***
Chapter 61 – Showing Favor
After the video call connected, Jiang Liusui and He Yujing stared at each other, neither speaking first.
On the surface, Jiang Liusui barely managed to keep it together. He didn’t want to be the one to speak first—frantically explaining would make him seem very guilty… even though he was indeed guilty. Still, he had to hold out until He Yujing showed his attitude!
Out of nowhere, He Yujing asked, “So when I’m not around, this is what you read?”
Jiang Liusui was caught off guard by the accusation and choked out, “Why do you make it sound like I read this often?” Jiang Liusui emphasized, “I only saw this for the first time today.”
He deliberately stressed the words “first time.” However, He Yujing ignored his good intentions and said meaningfully, “So you like this kind of thing, huh?”
Thinking about the stage outfit mentioned in that explicit fanfic—and the series of developments that followed—Jiang Liusui’s voice turned weak. “This is a misunderstanding. I sent it to the wrong person…”
He Yujing deliberately twisted his meaning: “What’s there to be embarrassed about? Instead of telling others, you should just tell me directly. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us.”
He paused and specifically added, “Actually, your request is quite easy to fulfill.”
“……” Jiang Liusui couldn’t take it anymore and decided to act just as unreasonably as him. “In the novel, you come to find me after your concert. But now, where are you?”
Seeing him act so unreasonably, the man on the other end actually laughed.
He Yujing’s expression was teasing. “Do you miss me?”
“Yeah. Is that not allowed?” Jiang Liusui had been laughed at all night, so he simply gave up pretending and doubled down.
He had expected to be teased again, but He Yujing answered naturally, “Mm. I miss you too.”
Jiang Liusui was stunned for a moment. He Yujing continued to ask, “How much longer will your movie take to film?”
Jiang Liusui calculated the dates. “My scenes should wrap up around early December.”
“The tour won’t be over by then. If you don’t have other work, I can take you along.” He Yujing very considerately added, “But of course, it mainly depends on whether Teacher Jiang has the schedule for it.”
When Jiang Liusui heard that he could join He Yujing during the later part of the tour, he was already a little happy—especially after being coaxed like that.
But Jiang Liusui didn’t agree directly. Instead, he imitated He Yujing’s usual arrogant demeanor and said cockily, “We’ll see how I feel.”
The role of Li Yan, the third male lead in ⟪Eternal Bell⟫, had relatively few scenes. It wasn’t until most of the other actors had been filming for over half a month that Wei Zixiao, who played Li Yan, finally joined the crew.
When Tianguang Media agreed to invest in ⟪Eternal Bell⟫, one of their conditions was that a suitable role must be given to Wei Zixiao. As the biological son of Tianguang Media’s CEO and the most popular member of a current idol group, Wei Zixiao had entered the entertainment industry largely out of a love for singing and dancing. He knew nothing about acting and had rushed into the crew after a few months of crash-courses training.
On his first day on set, Wei Zixiao was, unsurprisingly, harshly criticized by Director Pei. He was very tall and stood there with his head down, silently listening to the scolding.
“Suisui,” Shang Qingzhi sat with Jiang Liusui during lunch, “do you have scenes with Wei Zixiao this afternoon?”
Jiang Liusui hummed in acknowledgment. He had been resting off-set that morning and happened to run into Director Pei giving a lecture as soon as he arrived. He glanced a few more times at the unfamiliar young man. “Was the filming slow this morning?”
Shang Qingzhi hesitated, as if unsure how to respond. “The kid has a good attitude, it’s just…” He truly wasn’t very skilled at acting. A short scene had been filmed over and over again. But Wei Zixiao had greeted everyone individually when he arrived today, and she had a rather good impression of him—although Director Pei Wen was probably quite frustrated.
The two of them didn’t continue discussing the newcomer. Shang Qingzhi asked about something she was more interested in: “I saw those airport photos last time, you and Yu-ge…?”
“We’re dating,” Jiang Liusui said. Seeing her stunned expression, he quickly made a shushing gesture. “Keep it a secret for now.”
Shang Qingzhi immediately nodded with a smile, seeming genuinely happy. “That’s wonderful!”
Jiang Liusui hadn’t forgotten what Shang Qingzhi had asked him about before and inquired in return, “What about you and Qin-ge?”
Shang Qingzhi appeared somewhat shy. “We’ve been chatting a lot after filming lately.”
Jiang Liusui let out an “Oh” and gave her a thumbs-up.
Before the afternoon filming began, Jiang Liusui and Wei Zixiao stood together listening to Director Pei explain the scene. Having tormented each other all morning, Pei Wen felt a headache coming on just at the sight of him.
Seemingly aware that the director didn’t like him, Wei Zixiao began by saying to Pei Wen, “Sorry to trouble you, Director.”
Wei Zixiao had refined, handsome features. When he smiled, he carried the air of a dashing young man. The main reason Pei Wen had agreed to Tianguang Media’s request was because his appearance suited the role of the third male lead quite well.
If not for the fact that this kid’s attitude was decent and the final result was barely passable…
Pei Wen suppressed his irritation and explained the scene to Wei Zixiao: “The Old Prince has always favored you since childhood. Although you’re the second son, you surpass the eldest in every aspect—talent, martial arts… But you have no interest in the throne. Your involvement in the power struggle is entirely for his sake.”
Jiang Liusui, hearing his cue, turned and gave the newcomer a friendly smile. Wei Zixiao met his gaze, momentarily stunned, and his ears gradually turned red.
“Alright, just look at him like that later,” Pei Wen said, not bothering to figure out why Wei Zixiao was embarrassed. “Remember, your affection for him is pure. In your heart, he is not a weapon but family. Most importantly—you pity him.”
“His hands are stained with countless lives, yet he understands nothing. For hundreds of years, he has only executed your family’s orders, bound to serve forever, without any hope of liberation.”
“Jiang Liusui,” Pei Wen turned to the other actor. “In this scene, aside from the eerie side of Ling, you also need to reveal something deeper.”
“You’ve always lived in loneliness.
Carrying out orders isn’t just something you do because the Soul-Binding Chain forces you to—it also makes you feel needed. Whether it’s the Old Prince, Li Heng, Ming Zhao, or Li Yan… as long as they’re people around you, you unconsciously show dependence on them.”
“Li Yan pities you, but you don’t understand why.”
Both of them nodded.
***
The clapper clicked, and the scene officially began.
“—⟪Eternal Bell⟫ Scene 37, Take One, ACTION!”
Li Yan had no interest in the throne, nor did he wish to participate in his father and elder brother’s schemes, yet given the circumstances, he feigned complete obedience on the surface while secretly meeting with the emperor.
On the Shangsi Festival, the third day of the third lunar month, the moon was bright and the stars sparse. Evading the watchful eyes of his father and brother, he entered the palace alone and expressed his willingness to serve as the emperor’s eyes within the Crown Prince’s residence. He only asked that, once the rebellion was quelled, the emperor would pardon Ling’s grievous past sins and grant him freedom.
In the end, the emperor agreed.
Ling sat alone in the tree again, seemingly gazing at something unknown.
His figure was slender, clad in blue robes hidden among the snow-like, misty pear blossoms, as if he himself were a wisp of fog ready to vanish at any moment.
Li Yan approached the tree. Without needing to look up, he knew Ling was there.
He called Ling’s name several times, but the figure in the tree gave no response. Li Yan didn’t wait for an answer and continued on his own, “Do you want… or not want… to go somewhere else?”
“Away from the Crown Prince’s residence, away from the capital. Qingzhou is surrounded by mountains and rivers, prosperous and thriving. Beyond that lies the Northern Sea.”Li Yan softly described a future that seemed within reach. “You’ve never seen the sea, right? If you like, we could settle in Qingzhou.”
Once the rebellion was quelled, even with the emperor’s promise, Ling would not be able to remain in the capital. But with Li Yan by his side, no matter how distant the ends of the earth, any place could become home.
Seemingly moved by the vision Li Yan painted, the youth’s figure emerged from the jade-like pear blossoms and, in the blink of an eye, landed gracefully on the ground. The bells on his ankles chimed crisply with each movement.
Ling looked at Li Yan, a trace of anticipation unconsciously flickering in his eyes. “Really?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Li Yan gazed at him, almost entranced. “Would you… be willing to leave with me?”
Without hesitation, Ling replied, “Okay.”
“Cut!” Pei Wen called sharply. Wei Zixiao snapped back to reality from his locked gaze with “Ling,” thinking to himself how unlucky he was—so soon into filming and already got an NG. But he didn’t expect Pei Wen to call out another name: “Jiang Liusui, your expression is off.”
“Although Ling is cruel and powerful, in some ways he is innocent and naive, almost childlike. For a hundred years, the Li family members have been the people closest to him,” Pei Wen fixed his eyes on Jiang Liusui. “So, when Li Yan makes you this promise, you believe it completely and are genuinely willing to leave the capital with him.”
“Your performance just now showed complete distrust in Li Yan’s words. Your agreement was perfunctory, and the acting felt too forced!”
Pei Wen went on to explain Ling’s psychological state and behavioral patterns in detail before concluding, “Again!”
This scene was not going smoothly. Jiang Liusui and Wei Zixiao took turns making mistakes, and Pei Wen couldn’t help but frown more and more deeply.
Wei Zixiao was one thing, but Pei Wen had initially thought this wouldn’t be difficult for Jiang Liusui. Previously, Jiang Liusui had vividly portrayed Ling’s elusive side, yet now he was struggling with relatively simpler emotions.
Judging by his performance, it seemed the actor himself found it hard to believe in such promises. No matter how much trust and dependence he showed toward the person in front of him, there was never any real emotion flickering in his eyes.
There was no other way—they would just have to keep grinding it out.
Pei Wen never lowered his standards; even a fleeting expression that didn’t match the emotion had to be redone. Jiang Liusui felt it was grueling, yet he didn’t complain, focusing on adjusting his state.
Finally, with Pei Wen’s sharp call of “Cut!,” Jiang Liusui and Wei Zixiao both let out a long sigh of relief, feeling an immense sense of relief.
The scene between Ling and Li Yan was finally completed.
After shooting several more scenes intermittently, Pei Wen granted them a ten-minute break.
Jiang Liusui silently replayed Pei Wen’s words in his mind. Compared to portraying innocence and softness, he was more adept at expressing extreme and volatile emotions. In previous acting roles, he had barely managed to pass, and directors hadn’t specifically criticized him in this area. But Pei Wen, with his sharp eye, instantly spotted his weakness.
All the worrying was useless. Wanting to shift his attention, Jiang Liusui had just unlocked his phone when someone approached him and crouched down, looking up at him.
Wei Zixiao tentatively called out, “Teacher Jiang?”
“Is something the matter?” Jiang Liusui, seeing such a tall person crouching on the ground, he fetched a stool from nearby. “Have a seat.”
Wei Zixiao took the stool and sat down in front of him. “I was thinking of treating the crew to afternoon tea. Is there anything you’d like to eat?”
Jiang Liusui hadn’t expected him to be so enthusiastic, but recalling that Shang Qingzhi seemed to have a favorable impression of Wei Zixiao, he wasn’t entirely surprised.
“Thank you,” Jiang Liusui said, “but I’m on a diet. You should ask the others.”
Wei Zixiao asked, “Are you managing your figure?”
Jiang Liusui nodded. Wei Zixiao exclaimed, “Wow, you’re already so slim. You’re really strict with yourself.”
Jiang Liusui smiled, thinking Wei Zixiao would leave to ask others, but he stayed and kept talking.
“I’ve watched ⟪Fantasy Holiday⟫, and I think you look even better in person than on the show,” Wei Zixiao explained. “I’m a fan of Yu-ge. I watch all his programs.”
“I see.” Jiang Liusui found Wei Zixiao a bit more likable and replied meaningfully, “I like him too.”
“I couldn’t tell there was anything wrong with your acting earlier. I thought it was already good enough,” Wei Zixiao lowered his voice. “Maybe that’s the difference between professionals and amateurs.”
At this, Wei Zixiao looked a bit dejected. “Last night before coming here, I was still memorizing my lines. I got the lines down smoothly, but everything else was a mess. The day this film releases might be the day I get torn apart online.”
Jiang Liusui couldn’t help but laugh at how bleak he sounded. “You should trust Director Pei. If he let it pass, it must have met his standards. He’ll make you look really good on camera.”
Wei Zixiao seemed comforted, his eyes brightening as he stared at Jiang Liusui. Suddenly, he asked, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” Jiang Liusui replied casually. “And you?”
“I’m almost nineteen,” Wei Zixiao said with a smile. “So we’re around the same age.”
There’s still quite a gap, isn’t there? Jiang Liusui thought.
Then he recalled how, during the earlier shoot, Wei Zixiao had seemed much taller than him and might even grow more.
Why are kids so tall these days…
“I heard Teacher Shang call you ’Suisui’, can I call you that too?”
Jiang Liusui just assumed it was Wei Zixiao’s naturally friendly personality and didn’t pay much attention: “Sure.”
After wrapping up for the day, Wei Zixiao came to ask for his contact details. Jiang Liusui didn’t think much of it and gave it directly.
The role of Li Yan wasn’t particularly significant, and Wei Zixiao would only be filming with the crew for about a week. But over the next few days, Jiang Liusui gradually sensed something subtle.
Wei Zixiao would chat with him at every opportunity—whether about acting, personal interests, or even offering to play games together during breaks on set. He even showed Jiang Liusui his group’s stage performances, and within days, Jiang Liusui could recognize all the members of the group.
Qin Yi, noticing that Wei Zixiao insisted on eating meals with Jiang Liusui, remarked offhandedly, “You two get along quite well. That kid must really like you.”
Jiang Liusui deliberately replied, “Of course he likes me. Don’t you like me too?”
Although he said this, Jiang Liusui also felt Wei Zixiao was being overly familiar. While each action seemed harmless on its own, they had only known each other for four or five days. Even for someone outgoing, this level of closeness felt excessive. Jiang Liusui began intentionally reducing his private interactions with Wei Zixiao.
Seemingly sensing the coldness, Wei Zixiao grew quiet for half the morning after several excuses to avoid him, only to become even more proactive afterward.
During the afternoon break, Wei Zixiao approached Jiang Liusui directly, smiling as if nothing had happened. “Suisui, I ordered milk tea for the crew. Do you want—”
“Suisui?” A familiar voice came from behind.
Jiang Liusui turned immediately and saw He Yujing standing a few steps away. His gaze swept lightly over the stunned Wei Zixiao before settling on Jiang Liusui.
He Yujing wore a long-sleeved T-shirt under a dark blue cropped vest, paired with matching cargo pants. His modern attire stood out starkly among the actors in period costumes.
He raised an eyebrow slightly, and although he was speaking to Jiang Liusui, it felt like a message to Wei Zixiao beside them.
“Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t eat sweets?”
— — — —
