The script didn’t have this line.
Li Mu suddenly got very close, causing Zhuang Qin instinctively to lean back and away, pressing against the wooden wall. Although Li Mu had ad-libbed the line, there was indeed a kissing scene in the script.
“Haven’t we rehearsed the kissing scene before…” Zhuang Qin affirmed with a nod, “Didn’t we do pretty well? Why don’t we just go for it tomorrow?”
Li Mu felt oddly uncomfortable with the word “act.”
It was because, beyond acting, there was a preservation of self-awareness, and certainly, Zhuang Qin felt the same.
Seeing him silent, Zhuang Qin said, “If you’re worried about not performing well, I can rehearse with you in advance, but I’d like to rinse my mouth first.”
Li Mu watched him.
“Because I just smoked, and I really don’t like that taste.” Under the lighting, Zhuang Qin’s face looked like blossoming peach flowers, visibly nervous.
He rarely refused people, even less so someone with a somewhat authoritarian personality like Li Mu.
He usually didn’t say no unless it crossed a line, more often just going with the flow.
Li Mu’s request wasn’t crossing a line, but it made Zhuang Qin suddenly realize that he had never really thought about Li Mu’s sexual orientation; he had even assumed Li Mu was asexual.
If Li Mu was gay, then their private interactions like this were somewhat inappropriate.
Li Mu understood.
He would need to rinse his mouth too because he didn’t like the taste of tobacco.
Forget it, the mood was completely gone now; Li Mu lost all inclination to rinse and kiss—let alone entertain thoughts of anything beyond that.
He stood up with a splash from the temperate bathtub, looking down at Zhuang Qin who was cornered: “Do you want to soak a bit longer?”
From this angle, the light was blocked, and Zhuang Qin had to look up at him. Already tall, Li Mu appeared even more imposing and muscular.
His gaze drifted upward, and he thought that Li Mu really might have padded something there.
An employee in his team, who was gay, had once suggested Zhuang Qin buy padded underwear specifically for stage performances.
Li Mu noticed his spaced-out gaze and grabbed a towel, casually drying off and deliberately bending over in front of him: “Why aren’t you talking? Want to soak a bit longer?”
Zhuang Qin uttered an “Ah” and averted his overtly staring eyes: “I’ll soak for a few more minutes.”
Li Mu nodded, then roamed around the bathroom without his bathrobe, rinsing his mouth for a few minutes, then drying his hair for a few more. Zhuang Qin, originally planning to get out, saw this and didn’t dare to leave, staying submerged and stealing glances at Li Mu occasionally.
It seemed Li Mu’s swim trunks were quite versatile; there even seemed to be padding on the backside.
Li Mu eventually ran out of things to do and didn’t say a word.
Zhuang Qin was almost falling asleep in the tub by the time Li Mu left.
Zhuang Qin quickly perked up, grabbed a bathrobe, his hair still slightly damp, and wrapped a towel around his head before stepping out of the bathroom.
Li Mu was already in bed, a thin blanket over his solid thighs.
Zhuang Qin said, “Rest well, I’m going to sleep,” and then walked off wrapped in his bathrobe.
Li Mu, who had been waiting for Zhuang Qin to make a move, could only watch him leave, puzzled. He had been looking his way the whole time; wasn’t that a sign he was interested?
By his estimates, Zhuang Qin should have been eager to climb into his bed, especially after he had made a move. Unexpectedly, even after he had initiated a kiss, Zhuang Qin still refused.
Li Mu lay on his bed, unable to ponder too much as he had spent too much energy today.
He slept for seven hours, awoken by Li Mu who informed him that it was bright daylight, causing Zhuang Qin to panic and ask the time.
“Don’t worry. The start of the shoot has been delayed today.”
“Ah… why was it delayed?”
“The director wants to shoot some empty shots.” Li Mu had noticed that Zhuang Qin’s door wasn’t properly closed in the morning and had checked on him.
The kid had been sleeping soundly, developing dark circles under his eyes due to the recent filming schedule, looking overall not in the best shape.
Zhuang Qin didn’t know that at the production hotel, he often got woken up by snoring from the next room. After waking, he would get up and review scripts for the next month’s meetings.
The scripts were just fragments, a few pages that he practiced over and over until it was time to start the day’s shooting.
Seeing his dark circles, Li Mu had called Director Guo Baozhen as an investor, authoritatively requesting to delay the start time. Guo Baozhen had no objections; after all, it was Li Mu and Qiu Ming’s money at stake. They were the bosses; they could delay if they wanted to.
So, Zhuang Qin got a full seven hours of sleep.
Feeling blissfully well-rested, he looked at the time and decided to stay in bed a bit longer.
When the half-minute was up, he immediately got up, brushed his teeth and washed his face. Li Mu brought him sunscreen spray, told him to close his eyes, and sprayed a layer on him: “It’s the one you gave me last time, quite useful.”
Mainly because it was convenient. Li Mu didn’t like applying stuff to his face; he focused more on physical exercise.
Sometimes, when Zhuang Qin used a facial mask in the makeup room and offered one to him, Li Mu would join him.
The two went downstairs for breakfast, and Li Mu brewed him hand-ground coffee. Zhuang Qin found it hot, took a sip, and then set it aside, saying, “I don’t know why, but I sleep really well here. That aromatherapy smells great.”
“Take some later… or just move in here, I’ll give you the aromatherapy to take back home.” Li Mu was used to living alone, and suddenly cohabiting might be uncomfortable, but he thought, if it were Zhuang Qin, he could gradually adjust.
Because the start was delayed, Zhuang Qin absent-mindedly licked up all the milk froth and cinnamon powder on his coffee, waving off the suggestion: “It’s okay to come here occasionally, but I wouldn’t dare live here permanently.”
Li Mu raised an eyebrow, noticing a bit of white froth on his lip corner: “I’m not going to eat you.”
Zhuang Qin choked, thinking Li Mu was just joking without meaning anything by it, and laughed: “You don’t understand this circle. Our crew seems peaceful, but actually, there’s a lot of gossip behind the scenes. A film crew is like a miniature society with all sorts of people. Today someone comes, tomorrow someone goes, and who knows if gossip about us might spread out.”
“What?”
“Like, the simplest would be… I sexually harassed you, or you harassed me.” There were even more outrageous rumors, Zhuang Qin could imagine, but he didn’t elaborate to Li Mu.
Li Mu nodded, thinking that if it were gossip about Zhuang Qin sexually harassing him, he wouldn’t mind them talking.
But the reverse was less appealing.
On the way to the set, Zhuang Qin took a call, Li Mu overheard some of it and asked him, “Ran into some trouble?”
“It’s not really trouble.” It was from the production team of the show “The Flavors of Drama,” saying they could bypass Yuedong Media and sign a contract directly with him, though they questioned the legality of this move. Zhuang Qin explained that there was an agreement in place, so it was legal.
They mentioned that some details needed to be added to the contract, then scheduled a meeting for when he returned home next month.
“Doesn’t sound too optimistic.” The minority shares at Yuedong were being slowly acquired, and if nothing unexpected happened, the company would change hands next month. Li Mu, steering into a side road, causing the car to jolt slightly: “If there’s trouble, you can tell me.”
“No… oh,” Zhuang Qin asked him, “What brand is your aromatherapy? It smells a bit like the light cologne on you. I want to buy some online… if it’s available.”
“You like this scent?” Li Mu subconsciously sniffed his own clothes.
He had sprayed some in his wardrobe.
“I really like it.” Zhuang Qin often smelled it on him; it wasn’t the typical cologne scent but was slightly sweet, akin to soda pop, mixed with roses and vetiver. The middle note was the sour taste of ume, which Zhuang Qin thought was quite like bubblegum, followed by the rich scent of dark chocolate mixed with a light tobacco smell, the whole unisex fragrance making the tobacco scent much softer.
To Li Mu, Zhuang Qin liking this scent meant he actually liked his scent.
His mood lifted, he parked the car: “You might not find it online, but if you like it, I’ll share half with you.”
Li Mu smoked cigarettes and cigars and had a special fondness for wine, so he was particularly conscious about his own scent but didn’t want to clash with others, as male scents were typically quite similar. Thus, Li Mu had a perfumer custom blend several dozen types before he chose his favorite.
Once at the set, Xiao Lian quickly pulled Zhuang Qin aside to ask why the start was delayed and what he had been doing all night…
Zhuang Qin, feeling overwhelmed, glanced at Li Mu in the distance: “You always think too much.”
“What if, what if he’s interested?”
It wasn’t that Xiao Lian doubted Li Mu’s intentions, but anyone would be bent by Zhuang Qin’s face and his gentle voice. Not to mention Li Mu’s friend Qiu Ming didn’t seem like a good person; they were probably birds of a feather.
“He…” Looking at Li Mu’s demeanor, Zhuang Qin also felt something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it. Regarding Li Mu’s character, he had no doubts: “Nothing like that will happen, stop overthinking it. In two months, the shooting will be over.”
From a distance, Li Mu saw Zhuang Qin whispering with his assistant and looking his way.
Seemed like they were talking about him?
Director Guo called them over.
“Previously, we discussed using socks and tape, but we won’t need that today. Next time we shoot a bed scene, bring your own.” This method was suggested by Director Zhou, who said many male actors shot bed scenes this way, mainly to prevent excessive reactions.
But this method was indeed quite inhumane.
Director Guo felt that if they were just shooting a bathtub scene, which was not a big deal and only involved a kissing scene, actors wouldn’t react so excessively as to need tape.
“The crew has prepared flesh-colored boxers for you, slightly transparent. You can wear two layers.” This morning when Li Mu called him, he mentioned this, saying no part of the body under the water should be visible, insisting the bathtub be soaked in disinfectant for over two hours.
Director Guo hurriedly bought these items: “I don’t know what size you wear, so I bought several sizes. Grab whatever you need, do your makeup, change, and we’ll set up the bathtub once you’re ready.”
Shooting such scenes took time, and they had to change the water in the bathtub if it got cold, as they couldn’t have actors soaking in cold water.
Quickly made up, Zhuang Qin and Li Mu each dressed in flesh-colored boxers behind curtains. Li Mu took the largest size, which was still tight, uncomfortably snug.
A local Thai brand, he could understand.
Once changed, they still wore clothes from the makeup room to the set. The camera was ready, and the bathtub was filled with hot water, topped with dense bubbles, eliminating any risk of exposure.
Director Guo cleared the set and then brought a screen to shield the two actors: “Call me when you’re ready. If you’re shy, just get into the water, and I’ll clear the set again after we finish shooting so you can get out.”
The boxers Director Guo bought were made of smooth modal cotton. When Li Mu took them off, Zhuang Qin inadvertently saw something he shouldn’t have, quickly looking away, his face burning.
Li Mu feigned ignorance: “Why do you keep looking over here?”
“No! I… I didn’t mean to look, don’t misunderstand, I just…” Zhuang Qin fumbled for an explanation, unable to articulate clearly.
Li Mu found teasing him too amusing and stepped into the bathtub: “What misunderstanding?” He beckoned, “Come in.”
Zhuang Qin also stepped into the blue bathtub, the edges overflowing slightly with water and bubbles. He slowly sat down, not daring to speak.
Li Mu also sat down slowly. The bathtub was really too small; their legs inevitably touched, very closely, and Zhuang Qin couldn’t even fully submerge himself, needing to keep everything above his ribs visible.
Zhuang Qin poked a rubber duck.
Li Mu’s leg brushed against his unintentionally, his mind racing: “You still haven’t answered me.”
Zhuang Qin stopped poking the rubber duck: “You… don’t think I’m a pervert, okay?”
“Of course not.” Li Mu’s lips curled.
Zhuang Qin awkwardly scratched his head, his face turning even redder: “I used to suspect you padded your underwear, I was wrong, I realized today you didn’t… It’s my mistake, I didn’t mean to look.” He was eager to explain, “It’s my problem, not yours. I used to suspect people of wearing contacts and would stare at their eyes non-stop, it’s… a bit impolite, don’t mind it, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Li Mu understood the implication, his smile fading gradually.
Author’s note:
Li Mu: It turns out that when some people stare at your eyes, it’s not because they like you, but because they’re checking if you’re wearing contacts. And when they look at your boxers, they’re checking if you’ve padded them.
