***
Chapter 4 – Unspoken Rules
He Yujing’s pre-release track for his new album was titled ⟪Fading Colors⟫, and its MV was a story about inspiration and love.
A painter of modest fame found himself trapped in a creative slump. To clear his mind, he went out for a walk and ended up falling in love at first sight[mfn]一见钟情 (yī jiàn zhōng qíng)[/mfn] with a beautiful young man he happened to meet.
The two then fell deeply in love. The painter, inspired by his lover, continuously created new works that received widespread acclaim.
In the MV, He Yujing played the painter, while Jiang Liusui portrayed the lover who symbolized inspiration. They had numerous intimate scenes together, and up until the next twist, Jiang Liuisui still believes it’s just a sweet, carefree romance.
But then everything took a sharp turn.
While the lover was still immersed in the intensity of their romance, believing their passionate love would last forever, the painter unexpectedly proposed breaking up. A fierce argument erupted between them on a rainy night. The lover tearfully begged him to stay, but the painter turned and walked away without looking back.
The pain of losing this beautiful relationship pushed the painter to break through his limits once again. Using this experience as inspiration, he created a masterpiece unlike any before, finally achieving true fame.
It was an incredibly selfish yet artistically compelling story. Beneath the veil of romance lies a cold indifference to the world outside; from a certain perspective, it reflected a kind of obsessive drive for self-fulfillment.
“This script is unapologetically scummy,” remarked his assistant Ding Yan. A young man with a baby face, he was around the same age as Jiang Liusui. “I can’t believe Teacher He is playing a heartbreaker.[mfn]负心汉 (fù xīn hàn) – a heartless man; describe a man who breaks someone’s heart, betrays love, or is disloyal in a romantic relationship[/mfn]”
Jiang Liusui pictured He Yujing’s face—just one careless smile, and it was undeniably alluring. Somehow, playing a scoundrel seemed almost effortless for him.
“It actually suits him quite well.”
Ding Yan muttered, “He’s got guts. Isn’t he afraid of getting criticized?”
“It’s not as serious as you think. It’s just a story—no one’s going to take it as a reflection on him.” Jiang Liusui chuckled. If it’s well done, people will definitely praise him. Besides, aren’t all artists a little… eccentric?”
Ding Yan thought for a moment. “Hmm, that makes sense.”
While Jiang Liusui was getting his makeup done, Ding Yan went out to fetch him a drink. The filming location was a small Western-style house with a garden. He wandered around the location for a while and returned, exclaiming, “I’ve never seen such an elaborate setup for a music video.”
“Yeah, just building the set took over a week,” the makeup artist chimed in. Although young, she had been part of He Yujing’s styling team for several years. Her hands were steady, and her work was both meticulous and efficient. “The overall style was personally decided by Teacher He.”
As she spoke, she finished the final touches and said to Jiang Liusui, “All done. Take a look—see for yourself.” She couldn’t help but gush, “Really… your features are just perfect. Everything just looks good on you.”
Jiang Liusui stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment.
“Why does it feel a bit… provocative[mfn]不太正经 (bù tài zhèng jīng) – lit. not very proper/serious; colloquially can mean a bit naughty, playful, or flirtatious.[/mfn]?” He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow slightly.he murmured, raising an eyebrow. His lashes were naturally long and thick, but with the makeup and light-colored contact lenses, his eyes looked hazy, as if they were randomly casting flirtatious glances.
Every subtle shift in his expression was perfectly echoed by the reflection, making the image in the mirror even more striking and alive.
“Like a fox spirit.[mfn]像狐狸精 (xiàng hú lí jīng) – culturally, fox spirits in Chinese folklore are often beautiful but cunning and seductive. It’s a playful/slightly teasing way to describe someone as charmingly dangerous or flirtatious.[/mfn]”
“Heh, you really know how to flatter me,” said the makeup artist, utterly smitten. “It’s the production team’s request—they wanted the makeup to be more glamorous. I heard that in the original script your role was female, but after they picked you, they revised it, so they just went ahead and gave you a softer, more elegant look.”
Jiang Chuan was tied up with work and couldn’t be there, so he told Jiang Liusui to contact him if anything came up and specifically reminded Ding Yan to keep a close eye on things.
By the time they reached the set, the crew was already in position, and the props team was adjusting the lights. Jiang Liusui passed by the director’s group and greeted Wu Qi.
The audition for ⟪The Glass Mirror⟫ had been conducted via video recording, so this was his first time meeting Wu Qi in person.
Wu Qi’s gaze slowly swept over Jiang Liusui’s face, his eyes revealing undisguised admiration, before he smiled and said, “I’ve never seen you in person before. I didn’t expect you to be this remarkable.”
Wu Qi gave Jiang Liusui a light pat on the shoulder, casual yet with a hint of something unspoken as he squeezed it slightly. “First time shooting an MV, right? Make sure you give it your all.”
Jiang Liusui paused briefly before responding with a smile.
He found Wu Qi’s behavior a bit odd, but Wu Qi moved on immediately, turning his attention back to discussing the set layout with the props master.
From nearby came the faint rustle of movement. Jiang Liusui glanced over and saw a tall, striking young man emerging from another dressing room. He was on the phone, laughing and teasing the person on the other end every so often, with his assistant trailing obediently behind.
He Yujing wore a loose orange hoodie under a black bomber jacket with printed patterns, paired with casual trousers. Such bright and bold colors didn’t suit most men, but on him, they looked effortlessly stylish and fitting in every way.
On the other end of the call, Chi Lianxi feigned concern: “I heard you’ve been struggling to find someone for your MV. Want your buddy to step in?”
“Get lost.”
“I’ll even give you a friendly rate[mfn]友情价 (yǒu qíng jià) – used when someone offers a lower price than usual as a favor for a friend[/mfn]—seven figures,” Chi Lianxi continued, speaking as if every word carried weight. “By the end of the year, when I win an award, my value won’t stop there.”
He Yujing snorted dismissively: “You said the same thing three years ago. Go dream about winning Best Actor at the end of the year.”
“……” Chi Lianxi nodded. “Fine, suit yourself. Don’t come begging me to shoot for you later.”
“I’ve already found the right person,” He Yujing replied, puzzled. “Besides, with your looks[mfn]就你那点姿色 (jiù nǐ nà diǎn zī sè) – lit. with only that little bit of looks you have[/mfn], what reason would I have to beg you?”
Chi Lianxi had been in the industry for years. Even if his acting skills had been questioned, no one had ever doubted his looks. He couldn’t help but be amused—and annoyed—by He Yujing’s sharp tongue[mfn]贱嘴 (jiàn zuǐ) – lit. cheap mouth, meaning someone who is sharp-tongued, sarcastic, or teasing.[/mfn]: “Is the person you found really that good-looking?”
He Yujing, originally too lazy to waste words with him, inadvertently glanced at Jiang Liusui not far away, and his gaze paused.
He mercilessly mocked the narcissistic Chi Lianxi: “A hundred times better looking than you.”
The moment He Yujing stepped in, all eyes turned to him. Wu Qi quickly moved forward to greet him. Jiang Liusui watched him hang up the phone and walk over. “Teacher He, it’s good to see you again.”
He Yujing casually nodded: “A few days ago you called me ‘ge’ right? Just keep calling me that.”
He had actually seen that Weibo post.
Jiang Liusui was momentarily surprised but complied: “Yu-ge.”
“Mm.”
He Yujing responded, then lowered his head and continued looking at his phone. Seeing this, Jiang Liusui didn’t initiate conversation anymore.
Being able to exchange even a single word with He Yujing was an opportunity countless people dreamed of. Even just to make one more connection, he should have stepped forward. If Jiang Chuan were here, he would have scolded him for being clueless about social etiquette.
The morning shoot started in the middle of the script—the passionate phase of the painter and his lover’s relationship—requiring many intimate scenes to be filmed.
The studio had been elaborately transformed into the couple’s shared haven[mfn]爱巢 (ài cháo) – lit. love nest[/mfn]. Scattered across the floor were painted canvases, while the walls and ceiling were adorned with vibrant artworks—some created by the painter alone, others hand-drawn together with his lover. A beige blanket spilled from a low bed of matching tones onto the wooden floor. Soft, plush cushions of all shapes and sizes were strewn everywhere. The entire space was predominantly simple, clean white tones, yet the abundance of details infused it with romance and a rich sense of artistry.
The painter stood utterly absorbed in his work, brush moving stroke by stroke. The lover crept up quietly from behind, slipped an arm around his neck, and as the painter turned, a sweet smile blossomed across the lover’s face—
“Cut!” Wu Qi called out sharply. “Jiang Liusui, your movements are too stiff! You’re in the honeymoon phase—this is the person you love most. Even just gazing at his back should radiate happiness. Don’t just go through the motions like a block of wood!”
Being stopped right after filming began, Jiang Liusui didn’t overthink it and apologized, “Sorry, I haven’t gotten into character yet.”
Wu Qi pointed out several more shortcomings, and Jiang Liusui acknowledged each one. The shoot resumed.
The camera slowly pushed in, focusing on a pair of slender feet. Faint blue veins traced the pale insteps as they moved, step by measured step, across the carpet.
Jiang Liusui nudged aside a pillow with his foot and gently approached He Yujing from behind. He bent down, about to wrap his arms around the man’s neck—
“Cut!” Wu Qi’s voice was cold. You’re moving too fast. The speed of your reach is off—you’ve completely ruined the mood.”
Jiang Liusui’s brow knit, so subtly it was almost impossible to notice.
He always felt that Wu Qi was calling stops too quickly, and the reasons seemed somewhat forced. But since the director said so, perhaps his acting really wasn’t good enough. Suppressing his doubts, he replied gently, “Sorry for the trouble—let’s do it one more time.”
Yet, not long after, Wu Qi called for another stop, this time criticizing his expression for being unnatural. This cycle repeated over and over, and after more than an hour, there was still no progress.
The constant NG[mfn]NG – filming slang from “No Good,” meaning a failed take.[/mfn]s gradually stiffened the atmosphere on set. During another take, Wu Qi cut the performance short again.
“You’re playing to the camera too consciously,” he said with a sigh, a note of resignation in his voice. “Let’s take a short break—reset, and try to find the right feeling.”
Jiang Liusui straightened without a word. He Yujing turned around and sat down in a relaxed posture, his hands casually propped up on either side.
Suddenly, He Yujing spoke, his tone laced with a hint of feigned curiosity, “Is it really that hard to play lovers with me?”
Jiang Liusui met his gaze but didn’t know how to respond. “It’s not that…”
He Yujing mistook her silence for awkward panic and chuckled softly. “I’m just teasing you. I’m not that frightening, am I?”
With that, he pushed himself up with one hand. “Take a rest.”
He Yujing walked off calmly to the side. The assistant immediately passed him a bottle of water, while the makeup artist leaned in, checking whether any touch-ups were needed. After a moment’s thought, Wu Qi approached him and lowered his voice. “Mr. He, Xiao Jiang is struggling to get into character. We might need a few more takes. I hope you’ll bear with us.”
He Yujing had been in the industry for many years and was long accustomed to all kinds of shady characters[mfn]牛鬼蛇神 (niú guǐ shé shén) – lit. ox demons and snake spirits; a vivid idiom for all manner of unsavory, strange, or morally dubious people.[/mfn] within the circle. He sensed something off about the morning’s shoot but kept it to himself. Instead, he brushed past the issue with an ambiguous remark. “Director Wu, you know Jiang Liusui was someone I personally selected. I’ll have to trouble you to give him more guidance.”
“……” Wu Qi paused, momentarily at a loss as to what he meant. Finally, he laughed and said, “I’d heard about that before, but I thought it was your company that cast him. You have a good eye—his looks really do suit this script…”
He Yujing didn’t pick up the conversation this time. Wu Qi could only continue with a few more words of polite praise on his own.
After the break, they finally managed to shoot one or two scenes that were barely usable.
The entire morning’s shoot had been extremely rough. Wu Qi kept finding fault with Jiang Liusui at every turn. The staff around them whispered among themselves, their gazes frequently drifting toward Jiang Liusui.
Sensing the subtle atmosphere on set, during the lunch break, Ding Yan brought Jiang Liusui his meal and couldn’t help feeling upset on his behalf: You did great. I was right there watching, and I couldn’t see anything wrong. That Director Wu is nitpicking, like picking bones out of an egg[mfn]鸡蛋里挑骨头 (jī dàn lǐ tiāo gǔ tóu) – to find fault where there is none[/mfn]—”
“Shh,” Jiang Liusui signaled for Ding Yan to stop, lowering his voice. Director Wu is a renowned director. Of course his standards are higher.”
Not long after he spoke, Wu Qi, cigarette clenched between his teeth, called him over. “Xiao Jiang, come here. Let me go over the scene with you.”
Jiang Liusui set down his unopened lunchbox and followed Wu Qi to the corridor outside the villa’s living room.
Alone, he had assumed Wu Qi would go over his mistakes in detail. But instead, Wu Qi casually tossed his nearly finished cigarette onto the carpet, crushed the ember under his shoe, and abruptly asked, “You’ve auditioned for ⟪The Glass Mirror⟫ before, right?”
Jiang Liusui blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Yes,” he replied.
“Honestly, you were the better fit for that role in every way, but the producers were never going to choose you from the beginning.” Wu Qi’s gaze lingered on Jiang Liusui’s fair neck as he drawled, “If you stick with me, you can land roles in any major production. Not just supporting roles—lead roles aren’t out of the question either.”
“……”
“I can promote you, give you more and better resources.” Wu Qi’s words dripped with unhidden desire as he smiled at him with smug confidence. “Something bigger than ⟪The Glass Mirror⟫, a project that could make you famous overnight…”
In Wu Qi’s eyes, these unknown young actors were the easiest to tempt. He’d played this game with countless others—whenever someone caught his interest, he’d test the waters, and he’d never failed.
Moreover, anyone with eyes could see that Jiang Liusui’s involvement in ⟪The Glass Mirror⟫’s casting had been purely as a foil. Who wouldn’t feel resentful in such a situation?
By extending this olive branch[mfn]抛出橄榄枝 (pāo chū gǎn lǎn zhī) – offer peace, help, or an opportunity; often implies an expectation of gratitude or compliance.[/mfn] now, Wu Qi expected Jiang Liusui to accept it with gratitude.
But Jiang Liusui, having confirmed Wu Qi’s true intentions, had his polite smile slowly fade from his face. He looked at the man before him—eyes lined with countless wrinkles—without any trace of emotion.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in that kind of arrangement. If you don’t plan to discuss the scene, I won’t disturb you—”
Wu Qi cut him off. “Your acting isn’t the issue. It’s you I’m dissatisfied with.”
Jiang Liusui stared back coldly. Oddly, the refusal didn’t anger Wu Qi. If anything, it made him more intrigued.
This boy looked easygoing, but beneath that surface was a streak of untamed pride. Both his looks and his temperament were exactly to Wu Qi’s taste.
Although he had a weakness for beautiful faces, he rarely used such direct methods to pressure artists. After all, these things worked best when both parties were willing—forcing it only brought trouble and complications. But Jiang Liusui’s face was truly irresistible. From the moment he laid eyes on him that morning, Wu Qi had taken an interest.
During the casting for ⟪The Glass Mirror⟫, he knew the investors had long since settled on Tang Xiao and everyone else was just there to fill space. He had never even watched Jiang Liusui’s audition tape. If he had known there was someone like him…
No—now that they’d crossed paths, it wasn’t too late.
“This MV is a rare opportunity for you. Do you know how many models and actors are fighting tooth and nail[mfn]争破了头 (zhēng pò le tóu) – lit. competing until one breaks their head[/mfn] for this role?” Wu Qi abruptly changed his tone. “If you can’t handle it, there are plenty waiting to take your place.”
Jiang Liusui’s pupils contracted for a moment. The worst-case scenario he had vaguely sensed that morning had been confirmed, and his mood plummeted instantly.
Wu Qi was deliberately finding all sorts of excuses to block his scenes from passing. With the director’s authority, as long as the reasons seemed plausible, the rest of the crew would simply assume the actor’s professional skills weren’t up to par. If this kept going on and delayed progress, sooner or later the whole crew would become dissatisfied.
He either had to bow to Wu Qi and accept the unspoken rules[mfn]潜规则 (qián guī zé) – unspoken, often morally dubious expectations or demands in a professional context. Here, refers to coercive industry practices.[/mfn], or be kicked out and lose this MV filming opportunity.
…Damn it! This bastard.
Jiang Liusui cursed inwardly.
He really was a master at doing dirty tricks.
First, he didn’t reveal his motives—instead, he struck a blow out of nowhere, then followed it up with a mixture of coercion and sweet promises[mfn]软硬皆施 (ruǎn yìng jiē shī) – lit. apply both soft and hard methods; using both persuasion and coercion[/mfn]. A slightly timid or cautious actor might have been shaken.
Knowing that Jiang Liusui had already grasped the stakes, Wu Qi feigned concern and sighed, “You need to seize this hard-won opportunity. You’re so young—if you make the right choices, you’ll achieve great things in the future.”
“I have high hopes for you, Xiao Jiang.”
As Wu Qi stepped forward, reaching out as if to touch him, Jiang Liusui subtly avoided the gestureHe forced his anger down and spoke evenly, “Thank you for thinking so highly of me. But I’m young and inexperienced—there are some opportunities I simply can’t take.”
If he weren’t constrained by circumstances, he would have liked nothing more than to knock this lecherous old man flat.
Old enough to be his father, yet his mind was filled with nothing but indecent thoughts—doesn’t he fear getting sick someday?
Wu Qi raised a hand, signaling he wouldn’t come closer, and smiled. “Don’t speak too soon. Think it over carefully.”
Jiang Liusui shot him an icy glare before turning and leaving the corridor.
Seeing him return and sit down without saying a word, Ding Yan asked in a low, worried voice, “What’s wrong, Suisui? Did Director Wu scold you?”
“…It’s nothing,” Jiang Liusui muttered, then lowered his head and opened his now-cold lunchbox. Seeing this, Ding Yan hurriedly stopped him: “Wait! I’ll heat it up for you.”
Jiang Liusui distractedly agreed. He was disgusted and sickened after Wu Qi’s threats and temptations, and could barely eat anything at lunch.
Until the afternoon shoot began, he still clung to a faint hope—that Wu Qi wouldn’t continue harassing him after his clear rejection.
But once filming started, Wu Qi went even further. Using poor performance as an excuse, he demanded a retake of the morning’s scenes. He spoke convincingly, and since Wu Qi was a famous director, the rest of the crew didn’t think there was any problem.
“……” He Yujing glanced at Wu Qi. The director, catching his eyes, looked a little uneasy and quickly looked away.
The clapperboard snapped.
“ACTION!”
Jiang Liusui bent down, looping his arms around He Yujing’s neck from behind as he painted. Contrary to his relaxed appearance, his clenched fingers were nearly digging marks into his palms.
The sudden demand to reshoot the morning scenes was clearly a deliberate provocation. Perhaps because of his refusal, Wu Qi wanted to teach him a lesson.
Jiang Liusui lowered his head, burying his face in the crook of He Yujing’s neck. He caught a faint, delicate scent—different from last time. He Yujing had switched to a floral perfume, which softened his otherwise aggressive aura, lending him a lazy, gentle charm.
Shen Sijia had mentioned countless times that their “gege’s” personality was straightforward and proud, and he couldn’t tolerate lowly schemes.
The first time they met, He Yujing had stepped in to help him at the club simply because he couldn’t stand by and watch.
Should he trust this person once? Besides, there really wasn’t a better option at the moment.
As he lifted his head, Jiang Liusui suddenly whispered, “Yu-ge.”
They were some distance away from the cameras and crew, and the scene required them to lip-sync as if conversing quietly. Jiang Liusui’s voice was so soft that only He Yujing could hear.
The other raised his eyebrows slightly, turning to him and whispering in return, “What’s wrong?”
“Director Wu is doing this on purpose,” Jiang Liusui said. Following the script’s requirement, he half-seductively leaned in, pressing his forehead against He Yujing’s. “He wants me to agree to a little… favor of his.”
They were so close that even their breaths seemed to mingle. He Yujing heard him murmur pleadingly, “I haven’t agreed… but I don’t know what he might do… He might try to replace me or—”
He Yujing cut him off. “He doesn’t have that much authority. Casting decisions aren’t his concern.”
Jiang Liusui froze at his words, momentarily breaking character from his lovestruck expression.
“It was me who chose you.”
“Cut—!”
“Jiang Liusui, what are you doing?” Wu Qi hadn’t expected him to lose focus during filming. . He immediately said sternly, “What’s with that expression?! You were supposed to be showing affection, and instead you’re making faces at me?”
He Yujing looked toward Wu Qi, seemingly about to get up. In a moment of urgency, Jiang Liushi grabbed the hem of his hoodie.
“Don’t go…!”
It wasn’t the first time, He Yujing thought.
He Yujing observed him, noting how Jiang Liushi’s gaze reminded him of a small, fluffy kitten. Yet with today’s makeup, he seemed more like a clever little fox.
The vague suspicions he’d had earlier aligned with Jiang Liusui’s account.Whether it was true or not didn’t matter—emotionally, he had already begun leaning one way.
He Yujing settled back down, guided by Jiang Liusui’s tug, and signaled him to continue speaking.
Seeing that he seemed to believe him somewhat, Jiang Liusui felt a bit more assured.
“Words alone aren’t proof. I’ll pretend to play along with Director Wu and agree to his demands. Have someone eavesdrop on our conversation. If what I say is confirmed, I hope you can make him back off—at least enough to finish this MV properly.”
In this industry, no one liked meddling in other people’s business. By confiding in He Yujing, Jiang Liusui was taking a gamble, and his heart was filled with anxiety.
If He Yujing refused, he’d have no choice but to let things fall apart[mfn]破罐破摔 (pò guàn pò shuāi) – lit. if the jar is broken, smash it completely; to give up entirely or act recklessly when there seems to be no way out.[/mfn].
After all, he couldn’t afford the penalty for breaking the contract, and he couldn’t possibly agree to Wu Qi’s indecent proposal. He might as well drag things out. If the MV remained unfinished, He Yujing would be the one most affected. But letting it escalate too far would be messy, and he could end up offending He Yujing as well—that would be the worst outcome.
The man in front of him frowned, seemingly reluctant to accept his request.
Jiang Liusui felt half of his heart sink.
He Yujing said softly, “Won’t that mean letting him take advantage of you?”
Jiang Liusui froze for a moment, then heard him say, You don’t need to go verify it yourself. I’ll take care of it.”
Seeing that he was actually willing to intervene directly, Jiang Liusui’s eyes instinctively widened in surprise.
“But if you lie to me,” He Yujing looked over with a half-smile, his expression carrying a hint of mischief, and his words sent a chill down one’s spine.
“Compared to Wu Qi’s petty tricks, I’II make things much worse for you.”
Author’s Note:
Sui: secretly tattling
Jing: showing favoritism before knowing the full story
— — — —
