Inside the theater, the lighting was dim, with only the IMAX screen casting faint light as the images flickered.
On screen was a man’s slender, handsome face, blood droplets splattering onto his long eyelashes, trembling and about to fall.
The film’s final shot froze on his close-up. He slowly lifted his gaze to the camera, the blood on his lashes finally dropping as he curved his lips into a gentle smile at the audience.
*Snap-*
The lights came on with the ending music. Yan Jie, holding a big popcorn bucket with the theater’s logo, tossed the last sugar-coated popcorn into his mouth.
Beside him, Fat Fish was so spooked by the protagonist’s final smile that his face had gone pale. He glanced at Yan Jie as if he’d seen a ghost.
The film’s main character was an ordinary male college student who, by accident, got caught up in a serial murder case. The first half was nerve-wracking as the protagonist tiptoed through danger, but then came a shocking twist-the psychopathic serial killer had been the protagonist all along, deceiving everyone, including the audience.
As a hardcore otaku who only watched anime, family comedies, and sci-fi blockbusters, Fat Fish really couldn’t handle this suspense-thriller vibe. The nearly two-hour runtime felt like sitting on pins and needles, his heart constantly bungee-jumping from fright.
“You really finished all this sickly sweet popcorn? Doesn’t it make you feel gross?”
Fat Fish grabbed the now-light popcorn bucket, fished out a sugar crystal from the bottom, popped it in his mouth, and immediately grimaced in pain, tossing the bucket in the trash:
“I must’ve been out of my mind to spend two hours watching people kill each other with you! What’s the point of this kind of movie, huh?”
“Didn’t you like it?” Yan Jie asked lazily.
“What’s there to like about all that blood?!”
“The protagonist is good-looking.”
“…So you spent two hours just staring at his face! Don’t explain, you’re a total face-chaser! There’s no point arguing with you!”
Fat Fish brushed popcorn crumbs off his hands, about to drag Yan Jie out, when he suddenly remembered something and slapped his forehead:
“Ah, look at my memory-I actually had something important to tell you tonight. Almost forgot.”
Yan Jie glanced at him. “Say it.”
“It’s about a friend of mine, works in entertainment as a planner. They’re working with the official Blazing Holy Grail team to make a variety show to stir up some buzz. The idea is to get some popular celebs and streamers together to play games and compete. He asked me if you’d be interested. The pay and everything is negotiable. If you agree, they’ll get started right away.”
“Me?” Yan Jie put his hands in his pockets, looking uninterested:
“Is the entertainment industry really this bored? Are they holding a competition or a talent show? Not interested, don’t drag me into it.”
“I figured you’d say no. Too many rules in showbiz, and these variety shows can take months to film. No way you’d last. I’ll tell him tonight.”
Fat Fish smacked his lips, then noticed Yan Jie was busy on his phone and couldn’t help peeking:
“What are you doing?”
“Had to end the stream early and everyone’s mad, so I’m throwing out some distractions.”
Yan Jie showed him his phone. Fat Fish saw Yan Jie’s homepage on a short video platform, and the latest video was a night scene he’d shot earlier, tagged with “#Weekly Great Handsome Brilliant Spring Praise Contest,” and the caption read:
“‘Hubby, love you’ is old news-give me something fresh.”
Fat Fish rolled his eyes:
“Bro, I’ve met a lot of people in my life, but when it comes to showing off, you’re the undisputed king!”
He gave Yan Jie a thumbs-up.
“Hey, you just don’t get my charm,” Yan Jie said, tapping the share button and sending the so-called “praise contest” directly to a certain someone’s chat.
Fat Fish watched his smooth little move and couldn’t help but gasp:
“You actually hold a contest to get your fans to praise you, and then shove the link right in someone’s face? Who is it? A special guest???”
Yan Jie chuckled and put his phone away:
“A new friend I met recently. He’s got a lot of energy, really interesting, and I just love hearing him talk.”
Fat Fish spat and mouthed clearly:
“Shameless!”
—
Shanghai.
“Remember I told you Director Zhang is prepping a new film? The script is supposed to be great-a big IP. They haven’t officially started casting yet, but Director Zhang probably has his eye on you, otherwise he wouldn’t have made time to invite you to dinner. Let’s do our best and leave a good impression, okay?”
Qi Hong sat in the business van, touching up her lipstick in a small mirror. When she finished, she didn’t hear a response, so she raised her brow and looked at Jiang Nan’an beside her.
Jiang Nan’an wore a thin shirt, its loose hem tucked at the waist, outlining a slender waistline. His half-long hair had a slight wave, tied loosely at the back.
He was leaning against the car window, gazing out at the neon-lit night. The car’s light and shadow outlined his delicate, beautiful features, the tear mole under his left eye and the small mole beside his nose barely visible in the shifting light.
Tonight was just a private dinner, so Jiang Nan’an wore no makeup and dressed casually, but still couldn’t hide that unique, cool, and elegant allure.
Strictly speaking, he debuted at sixteen and has already been navigating the ups and downs of the entertainment industry for seven years-he’s been poor, rustic, wild, and unhinged, but never ugly. Even anti-fans can only dig up photos taken from bizarre angles, sharpened to the extreme until his face is unrecognizable, just to force out a couple of “ugly” insults. Normally, just a few random stills or candid shots are enough for his looks to rocket him to the top of the trending searches.
Qi Hong quietly admired her artist’s melancholy profile for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh in her heart-
If only he didn’t have a mouth!
“Jiang Nan’an, were you even listening to me??”
“Hm?” Only then did Jiang Nan’an come back to himself. He withdrew his gaze from the window, glanced at Qi Hong, and nodded lightly:
“I heard you. Need to leave a good impression on the director.”
“That’s more like it.” Qi Hong snapped her compact shut with a “pop,” then couldn’t help but follow his gaze out the window:
“What were you just looking at?”
“That tree,” Jiang Nan’an pointed casually.
Qi Hong leaned over to take a look, only to see it was just a plane tree, the kind you see everywhere on Shanghai streets.
She tried to figure out what about that tree had caught Jiang Nan’an’s eye, but came up empty.
“What’s so interesting about it?”
“It’s grown really well.”
“How can you tell?”
“See that thick branch?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“The height is just right-about two heads taller than an adult man. Perfect for…”
Qi Hong instantly sat up straight, her face falling as she jabbed her finger at Jiang Nan’an’s nose:
“Don’t you dare say ‘for hanging yourself’ to me!!”
“……” Jiang Nan’an raised his eyebrows and looked away.
Only then did Qi Hong reach for the car door. Before getting out, she pulled out a pair of gold-rimmed glasses from somewhere and slapped them into Jiang Nan’an’s hands:
“Tonight, you’re ‘Gu Qingze’! Give me your best performance!”
Jiang Nan’an’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
He lifted his hand to the back of his neck, casually rolled his shoulders, and only as he got out of the car did he slowly unfold the glasses and perch them on his nose.
It was as if his entire aura subtly shifted the moment he put the glasses on-the previously cool, melancholic look in his eyes softened, making him appear much more refined and approachable.
Qi Hong nodded in satisfaction as she watched him.
They got out of the business van, passed by the lush plane trees lining the street, and entered the courtyard of a nearby Western-style villa.
This was a well-known private kitchen in Shanghai. After confirming their reservation, the house manager led them to a large private room on the top floor. The legendary Director Zhang had already arrived-a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties with a dignified appearance. As soon as Qi Hong saw him, she greeted him warmly:
“Director Zhang, long time no see! Sorry for being late, the traffic was terrible!”
“No, no, we just got here too.”
Director Zhang shook her hand and turned his attention to Jiang Nan’an:
“Nan’an, long time no see.”
Jiang Nan’an smiled politely and shook his hand:
“Director Zhang.”
“Come, sit!” Director Zhang pulled out a chair and sat down, chatting as he did:
“I haven’t been to Shanghai in a while. What I love about this place isn’t anything fancy, it’s these old streets-so comfortable.”
Sensing he wanted to chat, Jiang Nan’an followed his lead:
“Agreed. The plane trees along the roadside are really beautiful.”
“Oh? You like plane trees too?”
At the mention of “plane trees,” Qi Hong’s brow twitched. She shot a nervous glance at Jiang Nan’an, terrified he’d blurt out something outrageous like “perfect for hanging yourself” in front of an industry elder.
But Jiang Nan’an simply pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, nodded, and smiled gently:
“I once heard someone say that only where there are plane trees is there truly Shanghai. Plane trees, like this city, carry a sense of history-it’s hard not to like them.”
Director Zhang nodded approvingly:
“You’ve hit the nail on the head! The weight of history can’t be faked or replaced. Just like time can’t go backward and stories can’t repeat, it’s up to us to do our best to recreate them. I’ve always told Director Wei that I had to find a chance to work with Nan’an someday, but the scripts I had just never quite fit. Now, finally, a good script has come along. This role is probably something you’ve never tried before, but in my mind, it has to be you.”
As he spoke, Director Zhang smiled mysteriously and pulled a thick A4 script from his bag. The cover was boldly printed with two characters-“Imperial Tutor.”
Director Zhang spent nearly half the meal discussing the plot and character with Jiang Nan’an. It was clear he truly loved this script; just the historical setting and narrative core had him talking animatedly for half an hour.
Jiang Nan’an chatted and drank with him, and by the end of the meal it was late at night. After seeing Director Zhang and his group off, Jiang Nan’an and Qi Hong stood side by side under the plane trees, waiting for Xiao Sun to pick them up.
“Grand Preceptor Zhuge Wenyun of the Da Xuan Empire… Director Zhang really has an eye for casting. This role suits you. You only glanced at the script-what do you think?” Qi Hong asked.
Jiang Nan’an thought for a moment. “It’s very respectful of history.”
Qi Hong clicked her tongue. “I’m asking what you think of the drama!”
But Jiang Nan’an suddenly shook his head. “That’s not right.”
“What’s not right?”
“You shouldn’t be asking ‘Gu Qingze’ that question. After all, Gu Qingze is a doctor from a scholarly family-he wouldn’t be able to give a professional opinion on the script, only analyze it from a historical perspective. Any more would be out of character.”
Qi Hong looked exasperated. “I’m asking Jiang Nan’an! Director Zhang’s gone-why are you still acting in front of me?”
“Oh…” Jiang Nan’an nodded, took off his glasses, and just then, out of the corner of his eye, caught a flash of light at the street corner.
He looked over and saw a few girls peeking around the corner-the flash had come from their phone cameras.
“What’s going on?” Qi Hong noticed too, frowning.
Just then, a black business van slowly pulled up in front of them. Assistant Xiao Sun jumped out and, hearing Qi Hong’s question, gave her a wry smile and waved his phone.
“Sister Hong, when you and Brother came out, someone spotted you. Sure enough, the fans caught the scent and showed up. It’s so late already-don’t these girls ever sleep?”
Qi Hong knew all too well how formidable Jiang Nan’an’s fans were. She drew in a sharp breath and patted Jiang Nan’an on the shoulder:
“Get in the car, quick. Once you leave, your fans can go home too.”
Jiang Nan’an folded up his glasses and handed them back to Qi Hong, glanced at the time, then looked around at the nearby shops:
“Buy them a cup of milk-hot, no sugar.”
Xiao Sun was stunned for a moment, then nodded and headed off to the drink shop at the street corner.
Jiang Nan’an waited in the car, leaning back and closing his eyes.
He’d had quite a bit to drink tonight. He hadn’t felt it before, but standing out in the wind by the road just now, the dizziness hit him all at once.
Not long after, Xiao Sun came back, a bit out of breath after handing out drinks to the fans, and got in the car, passing the last two cups of hot honey water to Qi Hong and Jiang Nan’an:
“Here you go, Brother. You drank a lot tonight-have something warm, you’ll feel better.”
The business van started up slowly, turning the plane trees outside into flowing streaks.
Jiang Nan’an took the paper cup from Xiao Sun, sighed, and watched the night scenery speed past the window as he drank.
Qi Hong glanced at him. “You did well tonight.”
Jiang Nan’an didn’t react much. “It was Gu Qingze who did well.”
Qi Hong corrected him: “It was Jiang Nan’an playing Gu Qingze! Alright, as a reward, I’ll consider granting you one wish. Go on, what do you want?”
“……”
Jiang Nan’an’s gaze lingered longingly on the rows of plane trees along the street:
“…Plant a plane tree at home for me.”
Xiao Sun stuck his head out from the front seat. Maybe it was the first time he’d heard Brother make such a unique request.
Qi Hong wanted to cover Xiao Sun’s mouth, but it was too late-the kid blinked his big eyes and innocently asked:
“Brother, what do you want a tree for?”
Jiang Nan’an sighed lightly, his eyes tinged with a faint longing:
“So it’s convenient to hang myself.”
“?”
—
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
