PTBC chapter 44

Over the next few days, Xu Cong stayed on set, acting like an extra assistant Xia Yan had hired. He followed Xia Yan everywhere.

But he was extraordinarily generous.

During his stay, the crew’s meals improved significantly.

The director, aware of Xu Cong’s influential family background, even joked about whether he’d be interested in investing in the production.

“Well, it’s not impossible…” Xu Cong chuckled.

But before he could finish, Xia Yan stuffed a shrimp into his mouth, cutting him off.

“Don’t meddle,” Xia Yan said with a scowl.

What kind of joke was this? Xu Cong might actually go through with it. This young master had never lacked money in his life. For him, investing in their low-budget film would be no more than a trivial expense.

But if he did invest, wouldn’t he have even more reason to hang around?

Xu Cong chewed the shrimp leisurely and swallowed it, then teased Xia Yan. “What, are you worried I’ll exploit my investment to take advantage of you?”

The others only thought Xu Cong was joking and laughed along.

Only Xia Yan rolled his eyes at him.

That was not out of the realm of possibility, he thought to himself.

After the meal, Xia Yan still had some time to rest. Xu Cong naturally sat beside him, watching as he flipped through a magazine, leaning subtly closer.

The distance between them narrowed inch by inch.

Xia Yan’s body tensed involuntarily. Wherever Xu Cong touched, it felt like a light electric shock ran through him, leaving an indescribable tingling sensation.

“The cover features Chen Weiqing and Gao Luocheng,” Xu Cong commented casually, glancing at the magazine in Xia Yan’s hands. “Their recent movie has done well, boosting their profiles and landing them some better fashion endorsements.”

But Xia Yan could hardly hear what Xu Cong was saying.

Whether it was his imagination or not, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Xu Cong’s touches had grown more frequent lately.

Just yesterday, while drinking water, a drop had clung to the corner of his mouth. Without hesitation, Xu Cong had reached out to wipe it away, startling him.

And now, it was the same.

Xu Cong was too close, his breath brushing against his ear, making the tips burn with heat.

This only added to Xia Yan’s growing frustration.

To be fair, Xu Cong’s behavior wasn’t excessive. They had always been this close, and this level of intimacy wasn’t new. It was just more frequent now.

But perhaps it was because he felt guilty.

He viewed every move Xu Cong made as having ulterior motives.

Yet he couldn’t show it—couldn’t even push Xu Cong away.

He was conflicted.

He wanted to believe that the idea of Xu Cong liking him was merely an illusion, but deep down, he wasn’t so sure.

Now, it was he who didn’t dare to let anything slip, afraid Xu Cong would notice something off, pierce through the unspoken truth, and leave them both in an awkward and irreparable situation.

Xia Yan tightened his grip on the magazine in his hands, his expression flickering with uncertainty.

Irritated, he flipped through a couple of pages, but nothing registered in his mind. Even the mention of a fellow young actor winning the White Radish Award couldn’t spark any reaction in him.

When the assistant director came to notify him that it was time to prepare, he sighed in relief, almost like he had been granted amnesty. He stood up immediately, fleeing the scene as if running for his life.

Xu Cong watched his retreating figure. Picking up the magazine he had left behind, he casually turned a page. Remembering Xia Yan’s earlier reaction, he allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

How interesting.

Even though Xia Yan was clearly bristling with tension, he still pretended to be perfectly composed, not even daring to push him away.

That thought brightened Xu Cong’s mood considerably.

When a young actor timidly approached him for an autograph to give to a friend, Xu Cong, surprisingly, gave them a rare smile.

“Where should I sign?” he asked pleasantly. His usually cold, indifferent phoenix eyes curving slightly, carrying a charm that rivaled Xia Yan’s peach-blossom eyes.

The beta actor, though not Xu Cong’s fan, was utterly smitten, their breathing quickening as they replied, “Here.”

The young actor nervously flipped open their notebook to the signature page, where Xu Cong noticed Xia Yan’s signature already written. This realization made his mood even better. With a bold flourish, he signed his name right next to Xia Yan’s.

…..

By the third day of Xu Cong’s stay on set, Xia Yan couldn’t take it anymore. Late at night, he called Bai Yu and immediately demanded, “What’s going on with D.A? Have we fallen so far that Xu Cong can take this long a vacation without any work?”

Bai Yu felt completely wronged. “He hasn’t taken a break in ages! If he wants a few days off, what can I do? You know as well as I do that I don’t really have control over you two. If he cooperates, it’s already him giving me face. Besides, isn’t he at the set because of you?”

Xia Yan thought bitterly, Exactly, that’s the problem.

“I don’t care,” he said stubbornly. “Find some work for him right now. He needs to leave, instead of lingering around here and distracting me.”

Whether it was because of Xia Yan’s words or not, Xu Cong really did leave on New Year’s Eve.

But before he left, they watched a movie together.

Initially, Xia Yan planned to drag Zong Yi along.

But as soon as Zong Yi received a call from Zhao Ye, he disappeared without a trace.

Xia Yan observed coldly, feeling certain Zong Yi was headed for disaster.

But when he turned and saw Xu Cong waiting beside the car, he realized he was no better off than Zong Yi. He was a mess too.

On New Year’s Eve, every place was packed to the brim.

Yet at this film location, perhaps because most people were busy filming late into the night, the cinema was only moderately full.

Xia Yan and Xu Cong sat in the last row, wearing masks.

The movie wasn’t anything special, just your average popcorn flick.

But halfway through, Xu Cong suddenly asked in a soft voice, “Do you remember when I was nineteen, and you flew overseas just to watch a movie with me?”

“It was a re-release of ‘Gone with the Wind,’” Xu Cong said quietly. “Afterward, we bought fried chicken and beer. You toasted to me stepping into nineteen, getting one step closer to adulthood. Later that night, you even snatched a guitar from a street band and played me a song.”

Of course, Xia Yan remembered.

At that time, they had already decided to debut together as members of D.A. But Xu Cong’s health had required him to undergo treatment in the U.S. for an immune condition triggered by his pheromones.

Three years ago on New Year’s Eve, Xu Cong had called him, complaining about how boring it was to spend the night in a hospital ward.

“No one cares about me. My parents, my brothers, my cousin—they’re either at work meetings or attending parties. Not a single one of them bothered with me,” Xu Cong had said, smiling faintly. But perhaps it was the sterile white hospital room or the harsh, cold lighting, but there had been a trace of melancholy in his eyes. “I wish I could go out with you. Remember, you still owe me a movie since you lost that chess game last time.”

Looking back now, Xia Yan felt he must have been out of his mind to fall for Xu Cong’s tricks so easily back then.

He had been on vacation with his family in Canada at the time—not far from where Xu Cong was in the U.S. Seeing Xu Cong pale and thin in the hospital gown, Xia Yan had been overcome with a wave of reckless generosity, believing it was his duty as the team captain to care for his teammate.

So he left his family behind with a single excuse about urgent business and hopped on a flight.

Six hours later, after calling Xu Cong’s brother to arrange a visit, he easily entered the private hospital owned by the Xu family.

Feeling like Santa Claus, he had found Xu Cong’s room effortlessly but didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he lightly tapped on the window, waiting for Xu Cong to notice him and be surprised.

Now, Xia Yan swirled the ice in his cup and lowered his gaze.

From the very beginning, things between him and Xu Cong had been different.

Sure, he cared about the other members of D.A. He genuinely liked them.

But Xu Cong was… different.

This had always been clear to him.

He would fly across the continent on New Year’s Eve for Xu Cong, but he couldn’t say he would do the same for anyone else.

Xu Cong reached across the armrest and took hold of Xia Yan’s hand.

Because his hand had just been holding a cold soda, it was freezing—like a block of ice against Xia Yan’s palm.

Xia Yan turned around and saw that Xu Cong had already taken off his mask.

Xu Cong spoke softly, his voice barely audible in the dark cinema, shielded by the noise of the movie. Only Xia Yan could hear him:
“That New Year’s night, when you appeared in front of me, I felt like you were my own Doraemon. As long as I made a wish to you, you’d make anything come true for me.”

After he finished speaking, his lips slowly curved into a smile. The glow of the movie screen fell on his sharply defined features. Even though he was now a mature and handsome man, when he smiled, Xia Yan caught a fleeting glimpse of the nineteen-year-old boy he once was.

Back then, Xu Cong wasn’t this composed or confident. He wasn’t this proud or calm.

He had leaned against the hospital window, and when his window was knocked on and he saw Xia Yan in a black down jacket, his eyes had widened in pure shock.

Xia Yan thought he should pull his hand away.

This kid had ulterior motives all along—bold and reckless, even harboring such improper thoughts about his captain.

And his hand was so cold.

It would’ve made perfect sense for him to pull away.

But after looking at Xu Cong for a moment, with his cold and indifferent profile in the dim cinema light, Xia Yan simply turned his head back to watch the chaotic and utterly unbearable movie.

From beginning to end, he never pulled his hand away.

…..

After the movie, Xu Cong was preparing to leave.

In the end, Xia Yan couldn’t stop him from making impulsive investments. After hanging around the set for a few days, Xu Cong ended up putting his name on the list of investors—clearly burning money for fun.

Over the past few days, the director and producer had been beaming whenever they saw Xu Cong, thrilled at the prospect of an additional budget for promotion.

Now, as the car door stood open, Xu Cong sat in the backseat, holding Xia Yan’s hand with an innocent expression. He asked, “Can I come to your wrap party?”

Xia Yan’s project was a short series—only twelve episodes in total. The filming cycle wasn’t long, and they were expected to wrap up by the end of next month.

Xia Yan stood in the cold wind, his face a mixture of wanting to punch Xu Cong and wanting to kick him into the car.

But perhaps it was the memory of the nineteen-year-old Xu Cong during the movie that softened his gaze just a bit.

“Come if you want,” Xia Yan finally pulled his hand out of Xu Cong’s grasp and said coldly, “What can I do to stop you? If an actor tells an investor they can’t come, people would accuse me of reverse workplace bullying.”

He rested his hand on the car door, signaling for Xu Cong to pull his legs back inside.

“Alright, go. Stop dawdling.”

Xu Cong looked at him for a few more moments before slowly sitting up straight in the backseat.

Just as he was getting settled, Xia Yan slammed the car door with a loud bang, as if venting some long-held frustration.

Sitting inside the car, Xu Cong couldn’t help but chuckle.

Through the window, he looked up at Xia Yan. It reminded him of when he was twenty, often having to go abroad for health reasons.

Every time, Xia Yan came to see him off.

Back then, Xu Cong had also sat in the car, watching Xia Yan.

Watching him awkwardly show concern.

Watching him argue with the company on his behalf.

Watching Xia Yan leave him countless little gifts, telling him to open them when he returned.

Three years had passed.

From this angle, as he looked up at Xia Yan, nothing seemed to have changed.

As the car started and Xia Yan’s figure disappeared from view, Xu Cong finally withdrew his gaze.

He closed his eyes slightly, but after a moment, he pulled out his phone and called the director of Xia Yan’s crew.

• 1
  
  
  Author’s note:
  
  At the wrap party, let’s give our Xia Yan a huge surprise—though he might not be too thrilled about it.
  
  Whether or not love is the catalyst, Xia Yan and Xu Cong are undeniably special and important to each other.
  
  And so, both of them become cowards—one unable to confess for years, the other, though aware, treading carefully and not daring to break the silence.