Lin Zhu trembled slightly.
The midsummer night still held onto the lingering heat of the day. He stood beside Zhong Yao, wrapped in a cool, unyielding aura, but it felt as if he were slowly thawing, the ice covering his heart melting away bit by bit.
Zhong Yao looked serious and proper. For a moment, no one could tell if he was joking or being sincere. Instinctively, everyone fell silent, holding their breath and exchanging glances.
“Veteran Actor, you have a bright future.”
In the midst of the silence, the screenwriter finally stopped writing and clicked his tongue with amusement. “From child bride straight to lifelong contract. Imagine your agent at seventy, swinging a cane to fight for your roles, reading scripts with reading glasses, and smashing people’s heads with a wheelchair if you don’t get them…”
Laughter broke out all around. Lin Zhu choked unexpectedly and couldn’t help but lower his head and laugh.
Seeing Lin Zhu finally smile, everyone around him relaxed and started joking one after another, quickly moving on from the topic.
Zhong Yao’s gaze remained on Lin Zhu. He was about to speak to him when the screenwriter, waving the newly edited script, abruptly dragged him out of the crowd without giving him a chance to resist.
Lin Zhu still wore a faint smile and responded softly to those around him.
His gaze followed Zhong Yao as he walked away, and only after a while did he slowly look back, then headed to the dressing room to change and return his costume, quietly returning to his room alone.
They had come in a hurry, bringing only their personal belongings and what was in the car. Zhong Yao’s luggage was still in the corner, and the room felt spacious and silent.
As he returned, Lin Zhu glanced toward the hallway. There were drag marks from the mahjong table on the carpet outside the next room, suggesting it had already been moved out.
Filming was about to enter its final stage, and the crew would only get busier. Even if the director was reluctant, it was unlikely he’d have much time for mahjong anymore.
Lin Zhu closed the door with a long exhale, unwrapped a candy and popped it in his mouth, shook his head hard, and bounced in place.
It’s no big deal.
This kind of mindset wasn’t new to him. He’d always handled it just fine. It’s just that this time, the dream suddenly came true, and in the midst of the joy and fear of losing it, someone accidentally hit the most vulnerable spot, and suddenly, he lost control.
Just this once. Next time, even such a little thing can’t be allowed to knock him down.
Lin Zhu pinched his own cheek and gave himself a mental reminder. He went into the bathroom to remove his makeup, cupped a handful of cool water, took a deep breath, and buried his face in it.
Amidst the sound of running water, the door opened, then quietly closed again.
Zhong Yao had entered.
He had already removed his makeup earlier. Zhong Yao casually set down his script and coat, followed the sound of water to stand outside the bathroom, his gaze landing on the slender young man with his face submerged in the sink.
The water masked all sound. Lin Zhu didn’t hear his footsteps. After a while, he lifted his head, eyes shut, shook off the water, and reached blindly for the towel.
The towel was a bit far. His hand missed, and just as he was about to reach again, a hand had already picked it up and gently began patting his face dry.
The touch was light, slow, and tender, carefully wiping away the droplets on his face.
Lin Zhu’s heartbeat abruptly sped up. He stood frozen, caught off guard. Instinctively, he tried to open his eyes. But suddenly, a warm body wrapped around him.
Zhong Yao was hugging him.
The last time Lin Zhu had mustered the courage to hug Zhong Yao, he had already thrown caution to the wind. He never imagined that Zhong Yao would be the one to hug him this time. His chest felt so full it hurt a little, and his breath hitched. His voice came out hoarse. “ Zhong-laoshi…”
Zhong Yao tightened his arms slightly, letting him rest on his shoulder.
Lin Zhu was dazed. He instinctively followed the pull and leaned in. The dampness in his eyes, just barely gone, began to well up again. He quickly blinked hard to hold it back.
He wasn’t used to being this weak. Just as he was about to force a smile, Zhong Yao’s palm gently ruffled his hair. “What’s wrong… are you unhappy?”
Zhong Yao wasn’t the best with words.
Since his debut, he had spent most of his time with actors two or three decades older than him. His way of speaking belonged to a version of the entertainment industry from twenty years ago. Sweet, flowery words to coax people? He couldn’t do that. He could only ask things directly and seriously.
But Lin Zhu couldn’t resist that. His chest ached sharply, and his tears finally slipped out despite himself.
He hadn’t cried in front of anyone in so long. Afraid Zhong Yao would notice, he held his breath and tried to calm down, wiping away the tears with his sleeve, coughing twice to cover it up. “No…”
“No?”
Zhong Yao loosened his embrace a little, glanced at his reddened eyes, and paused. “You’re not upset that I said I want to act until I’m eighty?”
Lin Zhu looked up in surprise.
“That’s good.”
Zhong Yao let out a breath of relief. “Things like lifelong contracts are relics of the feudal era. Let’s not talk about that. I do want to act until I’m old. I made that career plan for both of us without asking your permission. If you don’t want that, we can adjust it. I can revise my life plan. We’ll stop at seventy-five.”
Lin Zhu: “…”
Lin Zhu finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh.
Zhong Yao quietly watched him. When he saw that clear smile finally light up Lin Zhu’s eyes again, he allowed himself a slight smile too, patting his back. “Come on, let’s eat.”
“Now?”
Lin Zhu paused for a moment, glancing at the pitch-black sky outside, completely puzzled as to which meal this was supposed to be.
Instinctively following Zhong Yao’s lead, he let himself be pulled out of the restroom and watched as Zhong Yao rummaged through his small carry-on from the trunk, pulling out a portable cooking pot and two packs of tomato beef-flavored instant noodles.
“Late-night snack. When you’re in a bad mood, you have to eat something good.”
Having suffered years of “stargazing[mfn]being broke and under pressure[/mfn]” abroad, Zhong Yao had developed a rare obsession with instant noodles. He said this with complete seriousness, pouring in water and plugging in the pot, then adding the seasoning packets and stirring them in. “Check their pantry. Do they have sausages? Luncheon meat is fine too. Just bring it over…”
Lin Zhu hurried over to rummage through the hotel’s mini pantry, finding two sausages, a can of luncheon meat, and two marinated eggs, which he placed beside Zhong Yao.
Zhong Yao didn’t ask him why he was suddenly upset, nor did he let Lin Zhu help. Skillfully boiling the noodles, draining the water, and slicing the luncheon meat, he even pulled out a sealed bag of cheese slices from some corner of his luggage, cut a bit off, and stirred it into the pot without a rush.
The tempting aroma instantly filled the room.
“What a pity, missing a bit of scallion and egg.”
Zhong Yao said this regretfully as he scored the sausages and tossed them in, covering the pot to let it sit for 45 seconds before turning off the heat and plating. “Here, bring the lunch box.”
Lin Zhu had been so distracted by Zhong Yao’s effortless master-chef vibe that he’d almost forgotten why he was upset in the first place. Snapping back to reality, he hurriedly handed over the lunch box and hesitated. “You… eat scallions?”
Lin Zhu could recite Zhong Yao’s profile from memory. This People’s Veteran Actor, who could eat corn on the cob while filming on remote mountainsides, was known for his strict avoidance of strong seasonings. He’d count out peppercorns, steer clear of five-spice powder, and avoid scallions, ginger, garlic, and cilantro unless absolutely necessary for the dish.
Maybe he’d just been traumatized for too long abroad…
Looking at Actor Zhong who carried his own instant noodles and pot, Lin Zhu suddenly felt a pang of sympathy and made a silent vow to find him more good food in the future.
“I don’t eat them.”
Zhong Yao was dividing the noodles into the lunch boxes. At Lin Zhu’s question, he shook his head and sighed regretfully, “But they look nice for plating.”
Lin Zhu: “……”
Zhong Yao looked up, meeting Lin Zhu’s gaze with a soft smile. He reached out to ruffle Lin Zhu’s hair and handed him the lunch box. “Eat while it’s still good, or the noodles will clump.”
Three years of self-reliance had honed Zhong Yao’s cooking skills.
The sweet and tangy tomato-based broth was rich and fragrant, the beef chunks impressively real and tender. The noodles, cooked to perfection, were coated in a cheesy, hearty soup base that shimmered invitingly under the lights.
Even though Lin Zhu had already eaten earlier, he couldn’t help but swallow at the sight and smell.
Zhong Yao added a spoonful of soup to his bowl. A little sausage cut to look like a mini-octopus rolled in with it, wobbling cutely as it settled at the edge of the bowl.
Lin Zhu’s attention was instantly caught again. The warmth started to spread from his chest outward, and he couldn’t help but glance up at Zhong Yao — only to meet the soft, amused gaze in those deep black eyes.
Blushing, Lin Zhu quickly buried his face in the lunch box.
After eating their fill, the moon had already risen high.
When Zhong Yao came in earlier, he hadn’t shut the door properly, and by the time Lin Zhu noticed, it was too late. In the dead of night, the smell of instant noodles wafted out through the crack and boldly invaded the hallway.
After the two had returned, there were still two ensemble shots left to film for transitions and scenery. The rest of the crew couldn’t clock out yet. These scenes didn’t feature the main cast and were prone to nitpicking and reshoots. Director Wei demanded high standards. He insisted on capturing the opulence of a wealthy household convincingly; so, what should have been a ten-second shot dragged late into the night.
The entire crew had been working nonstop all day and were now groggy from hunger and exhaustion. Climbing back upstairs with their gear, they were instantly hit by the scent of instant noodles. Their dull eyes became alert, as they followed the smell straight to Lin Zhu’s room.
“There’s kind of a crowd outside. Liang-laoshi is leading the charge, and they’re all squatting at the door…”
Peeking through the peephole like he was in a zombie movie, Lin Zhu turned to report back to Zhong Yao. “They said… if you don’t hand over the noodles, they won’t let you go back to your room to sleep.”
They had just finished the last of the soup, and Zhong Yao was leaning back on the sofa digesting when he heard this. He let out a helpless chuckle, “What now? I only brought two packs…”
It was already very late, and Zhong Yao had a scene tomorrow with Zheng Lingyang. He couldn’t afford to be in poor condition. Lin Zhu began to panic and turned to grab a coat. “I’ll go buy more? There should still be a 7-11 open now. I—”
Before he could finish, Zhong Yao had already walked over.
Lin Zhu had just been hugged by him and had a warm, satisfying meal. His earlier sadness had long vanished. Now, as Zhong Yao approached, he flushed again and reflexively finished his thought. “I’ll just say it’s from you, for everyone…”
“No need.”
Zhong Yao leaned against the door with him, glancing out through the peephole. He patted Lin Zhu’s shoulder and said calmly, “Let them squat. I’ll just sleep here tonight.”
