After Sheng Min returned to N City, Li Xuan felt like time moved even faster. Just like the golden autumn sunlight, the days slipped by in the blink of an eye—one minute, one day, one week, all passing in a flash.
Early in the morning, Sheng Min sat at the edge of the bed, changing his clothes. Li Xuan had gone to bed late the night before. Half-asleep, he instinctively reached out and wrapped his arms around Sheng Min’s waist. “Leaving already?”
“Sleep a little longer. There’s chicken wonton soup in the clay pot—make sure you eat before heading to the office…” Sheng Min said softly. Seeing that Li Xuan didn’t respond, he bent down and kissed his exposed cheek. “Did you hear me? I’m heading to the recording studio now.”
But Li Xuan wouldn’t let go. He kept his eyes closed, lips curling up slightly as he rested his head against Sheng Min’s leg, rubbing his face against Sheng Min’s waist. The weather had cooled, and Sheng Min had switched to a sweater—soft and fuzzy to the touch. “What time will you be done? I’ll come pick you up.”
“Around seven, I think… You’re coming to pick me up? No overtime today?”
Li Xuan shook his head, his voice lazy. “There was a system bug yesterday, but it’s already fixed… Overtime or not, it’s up to me anyway. How about we go see a play tonight? Didn’t you check the schedule last night?”
“…Are you in a good mood today? Is there some special reason?” Sheng Min glanced at him, teasingly wiggling his fingers in the air as if coaxing a child. “One hundred days since we met? That’s passed… One hundred days since we started dating?… That’s not it either…”
“So I’m really failing as a boyfriend—offering to take you out and still getting suspected of having ulterior motives.” Li Xuan sighed dramatically, taking Sheng Min’s hand and pressing it to his cheek. “But tell me, are you keeping accounts? Why are you counting the days?”
“I have a good memory,” Sheng Min mumbled, a little awkwardly.
Li Xuan kissed his fingertips. “It’s fine. I remember too… Just that maybe we remember differently? Isn’t the day we met the same as the day we started dating?”
“Is it?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Li Xuan looked aggrieved. “I thought you fell in love at first sight… No way I was the only one drowning.”
He always found ways to flirt. Sheng Min, ever serious, replied, “I was afraid you’d drown, so I jumped in to save you.”
“Well, thank you, I guess I learned to swim because of you.” Li Xuan laughed, holding him close, and Sheng Min smiled back, adding, “I’m not going to the theater today. The tour’s on Friday, but today there’s Kunqu opera, do you want to see it?”
“Same thing.” Li Xuan replied disinterestedly, “I’ll just watch you, today’s the day I can spend five more hours with you.”
Sheng Min held his hand back: “Actually, you don’t have to accompany me… You’re a good boyfriend, I’ll even write you a guarantee letter for that. If you have work, go handle it. I don’t mind going by myself.”
“You’re quite the capitalist.” Li Xuan put on a serious face. “You get to take breaks, but I can’t have a single day off?”
“I just mean you don’t have to go out of your way for me,” Sheng Min explained earnestly, even though he knew Li Xuan was teasing.
“Then how about you keep me company?” Li Xuan turned his face, trying to steal a kiss from Sheng Min, “Stay with me.”
Sheng Min pretended not to understand, scratching Li Xuan’s chin before finally saying, “Alright, I’ll pick you up instead. The show starts at eight, so leaving from the software tech park should be just right.”
Li Xuan hesitated for a second, then quickly lightened his tone. “We’ll see. If I finish work early, I’ll come find you first.”
“That works too. Either way, neither place is exactly close.” Sheng Min grabbed his coat, his mood visibly brightening. “I’m off then.”
Li Xuan rested both hands on the edge of the bed. The light cast shadows over his bare shoulders, his shoulder blades rising and falling like mountain peaks. He drawled, “Leaving just like that?”
Sheng Min paused, seeing Li Xuan still looking at him with a smile. He quickly turned back, leaned down for a kiss, and gently touched his earlobe. “See you tonight.”
….
The recording session went smoothly, and by the time they left the studio, it was only 6:15.
“I’ll drop you off first,” Sheng Min said as they entered the elevator. “Actually, you don’t need to follow me to every recording session. There’s nothing much to do there—you just sit around waiting. You should stay home and spend more time with Auntie… Yang Xu?”
“Huh?” Yang Xu seemed lost in thought.
“What are you thinking about?”
“What did you just say? I didn’t catch it.”
“I said I’ll take you home.”
“No need, I’ll grab a cab… I’m your assistant—of course I should be with you when you’re working. If I stay home all day, my mom will just get annoyed with me.”
Yang Xu answered somewhat distractedly, pressing the button for the first floor again as he fiddled with his fingers, watching the numbers change on the screen. Then, he looked at Sheng Min and, as if making a decision, called out to him, “Ge.”
“Mm?”
“I’ve saved quite a bit of money these years working with you,” he said, showing a number with his fingers. “This much.”
“Oh,” Sheng Min was momentarily stunned, then smiled. “What’s up? Showing off?”
“I’m not showing off,” Yang Xu said somewhat shyly, pulling his hand back as if he had made a big decision. “I just wanted to say that even if I don’t work as your assistant in the future, I can still live. I could open a bookstore or something. Don’t think I don’t read books—I’m quite into comics. I could open one next to a school. Kids’ money is the easiest to earn. A lot of my pocket money when I was studying went to the bookstore owner next door.”
Sheng Min paused for a moment, then gently asked, “Why are you suddenly saying this? Did someone talk to you about something?”
Yang Xu lowered his head and stared at his shoes. “Zhang Ge came to ask me again yesterday about how the script reading is going and when I’ll take on new work… He’s been asking a lot lately, thinking I can’t tell. He just wants to know if you’re planning to renew your contract… He really thinks I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re the smartest.”
“Ge!”
Sheng Min kept his tone warm, “How did you respond to him?”
“I told him you were still reading the script, that you haven’t found anything you like. It’s not my fault, his taste is just bad. The scripts he sent you, you didn’t like any of them. He’s always watching you, but he should focus on doing his own job.” Yang Xu spoke with righteous indignation, and Sheng Min didn’t respond. His energy faded a little as he added, “…When I talked to him, of course I was polite, but that was the gist of it.”
Yang Xu gave a look as though expecting praise. The elevator door opened to the lobby on the first floor, but no one entered, so Sheng Min pressed the close button again.
“Don’t get off yet. I told you I’ll take you home,” Sheng Min said with a light laugh as the elevator descended. “It’s fine. Next time he asks, you can tell him to ask me directly… But I should really ask you—what do you think?”
“I want you to be happy,” Yang Xu replied almost without thinking, blurting out the words. “As long as you’re happy, that’s fine. It’s like I don’t really like Li Xuan, but if you’re happy with him, I support you…” He scratched his head awkwardly. “Actually, whether I support you or not doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” Sheng Min smiled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Yang Xu blushed. “I didn’t do anything. I just want to say, Ge, you should do what you want to do. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Don’t worry about the company either; you don’t owe them anything.”
“You don’t owe anyone anything either,” Sheng Min replied.
“Exactly, you don’t mind,” Yang Xu sniffed, “Anyway, I’ll always listen to you. Even if I stop being your assistant, you’ll always be my Ge.”
The elevator stopped at the basement parking garage. Sheng Min smiled, “Mm, of course.”
Yang Xu seemed to have prepared this speech for days, and after saying it, he became a little emotional. He couldn’t wait to see Sheng Min’s reaction and ended up getting teary-eyed, blinking rapidly and quietly sniffing.
This recording studio was located near the outskirts of the city, and the parking lot was sparse with only a dozen or so cars. Sheng Min didn’t want to reveal that he noticed Yang Xu’s emotions, so he pretended not to. He deliberately shifted his gaze, stunned for a moment, then smiled.
“Ge?” Yang Xu noticed that Sheng Min suddenly stopped, and he curiously looked over. When he saw Sheng Min smile, he let out a small “Oh” in a somewhat disdainful tone, “I’ll just go back myself. Don’t bother with me.”
“Take my car.” Sheng Min handed him the keys, “Be careful on the road.”
“You be careful,” Yang Xu’s brief sadness vanished as he pouted, glancing at Li Xuan’s car. Like a concerned father, he turned back every few steps as he walked away.
“Yang Xu’s look, he’s treating me like I’m some kind of playboy,” Li Xuan said once Sheng Min got into the car.
“Yeah, you’re luring me with candy.”
“Really?” Li Xuan reached over to the armrest compartment where Sheng Min had kept some candy, “Peppermint?”
Sheng Min pursed his lips to reach for it, but Li Xuan quickly withdrew his hand, revealing another candy in his palm—soft rose-flavored candy, the kind Sheng Min usually ate.
They shared the candy along with a lingering kiss, the fragrance of roses spread between their lips until it was replaced by the fresh scent of the yulan flower from Sheng Min’s hair.
…..
That night’s Kunqu Opera performance was “The Jade Hairpin.” The hall was small, and the staff had thoughtfully prepared fresh jade hairpin flowers as gifts for the audience. The flowers, still dewy, were handed out at the entrance.
The flowers must have been sent from somewhere, their white petals still glistening with dew. By the time the opera “Autumn River” was sung, the lovers had finally come together, and the dew was still sparkling, as though on the verge of falling.
“Do you want to take it home?” Li Xuan offered his own bouquet to Sheng Min, who gently sniffed it before nodding.
“Mm,” Sheng Min replied. “Let’s take it home and put it in a vase. If we take care of it, it’ll last a long time.”
“Do you like it? Next time, I’ll make sure to add jade hairpin flowers to the bouquet,” Li Xuan said.
Since Sheng Min came back, Li Xuan had been buying flowers for him every day. A joke in a phone call had turned into a kind of daily ritual. Sometimes when Sheng Min wasn’t home, the flowers would arrive first. After Sheng Min mentioned it twice, Li Xuan had started picking a flower on his way back from work—sunflowers and African daisies, alternating between bright, vibrant colors. Each was carefully tended by Sheng Min.
“The flower shop must remember you by now,” Sheng Min smiled at him.
“I’m their biggest customer. If I don’t buy flowers one day, they’ll surely call me.”
As they continued their conversation, they walked into the theater lobby. The people in line were orderly, waiting to enter under the guidance of the staff.
Next to the ticket counter, the promotional wall was still covered with various posters. Due to the ongoing theater tour, most of the display space was taken by Yin Qianpin’s plays, including “When the Moon Falls” that they had watched on Sheng Min’s birthday, as well as “Not Just Mountains.”
This scene was so familiar, it felt like yesterday. The difference was that the text for casting had now changed to “Audition in progress,” and the registration deadline had long passed.
Sheng Min had been coming to the theater frequently these days, so he had naturally seen the poster before. Still, he couldn’t help but pause again, looking at it once more. He let out a soft sigh, barely audible, only causing the dew on the flower petals to tremble slightly.
Li Xuan gently grasped his wrist under the cover of his body. “What are you looking at?”
“A play we watched last time.” Sheng Min smiled, trying to be nonchalant, and pointed at the promotional poster. “It’s part of this tour too, I think it’s in two weeks. You bought tickets for it, right? If you have time that day, will you watch it with me again? The same two actors are performing.”
When he was nervous, he tended to talk more. Li Xuan simply answered, “Of course, if I have time.”
“Mm.” Sheng Min nodded absentmindedly and turned his gaze away from the wall. “Let’s go, we need to get to the restaurant before they give up our table.”
Dinner was at a Cantonese restaurant. Neither of them was particularly picky about food, but they both had clear preferences. This little place they had discovered by chance made excellent congee, and the dim sum’s sweetness suited Sheng Min’s taste. The only downside was that it was a bit out of the way—not close to their home or Li Xuan’s company—but it was conveniently on the way from the theater.
Following their usual routine, they ordered a bowl of lily bulb congee, a bowl of fish congee, and just a few dim sum dishes to avoid feeling too full at night—red rice rolls, crystal dumplings, and, seeing that the chestnut cake with osmanthus was on the menu, they added a serving of that too. The dishes were neatly arranged on the table, a clear contrast between sweet and savory.
Sheng Min usually ate lightly for dinner, mainly to keep Li Xuan company. Now, he was even less interested in eating. He barely touched the congee but had an extra two pieces of the chestnut cake.
“Should I order another serving for you?” Li Xuan asked.
“I’m full,” Sheng Min shook his head. Their table was by the window, and the night breeze tousled his hair slightly, making him look a little nostalgic. When he noticed Li Xuan looking at him, he smiled. “Why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?”
“Not on your face—I’m just worried about what’s on your mind.” Li Xuan looked at him with a relaxed smile, put down his chopsticks, and poured a cup of pu-erh tea to aid digestion. After he finished drinking, Sheng Min still hadn’t spoken, so Li Xuan returned to their earlier conversation. “How about I order another portion of chestnut cake to take home?”
He stood up but, seeing that Sheng Min was still sitting, he smiled and sat back down. “Or two portions?”
Sheng Min didn’t respond immediately. He looked at Li Xuan for a moment before saying, “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Trying to make sure you put on some weight?”
“You’re absolutely doing this on purpose.” Sheng Min lightly kicked him under the table, and Li Xuan simply moved over to sit beside him. “That’s not fair. Weren’t you the one playing dumb first?”
After a brief silence, Sheng Min finally spoke. “Earlier, you asked me what Yang Xu and I were talking about when we left, right?”
“What was it?”
“He was asking if I should renew my contract.” Sheng Min summarized it briefly, then lowered his eyes. “Yang Xu has been with me for so many years. I know he thinks I’m not doing well at the company, and he’s genuinely looking out for me. You might see it that way too…”
“I don’t,” Li Xuan denied immediately. “But I do hope you do what makes you happiest, without letting anyone else influence you.”
Sheng Min leaned his arm against the window frame, his tone slightly wistful. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but I still haven’t reached a conclusion. Sometimes, I want to give it a try, but… It’s not like I feel down every time I see those posters. It’s just that, when you’re here, I…” He trailed off and shook his head. “It’s really nothing.”
“I understand.” Li Xuan nodded. “But tell me—what’s the ‘but’?”
“There are a lot of ‘buts,'” Sheng Min deliberately lightened his tone. “For example, Director Yin’s play doesn’t accept actors with prior experience. My contract still has two months left…”
“You only need to tell me whether you want to do it or not.” Li Xuan’s gaze remained warm yet firm.
“…I don’t not want to,” Sheng Min exhaled deeply. He poured himself a cup of tea and drank it in one gulp. “Next time, maybe.”
“Why wait for next time?” Li Xuan asked.
Sheng Min finally laughed. “It’s too late now. You brought this up so late at night, but didn’t even notice that the application deadline has already—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
Li Xuan had taken out his phone, turned on the screen, and handed it to him. Sheng Min’s words came to an abrupt halt.
It was an email. The message was simple—an invitation for him to attend the audition for the lead role in ‘Not Just Mountains’ at the theater’s tenth-floor office, room 1006, before next Friday.
“It’s not too late,” Li Xuan said with a small smile, reaching out to rub Sheng Min’s cheek. “I signed you up long ago.”
