WYLM | Chapter 3

Headache.

Qi Jingyao had lived two lifetimes and had only met two people as stubborn as this, one being Chi Guan, and the other was his beloved.

After Xiao Liu left, he invited Chi Guan back to his seat, earnestly explaining multiple times that he wasn’t targeting him, nor was he upset about what Chi Guan had done. But Chi Guan wouldn’t believe it. He even blocked the door to stop him from leaving, determined to get to the bottom of things.

Eventually, Qi Jingyao got annoyed, threatening to end their collaboration. Chi Guan just blinked, unfazed, and said, “I would love to work with you, Teacher Qi. But I don’t appreciate such unclear beginnings.”

Those beautiful chestnut eyes stared unwaveringly at him, causing Qi Jingyao to momentarily lose himself.

Too similar.

Qi Jingyao suddenly remembered how, whenever he used to stay up late correcting memorials, his beloved would watch him with that same look until he finally gave in, set aside the papers, and rested beside his beloved.

His beloved’s eyes would then sparkle, smilingly saying to him, “Your Majesty, don’t be angry, you don’t look good when you’re angry.”

…

Flashes of the past zipped through his mind, Qi Jingyao pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a sour ache in his heart, as if someone were poking his heart’s tip with a fine silver needle.

His headache worsened.

Qi Jingyao thought.

The past Qi Jingyao loved being looked after by his beloved, knowing it stemmed from concern for his health. But now, seeing Chi Guan’s stubborn gaze, Qi Jingyao felt no joy, only frequent reminders of his dearly departed lover.

Having someone who looks and writes strikingly similar to your beloved stand before you, yet has no actual connection to them, is a cruel torture for Qi Jingyao. It felt like someone was tearing open his most tender vulnerabilities, toying with them wantonly.

“…Fine, it’s really not that big of a deal. I’ll just tell you.” Knowing there was no escape, Qi Jingyao resigned himself, sighed softly, and explained to Chi Guan, “As I’ve already told you, your script is quite good. When I said ‘you are not the person I was looking for,’ I meant it literally—I mistook you for someone else.”

The truth obviously couldn’t be disclosed. Qi Jingyao vaguely explained, “My lover used to really like Emperor Jingming and did a lot for him. But we were separated unexpectedly, so when I saw your script, I mistook you for him… I apologize for causing you any distress.”

Afraid that Chi Guan would persist, Qi Jingyao added, “But rest assured, I truly admire your script. Even if you’re not him, it won’t affect our collaboration.”

Chi Guan’s eyes widened, his expression turning awkward, “I’m sorry, Teacher Qi, I should be the one apologizing. I really didn’t know you had such a story…”

In this context, collaboration became secondary. Chi Guan was more concerned about not upsetting Qi Jingyao.

Though his intentions were good, he’d rather have not started than to have peeled back Qi Jingyao’s scars.

At the same time, Chi Guan felt a bit ashamed.

Having been a fan of Qi Jingyao for eleven years, considering himself a well-rounded veteran fan, he never knew that his idol liked the same sex and had such a past.

Qi Jingyao seemed to misunderstand Chi Guan’s meaning, furrowing his brows slightly, his tone becoming less friendly, “Mr. Chi, I remind you, this is my private life. Please do not share it with others.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be open about it; Qi Jingyao wasn’t the type of idol who relied on “girlfriend fans” for his livelihood. But his past and present were so extraordinary that the more people knew, the more troublesome it became. Qi Jingyao didn’t want any more complications, nor did he wish to publicly expose his private matters so casually.

“Of course, of course,” Chi Guan hurriedly shook his head, raising his right hand in an oath, “Rest assured, Teacher Qi! I absolutely won’t speak of it.”

Qi Jingyao nodded, wearied but somewhat trusting Chi Guan’s promise. Trust or not, there was nothing he could do now that Chi Guan knew. The ball was in his court.

“Teacher Qi…” Hesitating, Chi Guan tried asking, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

After learning his idol’s secret, Chi Guan’s first reaction wasn’t excitement but concern. He could see that Qi Jingyao had been troubled by this for a long time. Although he was just a minor scriptwriter, he hoped to do something for Qi Jingyao.

Qi Jingyao glanced at him briefly before looking away.

“No need,” he said calmly, “Mr. Chi, just focus on our collaboration. Don’t worry about other things.”

Chi Guan knew this was a dismissal and tactfully touched his nose, saying, “Alright, then I won’t bother you further. If there are any issues with the script, you can contact me anytime.”

With that, he gathered his things and trotted out of the meeting room, not daring to look back at Qi Jingyao.

Qi Jingyao sat behind him, watching his retreating figure, his brow furrowed slightly.

Too similar.
Why is even the way he runs away after making a mistake the same?

—

In the following period, Chi Guan didn’t contact Qi Jingyao again. After all, Qi Jingyao had said he didn’t need him, so he naturally wouldn’t impose himself.

Meanwhile, the rich second-generation director’s movie was still being filmed. Following the outdoor shoots left Chi Guan physically and mentally exhausted. He really didn’t have the extra energy to worry about Qi Jingyao’s affairs.

Damned rich people.

Day by day, month by month, three months later, the movie finally wrapped up successfully. Chi Guan felt like he had been flayed, only realizing how much weight he had lost when he stepped on a scale at home after returning from the desert.

Just when he was starting to rest, he received a message from Qi Jingyao.

Teacher Qi: [Are you free these days? The contract is ready. Shall we meet?]

“Teacher Qi” was how Chi Guan had labeled him. Qi Jingyao’s WeChat name was “Sui Sui Chang Xiang Jian,” which Chi Guan found awkward, surprised that such a big movie star was so romantically inclined.

And it wasn’t even written for Chi Guan.

Chi Guan, originally sprawled on his bed, instantly scrambled up and straightened his back to reply: [No problem, Teacher Qi. I’ll adjust to your schedule.]

Despite his complaints, after all, he was his idol for eleven years, and Chi Guan was extremely indulgent, even finding his idol’s romantic tendencies quite charming.

Also, due to their unfamiliarity, Chi Guan always felt a natural sense of apprehension when chatting with Qi Jingyao.

Teacher Qi: [Ok.]

Teacher Qi: [Then let’s meet tomorrow.]

After confirming the time, Qi Jingyao sent several pictures of restaurants for Chi Guan to choose from. Chi Guan, feeling favored, picked the one that looked the most unassuming from the outside.

The next evening.
Chi Guan sat in a classically styled private room, waiting for Qi Jingyao’s arrival like a school kid whose parents had been called.

True to Qi Jingyao’s taste, the restaurant’s exterior appeared modest, but the interior was another world, adopting an antique style. The furniture and utensils were all wooden, and upon entry, the waiter explained that the restaurant’s various furnishings were antiques, and the small redwood table Chi Guan was sitting at was centuries old.

Qi Jingyao didn’t make Chi Guan wait long; soon after Chi Guan had seated himself, Qi Jingyao arrived, looking slightly harried and apologetic, saying, “Sorry, I was held up by an event this evening.”

Chi Guan, aware of how busy Qi Jingyao was, quickly waved it off. Qi Jingyao took off his coat, draped it over the rack behind Chi Guan, and surreptitiously sized him up, remarking, “Outdoor shoots must have been busy. You seem to have lost some weight.”

“Teacher, your eyes are too sharp, noticing even that.” Chi Guan, somewhat embarrassed and unaccustomed to Qi Jingyao’s scrutiny, smiled awkwardly, “We scriptwriters are just support staff; it’s you actors who have it tougher.”

Qi Jingyao shook his head, smiling, “Everyone’s job is tough. No one is nobler than anyone else.”

Compared to their first meeting, the atmosphere between them had softened considerably. Even though Chi Guan wasn’t the person he was looking for, Qi Jingyao’s demeanor remained gentle, lacking any of the arrogance of a high-status individual, approachable to a degree that didn’t fit his status as a highly popular actor.

But if there had to be something odd, Chi Guan felt that Qi Jingyao was continuously watching him, his gaze so intense it seemed to pierce through his skin to his soul.

After a long, conflicted silence, Chi Guan couldn’t hold back any longer. Holding his chopsticks, he ventured, “What is it, Teacher Qi? Is there something on my face?”

Qi Jingyao shook his head, “No.”

Yet his gaze remained fixed on Chi Guan for a long time.

After a prolonged silence, Qi Jingyao suddenly spoke, “Have you really never seen me before? Are you mad at me for not finding you for so long?”

Chi Guan was dumbfounded by his question, pausing for two seconds before realizing the implication in Qi Jingyao’s words, stuttering, “Qi, Teacher Qi, the first time I saw you was on TV when you had just debuted, being interviewed by a TV station. I saw your interview while eating in the cafeteria.”

“Sorry, maybe I was overthinking it.” Qi Jingyao didn’t seem surprised by Chi Guan’s response, but a trace of bitterness appeared in his eyes, “You really resemble him too much. Not just the style of your writing, but even your appearance makes it hard for me to believe.”

“Sorry, Teacher Qi, I really don’t want to disappoint you. I’ve liked you since high school, and I chose the directing and screenwriting profession because of you. I hope you can always be happy,” Chi Guan smiled openly and earnestly, “But I really am not the person you’re looking for. I can’t lie to you.”

Chi Guan himself also liked the same sex and knew this was a great opportunity, but he had no intentions of usurping someone else’s place, nor did he want to hurt Qi Jingyao. Moreover, he didn’t possess a possessive desire for Qi Jingyao as a lover; he hoped Qi Jingyao could find his beloved.

That way, he could contentedly ship his idol’s love story from the sidelines.

Qi Jingyao observed Chi Guan closely for a moment, then showed a sincere smile, saying, “…Thank you, you are a good person.”

Sincerity met with sincerity, and their interaction became much more natural than before. Chi Guan discussed his script with Qi Jingyao, even complaining about the rich second-generation director.

It wasn’t a romantic setting. After Chi Guan explained, Qi Jingyao truly stopped seeing him as the person he once knew. They laughed and chatted as like-minded friends, with no intention of developing it further.

The atmosphere was quite pleasant, and Chi Guan drank some wine, though he was a lightweight and quickly felt tipsy. When it came time to pay the bill, he staggered up, insisting on treating this meal, but tripped and stumbled towards the table.

Qi Jingyao reached out to catch him, managing to hold him, but pulled awkwardly at his clothing, tearing down half of it. The wide neckline slipped off his left shoulder.

Chi Guan was drunk but still somewhat aware, awkwardly pulling his clothes back up.

But Qi Jingyao suddenly furrowed his brow, his gaze falling on Chi Guan’s exposed chest, asking, “What is that on your body?”

Following his gaze, Chi Guan saw a pink, irregularly shaped mark below his collarbone, roughly resembling a row of teeth marks. Chi Guan chuckled, explaining, “This? It’s a birthmark.”

Continuing, he casually pulled his clothes back into place, speaking candidly, “More than one person has asked about this birthmark, wondering if someone bit me. But it’s been there since I was born. If it really was a bite, it must have been from a past life.”

Qi Jingyao blurted out, “Don’t you remember anything from your past life?”

“Who remembers their past life?”

Chi Guan laughed, suddenly finding Qi Jingyao quite humorous.

Silence.

Qi Jingyao didn’t know what to say.

In his beloved’s final moments, he too had left a tooth mark in the same spot. His tone was almost fierce as he said, “This is what I granted you, to carry with you through every lifetime.”

So he had found his beloved.

It’s just that his beloved had completely forgotten about him.