LMMY chapter 78

After reading about ten pages of the script, the phone placed beside him lit up. Sheng Min picked it up and opened WeChat—it was President Zhang.

The reaction was more or less as expected. Sheng Min lowered his gaze, his fingers pausing for a moment before calmly replying with an “Okay.” Without much emotion, he continued flipping through the script in his hands.

He had read this script before, back when he was still in drama school. At that time, he hadn’t participated in Pick Your Moon, nor was he as famous as he was now.

Back then, work often overwhelmed him. Even though the roles were minor, he constantly shuttled between different crews. Yet, there were also stretches when he inexplicably received no job offers, leaving him financially strapped. The one benefit, perhaps, was that during such lulls, he could return to school and attend classes steadily for a few weeks. On weekend evenings, he would go to the outdoor plaza to watch seniors rehearse plays.

Later, he joined a talent show and skyrocketed to fame. To maintain exposure, his company arranged an intense schedule of public appearances. Missing too many classes, the school eventually forced him to take a leave of absence. Despite this, his love for theater remained. If he couldn’t go to a theater in person, he would read scripts instead.

This particular script was one of Yin Qianpin’s earlier works, its plot so thin it was almost nonexistent. More than a play, it resembled a lengthy essay.

It depicted life in a remote southern town: working at sunrise, resting at sunset, day after day, year after year.

In spring, plants would sprout; autumn nights brought light mists that obscured the summer moon; in winter, the world turned white. By the following spring, the melting waters would nurture new life.

It was late afternoon, and the sunlight was a warm, soft red. It streamed through the window, casting its glow on the vibrant green leaves of a potted plant, making them look like jade. A small sliver of light fell on his fingertips.

After finishing a chapter, Sheng Min began to feel drowsy. The drama he was currently filming had too many scenes set at night or dawn, with back-to-back overnight shoots. It had been a long time since he’d had a proper night’s sleep. After traveling again to N City, exhaustion finally caught up to him.

He hesitated for a moment before getting up and opening the door to the lounge. Li Xuan, for some reason, always folded his blankets meticulously, with edges so sharp even soft silk looked crisp.

Sheng Min bent down slightly, picking a strand of hair off the pillow. His lips curved unconsciously into a smile. After a moment of thought, he took out his wallet and placed the strand next to his own ID photo.

He took off his jacket, lay down, and pulled the blanket up to his chin, burying half his face in it. A faint, clean scent mixed with a subtle trace of tobacco lingered at his nose.

For some reason, it reminded him of the description of ripe wheat in the script he had just read.

These were two completely unrelated scents, yet in that moment, they unexpectedly intertwined in his mind. It was as if, despite having made a reckless, impulsive decision, he had somehow entered the tranquil life described in the book.

He turned slightly to face the door.

Through two doors and a long hallway, the faint sounds from the meeting room were barely audible. Strangely, Sheng Min felt as if he could hear Li Xuan’s voice.

And why not?

Out of the countless people in the world, he had chosen him at a glance. Surely, he could also pick his voice out of millions of others.

Suddenly, Sheng Min wanted to see Li Xuan—right now.

The thought struck him, bringing an almost uncontrollable urge to seek him out immediately. But fortunately, he had always been easily satisfied. Simply knowing they were in the same space filled him with a sense of fullness and contentment.

Be patient. There’s still a long time ahead, he told himself.

Finally, he closed his eyes and succumbed to the familiar scent, falling into a deep sleep.

…..

When Li Xuan returned to the office, Sheng Min was nowhere to be seen. The half-read script lay open on the desk.

His footsteps quickened as he entered the lounge, and he only relaxed when he saw the blanket on the bed slightly raised under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

Where else could he be? Sheng Min had promised to wait for him and always did.

Standing at the doorway, Li Xuan watched for a while before slowing his steps and walking over carefully, even holding his breath.

Sheng Min was sleeping soundly. Afraid of waking him, Li Xuan didn’t dare sit by the bed. Instead, he knelt on the carpet, resting his head on the bed’s edge as he silently watched him.

His sleeping face was serene. With each breath, his lashes fluttered slightly, casting faint shadows on the bridge of his nose. Delicate and pale, he resembled fine bone china, meant to be admired by the masses but willingly reserved as someone’s private treasure.

But was that his fault?

A secretive sense of joy welled up in Li Xuan’s heart. So what? he thought nonchalantly.

The only regret was how much time they had wasted. Why had he hesitated before?

All the doubts and questions had been meaningless. There was never a plan, nor did there need to be one. Sheng Min had always existed outside his rules.

Every second they had lost was irretrievable, but thankfully, they still had a long future ahead.

He gazed at him for a long time before lightly touching his arm through the blanket. Leaning against the bed, he fell asleep as well.

He seemed to have dreamed. The details were unclear, but it was nighttime, stars shimmering brightly, and the moon radiant. A gentle spring breeze brushed against his brows and eyes.

Li Xuan opened his eyes to find Sheng Min sleepily looking at him.

“You’re awake?”

Still half-asleep, Sheng Min’s voice was soft and hazy. “Why are you sleeping here?” He shifted over slightly. “Come up and sleep.”

“I’m fine. Do you want to sleep a bit longer?” Li Xuan asked gently. “Are you hungry? Should we go out for dinner?”

Sheng Min shook his head, then nodded. Slowly, he extended his hand from under the blanket, took Li Xuan’s hand, and stared at him intently.

“What’s wrong?” Li Xuan asked.

“I really wanted to see you just now… and then, when I opened my eyes, you were here.”

His voice was still low, almost like a murmur. Li Xuan tightened his grip on Sheng Min’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. Leaning closer, he asked teasingly, “What if I hadn’t come? What would you have done?”

Sheng Min lowered his eyes, his sleepy mind processing slowly. He thought for a long time before replying softly, “Nothing.”

Li Xuan felt a bittersweet ache in his chest. He climbed onto the bed, wrapped Sheng Min—blanket and all—in his arms, and rested his cheek against Sheng Min’s soft hair. In a quiet voice, he said, “…I’ve been such a fool.”

Half-asleep, Sheng Min wasn’t sure if he heard clearly, but his head instinctively nuzzled against Li Xuan’s neck. His response, however, was, “You’re the best.”

Utterly exhausted, after mumbling this, he fell asleep again in Li Xuan’s arms.

The light landed on his hair, creating a soft halo. Li Xuan tilted his head to kiss the top of his hair, feeling a fleeting sense of illusion, as if they had been in love for many years.