Qu Yanting was like a piece of fragile glass, and those four words smashed down like raindrops. He woke up as if from a dream, released his hand, and pushed Lu Wen away.

The warmth of the cheek gone from his palm, Lu Wen staggered half a step back, also breaking out of character as if waking from a dream.

Qu Yanting's expression was hidden in the shadows, impossible to see clearly. His voice also seemed distant and raspy, "I don't need it."

Lu Wen was at a loss for words for a moment. In the next instant, Qu Yanting deprived him of the chance to speak, his voice becoming clear and cold, "If you can film it, film it. If you can't, I'll delete the entire scene."

Without pausing after he spoke, Qu Yanting strode away, and his figure quickly disappeared from view.

The set fell into a dead silence. The crew, not understanding the situation, all looked towards the shade of the trees. Lu Wen was completely stunned. Behind him, Ren Shu was also a bit dumbfounded.

A few minutes later, the director's assistant came to inform them that Qu Yanting had left in the Porsche.

Lu Wen had a gut feeling that this was serious. He had talked back, yelled loudly, and even acted defiantly before, but Qu Yanting had always remained calm and composed. This was the first time he had ever flipped out and stormed off.

He turned to look at Ren Shu and called out, "Director."

"What are you calling me for?" Ren Shu asked. "Remember me now?"

Lu Wen braced himself for a scolding and walked over to Ren Shu. Suddenly, Ren Shu raised a hand, and Lu Wen instinctively dodged back, thinking Ren Shu was about to slap him. 'It wouldn't come to that, right? Even if I deserved a slap, it should be Qu Yanting himself who does it, right?'

Ren Shu took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sticking one in his mouth and lighting it. "Why are you acting so cowardly? Weren't you being pretty domineering just now? Taking a step forward, cupping his face, whispering in his ear... I thought you were about to kiss him next."

Lu Wen argued, "I wouldn't dare. I would have used a camera angle trick."

Ren Shu was so angry he had to laugh. "What the hell did you grow up eating? How can you be so reckless?"

Lu Wen said, "Didn't you tell me to run through the scene?"

"I didn't tell you to run it with Screenwriter Qu." Ren Shu was exasperated. "The female lead wasn't here, so I waved at you, signaling for you to run it with me. What kind of scene were you running with Teacher Qu?"

Lu Wen asked, "Did you wave?"

"Duh, I practically said hi," Ren Shu said. "You didn't even look at me. You just look at whoever's better-looking, right?"

Lu Wen wiped his face, his slightly sweaty palm brushing past the tip of his nose and sliding down to cup his own jaw. The image of him cupping Qu Yanting's face surfaced in his mind. At that moment, he hadn't dared to move his fingers, afraid that the slightest movement would make his fingertips brush against Qu Yanting's ear.

Cupping his own face now, it felt more like he'd just had a wisdom tooth pulled.

Ren Shu smoked in silence. Although he had scolded Lu Wen, he was actually quite surprised by Qu Yanting's reaction.

Having studied directing, they knew from their student days that in this line of work, it was common for directors to personally demonstrate scenes. That was why he hadn't immediately stopped Lu Wen when he foolishly started rehearsing with Qu Yanting.

Logically, since Qu Yanting hadn't pushed Lu Wen away immediately, it meant he had accepted the interaction. He couldn't understand why Qu Yanting had suddenly become unwilling.

Lu Wen didn't understand either and asked, "Director, what exactly is going on?"

Ren Shu analyzed, "I guess the scene was too ambiguous. He could tolerate the first part, but the next step was a kiss. What straight guy can handle that?"

'Forget it,' Lu Wen thought. 'Asking you is pointless.'

After the interlude, everyone returned to their positions and resumed filming, as if nothing had happened on set. But gossip spread fastest in this industry; the news of Qu Yanting flipping out and storming off would be all over the crew by tomorrow.

Filming wrapped up late at night. On the way back to the hotel, Lu Wen was slumped in the last row of the car, sliding halfway down with his head tilted, looking a bit like he was half-paralyzed.

"To lose one's ambition brings sighs of regret, to fall from grace brings a chill of fear..." He always sang when he was upset. "...to lose all hope, drunk and dazed every day..."

Sun Xiaojian, for once, didn't interject. After experiencing so much, he had come to realize that none of this was his fault as a manager. He saw it clearly now: not even the company's top agent, general manager, or even the big boss could handle a hopeless case like Lu Wen.

He was curious. "It's hard for others to even meet Screenwriter Qu, yet you not only acted opposite him, you even cupped his face. Let me interview you, what did it feel like holding Qu Yanting's face?"

Lu Wen had been immersed in the scene at the time, not thinking about anything else. If he had to describe the feeling, he curled his palm, recalling the texture of Qu Yanting's skin. It was smooth, delicate, and clean, more so than an actor's powdered face after makeup...

He cut off the thought just in time, too annoyed to answer.

Past midnight, only a single floor lamp was lit in the living room of Suite 6206. Qu Yanting had taken a shower and was sitting on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, replying to emails.

Not two minutes after he sent it, Screenwriter Qiao from the studio sent a message, asking if it was convenient to talk. Because Qu Yanting was supposed to be supervising a night shoot, they had originally planned to talk the next morning. Since he was back now, he simply called her directly.

Next week, the Television Association was holding a seminar, and the work being discussed was one his studio had participated in producing. He sent Screenwriter Qiao to attend and discuss related matters in advance.

Among the attendees was a Professor Wu. Qu Yanting had instructed her to invite Professor Wu for a chat after the meeting.

Screenwriter Qiao was a straightforward woman, but also very perceptive. In a pause in the conversation, she interjected, "Screenwriter Qu, are you not feeling well? Your voice sounds heavy."

Qu Yanting fobbed her off with "just sleepy," and finally said, "If Professor Wu agrees, let me know immediately."

Screenwriter Qiao said, "Okay, as long as you actually answer your phone."

"Don't joke with me," Qu Yanting said, though he didn't have much confidence in that regard. "Or just call a couple more times."

After hanging up, Qu Yanting placed his phone face down on the sofa and closed his laptop. The only light left around the sofa was the yellow glow of the floor lamp. In the darkness, his sense of hearing became exceptionally sharp.

Footsteps came from the hallway, so heavy and shuffling that even the thick carpet couldn't muffle them. The hotel staff had strict rules and weren't allowed to make such a noise.

The footsteps drew nearer, eventually stopping right outside the door. It wasn't hard to guess which Idiot had just gotten off work.

Qu Yanting's emotional outburst on set was tantamount to losing his composure, and for the moment, he didn't want to deal with the person who had made him lose it. He reached out and turned off the floor lamp.

The peephole went completely dark. Lu Wen's hand, about to ring the bell, stopped in mid-air.

He stared at the number plate for 6206, conflicted. 'Is Qu Yanting resting? Or did he sense I was outside and is avoiding me this way?'

After hesitating for a long while, Lu Wen felt so stupid. Either way, there was no need to ring the bell anymore. He lowered his hand but didn't turn back to 6207, continuing to stare at the number plate for 6206 as if trying to see through it.

Under the shade of the trees, only he had heard the first thing Qu Yanting said—"I don't need it."

I'll protect you. I don't need it.

Lu Wen stood there for a very long time. He didn't knock, nor did he make a sound, holding a tangled mess of confusion that he couldn't sort out, senselessly punishing himself by standing outside Qu Yanting's door.

The next day, Lu Wen started work before dawn, going through makeup, running lines, and filming, doing everything step-by-step. Everything on set was as usual, but in reality, even the lady who delivered the boxed lunches had heard that he had angered the head screenwriter into leaving last night.

When they wrapped up in the evening, Lu Wen went to the second-floor dressing room to change. He paused as he passed room 101. The door was locked. Qu Yanting hadn't come to the set all day.

'Still angry?'

'He doesn't want to see me?'

A knot formed in Lu Wen's heart. After packing up and leaving the set, the closer he got to the hotel, the more complex that knot in his heart became—large, hard, and coarse.

Back at the hotel, Lu Wen stopped outside 6206 again. He decided not to worry about whether Qu Yanting wanted to see him, nor had he prepared anything to say. Seeing light through the peephole, he pressed the doorbell directly.

Qu Yanting was in the study. When the doorbell rang, his finger mistyped a character on the keyboard. He hadn't called room service or ordered dinner, so he ignored it and continued to work.

Just like that, the doorbell rang over a dozen times without stopping, as if it were broken.

His train of thought completely broken, Qu Yanting leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. From this idiotic way of ringing the bell, he had a pretty good idea who was outside.

After another five or six rings, the doorbell finally stopped.

Just as Qu Yanting breathed a sigh of relief, a much more solemn knocking began. Half exasperated, half resigned, he got up and walked quietly to the entryway.

Just as he grasped the doorknob, the knocking stopped abruptly.

Qu Yanting glanced through the peephole and saw Lu Wen with his head down, kneading his reddened knuckles. Since his hand was red and sore, he would probably behave and go back to his room now.

He let go of the doorknob, stepped back, and turned to return to the study.

Qu Yanting had only taken two steps when he heard a faint scratching sound from behind him, right by the door. He stopped and turned back, looking for the source of the sound in confusion, and then his eyes widened.

From under the door, a piece of paper was slowly being pushed through.

Qu Yanting walked over, squatted down behind the door, and picked it up. It was a normal piece of lined paper with a frayed edge from being torn out of a notebook. Four large characters were written on it—"I am Lu Wen."

His first reaction was, 'His grades might not be great, but his handwriting is not bad.'

Just then, a second piece of paper was pushed through. It read: "Sorry about last night."

A third followed right after: "I didn't mean to offend you."

The handwriting on the fourth piece was a bit lighter. It was a question: "Are you okay?"

Qu Yanting stacked the four pieces of paper neatly, his eyes unconsciously fixed on the crack under the door. A while passed, and no more papers came through. He stood up quietly and peeked through the peephole. The doorway was empty.

'He left?'

But he hadn't heard the door to 6207 open or close.

After staying cooped up in his room for a day and a night, Qu Yanting finally opened the door.

Outside his door, Lu Wen was squatting on one knee, his backpack tucked under his arm, holding a pen and paper. He was using his thigh as a desk, head down, writing intently. He jumped when the door opened, looking up at him foolishly.

Qu Yanting lowered his eyes to look at the fifth note in Lu Wen's hand.

Lu Wen stood up. It was one thing when the door was closed, but face-to-face, it was a bit embarrassing, especially with Qu Yanting holding those four notes. He crumpled the fifth note into a ball in his palm and tried to hide it in his pocket.

"Take it out," Qu Yanting said.

Lu Wen hesitated. "This one is meaningless..."

Qu Yanting said again, "Let me see."

Lu Wen knew he was in the wrong, so he had no choice but to take it out and hand the crumpled ball over. Qu Yanting took it and slowly smoothed out the wrinkled paper, deciphering the even fainter words on it.

It was indeed meaningless. It read: "Damn, the pen's out of ink."

Qu Yanting was speechless. But the door was open, and they were standing face-to-face, though one was inside and one was out, as if separated by the Chu River and Han Border.

After a long moment, he said, "Are you childish or what? You think you're filming a TV show?"

The strap of Lu Wen's bag was slung over his neck, his leg was numb from squatting, and one foot was stuck out at an angle. He looked completely foolish. He sniffled, looking lost and conflicted, and replied, "I just wanted you to stop being angry."