The email had arrived the previous night, requiring a response within twenty-four hours. There was still an hour and a half left.
Li Xuan refilled the cup of tea and handed it to him for warmth. “So? Will you go?”
“If I don’t, wouldn’t I be wasting your kindness? …When did you sign me up?”
“On your birthday.” Seeing Sheng Min’s mild surprise, Li Xuan added teasingly, “You rejected me and I still had to sign you up—never done anything so humiliating before.”
“You felt humiliated?” Sheng Min raised an eyebrow.
“I think it was an honor.” Li Xuan’s expression turned serious. “So, don’t think of it as wasting anything. Signing you up wasn’t difficult. When I told you not to let others influence your decisions, that included me too. Whether you go or not is entirely up to you. I just wanted to make sure you had the option.”
He gently pushed the phone in front of Sheng Min, saying nothing more, patiently waiting for him to decide.
The screen’s glow softened under the restaurant’s warm lighting. Sheng Min lowered his eyes, staring at those brief lines of text. After a long pause, he spoke softly, “All of my ‘buts’ are still valid.”
“I understand.” Li Xuan nodded.
“But… there’s no harm in trying, right?” Sheng Min took a deep breath, his fingertip pressing the “Accept” button. The screen flickered, confirming his response. That glow seemed to reflect in his eyes as well. He looked at Li Xuan, his voice carrying a hint of shyness. “I won’t say thank you.”
Li Xuan smiled and pinched the back of Sheng Min’s neck. “It’s what I should do.”
On the way home, they didn’t bring up the topic again. But the next morning, when Li Xuan got up to head to the company, Sheng Min got up as well.
“No need to make breakfast, I’ll just grab something quick downstairs at the office,” Li Xuan said, taking a shirt from the wardrobe. “Go back to sleep for a bit. It’s rare that you don’t have voice over work today. Or do you want something? I can order you something…”
Hearing no response, Li Xuan turned around, only to see Sheng Min already dressed. He was momentarily stunned before chuckling. “Are you heading out? And here I was, thinking I was being considerate.”
“I’m going to school,” Sheng Min explained, trying to sound casual despite a hint of nervousness. “It’s been a long, long time since I last acted in a play. Back in school, I only performed two full productions… It’s different from acting in TV dramas and films. I made an appointment to talk to my old performance professor.”
“What time?” Li Xuan glanced at his watch. “I’ll drive you.”
“No need, I’ll drive myself.” Sheng Min started to say but then remembered, “Oh, right. I lent my car to Yang Xu yesterday… I forgot.”
Li Xuan didn’t point out the fact that Sheng Min hadn’t slept well all night—how he had rested a hand on his back, gently patting him until dawn when he finally dozed off for a little while. Instead, he simply smiled. “Then I’ll take you.”
“It’s out of your way,” Sheng Min frowned.
“It’s not far.” Li Xuan kept smiling.
“…Fine. I guess I’ll let you have this chance, then…” Sheng Min thought for a moment, then pointed at the shirt Li Xuan had picked. “Wear the apricot-colored one next to it.”
“This one?” Li Xuan obediently moved his hand over.
Sheng Min nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll go wash my face first.”
They grabbed two sandwiches from the fridge and ate them quickly before heading out.
Early morning meant students were on their way to school. Passing by a middle school, they saw groups of students with heavy backpacks walking through the gates, some quickly, some slowly.
“Our old school uniform looked a lot like that.” Sheng Min sipped a yogurt drink slowly. “Blue and white… I think the whole city used that color scheme.”
“Oh?” Li Xuan stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the students to pass.
“Yours wasn’t?”
Li Xuan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “My elementary school didn’t have a uniform. In high school, I was at a private school, and our uniforms looked overly formal, like insurance salespeople.”
His tone was light, but Sheng Min felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t ask where Li Xuan had been during middle school. Instead, he put down his yogurt, gently pinching Li Xuan’s fingertips as he gazed out at the students outside.
“…It would’ve been nice if we had gone to school together.”
“So you could have me tutor you?”
Sheng Min shot him a glance and pulled his hand away, only for Li Xuan to grab it back and kiss it. “Just kidding… So, who did you go to and from school with before me? Let me get jealous.”
“With Sheng Hui. Jealous yet?”
Caught off guard by the name, Li Xuan quickly glanced at Sheng Min’s face, relieved to see no strong emotions. He put on a mock stern face. “More like furious.”
Sheng Min smiled slightly and gently pinched his cheek. “I could only go to school when I wasn’t filming. Sometimes, I’d be gone for half a month. My classes were all over the place. My classmates were curious about me, but I wasn’t close to anyone… Sheng Hui was the only one who sometimes walked with me to school. Mostly when he wanted allowance money.”
He seemed lost in memories, his voice soft. Then he glanced at Li Xuan again. “It’s been so long. Thinking about them feels like another lifetime… Last night, I think I dreamt of my mom.”
The students finished crossing, and Li Xuan drove forward. He felt irrationally annoyed that Sheng Min had barely slept and was now having dreams stirred up by these people. But his voice remained gentle. “What did you dream about?”
“I can’t remember.” Sheng Min thought for a moment. “Maybe because… The last time I watched a senior class rehearse a play at school, my mom called me home halfway through. After that, life got busy. The next time I went back, it was to process my leave of absence… They say what you think about during the day comes back at night in dreams.”
“Next time, dream about me.”
“No.” Sheng Min shook his head.
His refusal was so direct that Li Xuan raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why not?”
“Every time I dream of you, I wake up immediately… Do you remember that night I called you from the set?” Sheng Min’s lips curved slightly, his expression soft. “Dreams can’t compare to the real thing.”
They arrived at the drama academy right at nine. Sheng Min grabbed the gift he had prepared for his professor from the backseat.
“No need to pick me up at noon,” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I have to redo two fall advertisement shots for an endorsement. I’ll head there in the afternoon—Yang Xu knows.”
“Alright.” Li Xuan nodded. “See you tonight.”
“See you tonight.”
Sheng Min stepped out of the car.
Knowing that if he didn’t leave first, Sheng Min wouldn’t either, Li Xuan waved before driving off.
Only after passing the row of trees ahead did he glance in the rearview mirror.
Amid the lush greenery, Sheng Min’s back was visible, his light apricot-colored coat catching the sunlight like a soft glow. He walked toward the campus with a lightness to his steps, looking like a carefree university student.
If he terminated his contract, maybe he could go back and finish school.
Li Xuan touched his chin, feeling the lingering warmth from Sheng Min’s fingertips.
He thought of all the investors he had been meeting lately. At worst, he’d temporarily lose some control over his company. Once ‘Reverse Track’ launched and the cash flow stabilized, he could regain it.
But what he wanted was for Sheng Min to break free from his past life—starting now.
Sheng Min was the moon he had plucked from the sky. And he wanted him to be like a cloud, free to drift anywhere, to take any shape, without being constantly watched, scrutinized, or forced to follow a script.
This was, without a doubt, the best deal he could ever make.
