The butler had served the Huo family for over thirty years.
He was steady in his actions, unwavering in loyalty, and accustomed to weathering all manner of storms.
Yet now, faced with an almost insoluble dilemma, his fighting spirit was finally ignited.
The bodyguard captain was still lost in a haze, rummaging through old memories, trying to make sense of things. Before he could figure it out, the butler grabbed him without a word and dragged him out into the corridor.
Liang Xiao set down his script and let out another breath.
Jiang Pingchao had a rare scene where he got to beat someone up, so he was meticulously going over the shots frame by frame with the action and martial arts director. Filming was taking longer than expected.
There were still two more scenes after this one, and it wasn’t yet Liang Xiao’s turn to shoot.
“What’s wrong?”
Though Duan Ming often teased him, he couldn’t help but show concern. “Still having trouble breathing?”
Liang Xiao tended to feel chest tightness on overcast days, leaving him short of breath compared to most people. Duan Ming, long used to worrying over him, glanced around the set, trying to find a way to give him a break. “Why don’t you head back to the lounge? I’ll keep an eye on things here. When it’s your turn, I’ll call you—”
Liang Xiao smiled. “It’s nothing.”
Duan Ming looked at him skeptically. “Then what is it?”
Liang Xiao shook his head and glanced toward the set.
Ever since he’d stepped out of the lounge, he’d felt an inexplicable heaviness in his chest.
The butler had been succinct in his explanation, glossing over those past events in just a few words without delving into details.
The only part he’d described in full detail was how little Huo Lan had knelt by the lotus pond in the pouring rain, searching alone for the discarded letters.
…Setting that aside, what Liang Xiao couldn’t understand even more was how Huo Lan could have been disliked by his family.
Although he was now cold, distant, and emotionally detached—a quintessential domineering president with the signature ability to throw money around—Liang Xiao sometimes caught fleeting glimpses of what Huo Lan must have been like in his youth.
Earnest and straightforward, to the point of being a bit stubborn.
He already had some of the hallmarks of a little tyrant president—standing tall and upright, composed and meticulous in temperament.
Though he appeared reticent, if someone prodded him a little, he wasn’t entirely unwilling to talk.
He was highly principled in his actions, admitted his mistakes by writing apology letters, and likely had a much better temper back then. The most rebellious thing he’d done was chase people down to write reflections.
Suddenly remembering that he still owed President Huo a three-letter written reflection, Liang Xiao snapped out of his thoughts, the melancholy brewing in his chest unexpectedly dissipating more than half.
Standing beside him, Duan Ming was now genuinely worried. “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine.” Liang Xiao quickly shook his head. “Brother Duan, is it my turn yet?”
Duan Ming glanced at the set and sighed. “Not even close.”
The film set was an artist’s workplace, and one could learn a lot by observing the personalities of the directors and screenwriters, the group’s overall style, and how approachable the crew was. Some were diligent and collaborative, while others had egos so inflated that they needed 20 people to serve them and 30 on standby just to shoot one scene. Anyone paying attention could tell the difference.
Liang Xiao focused on filming, and naturally, Duan Ming, his manager, had to take note of everything happening on set to prepare for future collaborations.
“They probably won’t finish this morning,” Duan Ming said, patting him on the shoulder. “Head back. I’ll have Xiao Gong bring you a boxed lunch.”
For over half a month, Jiang Pingchao had been vomiting blood and being beaten. This time, he had a rare opportunity to be the one doing the beating. He took it so seriously that he meticulously perfected every detail—even down to the amount and height of the blood the supporting actor spat during the fight.
Since Jiang Pingchao had his own studio from the moment he debuted and had never been constrained by a management company, the crew couldn’t push him too hard.
Director Song turned a blind eye and allowed him to repeatedly refine the fight scene, knowing it was worthy of being turned into a standalone promotional clip.
Liang Xiao had already heard a rough explanation from Duan Ming and nodded slightly, turning his gaze toward the set.
Su Man had mentioned to him that Jiang Pingchao came from an affluent family, with elders who were all in the entertainment industry. His parents were both top-tier actors, and his debut was essentially a guaranteed success. His first role was as the male lead in a big-budget, award-focused film.
Father Jiang even enlisted a group of old friends to play supporting roles in the movie, while his mother, who rarely did public appearances, took on several variety shows and interviews to promote her son.
The film itself was of excellent quality and became an instant hit upon release.
A debut at the peak of success.
Duan Ming sighed with a tinge of envy. “People really can’t be compared…”
Liang Xiao nodded in agreement.
“…Why are you nodding?”
Duan Ming glanced at him. “You started from scratch and had a longer buildup, but sooner or later, you’ll surpass him.”
Liang Xiao had always been baffled by the inexplicable confidence his manager and assistant had in him. Hearing this, he smiled and said, “I wasn’t talking about me.”
He was thinking about Huo Lan.
Teenage Huo Lan’s personality might not have made him easy to get along with peers, but he definitely should’ve been the type elders favored most.
Obedient, sensible, and composed.
He didn’t cause trouble, didn’t stir up drama, and was diligent in his studies.
Liang Xiao spent ages mulling over it but couldn’t figure out why Huo Lan’s parents would dislike young Huo Lan.
It couldn’t possibly have been because he didn’t understand the meanings of various emoticons.
…That would’ve been too harsh.
Pressing his fingers to his forehead, Liang Xiao dismissed that train of thought and decided to find time to discuss it further with the butler.
Jiang Pingchao’s scene, polished to perfection, dragged on for most of the day and only wrapped up in the afternoon.
By the time Meng Feibai had rushed through his romantic subplot and earned his paycheck, the sky had already gone completely dark.
Yun Lian’s scene, which was supposed to take place during daylight, couldn’t be shot without natural light and had to be postponed to the next day.
Liang Xiao spent the whole day in makeup, waiting. The assistant director, looking thoroughly worn out, rushed over to apologize. “We really can’t make it in time…”
“It’s alright,” Liang Xiao smiled. “Your schedule is tight, I understand.”
Unexpected delays on set were common. It wasn’t unusual for a single scene to take several days. With the filming location move already scheduled, any delays couldn’t stretch for too long. The real pressure was on the director and producer, who had to keep the production on track.
Liang Xiao didn’t mind. Draped in the military coat Duan Ming had insistently handed him, he stood up, ready to remove his makeup and change out of costume.
He’d only taken two steps when he was stopped and called back to the side of the set.
The assistant director hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “Well… yes.”
Liang Xiao didn’t quite follow. “What?”
The assistant director stammered, “We’re… really pressed for time.”
Liang Xiao had only meant his earlier comment as polite small talk. Hearing this, he paused, unsure if he should offer the man a comforting hug.
The assistant director didn’t need a hug. Seeing that Liang Xiao wasn’t showing any impatience, he stuttered, “Director Song said—since you’re already in makeup and costume, it’d be a shame to waste it. So, we’d like to ask for your consent to film a night scene instead.”
Director Song’s original words hadn’t been nearly so polite.
The schedule was already tight, and Director Song and the screenwriter had been arguing heatedly over the direction of Liang Xiao’s two added episodes. Tempers flared, and Director Song, visibly agitated, snapped when the assistant director asked if Liang Xiao should just remove his costume and makeup to rest.
“He’s already dressed! No one’s taking anything off! Do you know what time it is? It’s already dark! Get him on set—there’s no time to waste on wardrobe changes!”
Thankfully, the screenwriter managed to rein in Director Song’s outburst before things got out of hand.
Liang Xiao was unaware of the behind-the-scenes drama and didn’t mind the last-minute schedule change. He thought about his remaining night scenes. “Is it the one in the rain?”
“…Yes,” the assistant director sighed in relief. “Both Teacher Su and Teacher Jiang are here, and the fire department’s water truck is ready too.”
Liang Xiao nodded and quickly recalled the plot.
His character didn’t have any main storyline. This particular rain scene was focused on Jiang Pingchao and Su Man’s characters. It marked the gradual revelation of an underlying subplot, with lovers forced to turn against each other due to conflicting loyalties. The scene was full of dramatic tension—Listen to my explanation! No, I won’t listen to your explanation!—and they ended in a breakup in the pouring rain.
The screenwriter was excellent at using settings to enhance the atmosphere. This production had been plagued by rain scenes, and the water truck had become a permanent fixture on set.
Yun Lian didn’t have a romantic storyline and often filled the gaps between major events. By now, Liang Xiao’s character had dutifully delivered umbrellas to various factions on five separate occasions.
He often worried that when the show aired, viewers might only remember his character as “Umbrella Deliveryman Yun.”
Huo Lan’s flight was likely delayed further. Calculating the time, Liang Xiao readily agreed. “I’ll go touch up my makeup.”
The assistant director exhaled in relief and left, expressing his endless gratitude.
Night scenes lack natural light, but they certainly can’t be filmed in complete darkness. With large lamps illuminating the set, facial details became more prominent. Although Liang Xiao’s skin was flawless, the makeup artist meticulously adjusted his makeup for the scene.
“You two share the same values but are on opposing sides.”
Director Song, still fuming despite the screenwriter’s attempts to calm him, gave instructions to Jiang Pingchao and Su Man. “Even though you trust each other, you can’t say or explain anything to each other.”
Jiang Pingchao, who had earlier caused delays, seemed a bit sheepish now that his obsession with perfecting the scene had eased. He nodded in acknowledgment.
This state of self-awareness fit well with the psychological condition of Jing Zhe, the character he was portraying. Director Song glanced at him without further comment and then turned to Liang Xiao, who was touching up his makeup. “You’re taking a walk.”
“…Alright.” Liang Xiao nodded.
The character Yun Lian often appeared in situations that defied logic. The screenwriter seemed fond of this free-spirited, unpredictable archetype, determined to make viewers eagerly anticipate Yun Lian’s strolls whenever the plot hit a dead end.
Director Song, still simmering from his argument with the screenwriter, flipped through the script and explained, “You see them arguing but don’t approach right away. You only go over to greet Jing Zhe after the female lead leaves.”
Liang Xiao hesitated. “What’s the reasoning for not going over immediately?”
While he had his interpretation of the script, artistic vision often varied from the director’s expectations.
Having worked on the character so far, Liang Xiao still couldn’t determine whether Yun Lian was meant to have a slight, inconsequential emotional connection with the male or female lead to flesh out his personality.
“No reasoning,” Director Song said bluntly. “You just wanted to watch the fight and were disappointed they didn’t start throwing punches.”
“…Got it,” Liang Xiao replied.
He flipped through his script, crossing out all his carefully analyzed emotional arcs.
What remained was the image of a full-fledged professional: strolling in the rain late at night, watching drama unfold, delivering umbrellas, and scamming money on the side.
Having clarified his role, Liang Xiao closed the script.
Once the director finished explaining the scene, he clapped his hands and began organizing the crew to resume filming.
This scene involved three characters. Two were emotionally shattered and exhausted, which aligned perfectly with their current state after a full day of intense shooting.
With members of both the A and B teams bustling around Jiang Pingchao and Su Man, Liang Xiao adjusted his mindset and, along with the solitary D team camera, strolled to the street corner.
The lighting was set, the assistant director snapped the clapperboard, and the water truck diligently created a torrential downpour.
In this part of the storyline, Yun Lian’s purpose wasn’t immediately apparent.
The male and female leads part ways sorrowfully, each tormented by their separation. Yet, fate keeps tangling their paths—they keep receiving unexpected messages about each other and occasionally crossing paths in ways that seem almost orchestrated by the heavens.
Jing Zhe had once suspected that someone was secretly helping him, but he never uncovered any clues.
It wasn’t until he and the female lead reconciled and let go of their past grievances that Yun Lian, smiling as always, stopped them to retrieve the umbrella he had lent out long ago.
Director Song, a staunchly straightforward man, couldn’t wrap his head around Yun Lian’s character motivations. Before explaining the scene, he had already confronted the screenwriter, asking, “What does Yun Lian want? Does he just want to stretch this show to 52 episodes?”
“He doesn’t want anything,” the screenwriter said cryptically. “He’s someone with no past, no plans for a future. Everything he does is simply because he feels like doing it…”
Director Song, who had spent the entire afternoon arguing with him, cut him off impatiently. “If he has no future, then why let him live?”
The two had significant disagreements about Yun Lian’s ending. Director Song firmly believed that tragedy and brokenness were the true essence of such a character. However, the screenwriter’s final scene flipped the narrative entirely.
The screenwriter had patted Director Song on the shoulder and said, “He has no future. But why should anyone get to decide that for him?”
—
Liang Xiao, fresh from envying his own black-and-white photos, now found himself mulling over the possibility of his character having a future he wasn’t even aware of. “Is there going to be a sequel?” he asked.
“Not exactly.” The D-unit director, crouched with him on the street corner, watched the male and female leads amidst the dampness of the set, the rain looming overhead. “It’s just to leave something to think about.”
The two episodes Liang Xiao had filmed so far were all about his character being broken into tragedy under interrogation. He hadn’t received the final script yet, but now he was curious.
“And when the chaos finally subsides,” the D-unit director began, quoting from the script. “The flames of war die out. Amid the ruins, scarred and battered—”
Liang Xiao interjected with a wry grin. “Do I go around collecting umbrellas from everyone?”
“…No.” The D-unit director sighed. “Politicians will be negotiating, soldiers will be healing. Civilians, having lost their homes, will wander as refugees, but they’ll still be alive. Drifting, searching for a place to belong.”
He continued, “A sweeping panoramic shot. The camera glides over them all and then finds Yun Lian.”
Liang Xiao asked, “What am I doing?”
“Nothing,” the D-unit director replied with a shake of his head. “You’re simply living well.”
Liang Xiao was taken aback, silent for a moment.
—
The scene itself wasn’t particularly challenging to film.
The male and female leads didn’t need any grand emotions—just quiet exhaustion as they went their separate ways. The water truck dutifully heightened the atmosphere with its artificial rain.
When Liang Xiao saw his cue, he turned the corner.
All had already been said and done. Su Man had left, and Jiang Pingchao stood in the rain, dazed, raising his hand as if to grasp something.
Yun Lian approached, umbrella in hand, placing it gently into his.
Jing Zhe, utterly drained, his eyes red like a trapped beast, looked up and asked hoarsely, “What are you doing here?”
Yun Lian smiled faintly, gently pressed Jing Zhe’s shoulder in reassurance, and for once didn’t put on the air of a lavish, carefree tycoon. Turning around, he looked deep into the heavy rain, as if lost in thought, and let out a soft sigh.
—
Liang Xiao’s gaze shifted to the edge of the set, and he froze for a moment without betraying any reaction.
Huo Lan’s plane had landed faster than expected.
Instead of returning to the hotel, Huo Lan had come directly to the set. Perhaps because filming was in progress, he didn’t cause much of a stir. Accompanied only by his butler, he quietly conversed with the screenwriter at the sidelines.
Holding the umbrella, Liang Xiao dutifully adjusted his angle to give the camera a perfect 45-degree profile shot, all the while thinking about the two episodes Huo Lan had worked to secure for him.
The script mainly focused on Yun Lian’s ending. To save the protagonists, Yun Lian had to completely expose himself, making it impossible for him to escape unscathed. His fate was inevitably a series of interrogations, torture, and ultimately, execution.
Extending the storyline by two episodes served two purposes: to provide closure for the audience and to pave the way for Liang Xiao.
Liang Xiao was grateful, but upon hearing the finalized version of the ending, he couldn’t help but recall the stories the butler had shared about Huo Lan.
Huo Lan no longer had any family by his side.
His parents had passed away in an accident when he was in college, leaving Huo Lan barely an adult at the time.
He had worked to consolidate power and support the Huo family, stabilize a turbulent company, and within a couple of years, took over Xingguan. All the while, he was likely surrounded by schemes and traps, leaving no room for the young Huo Lan to relax, not even for a moment.
The butler had said that Huo Lan didn’t suspect or pursue matters back then because he wanted to find someone he could truly trust. But Liang Xiao suddenly felt it wasn’t that complicated.
Huo Lan kept things simple.
The world is harsh, and over the years, life hadn’t been kind to Huo Lan. Neither back then, nor now.
All he wanted was for everyone who could live well, to simply live well.
Liang Xiao’s chest ached slightly as he held the umbrella.
The script had been more or less finalized. Huo Lan, after listening to the screenwriter’s summary of the plot, nodded slightly. “Thank you for your hard work.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” the screenwriter replied enthusiastically, shaking hands. “I’d love to collaborate again in the future.”
After expressing his thanks and seeing the screenwriter off, Huo Lan turned to the filming area.
Liang Xiao’s task of delivering the umbrella was complete, and the necessary shots had already been captured. Jiang Pingchao still had to wander forlornly in the rain for a while longer. The crew remained busy, cameras rotating to capture various angles.
The water truck continued its diligent work. The wind shifted, and a faint mist drifted toward the sidelines, clinging to clothes and bringing a biting chill.
“Mr. Liang has asked about you several times today,” the butler reported, doing his best to shield Huo Lan from the damp air, albeit with limited success. “He heard it was ginger tea that you arranged. Mr. Liang didn’t say a word but drank it all, one sip at a time.”
The butler painted a vivid picture, sparing no effort: “There’s just a little left, still stored in the thermos…”
Huo Lan frowned. “Make another pot.”
The butler hesitated. “…Understood.”
Huo Lan personally disliked the taste of ginger tea, and he hadn’t expected Liang Xiao to enjoy it. Frowning, he thought for a moment. “Tell the pharmaceutical company to—”
“There’s no need to develop ginger-flavored suppressants,” the butler interrupted weakly, quickly stopping him. “Mr. Liang… doesn’t like it that much.”
Huo Lan found his behavior odd again and glanced at the butler but said nothing further.
The oiled-paper umbrella wasn’t much protection against the rain. Liang Xiao stood amidst the misty drizzle for so long that he was soaked to the bone. As soon as he stepped off the set, a staff member rushed over to hand him a dry towel.
Drying himself, Liang Xiao glanced toward the crowd and once more caught sight of Huo Lan.
As one of the investors, it was perfectly reasonable for President Huo to visit the set, inspect the crew’s work, and check on filming progress.
The lights surrounded the main shooting area, and the residual glow that reached this far was dim and sparse. Through the thin mist, it cast an exceptionally subdued shadow over Huo Lan.
Feeling a bit restless, Liang Xiao handed the towel to Duan Ming. “Brother Duan, could you hold this for me?”
“…Go take a hot shower. Xiao Gong prepared a hot water bottle for you; wrap yourself in a blanket and rest—” Duan Ming cut himself off, exasperated. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll be right back.”
Duan Ming called after him in frustration but failed to stop him. He stomped his foot and sighed heavily. “Get some rest! Shake off the chill, or you’ll catch a cold!”
Carrying the umbrella, Liang Xiao made his way over, weaving through the crowd. Meeting the butler’s stunned and delighted gaze, he smiled faintly and nodded silently.
The butler was overcome with emotion, his eyes brimming with tears. “Mr. Liang…”
Huo Lan looked slightly startled as he turned to face Liang Xiao.
Liang Xiao opened the umbrella, shielding Huo Lan from the drifting mist. “President Huo.”
Still wearing his wet clothes, his face was pale from the cold. Huo Lan glanced at him and said, “Go back inside.”
“No rush. I need to wait and see if they need to reshoot anything.”
Knowing Huo Lan wouldn’t understand, Liang Xiao casually came up with an excuse. “You’re here to watch the filming?”
Huo Lan wasn’t entirely sure why he had come. Hearing Liang Xiao’s question, he nodded.
Liang Xiao smiled. “Then I’ll keep you company for a while.”
The butler, not expecting Liang Xiao to cooperate so willingly, was on the verge of tears. He hurried off to urge someone to bring over down jackets and coats.
Jiang Pingchao’s scene had wrapped up as well, and he was immediately surrounded by a dozen assistants sent by his family. Some handed him towels, others offered hot drinks, cocooning him with care.
Unaware of the stark differences in treatment on set, Huo Lan recalled the flimsy towel Liang Xiao had been handed earlier. His brows furrowed deeply.
Liang Xiao noticed Huo Lan staring at Jiang Pingchao in a daze. He tilted the umbrella slightly, shielding Huo Lan more, and spoke softly to comfort him, “It’s all in the past.”
Huo Lan paused, startled. “What?”
The drifting mist blurred the air. Seeing the confusion in Huo Lan’s expression, Liang Xiao was reminded of the butler’s story about young Huo Lan retrieving letters in the rain. A pang of ache hit his heart. “Was the rain that day this heavy too?”
Not the butler stirring shit up 🤣
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