Zhuang Qin didn’t know what was up with Li Mu. How did a suggestion to rest for a while make him seem so sulky?
“Don’t go outside like that, at least cover up…” Zhuang Qin stood and adjusted his clothes, feeling sticky and uncomfortable all over. “I’ll go ask Director Guo if that take was good enough. If not, we’ll have to continue.”
Li Mu stood by the door, watching as Zhuang Qin got up. His clothes were messy, his hair disheveled, and there was a red mark on his neck where he’d been bitten, with a trace of moisture. Li Mu had been so immersed in that last take—so much so that he’d genuinely lost control of himself.
To make matters worse, the lighting rig had been positioned perfectly to highlight them, the camera was close by, and two cinematographers had been staring the whole time.
Li Mu’s expression was grim, his body tense. “I don’t want to do another take.” He’d already lost his composure in the first one—who knew what could happen if they went for a second?
Zhuang Qin opened the door. “I don’t want to either. You walk behind me, I’ll block you. Go back to the dressing room and rest.”
Li Mu lowered his head, his soft hair brushing lightly against Zhuang Qin’s field of vision. There weren’t many people outside, but Zhuang Qin made sure to shield him closely as they walked.
He blocked Li Mu all the way back, hung a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, and went to the bathroom to wash his face. Returning to the set, he saw Guo Baozhen instructing someone to adjust the air conditioning.
“Director Guo, was the last take okay?”
“It was fine. Great, even,” Director Guo said with a pause. “Very well done. Where’s Li Mu?”
“He’s resting in the dressing room.”
Director Guo shook his head and beckoned Zhuang Qin closer, lowering his voice. “This morning, he came to the set and gave Director Zhou a dozen bottles of yogurt—the brand you endorse. Did you give it to him? Why didn’t I get any? Did I do something to offend him?”
Zhuang Qin hesitated. “…Maybe it’s because Director Zhou mentioned yesterday that he liked it, so Li Mu gave it all to him. If you like that brand too, once we’re done shooting and back home, I’ll send you plenty—I have loads of it.”
Director Guo’s eyes lit up. “How could I possibly accept that—”
“No need to be polite with me. I’m the brand ambassador, and I renewed my contract at the start of the year. The brand sends me a ton every month. I’ll give you half.”
“Well, if you insist…”
After that, Zhuang Qin asked about the schedule for the next scene. Director Guo replied, “You’re sweating buckets—go take a shower. It’s nearly ten o’clock now, and I’ll shoot some filler shots in the meantime. You can rest after your shower. Be back by noon. After lunch, we’ll start shooting again—there are three scenes left for this afternoon and evening.”
In most other film sets, such consideration was rare. But since the set was close to their accommodation, and Director Guo was a rookie with a bit more empathy, they got this rare treatment. Plus, the morning’s toughest scene had been completed in one take.
Given the two-hour break, Zhuang Qin immediately ran back to the dressing room. He didn’t enter right away but knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”
A few seconds later, the door opened. Zhuang Qin noticed that Li Mu had already changed clothes. He glanced up at his cold face, then down quickly for a closer look, unsure whether Li Mu had calmed down or not.
Then, Zhuang Qin suddenly remembered the incident during filming. The feeling of touching something uncontainable with his palm made his face flush with embarrassment. Scratching his head awkwardly, he asked, “So… are you feeling better?”
Li Mu didn’t reply. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he observed Zhuang Qin’s small gestures.
Zhuang Qin said, “Director Guo said that last take was good. We’re allowed a short break—two hours. Go home, take a shower, and rest before coming back.”
Li Mu lowered his eyelashes. “Okay.”
“Do you want to head back? I’ll call a driver for you,” Zhuang Qin offered, blinking.
“Yeah.”
Zhuang Qin went to find Xiao Lian to retrieve both their phones, then called for a driver.
He figured Li Mu must have been feeling too uncomfortable from the heat, as he was quieter than usual.
A few minutes later, Zhuang Qin came to get him. “The driver’s here…” He handed the phone to Li Mu and grabbed his backpack. “Should I tie the bag around your waist?” Seeing Li Mu step back, he added, “Forget it—just stay behind me. I’ll block for you.”
Li Mu always carried himself like an untouchable celebrity, with sunglasses on and an aura that discouraged conversation. Nobody really approached him.
Zhuang Qin, playing the overly nervous bodyguard, escorted Li Mu to the car without even notifying Xiao Lian. Just as he was about to leave, Li Mu reached out from the car and grabbed his wrist. “Come with me. We’ll head back together at noon.”
Li Mu’s grip was firm. The car’s air conditioning blew cool air, while the blazing sun outside scorched Zhuang Qin’s sweat-soaked body, making him squint.
After a two-second consideration, Zhuang Qin climbed into the car.
Inside, despite the heat and exhaustion, Zhuang Qin sat upright instead of leaning back. His damp hair clung to his face, and he propped his chin on his hand, on the verge of dozing off.
Li Mu, wearing sunglasses, silently turned the car’s air vents to blow towards Zhuang Qin’s side.
Feeling the cool air hit his face, Zhuang Qin tilted his head slightly and softly asked, “Feeling better now?”
Li Mu nodded, offering a faint, pursed-lip profile.
Despite trying not to dwell on it, Li Mu’s thoughts wandered as he sat next to Zhuang Qin. His normally calm demeanor felt restless. During filming earlier, Zhuang Qin’s instinctive reaction was to pull a blanket over him and politely ask the cinematographers to leave, saying they needed a bit of privacy.
Though young, Zhuang Qin handled it with surprising gentleness.
Upon arriving, they stepped out of the car. Li Mu grabbed a sun umbrella from the caretaker’s room and beckoned Zhuang Qin over.
The umbrella was small, forcing them to huddle close. Li Mu glanced down at Zhuang Qin’s quick steps. “You’re walking this fast even with the tape still on?”
“Tape? What tape?” Zhuang Qin looked genuinely confused.
Li Mu turned his head away. “Nothing.”
Zhuang Qin, clueless, had no idea what he was talking about.
At the villa, Li Mu unlocked the door. “Your room hasn’t been touched since you stayed there. It gets cleaned regularly, and the bedding is changed. You can rest there.”
The entryway table held freshly laundered bathrobes and towels. Li Mu handed two to Zhuang Qin.
After thanking him, Zhuang Qin followed Li Mu upstairs. They went into separate rooms, and soon the sound of running showers came from the adjoining bathrooms. That’s when Zhuang Qin realized how poor the soundproofing was. Li Mu was showering just next door.
Hastily finishing his own shower, Zhuang Qin realized he only had a bathrobe to wear—his clothes were unwearable.
With no choice, he donned the robe and started washing his clothes. Next door, Li Mu seemed to have had the same thought. “Leave your clothes. I have new ones you can wear,” Li Mu called out.
“Even underwear,” he added clearly.
Blushing, Zhuang Qin stammered, “Okay…”
Still, he couldn’t resist scrubbing his clothes clean before hanging them to dry.
While hanging the laundry, he heard footsteps and a knock at the door.
Opening it, Zhuang Qin saw Li Mu in a black-and-white striped summer robe, slightly open at the chest, revealing skin glistening with water droplets. He handed over a neatly folded set of clothes and a platter of tropical fruit. “These are brand new. They’ve been sterilized.”
“My clothes are already washed. With the sun this strong, they’ll be dry in half an hour.”
Ignoring this, Li Mu stepped inside and set the clothes on a cabinet. “Are you hungry?”
Zhuang Qin shook his head.
Li Mu nodded. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”
After thanking him again, Zhuang Qin watched Li Mu return to his room.
The villa’s design made its lack of soundproofing apparent. Every movement in the neighboring room was audible.
Sitting on his bed, Li Mu sent a message to Guo Baozhen.
“Director Guo, send me a copy of that last take.”
Guo Baozhen replied, “The take was fine—why do you want to watch it again?”
Li Mu typed a long explanation about needing to analyze his performance for future scenes but deleted it all and replaced it with: “I’m the investor.”
Faced with the power of money, Guo Baozhen surrendered. “Got it. I’ll export it tonight and send it to you.”
Li Mu: “[OK]”
Afternoon filming continued until 10 p.m., wrapping up the remaining three scenes.
Starving, Zhuang Qin rummaged through the dressing room’s fridge and found a container of neatly cut fruit
. The assortment was generous and meticulously arranged, clearly prepared with care. Zhuang Qin thought to himself that Li Mu probably didn’t cut it himself—it even came with toothpicks for convenience, likely a store-bought fruit platter.
“Tomorrow’s call time is 8 a.m.,” Director Guo announced, watching as Zhuang Qin and Li Mu left one after the other. Just as he was about to head out, he remembered the promise to send Li Mu the video from that morning. Stopping a cinematographer, he made sure the footage would be exported.
Zhuang Qin caught a ride back with Li Mu. In the car, he opened the fruit container and began eating, offering some to Xiao Lian.
Xiao Lian, focused on petting a cat, replied, “Just one piece, Zhuang-ge.”
Li Mu, who was driving, glanced in the rearview mirror.
Zhuang Qin grabbed a new toothpick, speared a piece of pineapple, and offered it to Xiao Lian. Then he looked up and asked Li Mu, “Do you want some?”
“I’m driving,” Li Mu responded flatly.
Feeling guilty about eating something Li Mu had probably bought, Zhuang Qin grabbed a fresh toothpick and picked up a slice of orange. He leaned forward and held it to Li Mu’s lips.
Li Mu’s gaze shifted downward briefly, catching sight of the offered fruit. Though he didn’t like oranges, he sighed inwardly. Just this once. He opened his mouth and ate the orange slice.
Thinking Li Mu enjoyed it, Zhuang Qin promptly offered another.
Li Mu frowned, hesitating. Fine, this is the last one. He reluctantly bit into it, the tangy sweetness filling his mouth. “No more. You eat it yourself.”
When they reached the parking lot, Zhuang Qin got out and headed inside. Li Mu watched him until he was out of sight, then drove back to the villa.
A notification popped up on Li Mu’s phone. It was a message from Director Guo: “The video has been sent to your email. Did you get it?”
“…Also, uh, you might want to watch it alone.”
Li Mu opened his email and saw the new message. “Received,” he replied, downloading the file.
Upstairs, Li Mu ran a bath, stripped off his day-old clothes, and grabbed his AR glasses. He operated the controls, projecting a clear, private screen visible only to him.
The video loaded, and Li Mu put on his headphones.
The screen displayed the dim, bluish hue of the set’s bedroom scene. On the messy bed, the two leads played out the shot. One of them was him.
Though the segment was short, it made Li Mu’s nerves tighten.
In the video, his character leaned over Zhuang Qin’s, pressing lingering kisses along his face and neck. The dazed expression on Zhuang Qin’s face was perfectly captured by the cinematographer. The on-set microphone had picked up every sound without issue—the sharp, overlapping breaths reverberated through Li Mu’s headphones.
As the video replayed, Li Mu closed his eyes and removed the headphones, yet the faint echoes of those breaths lingered in his ears.
Particularly the moment when Zhuang Qin’s hand reacted instinctively—it struck him with more force now than it had during filming. His body felt like it was burning, as though still being held and touched.
Removing the AR glasses, Li Mu noticed the bath was still filling with water. Abruptly, he walked out onto the terrace, unfastened the robe around his waist, and dove into the deep, cold pool from the second-floor diving board.
Surfacing, he ran a hand over his close-cropped black hair, water dripping down his face. Without pause, he submerged himself again, sinking deep into the icy water.
