It takes about three hours to drive from the airport to Hengdian World Studios. As expected, the driver didn’t recognize Zhuang Qin. However, noticing Zhuang Qin’s face-covering outfit and the fact that they were heading to the movie city, the driver casually asked, “Are you actors?”
Xiao Lian replied modestly, “Extras, just extras…”
“Extras? Like bit players, right? Does acting pay well?”
Xiao Lian patiently explained, “Ordinary extras get eighty yuan for an eight-hour day, while special extras get paid based on the production team’s budget, generally between eight to nine hundred, or a thousand yuan…”
“You’re quite handsome; are you a special extra?”
“Yes…”
While the driver chatted with Xiao Lian, Zhuang Qin, leaning against the car window, gradually dozed off and eventually rested his head on Xiao Lian’s shoulder. When they arrived, Xiao Lian gently shook him, “Brother Zhuang, we’re here.”
Zhuang Qin lifted his head, barely able to keep his eyes open. He groggily got out of the car, and Xiao Lian checked for any forgotten items in the vehicle. Fortunately, nothing was left behind, and they proceeded to check in.
Zhuang Qin’s ID and passport were all handled by Xiao Lian.
At the front desk, while Zhuang Qin checked his messages, he first texted his master to ask how his master’s wife was doing, then opened WeChat and saw several messages from Xiao Dao, one from Li Mu, and one from Mei Qingqiu. Zhuang Qin read through them one by one. Xiao Dao’s voice message said, “Senior brother, I saw the trailer for your birthday event online. Where will it be held? Can I come?”
“Is it in Imperial City?”
“Are you going to perform Kunqu opera?”
“What piece will you sing?”
“Can I do your makeup?”
“Do you have your costume there? I can bring it…”
“I can help with the stage, the stage setting!”
“Which act will you sing? Who will sing with you? If no one else, I can come!”
As Zhuang Qin prepared to reply, he heard Xiao Lian calling him, “Brother Zhuang, you need to scan your face here.”
Zhuang Qin removed his sunglasses and approached. The hotels in Hengdian often saw celebrities, but the receptionist couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. After scanning his face and putting his sunglasses back on, Zhuang Qin smiled at her.
The receptionist blushed, “Okay, here’s your ID back. This is your room key.”
“Thank you,” Zhuang Qin took the room key, and the receptionist hastily grabbed a couple of papers, “Can I have your autograph?”
“Of course.” Zhuang Qin took the pen and signed his name in the lower right corner, then asked her name and what blessings she wanted, promptly writing a wish for her happiness on the paper, to her nearly fainting gratitude: “I’ll treasure this autograph forever!”
After signing a few more, when one of the papers was completely filled, he was finally able to leave.
Zhuang Qin entered the elevator, sending a voice reply to Xiao Dao: “You don’t have to make a special trip; it’s too far. I’ve already contacted the Su Province Kunqu Opera Theatre about the costumes and actors, and the stage—don’t worry, it will be held at the Pauley Theater. I’ll just be singing one piece from ‘The Tale of Nanke’… But don’t run around, be good.”
The message sent, and the elevator reached his floor. Zhuang Qin stepped out and pocketed his phone, no longer continuing the conversation.
•
Li Mu walked a bit farther, ignoring the shouting of Qiu Ming from the pool.
Zhuang Qin’s voice, soft as ever from his training in Shuimodiao opera, came from the earpiece: “You don’t have to make a special trip… Don’t run around, be good.”
Hm?
The last note trembled Li Mu’s heart.
Was it sent to the wrong person?
Hadn’t he just asked where the birthday party would be held?
Li Mu listened to the message again.
It sounded like soothing a child, as tender as usual, but slightly different, intimate like a lover’s whisper, or like speaking to a dear young relative.
He didn’t reply, waiting to see if Zhuang Qin would retract the message. After two minutes, the message was still there.
Was it really meant for him?
Li Mu sat on the swing by the pool, playing the voice message over and over, growing fonder of it, thinking it must be intended for him, though it felt like he was being treated like a child. Yet, he enjoyed the feeling, a smile curling at his lips as he thought about how to respond.
“Okay.”
Delete, not suitable.
“Hmm.”
Delete, too cold.
“I’m good…” Not completed, deleted.
“I…”
As he agonized over the proper reply, a message arrived from the other side.
“I sent it to the wrong person! Ahhh!”
“It seems like I can’t retract it now…”
Li Mu felt a chill.
Not far away, Qiu Ming climbed out of the pool, drenched and looking like a drowned rat.
Li Mu, dry on the outside, felt similarly drenched.
That feeling of a cold bucket of water dumped from above.
Li Mu typed without expression: “Haven’t had the chance to listen.”
“I don’t listen to voice messages over 20s.”
Zhuang Qin: “That’s good, that’s good, sorry for the disturbance.”
Li Mu: “Hmm.”
Li Mu: “Who was it for?”
Zhuang Qin replied: “It was for my junior brother. My birthday event is being held here in Imperial City, and I’ll head back to the crew afterward.”
Li Mu: “Okay.”
It was meant for his junior brother, from the opera troupe? Those who grew up together then.
Li Mu felt a bit upset, but continued to message him, asking how long till he lands, if he’s home yet, if he’s had dinner. Zhuang Qin truthfully replied: “I’m at the hotel now, had food on the plane, just ordered room service, about to rest.”
Li Mu: “Rest early.”
Zhuang Qin: “You too, good night.”
Those two words carried warmth, slightly soothing the sting Li Mu felt.
But he couldn’t fully let it go, upon entering the house, he found the computer, while Qiu Ming had already taken off his wet clothes, heading upstairs to change. Li Mu reminded him: “Don’t go into the wrong room, the one on the right is yours.”
Li Mu typed into the search bar: “Big Joy Troupe.”
More than one troupe used that name. After browsing a bit, he added the city name.
Upstairs, Qiu Ming had found clothes from Li Mu’s closet to wear and entered his room, only to find it had no bedding. He checked another guest bedroom, which had bedding.
“Who’s staying in this room? Zhuang Qin?” Qiu Ming called from upstairs, “Aren’t you two sleeping together?”
Li Mu found information on the Guangzhou Big Joy Troupe, ignoring Qiu Ming, quietly reading.
Qiu Ming: “Oh, I forgot you’re a clean freak. Definitely separate beds after a job.” Li Mu had many peculiar habits, extremely detesting being disturbed while sleeping, erupting in anger if so. While he could tolerate many big issues, this small matter was something he couldn’t stand.
Qiu Ming came downstairs: “If you don’t let me stay, my room has nothing, where are the sheets? How do I sleep?”
“The bedding’s here, make it yourself.” Li Mu pointed casually at the entryway cabinet, his gaze fixed on the screen, reading about the troupe’s history. The current head was named Zhuang Xuejiu, the previous one surnamed Ang, the founder of this opera troupe.
What relation is Zhuang Qin to Zhuang Xuejiu?
This surname wasn’t common, so the likelihood of a familial relation was high, but Zhuang Qin often mentioned his master and mistress, both Kunqu opera actors, also surnamed Zhuang?
Li Mu continued searching, but there was little information online, and he didn’t resort to hacking methods. He was only intending to check on Zhuang Qin’s junior brother, not prying into Zhuang Qin’s privacy.
Yet, Zhuang Qin never mentioned his parents, not online either, piquing Li Mu’s interest about his background.
•
The next day, Zhuang Qin was up at 5:30 AM, confusing Xiao Lian as to why he’d head to the set so early just to visit.
Filming period dramas often meant getting up at this time. In his past life, Zhuang Qin had been in Director Qu’s crew, always up at this hour, driving to the set, needing two hours to get ready with makeup and costume changes, the actors ready by 8 or 9 AM.
A day’s filming lasted from morning till night, continuously for over a week.
Sitting in the car heading to the set, Zhuang Qin was silent, visibly anxious.
Xiao Lian covertly observed him, sensing something off about his mood today, heavy with concerns.
Mei Qingqiu messaged back: “You’re here this early?? My god! The crew hasn’t even started yet!”
Zhuang Qin: “Woke up early by accident.”
“I thought when you said you’d come visit in the morning, it would be after ten… I’m not even at the set yet, still in the car.”
“I’m in the car too.”
“Then wait for me when you arrive, I’ll take you in. Otherwise, it’s hard for you to get in.”
A while later, they met outside the set. Zhuang Qin was dressed plainly, not a single item on him costing more than three hundred yuan, except his shoes which were a bit more expensive, and he wore no jewelry. He had on a fisherman’s hat and sunglasses, his face half-hidden by a mask.
“Sister Qingqiu,” he called out.
“You came really early, I haven’t even done my makeup and you’re here… I notified Director Qu about your visit yesterday.”
Two young assistants following Mei Qingqiu were looking at Zhuang Qin.
Mei Qingqiu, thirty-two, unmarried, had entered the industry at twelve, now with twenty years of experience, yet often stuck with poor roles. She mostly filmed period dramas, her roles limited to fiercely loving yet villainous female supports, or powerful figures like empresses or queens.
They had met on a variety show, where Mei Qingqiu’s bold and direct style was unlike others, openly liking to date “fresh meat”. Initially, she flirted with Zhuang Qin, who had just debuted, unaccustomed to such advances.
After his refusal, Mei Qingqiu wasn’t upset, smilingly saying, “If you don’t like me, that’s okay, I won’t insist, but we can still be friends, right?”
Then she turned to chase after another young star.
Zhuang Qin later realized that Mei Qingqiu was just infatuated with beauty, liking young, vibrant men, but not dating them. She was thoroughly non-committal, only seeking immediate pleasures.
Interacting with her, Zhuang Qin felt pressured, wary of her making inappropriate jokes.
Yet, in his past life, after his own incident, while so-called friends in the circle either stayed silent or backstabbed, she spoke the truth.
“Zhuang Qin was on set for many days, I saw it with my own eyes, he hardly ever used a stunt double except for water scenes. That day, it just so happened he took a leave because a relative was critically ill abroad. Didn’t anyone think, if he hadn’t taken leave, could he have been the one to die?”
This sparked public anger, with rumors claiming they had an affair, seen at a hotel together, and even a supposed resident of a certain community claimed they cohabited there. Some even cursed, “Why wasn’t it you who died, should stunt doubles just die??”
She fiercely retorted online, suing several for defamation, and it took a long time for the uproar to settle. However, due to this incident, she directly confronted the involved capital, which also impacted her career significantly.
Later, Zhuang Qin saw news of her marrying a wealthy businessman.
One incident not only changed his life but also affected many around him.
Zhuang Qin chatted with her about daily life on set as they entered, soon encountering Director Qu, to whom Zhuang Qin bowed slightly, “Director Qu.”
Mei Qingqiu: “I told you yesterday that little Qin would come to visit me.”
Director Qu, without looking at him, unhappily said, “You, go get makeup done.”
Mei Qingqiu pulled Zhuang Qin away, and he quietly asked about the schedule for today’s scenes, learning that a martial arts scene was second. He accompanied Mei Qingqiu to the makeup room, a large one, and soon saw Zheng Fengbai.
Zheng Fengbai hadn’t noticed him yet; it was his assistant who saw Zhuang Qin first, recognizing him by his distinctive shoes.
He wore his shoes for a long time.
“Brother Bai! Look over there!”
Zheng Fengbai turned his head, seeing the man sitting and talking with Mei Qingqiu, and his expression immediately changed.
“What are you doing here?!”
“Brother Bai,” Zhuang Qin looked up to greet him, but due to the heaviness in his heart, couldn’t muster a smile, “Good morning, I’m here to visit.”
Their last conversation hadn’t ended on a completely reconciled note, and because his assistant had damaged the suit Zhuang Qin was to wear on the red carpet, Zheng Fengbai felt guilty, yet whenever he remembered how he had climbed up by stepping on others, and how the director had recently berated him, saying he wasn’t as good as Zhuang Qin, it was hard for him to show a pleasant face to Zhuang Qin.
“You really have the nerve to come here?!” They had long since had a falling out, and Zheng Fengbai’s tone was never kind.
This upset Mei Qingqiu, who was in the middle of makeup, and she directly scolded him, “This is a set, not your territory!”
Zhuang Qin barely listened.
Because he saw not far off, a stunt double getting makeup done, wearing undergarments.
He and Zheng Fengbai had similar builds, and likely the stunt double might be the same—one of Zhuang Qin’s biggest worries, now confirmed, sank his heart to rock bottom.
He shifted his gaze from Hai Yang, “Brother Bai… the second scene today, is it the one with wirework martial arts? Quite dangerous, do you remember when I was your stunt double for that water scene? There was a small issue with the wires, and I almost drowned.”
Zhuang Qin wasn’t good at swimming, but Zheng Fengbai refused to film such dangerous scenes, ultimately forcing him to do it.
The underwater studio was eight or nine meters deep, and actors had to dive to about five or six meters, with cameras shooting from outside through transparent glass.
Zheng Fengbai’s expression worsened at the mention, and his assistant spat, glaring at Zhuang Qin, “Why bring up such things! It’s unlucky!”
“My point is… Brother Bai, make sure to check the wires thoroughly before the martial arts scene. I heard the stunt team here has outdated safety equipment, prone to problems.”
Assistant: “Are you sick? Don’t we know to check?!”
“How dare you speak like that!” Xiao Lian couldn’t hold back any longer, scolding him loudly, “You’re the one who’s sick!”
The assistant’s expression shifted, remembering over a year ago when Zhuang Qin was just a small stunt double, obeying his commands, yet now he had climbed up by stepping on their artist.
He had always been hostile toward Zhuang Qin, who, being good-natured, rarely responded, just avoiding face-to-face interactions.
“Shut up.” Zheng Fengbai scolded his assistant, “Go check with the stunt team now, and make sure it’s thorough—this scene, I’ll do it myself.”
“Brother Bai, you’re going to do it yourself…” The assistant’s mouth fell open, “But it’s so dangerous! Don’t be rash…”
“Just go do what I told you, stop wasting words! Make sure the stunt team checks everything thoroughly!” Zheng Fengbai’s face darkened, thinking of all the times Director Qu had scolded him, seeing him as utterly inferior, his mood worsening with each shoot. Now, with Zhuang Qin’s arrival, his competitive spirit was ignited, determined to show he was no worse than Zhuang Qin, especially in martial arts scenes.
He could do it too!
The assistant dared not take it lightly and hurriedly went to the stunt team.
Mei Qingqiu asked, “Hey, what’s the problem between you two, his assistant acts like that and you still don’t get angry?”
Zhuang Qin replied, “Sister Qingqiu, you forgot, I used to be Brother Bai’s stunt double.”
“I know that, but it’s his own lack of professionalism that’s the issue. Anyone can be an actor these days.” She scoffed, “I tell you, Director Qu’s patience is at its limit.”
While Zhuang Qin listened, his attention was on the stunt double not far away.
He rarely interacted with stunt doubles because he hardly needed one, but occasionally for scenes he absolutely couldn’t do himself, he was always kind to Hai Yang when they met.
“I used to be just like you, a stunt double. No need to be so formal.”
Hai Yang sincerely said, “I really admire you, it’s not easy to go from a stunt double to an actor. By the way, my sister is your fan, could you…”
“Want an autograph or a voice message? I’ll go get some paper and a pen.”
Zhuang Qin still remembered their first conversation.
Soon, Mei Qingqiu was done with makeup, and all departments were in place to start filming the first scene.
The weather today was neither cold nor hot, perfect for shooting a period drama.
After encountering problems like actors forgetting lines and inaccurate camera angles, three hours passed, and the first scene was completed. Director Qu didn’t call for a lunch break, instead moving directly to the next location to shoot the second scene.
Zhuang Qin followed along, and soon saw Zheng Fengbai’s assistant arguing with a crew member checking and testing the wire equipment: “No way, how long have you been using this safety equipment? Who would feel safe letting actors shoot with this? What if something happens, who’s responsible?”
The crew member, not daring to raise his voice, kept adjusting the wires, “There’s no problem, it’s always been fine, the wires are new, see, I’m using it and there’s nothing wrong…”
“What’s going on? What’s all the shouting?” Director Qu strode over.
Zhuang Qin steadied himself, relieved to see the problem being addressed… finding it was a good thing.
In his past life, he never really knew whether the incident was an accident or deliberate, the police had investigated for a while and concluded it was likely an accident, but didn’t rule out the possibility of it being caused by deliberately used outdated equipment.
But it ended with the entire stunt team being fired, and Zhuang Qin shouldering the blame for irresponsibly causing the death of a stunt double.
Director Qu stepped forward to check, then asked, “How long has this wire been used?” As he spoke, the thin wires intertwined and suddenly snapped, the crew member hanging less than a meter high yelped, falling to the ground.
Several crew members immediately rushed to help him, “Are you alright?”
The assistant, seizing the moment, pressed on, “See, I told you! This equipment has problems!! If it had been an actor up there, falling from that height, wouldn’t they be dead?!”
Director Qu’s expression soured, and Zheng Fengbai, pale with cold sweat, glanced at Zhuang Qin standing nearby, then pulled his assistant back, stopping him from cursing.
Director Qu: “This definitely won’t do! Get it replaced right away!”
Zhuang Qin stood behind the director, looking up at the stunt crew, who now followed the always decisive director’s orders.
“That was close… nearly a big accident.”
“Good thing it was thoroughly checked, a close call…”
“Scary…”
The crew murmured among themselves.
Zhuang Qin felt a huge weight lift from his heart, stepping back weakly, nearly stumbling.
He crouched down, heart racing uncontrollably, lips tightly pressed.
“Brother Zhuang?” Xiao Lian quickly asked, “Are you alright, feeling unwell?”
“Hmm… low blood sugar acting up.” Zhuang Qin’s face was pale, his head drooping deeply into his arms. A mix of relief at having narrowly escaped disaster, and a complex feeling of release and sorrow washed over him as events from his past life took a turn towards a completely different outcome. His nose tingled, and his vision swam.
The aftereffects of not resting well during the recent filming schedule finally caught up with him.
“Hello, are you… Teacher Zhuang Qin?”
In the afternoon, when Zhuang Qin was about to leave the set, he heard a familiar voice and turned around.
“Hello, Teacher Zhuang, hello… I heard you were here, I didn’t expect it really was you!” The voice was excited.
“Hello,” Zhuang Qin smiled, his gaze complex, “you are… Brother Bai’s stunt double, right? I just heard them calling you Hai Yang.”
Hai Yang was extremely surprised, seemingly never having encountered such a friendly actor before: “Ah… Teacher Zhuang, you’re too kind!”
“I used to be just like you, a stunt double too,” Zhuang Qin said.
Hai Yang sincerely expressed, “I really admire you, it’s truly not easy to go from a stunt double to an actor. By the way, my sister is your fan, could you… help me sign something for her? Her birthday is coming up…”
“No problem,” Zhuang Qin asked Xiao Lian for paper and pen, “What’s your sister’s name? How old is she, and when is her birthday?”
“She’s called Yuan Yuan, she’ll be eighteen on Children’s Day in a few days.”
Zhuang Qin’s hand paused holding the pen, “That’s quite a coincidence, the same day as my birthday.”
“Yes…” Hai Yang said sheepishly, “she mentioned that, said it’s quite fateful.”
“Still in school? Is she on break?”
“No, she has her college entrance exams in a few days. I can’t give her this gift directly, afraid she might get too excited and perform poorly, heh.”
Zhuang Qin paused again, then wrote on the paper: “Wishing Yuan Yuan a smooth college entrance exam, may you succeed with flying colors.”
Sitting in the car back to the airport, Zhuang Qin rolled down the window, the wind blowing his forehead hair back, revealing his smooth forehead, his eyes reflecting the mundane scenery speeding past outside on the freeway, thinking, summer really is here.
Zhuang Qin fell ill unexpectedly the night he returned to Imperial City.
The last time he was hospitalized was right after he came back to life, having fainted on set.
This time was similar, also due to overwork. Zhuang Qin knew it well himself, casually drank a sachet of medicine, then collapsed on the bed, but couldn’t rest yet. His birthday celebration was just a few days away, and since the company’s attitude had caused his team to almost disband, he had to handle many things himself. Fortunately, Xiao Lian was reliable, directing the fan club and handling most of the preparations.
Sister Wen saw the news of him visiting an actress at the “The Wind of the East” drama set that morning, complete with animated GIFs and photos, showing them talking and laughing. The headline read, “Shock! Mei Qingqiu and Zhuang Qin suspected of a May-December romance exposed!”
She called him first thing, scolding until she heard his voice and felt something was off, “What’s going on? Why is your voice hoarse?”
“It’s nothing, just lost my voice from shouting too much during filming.”
Su Wen didn’t blow up at him, restraining herself to ask about his set visit, Zhuang Qin explained it was to apologize to Director Qu in person, “Was it a big deal?”
“Not really… Zheng Fengbai posted on Weibo to clarify that you were there to visit him, and just happened to run into Mei Qingqiu, and got snapped talking.”
“Eh? Brother Bai?”
Su Wen, hearing his tone, knew he must be unaware, “Why would he clarify for you voluntarily? Not to kick you when you’re down, that’s unexpected. When did you make up?”
“I don’t know…” Zhuang Qin was also unclear, perhaps Zheng Fengbai had a change of heart.
His mind felt dull, struggling to think.
Su Wen sighed, “Well, as long as it’s resolved. I have a script here for an actor training reality show, I’ll send it to you later.”
Zhuang Qin vaguely remembered Song Ke showing him that proposal, guessing it was the same, but didn’t ask, just agreed.
Su Wen: “I was saying I’d go to Thailand to see you, but I really can’t get away here, they’ve saddled me with newbies, I’m spinning.”
Zhuang Qin was afraid she would come.
Seeing what drama he was actually shooting, the scripts he secretly sent her could not be covered up.
“It’s fine, Sister Wen, I’m okay by myself,” he firmly said.
“I know you’re fine, but I still don’t know the details of your drama crew, what kind of director, unheard of…”
Zhuang Qin coughed twice, “I’m sleepy.”
Su Wen couldn’t argue, “…Alright, no more whining, see you’re not in good shape, eat well, rest well, I won’t disturb you.”
“Bye, Sister Wen.”
After hanging up, Zhuang Qin lay on the bed, starting to verify the details of the birthday gifts for the fans, having Xiao Lian contact the theater to confirm, and he also sent a message to confirm with the liaison at the Su Province Kunqu Opera Troupe.
This birthday event had been planned six months ago, the tickets were free, but only a thousand seats were available, so only true fans could attend, handled by his fan club and hundreds of fan site leaders.
On the other side, Li Mu had bought a return ticket to the country, now searching for how to buy tickets to Zhuang Qin’s birthday event.
But he couldn’t find any purchase option at all, nowhere online.
Eventually, after searching, he found a closed registration link, and something about reposting a Weibo, tagging a friend to draw three lucky fans (old fans only) to give away tickets to the 20th birthday event, note stating tickets were real-name registered and non-transferable.
Li Mu fumbled to register an account, followed the instructions to repost and tagged Zhuang Qin himself, then realized the draw had ended last month.
He almost swore out loud.
He sat on the carpet, driven upstairs by the fresh smell of cat feces, continuing to research in his room.
Join a group?
What, Group 1, Group 2, Group 3, Group 4… so many, which one to join?
Li Mu, annoyed, downloaded the QQ software, took time to register, applied to join a group, only to find out he had to join an external group first and pass an audit to enter the official internal group.
But every external group was full, with verification questions, he looked for a long time, answered one uncertainly, and was soon rejected.
Wrong answer?
Applied again.
Several hours later, an administrator replied, “No small accounts in the group.”
Li Mu was exasperated, his normally proud intellect failing amid these trivial, incomprehensible rules.
Was being a fan of a star always this complicated?
Why couldn’t money buy a single ticket?
“Ask something.”
Zhuang Qin saw Li Mu’s message, perked up, and replied, “What’s up?”
“How do you buy tickets for the birthday party? I have a friend who wants one.”
Li Mu’s fingers typed, mixed with an indescribable sense of absurdity and grievance: “He seems unable to join your fan group.”
