Chapter 27

Lu Wen sat up as if he had risen from the dead, the lingering redness in his eyes not yet faded, staring wide-eyed at Li Dapeng: “What did you say? Arranging a personal assistant for me was Teacher Qu's idea?”

“Yeah.” Li Dapeng said, “That’s what Xiao Zhang told me.”

The blanket slipped from his shoulders, leaving Lu Wen's upper body bare as he sat there stunned. Sun Xiaojian stood to the side with his mouth agape, looking equally surprised.

“I'll go tidy up and pack the dirty clothes to return to the wardrobe and props teachers tomorrow.” Li Dapeng picked up a towel and a cup and went to the small living room, pulling the screen divider closed.

Lu Wen and Sun Xiaojian stared at each other for a while.

Lu Wen ran a hand through his short hair in agitation. So that afternoon when Qu Yanting was explaining the scene to him, he had also arranged an assistant for him. He had been enjoying Qu Yanting's care all along, yet was completely unaware.

Sun Xiaojian said: “For Screenwriter Qu to do this, it means he really appreciates you. Have we achieved our initial goal?”

Lu Wen slid into bed and turned to face the wall. He didn't know if it was appreciation or not; he only remembered clashing with Qu Yanting countless times. Now, his chest felt tight, filled to the brim with guilt.

Abruptly, the vehicle drove over a speed bump, jolting them.

Only then did Lu Wen notice. He turned his head and asked, “What’s going on? Is the car moving?”

Sun Xiaojian said: “You must be tired silly. How are we supposed to get back to the hotel if it isn't moving?”

Lu Wen said anxiously, “But Teacher Qu hasn't gotten in the car yet!”

Except for the actors and the hair and makeup team, the others had not yet wrapped up. After the car crash scene was filmed, they needed to shoot another set of shots of the scenery without people.

The early morning was one of the turning points for changes in light, and the on-site lighting had to be re-evaluated. Qu Yanting sat under a rain shelter, his legs crossed, with paper and pen resting on his lap as he drew a new diagram.

He looked up to observe the street, designing the lighting for each position. In his peripheral vision, he saw Duan Meng running towards him. He lowered his head, nervously rotating the pen in his hand.

“Screenwriter Qu,” Duan Meng ducked under the shelter, “the equipment has been protected again, no problem.”

Qu Yanting replied briefly: “Mm, thanks for your hard work.”

The rain was too heavy, and Duan Meng showed no intention of leaving, standing guard by his side: “Screenwriter Qu, your posture really gives off the feeling of someone sketching from life. Did you study painting before, or did you learn it while you were in the directing department?”

Qu Yanting had studied it before, but not professionally. Studying directing inevitably involved drawing storyboards, so he learned the basics again. But he credited his first teacher, saying, “I learned from my dad when I was a child.”

Duan Meng said: “Your esteemed father must be a man of culture. He isn't a painter, is he?”

Qu Yanting pursed his lips in a faint smile, but his eyes were as placid as still water—the perfunctory manner common among adults.

After marking the final stroke, he said directly, “Camera A on the large jib, let’s get to work.”

Back at the hotel.

Lu Wen took a hot bath, cleaning himself from head to toe. Too lazy to even move a finger, he sat down before the vanity like an old monk in deep meditation and called Sun Xiaojian in to serve him.

“Dry my hair first.”

Sun Xiaojian rolled up his sleeves and went behind Lu Wen to blow-dry his hair. After it was dry, Lu Wen lowered his head.

“What for?”

“To apply lotion to your neck.”

Men often wore collared shirts, and the back of the neck revealed beneath the crisp collar was a man’s second face; it had to be well-maintained. With his head bowed, Lu Wen let Sun Xiaojian gently apply body lotion, afraid his rough hands would redden his skin.

Lu Wen inadvertently thought of Qu Yanting touching his face, and also of him holding Qu Yanting’s hand.

A pair of hands that held pens and typed should have been accustomed to a good life, yet the sensation was distinct; he could feel a layer of old calluses on Qu Yanting's hand.

Lu Wen went back to the bedroom and lay down. After a full day and night of non-stop work, the moment he touched the large bed, every part of his body completely relaxed.

A sticky note was attached to the bedside lamp, written before he left, listing a series of items: water bath, steam thermotherapy, full body massage, and a reservation for a private cinema.

Sun Xiaojian asked: “You booked all of these? Are you still going?”

“Like hell I am.” Lu Wen was as lazy as a dead dog. “Even if the sky fell right now, I’m not leaving this bed.”

Sun Xiaojian said regretfully, “What a waste.”

Lu Wen was always generous, saying, “If you want to go, then go. It must have been exhausting accompanying me for a night. Take Brother Peng with you. If there’s anything else you want to do, just put it on my room number.”

Li Dapeng had finished boiling the ginger soup and brought over a bowl.

Lu Wen drank it all in one go, feeling warm both inside and out. He told Sun Xiaojian and Li Dapeng to go back and rest.

The entire suite fell silent. Lu Wen tossed and turned for a while, too tired and sleepy to fall asleep. High up outside the window, a sliver of bright white light from the approaching day pierced through the gloom—a dawn in the rain.

'Have the other teams wrapped up?'

'Did the shoot go smoothly?'

'Which car is Qu Yanting taking back?'

Lu Wen found it even harder to sleep. Buzz. His phone vibrated briefly. A message from Sun Xiaojian: 'Are you asleep?'

With his wrist resting on the pillow, Lu Wen replied: 'What’s up?'

Sun Xiaojian: 'Get on Weibo. Ruan Feng followed you. Follow him back.'

Lu Wen hadn’t been online for a while. He dubiously opened Weibo and was startled. Tens of thousands of new followers. He scanned them briefly; they were basically all Ruan Feng’s fans.

Usually, each of his posts got about a hundred comments, but now there were nearly a thousand unread messages in his comment section. Lu Wen clicked on it to take a look. Ruan Feng’s fans had left him messages, the gist of which was: 'Handsome, please take good care of our Ruan Ruan, sending love.'

'Are they insane?'

It was normal for actors on the same set to follow each other, but Lu Wen held his phone, hesitating to press the follow button. He stared blankly for a while before finally exiting Weibo.

Another message from Sun Xiaojian chased after him: 'Did you follow him back?'

Lu Wen lied: 'I forgot my password.'

The rain outside was erratic. Occasionally, a strong gust of wind would howl past, threatening to flip pedestrians’ umbrellas inside out.

Lu Wen found it difficult to fall asleep. He wrapped himself in a bathrobe and moved to the living room sofa. Half an hour later, when he heard faint footsteps in the hallway, he immediately scrambled to his feet.

Qu Yanting had returned from work. After a grueling rainy night, he was soaked to the bone. He clutched his jacket in his hand, the damp, smoky purple sweater darkened in color, its fuzz covered in fine water droplets.

He was exhausted, his steps slow and heavy. He walked to 6206 and lowered his head to swipe his card. Damp, dark hair fell across his forehead, and as he looked up, he gently swept it back.

Qu Yanting entered the room, turned to close the door, and unbuttoned a button on his shirt in the narrowing gap.

The door closed, leaving only faint water marks on the surface of the handle.

Behind the door of 6207, Lu Wen pressed against the peephole, unable to see anything anymore. But the image of the man in his mind hadn't disappeared. Unlike his usual reserved demeanor, and unlike the decisive way he commanded things on set, the Qu Yanting just now had looked disheveled and worn.

Like a tree trembling yet standing strong in a storm.

Qu Yanting was too cold and too tired. After a hot shower, he didn't even have the strength to blow-dry his hair. The doorbell rang. He deliberately ignored it. Soon, the ringing changed to knocking.

A room service attendant wouldn’t do that. He had a pretty good idea who it was.

Too weary to deal with it, Qu Yanting went to open the door with a towel on his head, begrudgingly opening it only a hand’s breadth wide.

Outside, Lu Wen held a small pot with both hands: “Teacher Qu, my assistant made some ginger soup, and there’s a full bowl left. I heard you come back, so I brought it for you to drink.”

Qu Yanting was somewhat surprised and asked, “Have you had some?”

At the end of the hallway, a service attendant on the first morning patrol was walking towards them. Afraid the attendant would greet him, Qu Yanting opened the door wider and let Lu Wen come inside first.

As Lu Wen entered, he said, “I've had some. The rest got cold. I was going to heat it up before bringing it to you, but I’m not very good with the kitchen appliances.”

Closing the door, Qu Yanting said, “I can heat it up myself.”

The layout of the two suites was the same. Lu Wen took the ginger soup to the open-plan kitchen. Qu Yanting took out a bowl and cup set from the cabinet, poured the soup out, and heated it in the steamer.

He asked casually, “Your assistant made it for you?”

Lu Wen didn't answer, asking instead, “Teacher Qu, were you the one who arranged an assistant for me?”

Qu Yanting was stumped for two seconds. He didn’t concern himself with such small matters. After a moment's recollection, he confirmed, “I think so... I mentioned it to Xiao Zhang.”

Lu Wen’s large hands rested on the island countertop, just like how they had rested on the edge of the swimming pool that day, warming it up. As an eighteenth-tier actor, he was used to being neglected. When had anyone ever taken care of him like this?

“You...” He asked in a very affected, yet expectant way, “Why are you so good to me?”

Qu Yanting was visibly taken aback: “I’m not.”

“How are you not?” Lu Wen grew inexplicably anxious. “There are so many actors on the set, why did you specifically arrange an assistant for me?”

Qu Yanting replied: “Because everyone else already has an assistant.”

Lu Wen was speechless, and his heart felt a bit congested too.

Just that fleeting change in expression was enough for Qu Yanting to understand. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “What's wrong? Did you think I was paying special attention to you?”

His thoughts exposed, Lu Wen covered up guiltily: “No, what's there to pay attention to about me? I’m just a bit more handsome than the others.”

Qu Yanting asked again: “Were you especially moved?”

“I already said no.” Lu Wen was only making things worse. “What's there to be moved about? I was just confirming, no other meaning.”

Qu Yanting started teasing him again: “Then why did you come running over to deliver ginger soup instead of sleeping after you wrapped up?”

Lu Wen was mortified, blurting out, “I couldn’t finish it, I just didn’t want to waste it. Besides, I actually... actually came to get my sweater.”

'Of all the things I could have planned for, I missed this.' Qu Yanting reined it in a bit: “The sweater... it got wet.”

“I still have to have it back.” Lu Wen couldn't control his mouth anymore. “It’s the only dark-colored piece of clothing I have. I want it back now.”

Qu Yanting was made a little awkward. He had intended to wash it before returning it, but this idiot had actually come to his door to demand it back. He walked towards the bathroom; he had taken off the sweater and put it in the laundry basket.

Suddenly, his phone rang on the sofa. It was most likely Ren Shu, calling right on time to ask about the filming situation.

Qu Yanting changed course to answer the phone. Used to ordering him around, he said to Lu Wen, “The sweater is in the laundry basket. Go get it yourself.”

Lu Wen had spoken rashly, and now he had to see it through. He walked into the bathroom. The light was on, and the glass door of the shower was half open, letting out lingering steam.

The laundry basket was right next to the sink, full of clothes. Lu Wen bent over to rummage through it.

Less than five seconds later, Lu Wen came out of the bathroom empty-handed and shouted, “I don't want the sweater anymore!”

Qu Yanting had been waiting for the last ring to answer, but this shout startled him and he accidentally hung up. He asked, bewildered, “You were in such a hurry just now, why don’t you want it anymore?”

Lu Wen stammered, “It’s... it's all stretched out of shape from the rain. Anyway, I don't want it.”

Qu Yanting said, “Then I’ll buy you a new one.”

“No need,” Lu Wen said, “Just consider it a gift from me.”

He went to the kitchen to get the small pot and headed straight for the door. When he reached the entryway, he twisted the doorknob and saw the single carnation in the vase. The petals were beginning to wither, but Qu Yanting had kept it there without throwing it away.

“Teacher Qu,” Lu Wen paused, “anyway, thank you for taking care of me.”

Qu Yanting said, “You’re welcome.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Lu Wen gripped the doorknob, his posture full of bravado: “But business is business. I have to remind you, don't let people randomly enter your bathroom in the future!”

Bang! The door was slammed shut.

Qu Yanting stood frozen by the sofa, a look of three parts bewilderment and one part shock on his face.

'Did that idiot just yell at me again?' He didn't know if it was because he was too tired, or if he had just gotten used to it, but he couldn't muster even a shred of anger, only finding it utterly baffling.

Qu Yanting took off the damp towel from around his neck and put it back in the bathroom. Passing by the laundry basket, he wanted to check how badly the sweater was stretched. If it wasn't too bad, he would send it to be dry-cleaned.

The clothes in the basket were the ones he had taken off before his shower. First, he had tossed in the jacket, then the sweater, pants, and shirt. The outermost layers were buried at the bottom.

“He didn't even take it out, how would he know it was stretched out of shape,” Qu Yanting muttered, picking up the piece of clothing on top.

He froze instantly. The item his fingers had hooked was the last thing he had taken off—his wet, black briefs.

'So, these underwear have been on top the whole time?'

'When Lu Wen was looking for the sweater, didn’t he...'

Qu Yanting pulled his hand back as if he had been electrocuted and threw the underwear back into the basket. He straightened up, understanding why Lu Wen didn't want the sweater anymore, and also understanding the meaning behind Lu Wen’s shout.

He looked up at the mirror. Incandescent light, black pajamas, and two patches of embarrassed crimson blooming on his cheeks.

The author has something to say:

Lu Wen: I feel so embarrassed.