WYLM | Chapter 5

Qi Jingyao choked up for a moment.

He suddenly felt like he was shooting himself in the foot.

Initially, Chi Guan had become infatuated with him because he had confessed he was searching for his beloved, seeing him as a deeply affectionate good man. Now, because of this “good man” image, he couldn’t directly pursue Chi Guan.

Otherwise, he would be nothing but a scumbag who was playing two sides.

Looking into Chi Guan’s honest and firm eyes, Qi Jingyao’s lips moved but then stopped, swallowing back his initial words. With equal honesty, he said, “Thank you for supporting me; I will definitely live up to being an idol and show you the power of a role model.”

Chi Guan looked at Qi Jingyao expectantly, his eyes wide as he asked, “What about the rumors between us…”

Qi Jingyao gritted his teeth, “I’ll clarify them.”

Chi Guan finally felt satisfied, his eyes curved into a radiant smile as he said, “Teacher Qi, you really are a good person. Once I make a name for myself, I’ll write more articles about Emperor Jingming. Maybe they’ll catch your beloved’s attention, and then I can put in a good word for you; maybe then you two can reunite!”

“He wouldn’t…” Qi Jingyao instinctively retorted, wanting to say that his lover was right here and Chi Guan couldn’t find someone else, but then a thought struck him, and he quickly changed the subject, “Let’s not talk about this. The pre-production of ‘The Chronicles of Emperor Jingming’ is almost complete. Do you have time in the second half of the year? Could you join the crew?”

Qi Jingyao had been thinking about getting Chi Guan to join the crew for a while so that they could spend more time together. Now, he suddenly realized: ‘The Chronicles of Emperor Jingming’ was about their past lives.

Qi Jingyao had read the script in advance. Chi Guan had discovered the existence of Suijian in the gaps of history books, and the script also included quite a few scenes about Suijian. Perhaps because he was the person involved, the story Chi Guan wrote was almost exactly what had really happened.

Although Chi Guan had forgotten about their past lives, he still bore the mark Qi Jingyao had given him. Qi Jingyao thought that it wasn’t necessarily the case that Chi Guan could never remember what had happened, and clearly, the filming of ‘The Chronicles of Emperor Jingming’ was a great opportunity.

Chi Guan thought carefully about his schedule for the latter half of the year, counting off on his fingers for Qi Jingyao, “I’m not following a crew later this year, but I still have two scripts to write, and one script to revise… Even at the fastest pace, I won’t be free to join a crew for another half year.”

Qi Jingyao’s brows furrowed slightly, “What kind of scripts are they? Are they that important?”

“How do you define what’s important or not?” Chi Guan laughed lightly at his question, glancing at him and said, “It’s not that I must take them, but if I don’t, what will I eat or drink? Is Teacher Qi planning to support me?”

Qi Jingyao’s recent efforts weren’t entirely in vain. Chi Guan wasn’t as reserved as when they first met, and sometimes he would even joke around when he was in a good mood.

Qi Jingyao said, “Triple.”

Chi Guan: “Huh?”

Qi Jingyao: “How much are the investors on the other side paying you? I’ll offer you triple the salary. Join our project first.”

Chi Guan hesitated for a moment, his tone still hesitant, “It’s not about the money. I need to discuss it with the bosses over there, see if they’re in a rush…”

Qi Jingyao: “Five times, plus I’ll pay the penalty for breaking your contract.”

To hesitate any further would be disrespectful to money, so Chi Guan quickly agreed, “No problem, Teacher Qi. If the crew starts shooting tomorrow, I can be on the job today!”
•

No one fights with money, but Chi Guan isn’t irresponsible. Besides paying the penalty, for the two scripts that hadn’t been started, he recommended suitable screenwriters to the investors. As for the script that needed revising, Chi Guan decided to see it through to the end.

Qi Jingyao had no objections. His own schedule was tight, and filming a movie wasn’t a simple matter; much pre-production work was needed.

At the end of March, with warm spring waters and orioles chirping, ‘The Chronicles of Emperor Jingming’ officially started filming.

In the quaint movie town, Chi Guan sat behind the monitor with a small stool, cracking sunflower seeds while enjoying watching Qi Jingyao act.

—He couldn’t help it; watching his idol act was just too pleasing to the eyes.

The filming of historical dramas was much the same, mostly completed within the film town, with only a few sets. Chi Guan had followed several crews before and almost wore out the doors of the movie town, but Qi Jingyao gave him a completely different feeling. Besides his excellent acting, there was an undeniable factor—his good looks.

Qi Jingyao was extremely suited for historical costumes. His fine bone structure and top-tier demeanor, dressed in a bright yellow emperor’s robe, gave off the feeling that he didn’t belong to this era.

This wasn’t just Chi Guan’s fan-filter speaking; Qi Jingyao’s attractiveness was widely acknowledged. Many crew members didn’t need to be around the set all the time, but they liked to gather behind the monitor when free, cracking seeds and chatting with Chi Guan.

Occasionally, Chi Guan felt strangely familiar with Qi Jingyao’s costume, but he never dwelled on it, treating it as just another historical drama. He could recite some plots backwards by now.

During a break, Qi Jingyao, wearing a coat, walked over to Chi Guan, just in time to hear a crew member whispering nearby, “Can I say it? I think Teacher Qi and that newbie playing Suijian are really well-matched. I’m totally shipping them.”

Chi Guan nodded vigorously like a pecking chicken, “I get you, I’m so into it, I’m totally obsessed every day!”

Qi Jingyao paused in his tracks: “???”

What did he understand? Why was he shipping them?
He didn’t get it, he really didn’t!

Originally, Qi Jingyao had wanted Chi Guan to play Suijian. He had mentioned it to Chi Guan more than once, but Chi Guan really didn’t want to be an actor, nor did he like appearing in front of the camera. Reluctantly, Qi Jingyao had to find another actor.

The actor playing Suijian, named Kong Yizhou, came from a drama school and was a good actor, but another very important aspect Qi Jingyao noticed was that he had married early, openly announced his marriage, and was very affectionate with his wife.

When Qi Jingyao had gotten Chi Guan to join the crew, he was full of confidence, thinking he had made adequate preparations. However, reality delivered a heavy blow: not only did Chi Guan not remember anything, but he also started shipping him with someone else in the drama.

Even though this ship was only in the drama, Qi Jingyao was very annoyed. He strode over to Chi Guan and asked, “Is Professor Chi very free? If you are, let’s rehearse the next scene.”

Chi Guan blinked, not understanding why Qi Jingyao suddenly called him to rehearse, but he obediently stood up, picked up the script in his hand, and asked Qi Jingyao, “No problem, Teacher Qi. Where do we start?”

His eyes wide open, he stared motionlessly at Qi Jingyao.

Qi Jingyao coughed lowly, casually pointing to a line in the script, “Let’s start from here.”

Chi Guan was too earnest, making Qi Jingyao not know what to say. He had originally just wanted to find an excuse to change the subject, but now he had to really start rehearsing with Chi Guan.

Not to mention anything else, Chi Guan’s professionalism was beyond doubt. Listening to Chi Guan recite the script line by line and watching his awkward performance, Qi Jingyao’s irritable mood was gradually soothed, and he also slowly entered the state of the script.

This was a scene between Emperor Jingming and Suijian.

Chi Guan hadn’t changed clothes, wearing a beige hoodie with a black photographer’s vest over it, not exuding even a hint of ancient times, yet in a trance, Qi Jingyao saw his beloved from a previous life in him.

“Suijian…”
Qi Jingyao read the line from the script, his gaze lingering on Chi Guan for a long time, as if trying to engrave his image into his mind.

“Sss—”
Chi Guan suddenly furrowed his brows.

“What’s wrong?” Qi Jingyao asked.

“My head hurts a bit…” Chi Guan staggered back two steps, his lips turning pale, saying, “Sorry, Teacher Qi, let me rest a bit before we continue.”

Qi Jingyao cared little for rehearsing at that moment. He tossed the script to a crew member nearby and quickly walked over to support Chi Guan, saying, “Alright, forget about rehearsing. Let me help you sit down for a while.”

Chi Guan tried to say something, but opened his mouth several times without making a sound, eventually just letting Qi Jingyao support him to the stool he had been sitting on earlier.

The other crew members quickly reacted, bringing Chi Guan hot water and covering him with a coat.

Chi Guan thanked everyone one by one. His head buzzed like an old TV filled with static, blurring his vision.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but just then, listening to Qi Jingyao recite those lines, he had a momentary illusion that he had heard someone say these words before. At some time, in some place.

More than that… Chi Guan couldn’t remember anything else.

Whenever he tried to think, his head hurt like it was being pricked with needles, making it hard for him to breathe.

After sitting on the stool for a while, Chi Guan felt much better, but Qi Jingyao didn’t leave him there. Instead, he called a car and sent him back to the hotel to rest.

Chi Guan didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t refuse Qi Jingyao, and eventually went back. He planned to write in the hotel, but fell asleep as soon as he returned and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
•

Chi Guan began to have a continuous fever.

It started as a mild fever, but then turned into a high fever that wouldn’t go away.

Chi Guan felt like his brain was a rusty machine trying desperately to turn but unable to due to years of neglect.

Many fragments flashed through Chi Guan’s mind, seeming like scenes from the filming of ‘The Chronicles of Emperor Jingming’, yet not just filming, but as if they had really happened…

Chi Guan tried to grasp something, but couldn’t remember anything.

Qi Jingyao gave Chi Guan some time off, so for the next week, Chi Guan spent his time in the hotel, sleeping, waking, sleeping, sleeping…

After leaving the set, Chi Guan’s condition improved significantly, but those fragmented dreams still followed him, making every sleep restless.

After a few days, Chi Guan was woken by the sound of banging on the door. There was a noisy commotion outside, like a new store opening with drums and gongs. Reluctantly, Chi Guan got up and groggily opened the door.

“Hey, Professor Chi, you finally woke up!” The scene manager grabbed Chi Guan’s hand, his eyes almost welling up with tears, saying, “You were sleeping so deeply; if you didn’t wake up, we were going to ask the front desk to break in.”

“Uh… did you need me for something?” Chi Guan was still not fully awake, rubbing his eyes to try to wake his still-sleeping brain, asking, “Is there a problem with the script? Is the setting unreasonable?”

“You’ve been sleeping in your room for a day and a night!” The scene manager pointed incredulously at the window in the hallway, saying, “We didn’t wake you when we left this morning, and you’ve been asleep until now!”

Chi Guan was taken aback, belatedly realizing it was already dark outside. He scratched his head sheepishly, “Sorry for worrying you. I’ve been feeling much better these past two days. I guess I’ll be fully recovered in a few more days.”

“Are you sure that’s okay? Maybe you shouldn’t stay with the crew!” The scene manager, a man of impulsive nature, frowned worriedly at Chi Guan, “After all, you can revise the script remotely, and sleeping like this every day in the hotel, we worry when we’re on set.”

Chi Guan pursed his lips, about to say something, when Qi Jingyao, standing in a corner, suddenly called out his name, “Chi Guan.”

Qi Jingyao looked at Chi Guan deeply, his expression somewhat bitter, and said, “Wang Ge is right, you’ve been through a lot recently. You don’t need to come anymore.”