“Today is special, so it’s okay to think about these things.”
Liang Xiao smiled: “Think about it today, but tomorrow you’re not allowed to think about it anymore. Tomorrow you’re only allowed to think about how to write ‘Analysis and Discussion of Yun Lian’s Character in “Year’s End” (Part 2)’.”
President Huo had been listening seriously, but upon hearing this, he paused slightly, the corners of his lips pressing together lightly.
Seeing his expression relax, Liang Xiao also felt much more at ease and moved the phone a bit closer: “Did you hear me?”
President Huo nodded: “I heard.”
Liang Xiao rarely got to enjoy this: “When will you submit it?”
“Soon,” President Huo said. “Still writing.”
Liang Xiao hadn’t expected that he was actually writing it. His face heated up, feeling a bit embarrassed, and he grinned: “There’s- there’s no rush…”
“By the way,” Liang Xiao suddenly remembered, “have you opened my gift?”
President Huo had been able to resist these days, not willing to touch it, and shook his head.
“Open it when you miss me,” Liang Xiao said generously. “After you finish it, I’ll send you another one.”
President Huo looked at him, his eyes warming: “Alright.”
Liang Xiao had been missing him for several dozen hours already. He had originally wanted to tease President Huo and ask how long he had been missing him, but now he didn’t have the heart to.
Liang Xiao hugged his phone, looked at him for a while, and suddenly smiled: “Huo Lan.”
President Huo: “Mm.”
“Do you know how to screen record?” Liang Xiao instructed him. “There’s a small camera button, press it once…”
President Huo said softly: “I know.”
Not only did he know… he actually saved all the videos and audio of his calls with Liang Xiao.
Too few things could be preserved from his youth. President Huo had relied on those memories, repeatedly and almost masochistically searching for details and reviewing them over and over, enduring through those years to reach where he was now.
Actually, he was already happy enough now and clearly knew that they would have an exceptionally long and fulfilling future together. But that period of time with nowhere to belong had still left a significant mark, and he couldn’t help but accumulate and preserve any little bit he could get.
“That’s good then.”
Liang Xiao tapped the screen: “Are you recording?”
President Huo wasn’t sure what he wanted to do but nodded.
Liang Xiao winked at him, switched to panorama mode, adjusted the focus, lightly tossed the phone in his hand a couple of times, and then threw it upward.
The camera’s view suddenly shook. President Huo instinctively moved back, realized it was the view from the other side, and was about to ask Liang Xiao what was happening when he suddenly froze.
The view quickly approached Liang Xiao, the image flashing by-handsome eyebrows with a smile, the bridge of his nose and lips, arms opened wide, landing steadily on his chest.
…It almost felt like an unexpected hug.
President Huo watched in a daze, his chest rising and falling slightly.
“We could develop this further, maybe even make a VR perspective.”
Liang Xiao had just learned this technique and had been hit by his phone for several days before finally figuring out how to do it without crashing: “I know you’re taller than me… try to imagine it as if you’ve lifted me up completely.”
Liang Xiao just wanted to make President Huo happy. He shamelessly did it once, but was too embarrassed to show his face again, covering the screen completely as he picked up his phone: “Let’s stop being mushy. When I get back to the hotel, I’ll record one of me hitting you.”
President Huo closed his eyes, quietly thought for a while, trying to make the image in his mind as detailed and vivid as possible, and nodded slightly: “Alright.”
Liang Xiao, having accomplished his mission, happily gave him a kiss through the phone, his ears red as he ended the video call.
–
Plans can’t keep up with changes.
In the following half-month, neither of them found a good opportunity to be affectionate with each other.
The acquisition of Long Tao had entered a critical phase. Department heads were practically eating and sleeping at the company, and President Huo stayed overnight at the company, barely having time even to peel walnuts.
The film crew’s shooting schedule suddenly intensified. Liang Xiao needed to portray the exhaustion of traveling day and night with all his might, which couldn’t be achieved 100% realistically through makeup and acting alone. Director Jin had discussed it with him and also implemented the most commonly used high-pressure filming method.
Eager to return early, Liang Xiao accepted all additional scenes and takes, being even more ruthless than Director Jin.
The production manager watched with trepidation and forcefully joined the discussion, preventing these two from conspiring to complete all of Liang Xiao’s scenes in April.
“We need to capture the feeling of hanging on by a thread.”
The production manager really couldn’t stand it: “But he shouldn’t actually be left with just one breath, right?”
Jin Zhenbo hadn’t originally planned to push him to this extent, but this was the first time he’d encountered an actor who actively welcomed such pressure, leaving him unable to defend himself: “He said he could handle it…”
“Has he ever said he couldn’t?” The production manager was exasperated. “Didn’t he also agree to that high-difficulty wire scene you proposed last week?”
When these two got together, one dared to propose and the other dared to agree-neither was more reliable than the other.
Last week, while filming the forest fight scene, the martial arts director proposed a high-risk, high-difficulty move, and Jin Zhenbo agreed. But the forest conditions were too complex, and the wind direction suddenly changed. When Liang Xiao tried it, he nearly crashed headfirst into a tree.
Fortunately, Liang Xiao was experienced and responded just in time at the critical moment, barely avoiding most of the impact. He only bruised a patch of skin rather than causing a filming accident with broken limbs.
The production manager had been afraid to face Liang Xiao’s manager these days. Unable to vent his anger at such a dedicated actor, he could only bring up old grievances with the director: “Actors aren’t disposable. How can you use them like this? Are we establishing a monthly-disposal film crew to save resources?”
“…” Jin Zhenbo was rendered speechless by the scolding: “I’ll reduce his scenes.”
The production manager was still angry: “Give him an afternoon off, let him get some sleep.”
“But-” Jin Zhenbo had wanted to say that once given a break, his state might relax, but looking at Liang Xiao, who walked like he was battling plants after finishing a scene, his conscience ultimately prevailed. “Fine, tell him to go back.”
The production manager had been suffering for days and finally wore him down. He sighed, grabbed a crew member, and sent him to notify Liang Xiao.
“Alright… thank you.”
Duan Ming felt somewhat relieved as he caught Liang Xiao, politely expressing gratitude: “Then we’ll head back.”
“Thank you for your hard work.” The crew member responsible for relaying the message nodded repeatedly. “The manager said to tell Teacher Liang to rest well…”
“Year’s End” had been airing for over half its run. After Yun Lian’s black and white photos appeared, Liang Xiao’s popularity data had finally risen strongly, securing him a solid position among the new generation of actors.
The crew had already been friendly enough, but their attitude toward him inevitably became increasingly respectful.
“Thank you.” Liang Xiao shook his head, suppressing his drowsiness, and smiled at him. “The crew has been working hard too.”
The crew member hurriedly shook his head, relayed a few more details about tomorrow’s arrangements, and quickly ran off.
“Finally able to catch a breath…” Duan Ming was still shaken as he nudged Liang Xiao, who had already started dozing off on his shoulder. “Wake up, go back to sleep.”
Liang Xiao’s eyelids had almost closed. He struggled to lift them slightly and smiled.
Duan Ming half-dragged, half-supported Liang Xiao into the car, forcibly keeping him upright to prevent him from falling completely asleep: “Is it that bad sleeping without President Huo?”
Liang Xiao, being shaken awake, half-closed his eyes and sighed deeply: “It’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but difficult to return from luxury to frugality…”
Having grown accustomed to sleeping beside President Huo, he couldn’t settle down no matter what when sleeping alone.
Even if he managed to fall asleep, he would wake up during the night.
Liang Xiao had once gone to the extreme of buying a human-shaped pillow and dressing it in President Huo’s shirt to try it out. When he woke up in the middle of the night, he successfully scared himself into a cold sweat and dramatically rushed into his manager’s room.
Liang Xiao felt this was mostly his own sentimentality and didn’t have the heart to tell President Huo. Later, he simply reached an understanding with Director Jin to exhaust himself every day to the point where he could eat and wash up with his eyes closed, then collapse onto the bed and fall asleep immediately.
“I know you want to finish filming quickly,” Duan Ming looked at him, occasionally pushing him in the opposite direction to keep him upright. “Know your limits, don’t damage your body. It’s not worth it.”
“Is it that serious?” Liang Xiao slid back against the seat, pressing his chest with concern: “I feel pain in my chest right now…”
“The chest pain is from the collision.” Duan Ming had just seen his medical report and didn’t give him a chance to be dramatic. “I’d be in pain too if I hit a tree.”
Liang Xiao was convinced, speechless as he closed his mouth and rubbed his chest.
The car stopped at the hotel entrance. Duan Ming didn’t waste time, dragging him back to the suite and pushing him into the bathroom.
–
Liang Xiao dizzily took a shower, changed into his pajamas, collapsed onto the bed, and remained motionless and unconscious for ten hours.
When he woke up, it was still the middle of the night. Liang Xiao opened his eyes, slowly traced his memories in the familiar ceiling, and was startled by the manager beside the bed: “Brother Duan-”
“Why are you reacting the same way as when you saw that body pillow of yours?”
Duan Ming frowned and stuffed a pillow behind him to lean on: “Had enough sleep?”
Liang Xiao was a bit embarrassed and coughed: “It’s fine…”
Duan Ming handed him a food container: “Eat.”
“No need.”
Liang Xiao hadn’t felt hungry yet and was taken aback, instinctively being polite: “I’m not hungry yet, you eat first…”
“You’ve missed two meals already,” Duan Ming said. “Eat a few bites, and I’ll tell you some shocking news.”
Liang Xiao’s eyes widened: “Did President Huo appear on financial news?!”
Their President Huo had relatively fewer opportunities to appear on financial news. Liang Xiao had specifically joined the Xingguan CEO fan group but still had to wait in advance each time.
Liang Xiao hurriedly ate a few mouthfuls of food and jumped off the bed to watch TV, but was caught by Duan Ming: “It’s already over.”
Liang Xiao was full of regret: “I shouldn’t have slept.”
“It’s online, you can watch it later yourself.”
Duan Ming pulled him back to bed and pushed the food container toward him: “This news is quite important. Long Tao has signed the formal acquisition agreement; that company no longer exists.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
Duan Ming: “…”
Duan Ming was waiting for him to be happy and waved his hand, puzzled: “What’s wrong?”
“I missed it.”
Liang Xiao’s chest hurt again. He tremblingly raised his hand to cover it, like a candle flickering in the wind: “I’ve been watching for over ten days, and I missed just this one episode…”
“…” Duan Ming watched him swaying back and forth in the wind and reached out to steady him: “There are still recordings online.”
Liang Xiao lamented: “How can a recording be the same?!”
Duan Ming couldn’t understand: “What’s different about a recording?”
The manager couldn’t comprehend this pain. Liang Xiao pressed his chest, regretfully picked up his phone, opened Weibo, quickly found the trending topic about Xingguan’s official acquisition of Long Tao, and read it carefully several times.
Liang Xiao read with particular attention, saving both the article and pictures, and finally had time to look up: “Was President Huo in the news?”
“Yes, but he looked quite tired.”
Duan Ming nodded slightly: “Outsiders might not notice, but those familiar with him can somewhat sense it.”
Just looking at those dense transaction items, Liang Xiao could roughly guess the terrifying workload on President Huo’s side. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him for a while before opening his messages to check.
President Huo hadn’t contacted him; only the butler had shared the earliest news notification with him.
“He must be too busy,” Duan Ming said. “It’s too late now. Send President Huo a message tomorrow to say something.”
Liang Xiao also read through the news shared by the butler word by word. After being called three times by the manager to eat, he finally reluctantly put down his phone and ate a few bites without much appetite.
Once Liang Xiao lost interest in eating, he tended to mistreat his food. Duan Ming watched helplessly as he poked the potatoes into lotus root-like pieces, sighed, and handed him the game console: “Play for a while.”
It was the game console bought by President Huo. Liang Xiao’s eyes brightened as he took it, hugged it, and happily turned on the screen.
Back when little Liang Xiao had tricked Huo Lan into buying a game console, the market still had cartridge-based Super Mario games, nothing as high-end as this product.
Liang Xiao ate while exploring, fiddled with it for a while, and enthusiastically chose a game.
Duan Ming couldn’t quite understand the joy of game consoles and watched for a while: “What’s so fun about this thing?”
Liang Xiao played with full concentration, stuffing a mouthful of rice into his mouth: “I don’t know either.”
Duan Ming was taken aback.
“Back then, I just watched cartoons and thought two people playing games together was really nice.”
Liang Xiao smiled, his face a bit hot: “Especially when you win, one person can pick up the other and spin them around.”
Duan Ming couldn’t help but feel sorry for him: “Now only President Huo can spin you…”
The manager had touched on a sore spot. Liang Xiao was very unhappy to hear this and grabbed the water gun to shoot him once.
“Thinking about it now… it really wasn’t easy.”
Duan Ming wiped the water from his face and sighed: “Both of you have made it through like this.”
“It’s because we had something to look forward to,” Liang Xiao said contentedly, allowing himself a moment of happiness. “He relied on me, and I relied on him.”
Duan Ming: “…”
“Mainly through our deep feelings for each other and silent support.”
Liang Xiao couldn’t suppress the corners of his mouth: “If you never forget, there will always be a response.”
Duan Ming: “I have something to do, you first-”
“Really,” Liang Xiao was about to win this round and grabbed the manager, hugging the game console to show off. “As long as our hearts are connected, no matter how far apart we are, we can also-”
Duan Ming waited for a long time: “Also what?”
“…” Liang Xiao looked at the notification that the 30-minute game time limit had been reached, took a deep breath, calmly swallowed his words along with his food, and put the game console face down on the table.
–
Huo Residence.
After several consecutive days without sleep, following the contract signing and interviews, President Huo had returned to his bedroom alone, lying motionless on the bed until now.
The bedroom was quiet, the night deep.
President Huo opened his eyes, lay still for a while, feeling he now had the right to open Mr. Liang’s gift. He got up from the bed, took the carefully preserved sketchbook, and opened it.
Facing the first page’s problem about the volume ratio of a hexadecahedron after sectioning through fixed points and edge divisions, he fell into silent contemplation.
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
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