wu’s shoulders.

“That’s a promise then. I’ve got it noted.”

“It’s getting late. Let’s head home—I’ll whip up some noodles for you.”

Lin Wu paused for a beat. “Sure.”

Once they got back, Xu Qing’s phone pinged while he was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

It was a message from the assistant he’d added earlier that day. The guy was still trying to persuade him, insisting it was a rare opportunity and hoping he’d say yes.

Opportunity or not, Xu Qing wasn’t some up-and-coming actor desperate for a break. Sticking around the drama crew like this was bound to mess with his regular work.

He’d been all set to turn it down.

But…

Xu Qing pressed his lips together and sneaked a peek toward the living room. Lin Wu was already perched on the sofa, script in hand.

He looked utterly relaxed, his head tilted against the backrest, his long legs spilling off the edge since the sofa was too short to accommodate them. His slender, elegant fingers held the pages aloft as he turned them slowly, one by one. From the side, his profile radiated a quiet intensity.

Amusement flickered in Xu Qing’s eyes, but then his mind flashed back to the scene he’d witnessed earlier—Ji Xingci and Lin Wu filming together.

He frowned.

For some reason, just watching it had left a dull ache in his chest. At first, he’d chalked it up to some lingering attachment to Ji Xingci.

But then he’d realized…

He was actually more worried about Lin Wu.

Ji Xingci had starred as the male lead in countless idol dramas, romancing left and right.

Xu Qing had secretly binge-watched plenty of them.

Not once had Ji Xingci ever shown that kind of gaze—not even a blush that came on so convincingly in a single instant, something no one had ever mentioned.

Ji Xingci had forced 05 to drink before. Then there was the rumor that he’d deliberately nixed his song. And now they were stuck on the same set.

After mulling it over from every angle, Xu Qing still couldn’t shake the unease.

In the end, he clutched his phone.

And agreed to join the shoot.

~~~

Filming officially kicked off a week later.

Even though Ji Xingci had sworn he wouldn’t share scenes with Lin Wu.

He showed up anyway.

Arms crossed over his chest, he fixed Lin Wu with a stare from the second he walked in.

Lin Wu: ?

The director cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Lin Wu, we’ve made some changes to today’s scene.”

At first, the director had been terrified Ji Xingci might back out and had half-hoped to rush them into filming the most intimate scenes right away.

That was exactly what Lin Wu had prepared for.

But Ji Xingci had other plans entirely.

Lin Wu quickly figured out why he’d bothered to show.

In the later plot, Xing He’s sexuality gets exposed. His family piles on the pressure, and his career hits the skids.

Right around then, Jiang Fan suddenly ghosts him.

In his despair, Xing He starts suspecting that Jiang Fan leaked it all on purpose—that every bit of affection he’d shown was a lie. So he storms over and lays into him with his fists.

It’s the one and only time they trade pure blows, no holds barred.

Ji Xingci insisted on shooting this scene.

The director looked helpless, but Lin Wu nodded without hesitation.

“Got it. No problem.”

The makeup artist hurried over to tweak Lin Wu’s look. The birthmark on his face matched the character surprisingly well, so they kept it. But they needed to make him look more gaunt—after all, the movie was nearing its end, and Jiang Fan’s terminal illness came into play later on.

Just before opening the door to Xing He, there’s a shot of Jiang Fan in the bathroom, nosebleed pouring nonstop. He hears the knock, scrubs it away in a panic, then swings the door open to face Xing He, whose eyes are shot red with rage.

“Was it you? Tell me—was it you!”

Jiang Fan just stares at him, silent. Xing He snaps. “Say something! Deny it!”

Ji Xingci charged forward and landed a real punch.

Lin Wu hit the ground hard.

Xu Qing nearly jumped in.

“He didn’t have to hit that hard.”

Lin Wu clutched his nose and looked up to find Ji Xingci looming over him.

Then Ji Xingci dropped to his knees, straddling Lin Wu’s waist, his hands clamping around his throat.

“Answer me.”

“I need to hear it from you—was it you? Say it!”

“Did you ever actually like me, you bastard!”

Xing He watched Jiang Fan’s face turn purple as the life drained out of him bit by bit, but Jiang Fan never uttered a word.

He took it as admission.

Xing He’s eyes burned red with fury. Right before Jiang Fan blacked out, he shoved him away in disgust. From that moment, they cut ties for good.

Only years later did Xing He realize he’d gotten it all wrong.

He could never wrap his head around why Jiang Fan hadn’t said a single word in his defense—why he’d just stared back like that.

Those eyes haunted him.

It wasn’t until much later, when he finally mustered the resolve to track Jiang Fan down again, that he learned the truth: Jiang Fan had died from his illness.

So in that moment, with Ji Xingci’s hands squeezing his neck, Lin Wu didn’t fight back.

He simply looked up at him.

With eyes calm yet brimming with sorrow, tears slowly welling up until they overflowed.

Lin Wu’s performance was flawless. Even Ji Xingci—who’d come solely to rattle him—froze, utterly captivated by those eyes. For the first time, he felt a spark of curiosity about the story’s real answer.

He couldn’t help leaning in closer, desperate to decipher it. What was that emotion swirling in Lin Wu’s gaze? Indifference? Fear? Despair? Reluctance? Or love?

Did he love him?

Ji Xingci inched nearer still, their faces so close it looked like they might kiss.

But his grip stayed firm on Lin Wu’s throat.

Lin Wu’s face flushed deeper and deeper, his eyes beginning to roll back.

A strange thrill, a dark pleasure, raced from Ji Xingci’s hammering heart, flooding his entire body and shooting straight down his spine…

He had to love him.

Why else wouldn’t he fight back?

“Cut! Ji Xingci! That’s a wrap—stop!”

Ji Xingci snapped out of it and let go.

Lin Wu broke into a fit of coughing.

“05!”

Xu Qing was the first to rush over.

Lin Wu’s entire face was beet red, and faint imprints of Ji Xingci’s fingers stood out starkly against the pale skin of his neck.

Xu Qing ground his teeth, a surge of raw, uncontainable fury toward Ji Xingci boiling up for the first time.

“Did you really need to choke him that hard?”

Even the director chimed in with disapproval. “You could’ve pulled your punches a little.”

Ji Xingci pressed his lips into a thin line.

He hadn’t used much strength at all—he wasn’t some murderer, after all. This guy’s neck just bruised way too easily!

But seeing Lin Wu still coughing, he finally bowed his head.

“Sorry.”

Everyone figured he was about to trot out some excuse, like how he’d gotten too immersed in the role or whatever polite nonsense.

But in the end, Ji Xingci just grumbled irritably,

“I get pissed off just looking at you.”

Lin Wu: “…”

That was brutally honest.

The drama crew’s lunch consisted of boxed meals that Boss Xu Qing had brought over.

Ji Xingci grabbed one at random, wondering whether he should have his assistant order something special just for him.

He glanced up and spotted Xu Qing sitting right next to Lin Wu, fussing over him like his heart was breaking as he dabbed ointment on Lin Wu’s neck.

Lin Wu, clearly used to the attention, kept his head down, opening both their boxed meals.

Ji Xingci suddenly felt a surge of irritation.

Lin Wu had just cracked open his box when he looked up to find Ji Xingci striding over of his own accord. Without a word, Ji Xingci dropped his butt onto the chair beside him.

“Hand over your boxed meal.”

Lin Wu blinked. “?”

“It’s awful.”

Ji Xingci declared it with perfect self-righteousness. “I only like one dish in there. Give me yours too.”

Xu Qing clenched his fist at those words. “The crew ordered the exact same meal for everyone. They just didn’t prep anything special for you…”

But Lin Wu had already set down his chopsticks.

Bruises from Ji Xingci’s grip still marred his neck. Even so, he slid the untouched box toward Ji Xingci, letting him pick whatever he wanted.

Ji Xingci hadn’t seen that coming.

He’d half-expected the two of them to throw down right there, but Lin Wu just went along with it like a good boy.

Ji Xingci eyed Lin Wu’s neck, then glanced down at the box.

It hit him all over again: Lin Wu liked him.

That strange thrill of pleasure and excitement tugged at the corners of his mouth once more.

His family chef back home could whip up a full Manchu-Han Imperial Feast on demand, but right then, that humble boxed meal looked better and better.

He cherry-picked his favorites from both boxes, devouring every bite he wanted.

Only after Ji Xingci had finished did Lin Wu pick up his chopsticks and tuck into the leftovers—the stuff Ji Xingci hadn’t touched.

Xu Qing seethed, certain Ji Xingci was taking things way too far.

He looked up and caught Ji Xingci smiling.

It was an expression no one had ever seen on him before.

When Ji Xingci stood, he shot Xu Qing a glance loaded with smug superiority—like he was lording it over him, showing off. Then he patted his butt and sauntered away.

??

Xu Qing gripped his chopsticks so hard they nearly snapped. For some reason, it left him feeling deeply unsettled.

“05.” He insisted on sharing his own boxed meal too, picking out chunks of meat for Lin Wu.

Lin Wu just kept eating, looking utterly indifferent no matter what went down.

During the second half of the lunch break, Ji Xingci rested his hand on his stomach and dozed off on the sofa in the rest room.

Lin Wu appeared out of nowhere.

He planted himself beside the sofa, gazing down at Ji Xingci with utterly blank eyes.

Ji Xingci, deep in slumber, suddenly grew restless.

He tried to roll over but felt a hand pinning him in place.

Lin Wu’s long, pale fingers pressed against his stomach, exploring with deliberate care.

Hm. Still not quite enough.

Progressing a bit too slowly.

Ji Xingci’s brows knitted together. He twitched, itching to throw a punch, but Lin Wu pinned his arm effortlessly.

Lin Wu gripped his jaw, forcing his mouth open, then leaned down.

No kiss—just pried his own mouth open and fed a trickle of saliva inside before snapping Ji Xingci’s jaws shut again.

With his chin held fast, Ji Xingci’s face burned hotter, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. Sweat beaded across his skin.

Lin Wu watched from above, noting Little Xingci’s reactions. He observed curiously for a moment, made no move to touch, and simply turned and left.

“Mm…”

The spot beside him felt empty now.

Ji Xingci’s brows furrowed even deeper, as if he were trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

He writhed in discomfort all on his own.

Afternoon shooting time rolled around, but Ji Xingci still hadn’t emerged from the rest room.

The director called for him several times, on the verge of blowing a fuse, before Ji Xingci finally appeared. His face was ashen, his hair damp and slick with cold sweat.

That shut the director up.

“What’s the matter? You got a fever?”

Ji Xingci’s cheeks flushed deeper. He couldn’t bring himself to explain, so he let the assumption stand.

“How’d this happen? You were on fire this morning…”

Renting the venue was like burning cash, and the director wasn’t thrilled about wasting it. He asked if Ji Xingci could manage some simpler scenes.

One bit had Ji Xingci just lying there, barely needing to do a thing—just react to whatever Lin Wu did.

That ought to be manageable.

But Ji Xingci shut it down immediately. “I’m not shooting any intimate scenes.”

“Eighty percent of your scenes are intimate! We’ve got to film them eventually, and that take from this morning didn’t even make it through.”

Disappointment laced the director’s tone.

Meanwhile, the makeup artist was busy concealing the lingering bruise on Lin Wu’s neck.

Lin Wu’s eyes slipped past them, stealing glances at Ji Xingci.

A wave of defiance crashed over Ji Xingci.

Why did it feel like everyone saw him as the unprofessional one, while Lin Wu played the perfect pro?

No one had a clue how miserable he felt right now!

He gritted his teeth.

“Fine. Let’s shoot it!”

Intimate scenes didn’t require full nudity. They covered the essentials so the camera couldn’t catch anything, preserving the actors’ privacy as much as possible.

Alone in the bathroom, Ji Xingci struggled just to get the gear on.

He doused himself with cold water over and over, but he still broke out in sweat. And it pinched like hell.

What the fuck was wrong with him? What kind of nonsense was his brain pulling?

He itched to punch something, but that’d only make it hurt worse.

Screw it. Contact with another person would fix it anyway. And since it was Lin Wu, he’d just have to shove down the disgust.

This scene picked up right after their rehearsal from before.

After that first awkward encounter, Xing He had bolted. Later, he learned Jiang Fan worked at the bathhouse and—whatever his reasons—paid his way in.

So Jiang Fan stumbled upon this odd guy he’d met once before.

Who was now sprawled on a bench in the empty changing room, apparently asleep.

Ji Xingci settled onto the bench, a bath towel draped over him.

Lin Wu stood beside it, tilting his head to study him for a moment. Then a hand slipped under the towel.

The camera caught it crystal clear: Ji Xingci’s face flushed crimson in an instant.