MACRM Chapter 16

On the other side, Zheng Lingyang shivered violently as he clutched his phone, his face suddenly turning pale.

The Weibo post he sent out had already been revised several times, and at most served as a setup. The real first step was pushing his manager to message Zhong Yao and invite him to dinner.

As long as Zhong Yao agreed to meet, he could then “accidentally” arrange for someone to secretly snap a few photos, building a persona of someone wholeheartedly chasing after his admired senior from the same school, silently yearning for three years. That kind of bittersweet, almost-romantic narrative would stir the fans. After that, he could easily distance himself and continue developing his own path, untouched… It might be a bit shady, but this was exactly what the fans ate up these days.

He’d spent too many years in mediocrity. Now that someone like Zhong Yao came along — someone he could take advantage of for hype — there was no way he would just let that opportunity slip by.

He hadn’t expected that before he could even carry out the rest of his plan, Zhong Yao would kick it back with a direct and forceful strike.

His agent sat beside him with a gloomy face, sighing. “It’s so over! Who said Zhong-laoshi is from the older generation and doesn’t understand anything? He’s got sharper eyes than us, he saw through it all at a glance…”

“What does he know?! Back in their day, the idea of ‘persona marketing’ wasn’t even considered hyping up CP!”

Zheng Lingyang had grown up immersed in the history of China’s entertainment industry. Upon hearing this, he flared up, gritting his teeth. “Back then, the most they did was two male actors hugging each other, showing a bit of intimacy and passion, all for a few photos. The audience liked it, found it refreshing. To them, that was the pinnacle of ‘ambiguous hype’— But now? That’s nothing! No one even blinks anymore! People are numb to it!”

The agent was startled by his outburst, stammering, “B-but Zhong-laoshi said it himself… he doesn’t hype CP…”

Zheng Lingyang choked. His eyes swept over the words on the phone screen, crystal clear, and he finally fell silent, slumping into a chair with a resentful expression.

What he couldn’t figure out was — how did Zhong Yao, who had started acting at 18 years old, signed one of those old-style contracts from over a decade ago, and had been immersed in the traditional industry path, even know about a modern term like “CP hype”?

Zheng Lingyang ground his teeth to dust, yet dared not make another move under that clear-cut, public rejection. Resentfully, he tossed the agent’s phone aside and retreated into his room.

The agent picked the phone back up and wiped the screen with his sleeve, still frowning, clearly weighed down.

Zhong Yao’s reply not only bluntly stated that he didn’t engage in CP hype, he also followed up with a “I already have an agent.”

Are today’s agents… so versatile in function?

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Back at the temporary makeup room of the [No Bridge] crew, Zhong Yao was still eating leisurely with Lin Zhu.

Last time, Zhong Yao had treated them to a meal and only managed to learn that Lin Zhu liked sweet and sour pork. This time, he deliberately let Lin Zhu decide and buy the food, finally piecing together some idea of his preferences.

Lin Zhu’s tastes were very simple.

So simple it almost didn’t match the image of a pampered young master.

Sweet and sour pork, braised chicken, tomato and egg, simple stir-fried vegetables — and probably to accommodate Zhong Yao, he had also bought steamed pork and a bowl of silken tofu.

Lin Zhu liked food that was flavorful and filling.

Zhong Yao had come up the path of a professional actor, but he had also attended his fair share of banquets and dinner parties. Later, when he studied abroad and was forced to cook for himself, he learned that the wealthier the family, the more emphasis they placed on the ingredients — the freshness, fragrance, and tenderness of top-quality materials.

Someone raised with wealth and indulgence, no matter how clever and considerate, would still have a picky palate. Certainly, they’re not someone this easy to feed.

Lin Zhu scraped the last bit of tomato and egg onto his rice, chewing with eyes narrowed in satisfaction. When he sensed Zhong Yao’s gaze, he slowed slightly and looked up in confusion.

Before Lin Zhu could speak, Zhong Yao had already picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork and placed it in his bowl, smiling as he gently adjusted his collar. “Eat slowly, chew well. It’s good for your stomach.”

Lin Zhu obediently listened, eyebrows curving into a smile again as he slowed down his eating pace.

Zhong Yao also picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork and ate it slowly himself, watching as Lin Zhu’s cheeks bulged adorably with food. He held back the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair again.

In this industry, everyone values boundaries.

Zhong Yao had come from a time when the rules were strict. He understood the importance of etiquette, of not prying into others’ pasts or private matters as basic courtesy.

And yet in that one moment, he couldn’t help but wonder—

He wanted to know… what kind of life had this boy gone through before they met? This boy who instinctively avoided others’ manipulations, who didn’t even know to choose finer food for himself, and had injuries on his hands. How had he grown up like this,  and how had he turned out so… good?

He wanted to know.

Just then, Lin Zhu suddenly straightened up. Zhong Yao worried he had been staring too intently and snapped out of his thoughts, glancing up with a questioning look.

Only to see his agent, with sharp eyes and faster hands, spot a tender chicken leg in the braised dish, pick it up, and drop it directly into his bowl.

Zhong Yao paused mid-bite, and found himself looking right into those amber eyes,  shimmering with sugar-like sparkles.

Zhong Yao: “…”

He held it in, but only for a second. He then gave up and gave his agent’s soft hair a good ruffle.

It’s okay not to know just yet.

They still had plenty of time.

He could find out slowly.

Lin Zhu bought a wide variety of dishes, but the portions were just right. After both of them had eaten their fill, they lingered over some Xian Yu Xian desserts and chatted for a bit, and soon it was almost time to resume filming.

Having spent the entire morning running around under the scorching sun, Zhong Yao originally wanted Lin Zhu to go back to the room and get some rest. But the young agent was still full of energy. He meticulously touched up his makeup, quickly packed everything up, and followed him to the set without leaving his side, even dragging a small stool over and sitting down stubbornly at the edge.

“What are you doing sitting here…”

Zhong Yao was speechless. He patted Lin Zhu’s shoulder and pointed toward his own resting spot. “It’s easy to get sleepy after eating. Go over there and take a nap.”

Lin Zhu glanced back, and his face instantly flushed red. He sat up straight, hands properly on his knees, back ramrod straight. “No, no, I’m not sleepy at all!”

That is the lounge chair where Zhong Yao laid! 

Lin Zhu had originally planned to sneak over at night and lie down on it for a bit just for the thrill, but he hadn’t expected Zhong Yao to bring it up just like that. Even though he was pretty sure his bold and reckless thoughts hadn’t been exposed, his heart still thudded wildly in his chest. He sat on the small stool like a soldier in training. “I’m fine here. It’s close and I can see clearly…”

After sharing a room for the night, the two had become noticeably more comfortable with each other. Zhong Yao, rarely seeing him so instantly flushed and embarrassed, couldn’t help but laugh. He casually handed over his phone. “Want to watch me act?”

He had already touched up his makeup and was preparing to go on set. His whole aura was completely different from the casualness during lunch. Most of his cool, sharp edge had been intentionally softened, and what little remained had already been disarmed in front of Lin Zhu. Dressed in an elegant Western suit, his smiling voice now sounded even more magnetic and deep.

Lin Zhu’s face turned even redder, and any remaining post-meal drowsiness vanished completely. Meeting Zhong Yao’s gaze, he nodded a little clumsily.

Zhong Yao asked, “Want to act with me?”

Lin Zhu was still nodding out of habit, when he suddenly realized the question had subtly changed. He froze, then snapped back to awareness, eyes widening slightly.

Zhong Yao was crouching beside his little stool, patiently waiting for his answer.

Lin Zhu’s heart gave a quiet, unexpected flutter.

…Of course he wanted to.

When he had sent out that video earlier today, using every method he could to spread it across the internet and guide public opinion back toward the truth, he had still been thinking about that moment during the audition — about how Zhong Yao had smiled, and about whose ear he’d whisper those tender, ambiguous lines into.

He was already Zhong Yao’s agent now, and he knew he should be content. He wasn’t jealous. Not really. Just… sometimes, the thought still left the faintest trace of disappointment in his heart.

Just a tiny bit. That was all.

A full meal, an afternoon of filming with Zhong Yao, and maybe a sneaky roll on that lounge chair at night. That silly little thought would surely be gone by then.

He had never expected Zhong Yao to crouch beside him like this, asking so patiently and gently if he wanted to act together.

Lin Zhu felt his heart swell with joy and satisfaction, but he was also afraid of being too reckless and causing trouble for Zhong Yao, especially when he had just begun working with Sichuan Film Crew. He pursed his lips, caught between wanting and holding back, when the assistant director’s voice started calling the crew back into position behind them.

“Don’t worry, Little Young Master. There’s a night scene tonight, you can decide then.”

Zhong Yao smiled, speaking gently as he reached up and lightly rubbed behind Lin Zhu’s ear, placing the phone into his arms before standing and heading to the shooting area with the assistant director.

Lin Zhu sat on his little stool, dazed and simmering like a braised dish, watching two full scenes before finally cooling down.

The first two scenes had been rehearsed that morning, so shooting went smoothly. But Director Wei was still simmering with irritation and nitpicked everything. The assistant director had to gather the crew in advance to go over the key points of the third scene in detail. Nearby, Zhong Yao and the screenwriter were going over the script in low voices, likely discussing the next stage of character development.

Lin Zhu slowly came back to himself. He rubbed his face hard to clear his head, trying to think of something productive to do and distract himself. Then he remembered he had replied to Zheng Linyang’s agent’s private message before dinner.

He had rejected them a bit too bluntly. No matter what they said, he needed to phrase things more tactfully and smooth things over.

Taking a deep breath, Lin Zhu slowly exhaled, trying to calm himself and not get too excited over the possibility of acting alongside Zhong Yao.

Both of them had access to Zhong Yao’s Weibo account. Lin Zhu switched accounts and opened the backend. As he scanned the private messages, his eyes slowly widened in disbelief.

Zhong Yao was in the middle of asking the assistant director if they could give Lin Zhu a few more lines, when he turned around, only to find his agent bouncing toward him like a ping-pong ball.

“Zho—Zhong— Zhong-laoshi—!”

“What is it?”

Zhong Yao raised an eyebrow slightly. His gaze landed on the phone screen in Lin Zhu’s hand, and he instantly understood. He smiled and took the phone. “I figured you might be too polite to reject him. I thought I’d make things clear in advance to avoid more trouble—”

Lin Zhu took a shaky breath, half-dead with shock. “But—!”

“Zhong-laoshi even knows the term ‘CP hype’ now. Truly keeping up with the times.”

The screenwriter leaned over and adjusted his glasses with interest. “Do you actually know what CP means?”

The thoroughly modernized Zhong-laoshi paused, slightly puzzled, and furrowed his brow. “…doesn’t it stand for ‘Come and Play with me[mfn]the “come and play with me” is in full English in the original Chinese text btw[/mfn]’?