MACRM Chapter 30

The heavy wool fabric brushed lightly, the familiar warmth seeped through the layers of clothing, and his heartbeat quickened in response through his chest.

Lin Zhu, from head to toe, had curled himself into one tight ball.

“It’s alright, don’t be afraid…”

Zhong Yao’s voice carried the faint rush of breath from running, yet in the midst of the chaotic shouts, it fell quietly by his ear, laced with a trace of indulgent amusement. “Little Young Master, if you pull any harder, you’ll end up strangling me to death.”

Only then did Lin Zhu realize he was still clutching Zhong Yao’s tie. He also belatedly remembered that they were still in the middle of a scene. He hurriedly let go, his body swaying uncontrollably, but was immediately steadied by Zhong Yao’s hand behind his back.

Zhong Yao was the only one who had read and understood the storyboard. His arm tightened around him, and in a low voice he guided him through the act:

“Hold me.”

“…”

“Hold him?!”

Lin Zhu’s heart pounded faster than ever as he tried to pretend to be a sack of potatoes. He couldn’t help regretting the two, three, maybe even five extra catties he had carelessly put on these past few days.

It was far too late to run laps around the hotel now. Lin Zhu forced himself to focus, doing his best to grasp the emotions of the young master’s character. His body was still faintly trembling as he lifted his hand to grip Zhong Yao’s shoulder tightly, burying his face and steeling his resolve.

“Starting tomorrow, I will run at least five kilometers a day, plus a thousand jump ropes…”

Unaware that his agent’s mind had already drifted to the hotel gym, Zhong Yao shielded him as they darted through the pitch-black alleyways, avoiding the patrolling guards, carrying the camera along in a single continuous tracking shot that broke into the private residence.

…

Zhan Yuan gently placed the weak and trembling youth onto the sofa.

His face was half hidden in shadow, his expression unreadable, yet his hand hanging at his side remained clenched tightly into a fist. After a moment, Zhan Yuan slowly crouched down and raised his hand to gently wipe a streak of blood from his young master’s cheek.

As if suddenly realizing something, Zhan Yuan’s expression shifted slightly. He leaned in, pressing his forehead close.

The young master suddenly raised his hand.

His gaze was already somewhat unfocused, as if he couldn’t fully recognize the person in front of him. A sharp edge of hostility flickered between his delicate brows. His raised arm seemed only meant to block Zhong Yao from approaching, but hidden within was a precise, ruthless grappling move.

“You’re ill. Let your teacher take a look.”

Zhong Yao calmly caught his fierce arm, twisted his wrist, and firmly held that cold hand in his palm.

Lin Zhu, restrained by him, instinctively struggled again, yet Zhong Yao leaned in and wrapped him warmly in his embrace.

“It’s alright now…”

Zhong Yao still held his hand, his other arm encircling him.

He made no move to defend himself, instead pulling the young master — who just a moment ago had struck out mercilessly — against his chest, his voice soft with reassurance, “I’m here. It’s alright.”

Lin Zhu startled awake against his chest.

“You—”

Lin Zhu’s voice was hoarse, his breath weak and fevered. “What do we do? I already know your secret…”

Zhong Yao smiled, releasing him, half-kneeling before the sofa. “And I already know yours. We’re even.”

Lin Zhu stared at him in a daze. Zhong Yao’s expression was calm and clear, betraying no ripple of disturbance at knowing he was the son of his mortal enemy.

The arrogance and defiance in Lin Zhu’s eyes faltered slightly, touched with faint fear, “You… already knew?”

There was still some haze in his gaze, yet clarity quickly returned.

Zhan Yuan clearly already knew. Otherwise, he would not have suddenly appeared in such an inconspicuous alleyway at that exact moment, would not have coincidentally run into him, and would not have carried him back into the Zhan family’s private residence…

Lin Zhu tried to struggle upright, but his overheated and weakened body gave out, and he fell back again.

“Enough, let’s put this matter behind us. We won’t mention it again.”

Zhong Yao chuckled softly, ruffling his hair. “Little Young Master, what nonsense are you imagining? Secrets don’t matter. Knowing doesn’t matter. As long as you still call me teacher, then for one more day, your teacher can still protect you—”

Lin Zhu could no longer listen, his rasping voice cutting in, “What if…”

Secrets don’t matter. Knowing doesn’t matter.

As long as you still call me teacher, your teacher can still protect you for one more day.

Lin Zhu trembled lightly against his chest, striving to merge himself with the character while also desperately separating fiction from reality, refusing to let even a single line of dialogue accidentally root itself in his heart.

The young master clenched his teeth, yanking on Zhan Yuan’s trench coat that had long been stained with his blood. “What if… I don’t call you laoshi anymore?”

Zhong Yao lowered his head, his dark eyes calm and gentle as they enveloped him.

“Don’t say Zhong Yao. Don’t say Zhong Yao. Don’t say Zhong Yao…”

Lin Zhu’s chest ached so badly he could barely breathe, yet it was also overflowing with a bittersweet, satisfied happiness. He reminded himself again and again not to break character, as he gathered up three parts hostility, five parts stubbornness, and let a prideful, icy shield of dignity build within his eyes. “Zhan—Yuan?”

His father was the mastermind behind the banquet trap to kill Zhan Yuan, while his teacher was the one leading people to topple his father, a pillar of loyalty to the government.

Raised in a honeyed cocoon since childhood, the young master had never learned the gravity of matters of state. Amid such violent upheaval, he no longer knew what stance he should take.

Calling out Zhan Yuan’s name, wouldn’t that make the other party think he and his father were just the same kind of people? Wouldn’t that be enough for his Zhan-laoshi to find a way to escape, leave this place, stay alive…

A warm palm gently caressed his cheek, stroking softly.

Lin Zhu’s breath hitched.

“You even called my name… so rude to your teacher, no respect for elders, no sense of propriety. What am I to do with you?”

Zhong Yao rebuked him word by word, yet his eyes slowly brimmed with gentle amusement. That faint calmness dissolved away, and beneath the lamp, his deep black pupils grew impossibly soft, “Seems I haven’t been much of a teacher.”

“It’s this teacher’s fault for delaying your progress. Too bad I’ve squandered all my wealth, have nothing left on me, and can’t even refund your tuition…”

Zhong Yao looked at him, smiling lightly. “So, what’s left of my life—I might as well repay it all to you.”

Lin Zhu trembled violently, eyes filling with a dazed shimmer of tears.

Zhong Yao leaned down to hold him.

…

“Cut!”

Wei Geping, who had followed to supervise the shoot, called out loudly with satisfaction, instantly breaking the mood. “That take will do, very good effect. Costume and makeup, get them ready for the next scene. Set crew, clean up the props, no need for reshoots. Half an hour till the next one—”

Lin Zhu jolted awake from the role, hastily wiping away the tears that hadn’t yet spilled over. He rushed over, clutching Zhong Yao’s sleeve. “Zhong-laoshi! I didn’t control my strength properly, did it hurt? I thought I wasn’t that close!”

Zhong Yao: “…”

He glanced at the oblivious Wei Geping, still gesturing grandly as he directed, then couldn’t help raising a hand to rub his temple. Smiling at Lin Zhu, he reached out and ruffled his hair. “It’s fine, that’s nothing. Your fight scene just now was beautiful, you even startled me.”

Lin Zhu’s eyes lit up instantly, unable to hide the joy sparkling there. “Really? I haven’t practiced in so long, I was worried we wouldn’t coordinate well…”

“Really. Swift and beautiful.” 

Remembering the agile movements he had just witnessed, Zhong Yao gave a slight nod, nearly unable to resist hugging him again. “Does your body hurt? Let’s go to the makeup room, I’ll check for you. Don’t let an injury linger.”

This scene was finished, and next up was the medicine-feeding and changing clothes. Both of them had to wash off the mud, water, and bloodstains before wardrobe and makeup could redo their look.

Lin Zhu had skill, but this was his first time filming action scenes, and he had indeed taken a few hits in the rush. Now he felt some soreness where he’d been struck, likely bruised already.

He didn’t want Zhong Yao to see, quickly shaking his head and rummaging through his bag at the side. “No, no, I brought medicine, I’ll do it myself—”

Before he could finish, Zhong Yao was already raising a hand toward him.

Lin Zhu snapped to attention. “Come here!” 

How could this man pick things up so fast!

With a script in hand, Zhong Yao had improved at lightning speed. Lin Zhu, who had been utterly flustered yesterday, had already exploded several times today, terrified Zhong Yao really might carry him off the set. He hurried to greet the directors and crew all around, then obediently followed Zhong Yao off the set, dawdling toward the makeup room.

Though he’d left the role, the lingering emotions still hadn’t faded.

Trailing behind Zhong Yao through the dim corridors, Lin Zhu pressed his chest quietly, lips curving in an involuntary smile.

The rest of his life, huh…

How could the screenwriter write such suggestive lines?

Zhan Yuan had less than two days left of his life. Soon he’d have to step back from this role. Was it really appropriate to be this happy now? Lin Zhu rubbed his cheeks hard and followed Zhong Yao into the makeup room.

The hotel room converted into a makeup room was well equipped. Both of them quickly showered. Lin Zhu lingered in the hot water a little longer, then threw on a short-sleeved shirt and came out refreshed, only to find Zhong Yao waiting with medicine in hand.

“Come here, let me see.”

The young agent still looked as composed as ever. He beckoned Lin Zhu to sit, lifted his clothes, and his gaze unconsciously tightened.

Lin Zhu had soaked in hot water, reddening his skin and making the bruises less obvious, yet they were still shocking to see.

On set, Zhong Yao had already memorized the spots where he’d been hit. He checked each in turn, poured some safflower oil into his palm, rubbed it warm, then pressed it gently on. His voice softened, “It’ll hurt a little, bear with it.”

“It’s nothing, this doesn’t hurt.”

Lin Zhu grinned, holding up his shirt obediently for him. “You’ve suffered far more than me, haven’t you? Filming all those action scenes, taking so many injuries… I feel awful just watching.”

Zhong Yao didn’t answer, only shook his head slightly, rubbing the oil in firmly to spread it.

Now that the numbness had worn off, the pain was at its worst. Sweat beaded fine on Lin Zhu’s forehead, though he barely showed it, still propping his chin on his arm as he talked. “Can this part stay in? No need to edit, I just want to watch it myself later…”

Zhong Yao gazed at him a moment, then smiled softly. “Yes.”

Completely satisfied, Lin Zhu lay on the table, exhaling slowly. His eyes drifted around the room, then suddenly landed on a delicate box of qingtuan.

All day his mind had been restless with thoughts of the night’s scenes, so he hadn’t eaten much. And after that exertion, his body had spent a lot. The moment he thought of the soft, sweet flavor of the green dumplings, his stomach growled loudly.

Lin Zhu: “!”

Zhong Yao, applying medicine at his waist, couldn’t possibly have missed it.

Lin Zhu’s face burned with embarrassment, wishing he could crawl into a hole. But Zhong Yao had already finished the last bit, stood, rinsed his hands unhurriedly, and asked, “Hungry?”

Lin Zhu’s eyes grew misty. “Zhong-laoshi…”

Zhong Yao chuckled, ruffling his hair gently, then leaned over and took the box of green dumplings.

“If you stop calling me laoshi, I’ll give you one… how about it?”