Zhuang Qin kept apologizing, saying sorry again and again: “I didn’t mean to, Brother Mu, please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Li Mu replied calmly, “I didn’t pad anything.”
Zhuang Qin could tell that he was actually quite bothered by it. But which man wouldn’t be sensitive when questioned about such a thing?
“I’m really sorry… I know you… didn’t pad,” Zhuang Qin regretted bringing it up because he felt comfortable enough with Li Mu to confess, and now, look, Li Mu was upset.
“How do you know I’m telling the truth?” Li Mu’s tone was deceptively calm, his fist tightening on the towel, “Without checking for yourself? Maybe we should go to the bathroom.”
“That… let’s not, I didn’t mean that, really.” Zhuang Qin felt like diving under the water and hiding, but the tub was already cramped with both of them.
“Are you guys just chatting in there?” Director Guo Baozhen’s voice came from outside, “Are you ready?”
“Ready,” Zhuang Qin gathered his composure and said to Li Mu, “Let’s shoot the scene first, and talk about anything else later.”
Soon, the staff removed the screen, and three cameras were set up in the bathroom: one for a close-up of Zhuang Qin, one for a close-up of Li Mu, and one for a mid-shot of the bathtub with both of them.
Zhuang Qin felt somewhat relieved by the setup, as the bubbles mostly obscured anything below his ribs.
Director Guo directed them to adjust their positions: “Why are both of you hugging your knees? Don’t be so stiff. Mr. Zhuang, stretch your legs towards him… essentially, your legs should sandwich one of Mr. Li’s.”
“Like this?” Zhuang Qin adjusted as he spoke, finding it awkward to place his legs.
The bathtub was only really suitable for one person to relax in fully. As Zhuang Qin stretched his right leg towards the middle, it felt like his foot touched something.
Both their expressions stiffened simultaneously.
Zhuang Qin whispered an apology, “Sorry…”
Li Mu just endured and said it was okay.
They began to adjust their positions, and unavoidable physical contact occurred. Director Guo still wasn’t satisfied and kept changing their angles and poses, making Li Mu nearly want to stand up and kick the director out. But he couldn’t stand up.
“Keep your feet still, don’t move them around,” Li Mu said in a very low voice, audible only to Zhuang Qin.
Zhuang Qin’s ears turned red, and he explained that the bathtub was too small.
“Uh-huh.”
Once the positions were set, the prop cigarette was lit in Li Mu’s fingers.
Director clapped the board: “Scene 150 of ‘Hidden Heart’, Shot one, Action!”
Li Mu leaned back in a relaxed pose, his jawline and neck sleek and defined, his Adam’s apple prominent, and the cigarette between his fingers wafting thin blue smoke under the light, casting a haze over his face.
Zhuang Qin simply reached over at the right moment and naturally took the cigarette from him—more accurately, he reached out, and Li Mu handed it to him.
He took a deep drag, his eyelids drooping, dreamily exhaling smoke rings, puff by puff.
The scent of burning tobacco filled the bathroom.
Despite some visibility issues, obstructions were still clearly visible.
“Keep one more shot,” Director Guo said.
The same scene was shot again, and Director Guo felt the first take was better, but he hesitated to comment further to avoid upsetting the investors, especially as Zhuang Qin was choking. Asking a non-smoker to shoot such a scene was tough, unlike alcohol scenes, which could be simulated with water.
Zhuang Qin didn’t even have time to rinse his mouth before moving to the next shot.
The script required him to initiate the kiss in this segment. He was to lean in, touch Li Mu’s face, tracing from his eyebrows down to his nose, eyelashes, and then lips.
He got into character, and the director clapped the board.
Zhuang Qin had to slightly lift himself to lean in for the kiss, but he was cautious about revealing too much in the small bathtub. As he leaned forward, he realized he couldn’t reach Li Mu in his seated position.
He and Li Mu stared at each other.
Director Guo yelled “Cut.”
“I hadn’t thought of this problem initially,” Director Guo admitted, not having foreseen the issue of them not being able to reach each other. He pondered for a moment, “How about adjusting your positions? Instead of sitting opposite, Li Mu, you pull him over, and then Zhuang, you sit on him, and we continue according to the script. How about that?”
Zhuang Qin looked perplexed: “How do I sit? On top of him? That’s awkward.”
“Just try it yourselves first, call me when you’re ready.”
Director Guo then called the cameramen out and pulled the shower curtain across, creating a private space for the actors.
Zhuang Qin hesitated before moving, not daring to approach directly until Li Mu caught his wrist and pulled him over.
In character, the pull wouldn’t be gentle, but this was just a trial, and Li Mu wasn’t using much force. His legs bent slightly in the water, he instructed, “Keep your body from leaving the water. As you come over, spread your legs and straddle me, I’ll hold you.”
Zhuang Qin attempted to move, but found it hard to leverage himself properly while sitting. He would have to use his hands to support himself on the edge of the tub.
Li Mu noticed this and said, “If you don’t mind, my hand will touch your leg to pull you over.”
“That’s fine,” Zhuang Qin responded.
“Come on.” Li Mu’s hand was gripping his wrist, the other unseen under the water.
Zhuang Qin flinched slightly, then was quickly pulled over by Li Mu’s strong arms. Li Mu’s hand moved from his leg to his waist, pulling him into his lap. Zhuang Qin straddled him in a kneeling position, their faces inches apart.
Zhuang Qin felt… he had sat on something significant.
He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say.
“Maybe…” he thought, perhaps they should delay filming for a bit.
Li Mu was struggling even more than before, a torrent of thoughts flashing through his mind. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, then said hoarsely, “It’s okay.”
When Zhuang Qin sat down, the sensation was unmistakable. He couldn’t help saying, “I’ll never doubt you’re padding again.”
Li Mu: “…”
Zhuang Qin cautiously looked into his eyes, “Did I say something wrong again?”
Li Mu hummed through his nose, his entire face a picture of meticulous concern: “I’m not mad at you.”
Zhuang Qin apologized, his palms resting on Li Mu’s shoulders, lifting himself slightly, careful not to press down too much, fearing he might hurt Li Mu.
Being an actor was indeed tough, having to persist through such circumstances. Being a man himself, Zhuang Qin knew what should be done at this moment. Li Mu’s professionalism was beyond his expectations.
Meanwhile, Li Mu’s hands lingered on his skin, which was slippery beyond reason, feeling like the scene couldn’t go on.
Zhuang Qin, feeling the pressure of being too close, slightly turned his head: “Let’s just get this shot right, and once it’s done, I’ll tell Director Guo, and you go rest.”
Li Mu glanced down at the lips so close to his, his voice hoarse: “You decide.”
The water in the bathtub had cooled significantly, but it was mid-June in Southeast Asia, so soaking in cold water wasn’t really an issue.
They told Director Guo they were ready, and reshot the scene.
“Take two, the second attempt!”
Li Mu’s hands worked together, pulling Zhuang Qin onto his lap, very close.
The stimulation was intense, and Li Mu nearly lost control.
Director Guo noticed that Zhuang Qin’s lower body was emerging from the water and said, “Let’s do it again.”
“Take two, the third attempt! Action!”
“Fourth time…”
“Fifth…”
After sitting down several times, Li Mu was numb.
Zhuang Qin was embarrassed by the continual NGs, especially towards Li Mu. He whispered an apology: “I won’t mess up next time.”
Being trained in acrobatics, even if the director had high aesthetic demands, he could perfect it after a few NGs.
This time Director Guo didn’t call for another take; he was focused on the monitor. The close-up shot under the simulated morning light fell perfectly on Li Mu’s face, creating a stark contrast with his own shadows.
Zhuang Qin’s fingers traced every feature of his face carefully.
Li Mu’s eyes held a profound desire.
If Director Zhou had been there, Director Guo would have slapped his thigh in approval. Good actors just have that effect, even their gaze conveys emotion!
Li Mu’s arm tightened, pulling Zhuang Qin in front of him, their faces moving from close to touching. Li Mu tilted his head slightly, his jawline to his neck elegantly outlined, high-definition cameras even capturing the movement of his Adam’s apple.
From the camera’s perspective, it seemed Zhuang Qin was completely overwhelmed by Li Mu’s acting, turning from the active provocateur to something much more passive.
As their breaths mingled, Li Mu’s hand on his back pulled him closer, and with a slight approach, Li Mu’s lips met his.
The strong taste of tobacco filled their mouths.
Though they had shot kissing scenes before, this one felt different; Zhuang Qin was more drawn into the role, suddenly understanding more deeply the character An Ke’s feelings for the hitman.
Director Guo somewhat regretted that while both actors were good, the kissing scene was restrained, lacking the indulgence and intensity he had imagined, though the tenderness was real. Li Mu’s one hand under the water was unseen, the other cradling Zhuang Qin’s soft neck, fingers threading through his black hair, even the pressure of his fingertips feeling so genuine.
But filming always has its imperfections, and one can’t forcibly demand that actors deliver a tongue-kissing scene.
Plus, with Li Mu’s cleanliness habits, financing the props out of his own pocket to ensure everything was new but looked used, getting this far was already quite an achievement.
Director Guo found an excuse for the finance backers and shouted, “Cut!”
“That take is good!”
As soon as he spoke, Li Mu swiftly pulled the shower curtain closed again, nearly tearing it in his haste.
Director Guo called the cameramen out, as such scenes required space after shooting.
“Rest well, then call me,” he told the two behind the curtain.
The three cameramen stepped out, whispering among themselves, “Are those two for real?”
Director Guo snapped, “Don’t gather around gossiping!”
In acting, the emotions actors invest are real, even if they are temporarily deluded by their characters, it’s fine once they snap out of it.
Director Guo wasn’t too worried about this; he would remind them when filming wrapped.
Once everyone left, the two in the tub finally relaxed completely.
Li Mu still held him, not letting go.
Zhuang Qin didn’t pull away either, which he theoretically should have done immediately, but he didn’t.
After holding each other for a while, Zhuang Qin slowly detached himself from the character, his expression clearing a bit.
He was still leaning against Li Mu, feeling awkward. He tried to get up, but Li Mu pressed him down: “You’re up too.”
Zhuang Qin knew what he meant, and it only made him more embarrassed. To think that filming with a male actor would lead to this…
“It’s a normal… physiological reaction,” he said, blushing with embarrassment, trying to sit up, only to be pushed down by Li Mu again.
“Don’t move,” Li Mu said, “I’m the same.”
The last scene had gone on for nearly half an hour, and Zhuang Qin felt his reaction was definitely not normal.
“Then you… go to the makeup room?” Zhuang Qin pointed at the bathrobes prepared by the crew, suggesting, “Wear that… no one will notice.”
“And you?”
Zhuang Qin thought a little rest would settle everything; it was just a kissing scene, after all.
Li Mu’s gaze deepened: “Aren’t you joining me?”
Zhuang Qin’s several attempts to rise were thwarted by Li Mu pulling him back, almost crushing him. Li Mu whispered close to his ear: “Aren’t you going to check if I’m padded?”
Author’s note:
Staring at the decreasing nutrient solution counts from yesterday by 4000, today by 2000, zoned out.
Wuwuwu, maybe everyone’s out of nutrient solutions, but I’ve been saying it for several days… still adding an update tonight, just one more… before midnight, muah, thank you all for your nutrient solutions and support!
•
Promoting a super sweet story: “The CP You Ship Has Gotten Together” by Shu Qi
Blurb:
The second year Lu Huan won the Best Actor award, a junior entered his household.
It was a senior’s child, new to the circle. The senior asked him to keep an eye on the kid: “Our Wen Ning is just playing around, the circle is chaotic, but with your face to back him, he should be okay.”
Lu Huan was troubled by this barely adult, pampered young boy living in his house.
Unexpectedly, the kid was a fan of his, super sweet when they met, even asking for his autograph. After signing, the kid was overjoyed: “Can I take a picture of the autograph to post on Weibo?”
Later—
Lu Huan: “Why only take pictures of the autograph and the figurines, when the person is right in front of you?”
Wen Ning: “What if the fans figure it out?”
Lu Huan: “Just tell them! The CP you ship is together, what can they do about it?”
————————————
Suddenly, Lu Huan’s fans discovered a new super-topic pairing their idol with an obscure, lower-tier celebrity.
Fans: “Lower-tier trash, stop leeching off our Lu Huan, just stick to your ncf.”
“Fans of the d-list celebrity are shameless.”
But then, fans discovered that Lu Huan himself had followed the super-topic.
And it was revealed—
The super-topic was started by Lu Huan himself.
The “d-list” celebrity was the young master of the prestigious Wen family.
Born with a silver spoon, owning shares from birth, he graduated with a bachelor’s degree at eighteen from Curtis, one of the world’s most renowned music conservatories.
Fans: “Baby is so handsome!”
“My husband loves me!”
“Another day shipping a divine CP.”
