Mr. Liang was halfway through when he came out of the bedroom and got two cups of cola.
…
“Just put on a show in front of the camera.”
Liang Xiao returned to President Huo’s desk and discussed with him: “Once back in the room, we’ll continue as usual.”
President Huo wasn’t in the entertainment circle and didn’t understand much about celebrity public relations. Liang Xiao poured him a cup of cola and patiently explained: “Just think of it as acting…”
President Huo lowered his gaze, not putting down the report in his hand, his shoulders straight as he remained silent.
After Liang Xiao wasted his breath for a long time, he quenched his thirst with two gulps of iced cola, looked at him for a while, and couldn’t help but laugh.
…This was also progress.
At least their President Huo now knew not to agree to things he didn’t like.
Looking at President Huo, who rarely showed temper, Liang Xiao even felt quite gratified. After pondering for a while, he closed his mouth and stopped nagging, quietly circling behind him.
President Huo sat quietly for a while. When he didn’t hear Liang Xiao continue, he looked up and found that he had already disappeared.
President Huo’s chest tightened slightly, his brows furrowed, and he threw down the report to stand up abruptly.
“I didn’t leave, I didn’t leave,” Liang Xiao quickly grabbed him, preventing President Huo from rushing out to search heaven and earth for Mr. Liang. “I’m right here.”
President Huo’s gaze fell on him, his shoulders tensing slightly as he lowered his eyes: “Sor-”
Liang Xiao was very accommodating and responded by opening his arms, giving him a solid hug.
President Huo’s apology hadn’t yet left his mouth. He was taken aback, instinctively raised his hands, and embraced him in return.
“I know you don’t like it,” Liang Xiao casually rubbed his back. “Bear with it. After I finish this variety show, I’ll take a vacation, rest for a month, and be your personal secretary.”
Liang Xiao’s face reddened as he hugged him and swayed: “Just the two of us. When I get sleepy at noon, I’ll sleep in your room.”
President Huo clearly couldn’t resist this temptation. His breathing unconsciously paused, and after a moment of silence: “I’ll have them buy a massage chair.”
“Alright,” Liang Xiao’s eyes brightened. “I’ll pick the brand.”
He had been thinking about a massage chair for more than a year or two. In the past, whenever he went to the mall, he couldn’t help but try one for five minutes. He hadn’t expected to have the opportunity to revisit this dream: “No need to buy an expensive one; they have a bunch of functions that aren’t very useful…”
President Huo nodded slightly and stroked his back.
Liang Xiao sensed his touch and relaxed as well, leaning boneless against President Huo: “Are you afraid of being disturbed when you’re working?”
President Huo shook his head: “Need to digest and stabilize. There won’t be any key work in the second half of the year.”
Liang Xiao was completely reassured: “Then I’ll just eat, drink, and play games. When I get bored, I’ll come bother you… Still write notes?”
President Huo liked him mentioning these things. His ears also warmed slightly as he pressed his lips together: “Yes.”
“Then I’ll write notes, and even crumple them into little paper balls to throw at you,” Liang Xiao smiled. “You work hard and earn money to support me…”
President Huo shook his head.
Liang Xiao hadn’t expected a head shake at this point and was a bit taken aback: “Is it-you don’t like little paper balls, or you don’t want to work hard?”
President Huo looked at him and said softly: “You don’t actually want me to support you.”
Liang Xiao was unconsciously stunned, took a few seconds to come back to his senses, and smiled: “Why suddenly bring this up…”
“You just say it to make me happy,” President Huo embraced him as they sat on the bed, unbuttoning Liang Xiao’s shirt that was tightly buttoned all the way to the top. “You’ve never thought this way and wouldn’t accept it.”
If it weren’t for the upcoming contest with the branch family and Liang Xiao’s concern about his condition, he might not even take this month-long vacation.
Liang Xiao had always been proud. Little Liang Xiao was so proud that he wouldn’t tell him anything, swallowing blood and tears. Grown-up Liang Xiao was equally proud, with countless shortcuts available, yet he insisted on taking the most difficult, thorny path.
Today on the set, Liang Xiao had repeated those shots again and again, getting bruised all over. During the last take, when he was completely exhausted, staggering and almost unable to stand up, yet still smiling and waving to say it was fine, President Huo was actually at the side of the set.
He didn’t want to distract Liang Xiao, so he didn’t go near to disturb him, nor would he mention this.
“No need to say this in the future,” President Huo took the red flower oil, warmed it in his palm, and slowly massaged Liang Xiao’s shoulders, neck, and back to alleviate the bruising. “My sense of achievement doesn’t come from such things.”
Liang Xiao could never withstand his overly direct statements. He cleared his throat, turned his head, and smiled: “Alright, let’s not talk about this…”
President Huo gently kissed his eyes: “My greatest achievement is meeting you.”
Liang Xiao’s eyes warmed, and he could hardly continue speaking, burying his face in President Huo’s neck.
President Huo rarely spoke romantically, but whenever he did, it was a knockout-level statement that left him completely defenseless.
Anyone who said their President Huo didn’t understand romance should all be taken out to build snowmen.
Liang Xiao didn’t want to be weak at this moment. He sniffled, raised his head to smile at him, and was suddenly taken aback: “…”
President Huo was shielding him with one hand, holding a document in the other, protecting him from a shower of small hailstones.
Liang Xiao: “…”
President Huo: “…”
President Huo hadn’t anticipated this situation either. He had instinctively protected him and silently looked at the small ice cubes all over the bed and floor, trying his best to praise him: “The hail is… very even.”
Liang Xiao was too embarrassed to face anyone. Angry and embarrassed, he sealed their President Huo’s mouth, grabbed the red flower oil, and plunged into the bathroom.
–
In the following days, Mr. Liang was dizzily led to bed by President Huo’s overly direct and sincere romantic words, failing to successfully complete the arduous task of persuading their President Huo to maintain a professional image.
“Mission unsuccessful.”
Liang Xiao was somewhat embarrassed and deeply reflected: “Wait until tonight, I will definitely-”
“Tonight is the wrap-up,” Duan Ming sighed deeply. “President Huo will definitely celebrate for you.”
Liang Xiao opened his mouth, feeling somewhat tempted.
Duan Ming: “For the last scene, the crew will set off fireworks, the really beautiful kind.”
Liang Xiao’s ears heated up. He made some small ice chips for himself, wrapped them in a towel, and applied them.
Duan Ming: “The crew has prepared a cake for you. President Huo will probably come to cut it with you, giving you the first piece, congratulating you on completing filming…”
Liang Xiao was already defeated, closing his eyes heroically with a red face: “When the variety show starts filming, I will definitely persuade President Huo.”
Duan Ming looked at him for a long time, somewhat world-weary, patted his shoulder, and left with his assistant, taking the script.
…
For the last scene, Liang Xiao didn’t need to specifically go over the lines; he had long memorized the script backward and forward.
These days, the crew had been moving locations while filming, from the lush windbreak forest to the edge of the Gobi Desert. The scene now showed a visibly desolate landscape.
Several special effects makeup artists were adding final touches of blood to him, striving to make each wound as realistic as possible.
“No problem now,” the assistant director ran over. “All departments in position.”
Liang Xiao was fully prepared and mounted the horse.
Jin Zhenbo was completely at ease with him now and didn’t explain the scene much. After confirming the angles of several shots, he waved his hand: “Let’s begin.”
The slate in the script supervisor’s hand sounded.
“Cloud Flag, Scene 92, Take 1, begin!”
The camera panned across the barren Gobi Desert.
Scattered troops, flags long scorched by war flames hung tattered and drooping, smoke rising everywhere, corpses strewn across the field.
The young general rode his horse at full speed, a single dazzling flash of white in the setting sun that burned almost blood-red.
Cloud Flag, Scene 92, Take 2.
Horse hooves kicked up dust, which was heavily beaten back to the ground by warm blood.
Yun Lang’s cheeks were stained with blood, his handsome face filled with murderous intent.
Yun Lang tore off a strip of his undergarment, bit one end, and firmly bound the white wax spear shaft to his hand.
Cloud Flag, Scene 92, Take 3.
“What are you fighting for anyway?”
The Rongdi leader, cornered by him, tried his best to defend: “Your emperor has abandoned you, your court wants you dead. Even if you achieve great merit, you can never be pardoned!”
Yun Lang remained unmoved, turned his horse, and with one spear thrust, impaled the Rongdi man who had sneaked up behind him.
“You and they are enemies!” The Rongdi leader, with almost all his subordinates killed by Yun Lang, had cold sweat flowing down his temples. “This is not your home! Have you seen the refugees here? Weak as dogs, not even knowing how to resist, only knowing how to farm, only knowing how to beg for mercy…”
Yun Lang: “They were only ever supposed to know farming.”
The Rongdi leader was stunned.
Between life and death, there was no room for carelessness. Yun Lang’s spear, carrying powerful momentum, pierced his shoulder, drawing a spray of fresh blood.
Cloud Flag, Scene 92, Take 4.
“Our land, our people.”
Yun Lang’s techniques were merciless, driving him to the brink of death: “Their ancestors have been here for generations. They were only ever supposed to know farming, to live in peace and prosperity, to know safety.”
“Behind me, there is more vast territory, more people.”
Yun Lang’s eyes were cold: “Fishing, woodcutting, farming, reading, scholars, farmers, workers, merchants—there are too many ways to live. They shouldn’t have to fight.”
The two were too close for distant archers to shoot. The Rongdi leader, looking at the spear tip just inches away, turned pale.
“It was you who dragged them into the war.” Yun Lang thrust his spear into his chest and coldly mocked in a low voice, “Now you ask me, what am I fighting for?”
Cloud Flag, Scene 92, Take 5.
Bowstrings twanged as the archers’ powerful crossbows shot arrows in rapid succession.
Yun Lang rode with his spear, neither dodging nor avoiding. His spear, propelled by the horse’s speed, thrust forward fiercely, completely piercing through the Rongdi leader’s heart.
Arrows whistled through the air. The young general’s thin shoulders shuddered once, then again.
Blood seeped through.
Cloud Flag, Scene 92, Take 6.
Smoke signals, remnant troops, refugees.
Dusk stained with blood, war horses rearing and neighing.
…
Cloud Flag, Scene 93.
The sky had completely darkened.
The pursuers who had been hunting Yun Lang for thousands of miles arrived to find the battle had burned down to embers.
Corpses were everywhere. Yun Lang, half-covered in blood, leaned against a rock, playing with blood-soaked fireworks in his hand.
The lead guard dismounted, approached, and knelt on one knee.
“Remnant troops died for the country,” Yun Lang said. “Local recruits, refugees enlisted.”
Yun Lang: “Not one begged for mercy, not one tried to save himself.”
The guard had someone record this and said softly: “Young General.”
Yun Lang didn’t look at them. He found a fire starter, lit a firework himself, and let it go.
He had lost too much blood; there was hardly any place on his body that could be touched. The guard didn’t dare to move rashly and knelt closer: “Young General—”
Yun Lang frowned slightly, tilted his head to avoid a little, and took out another firework.
The guard fell to his knees and changed his address: “Young Marquis.”
It had been too long since Yun Lang had been properly addressed this way. His eyes moved slightly as he watched one firework after another bloom in the night sky.
The guard tried to support him but was rebuked by Yun Lang.
The fierce aura around him had completely dissipated, revealing the youthful spirit in his features. Pained by his wounds, he frowned and inhaled: “Which way is the capital?”
The guard was taken aback, turned around, and pointed in a direction.
Yun Lang found a dud, flicked it in his hand, and it flew out unsteadily, exploding into an inconspicuous burst.
“Young Marquis.” The guard could no longer hold back, crawled forward on his knees, and choked up: “Come back with us, treat your wounds quickly, there may still be a chance—”
Yun Lang had long since had nowhere to return to and couldn’t be bothered to listen to this. He closed his eyes.
The guard apologized and reached out to support him, but Yun Lang gripped his wrist, shook it, and pushed him away.
Yun Lang was already too injured to be touched. This movement caused him to cough up more blood.
The guard cried out anxiously: “Young Marquis!”
Yun Lang frowned tightly, closed his eyes, and took a breath: “Don’t move…”
Yun Lang: “It hurts.”
His tone was full of the same youthful arrogance and complaint, but his voice was already particularly indistinct and low, almost a murmur.
The guard didn’t dare move rashly, prostrated himself for a while, then rose with a heavy heart and tried calling out.
The fireworks hadn’t ended, but the smoke signals had extinguished.
…
“Cut!”
Jin Zhenbo exhaled deeply and straightened up: “Groups A and C, remove cameras; Group B, drone for distant view, that’s a wrap!”
The directors responded immediately. The set, which had been silent all evening, instantly erupted in cheers.
“Congratulations, congratulations.” The production manager, with a beaming smile, brought the cake over with the assistant director. “Liang Xiao, thank you for your hard work, congratulations on completing filming!”
Finally reaching the day of the lead actor’s wrap, most of the crew had specially come over, holding their breath and following for most of the night. Now they were all excitedly cheering, surrounding the cake tightly.
Liang Xiao immediately spotted President Huo in the crowd. His spirits lifted as he supported himself on his arm, jumped up, and ran a few steps with the prop arrows still stuck in his body.
The visual effect was too horrifying. He hadn’t run far before the prop team hurriedly caught up with him and removed the prop arrows one by one.
“That was amazing.” The producer had been fully focused all night and now also breathed a sigh of relief, walking over quickly. “Thank you for your hard work, everyone has had it tough.”
The producer helped the prop team clean up Liang Xiao and couldn’t help but exclaim: “It was beautiful, even Director Jin couldn’t find any fault.”
Liang Xiao had just realized he was covered in fake blood. He opened his arms to let the prop team deal with it, smiled, and expressed his thanks.
The producer handed him a towel: “Why did you throw that dud in the direction of the capital? Was it to express longing? ‘Who from the clouds will send news of victory…'”
Liang Xiao had specifically discussed this plot point with the screenwriter and honestly shook his head: “It was to blow up the capital.”
The producer: “…”
“Different people have different interpretations.” The screenwriter had a good attitude and waved his hand with a smile. “When it airs, there might be eighteen different character analyses online.”
Yun Lang was a young general, but also an arrogant young marquis. After doing what needed to be done, the young master’s temperament that no one could control would naturally lead to rebellion.
Having suffered such great injustice, enduring for two thousand miles, if he really had the chance to go back, he might indeed light a cannon to give those well-fed nobles in the palace a good scare.
The screenwriter had set up several subplot lines, all of which had been boldly cut by Director Jin, and he was still particularly regretful: “He actually did have a place to return to…”
Liang Xiao carefully wiped his face and hands clean, expressed his thanks, returned the towel, and offered a suggestion: “You could secretly release the script for the young prince and let everyone write fan fiction.”
The screenwriter’s eyes lit up. He nodded in agreement and took out a notebook to jot down a few notes: “Did Teacher Pei Guang do this in the ‘Year’s End’ crew? How was the response?”
Liang Xiao opened his mouth and coughed lightly.
…
Teacher Pei Guang hadn’t done that, but he had directly let him film a segment.
Hooked by that scene, the audience was already approaching the finale, having thoroughly shed their tears.
Now some people were vaguely realizing they had been tricked. The crew’s official Weibo was flooded with red comments, all heartfelt accusations of “trash crew, give me back my blood and tears.”
Liang Xiao didn’t dare to pass on this experience and gave a vague response. Just as he was about to go find President Huo, he looked up, and his eyes couldn’t help but brighten.
President Huo hadn’t waited for him outside but had parted the crowd and walked quickly to stand before him.
Jin Zhenbo had just finished checking Group B’s aerial shots and was high-fiving everyone, thanking them for their hard work. He was marching over to high-five the lead actor when the screenwriter and producer each grabbed an arm and dragged him away.
…
President Huo’s gaze fell on him, his chest rising and falling slightly.
Liang Xiao looked at him, tried to smile properly, but his heart was uncontrollably warming, and he blinked hastily.
“Wait… until we get back,” Liang Xiao cleared his throat, looked down at his blood-covered body. “Celebrate? A good hug-”
President Huo opened his arms and embraced him.
Liang Xiao was caught off guard, his heart skipping a beat.
President Huo’s temperature was consistently warm, penetrating through the cool fresh snow scent, firmly pressed against his chest.
Liang Xiao took a deep breath, ultimately unable to suppress his concern: “It’s hard to wash…”
President Huo tightened his arms and said softly: “Don’t worry about it.”
Liang Xiao wanted to cultivate the excellent quality of frugality in their President Huo. He raised his head to speak, but his chest was ultimately warm and full. He tugged at the corner of his mouth but couldn’t speak.
Liang Xiao closed his eyes for a moment, laughed softly, and buried his face in President Huo’s neck.
“Well done,” President Huo stroked his hair, was quiet for a moment. “Your performance was… excellent.”
He wasn’t very familiar with the specific filming process of movies and TV shows, but after watching from the sidelines these days, he had gained some understanding and could guess how much effort Liang Xiao had put in.
President Huo held him and could almost feel that Liang Xiao had become noticeably thinner than before filming started.
The filming task was already demanding enough, yet Liang Xiao would still try to find ways to work on his mindset when he returned from filming each day.
President Huo closed his eyes, ultimately unable to suppress his self-blame: “I’m sorry.”
Liang Xiao was still enjoying the victorious reunion embrace when he heard this. He was taken aback and opened his eyes: “What?”
“The variety show,” President Huo said. “I’ll do as you say.”
“Contractual relationship, maintain distance,” President Huo repeated softly. “Pretend… to be unfamiliar.”
Liang Xiao hadn’t figured out how President Huo had suddenly persuaded himself, opened his mouth, but was softened by President Huo’s overly downcast aura. He rubbed his back: “It’s alright, it’s just one week at most. Just hold up in public.”
Liang Xiao tugged at his sleeve: “Let’s… try it first?”
President Huo said softly: “Alright.”
Liang Xiao: “Maintain distance.”
President Huo lowered his gaze: “Mm.”
Duan Ming passed by these two who had been cuddling for at least five minutes and heard every word of this conversation: “…”
President Huo, true to his word, rigorously released his arms and stepped back with a body covered in fake blood just smeared from Mr. Liang, temporarily returning the newly wrapped lead actor to the crew.
“Brother Duan, President Huo agreed!” The assistant was very excited, pulling the manager to ask quietly. “No problem this time, right? Do we need to-”
“Shh.” Duan Ming covered his mouth. “Look.”
The assistant opened his eyes wide, holding his breath as he looked over.
Liang Xiao was naturally likable and had particularly good relationships with everyone in the crew. They congratulated each other on the wrap, and everyone generously took photos, shook hands, and hugged.
President Huo stood calmly and steadily at the side of the set, with small ice crystals forming on the fake blood on his body.
Liang Xiao was encouraged to cut the cake, but before he could steal the first piece back for their President Huo, Director Jin took it without hesitation and took a bite.
President Huo remained cold and composed, with small snowflakes swirling above his head.
Liang Xiao quickly grabbed the second piece, swiftly put it in President Huo’s hand, and had just returned to the crowd when he was surrounded by a lively group.
All the hard work and pressure of these days finally had an outlet. The group became rowdy without restraint, eating cake and making a commotion. Someone started the chant, and they grabbed Liang Xiao by his arms and legs and tossed him up in the air.
Duan Ming covered the assistant’s mouth, counting as he watched: “One, two, three-”
Just as he finished speaking, Liang Xiao, who was flying with his eyes closed and trembling, landed firmly and precisely in President Huo’s arms.
Liang Xiao opened his eyes, was taken aback, and reminded him softly: “Distance-”
President Huo, frost blade and snow sword, protecting the completely unfamiliar Mr. Liang, calmly nodded to the confused cake-eating director.
Maintaining distance, he carried the person out of the set.
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
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