Having received the shooting notice last night, Jiang Yue packed his things early in the morning and met up with his assistant.
By now, it was a little past nine o’clock. Jiang Yue and Qi Jiahe were sitting in the back of the car, sitting very close together—mostly because Qi Jiahe was leaning against him unilaterally.
Jiang Yue had pressed himself tightly against the door, resting his head against the car window and choosing to ignore Qi Jiahe completely.
“Jiang Yue? What are you looking at?” Qi Jiahe noticed out of the corner of his eye that Jiang Yue kept staring in one direction, and couldn’t help asking.
Jiang Yue sighed, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Sleeping.”
Seeing him keep his eyes closed and stubbornly refusing to make eye contact, Qi Jiahe’s lips curved up slightly into a mischievous smile.
Meng Xiao, who was driving in the front, kept glancing into the rearview mirror. He had witnessed the entire process, including the Best Actor’s bad smile.
He fought an internal battle for a moment. Keeping his eyes glued to the traffic light ahead, he asked tentatively, “Best Actor Qi… you and Teacher Jiang…”
Halfway through his sentence, he suddenly lost his nerve, stammering and failing to make his point clear.
Qi Jiahe lifted his gaze to look at him, then turned to glance at Jiang Yue. With a generous smile, he said, “It’s true. What’s floating around online is pretty much accurate.”
Jiang Yue was merely feigning sleep; his ears were still working just fine. Hearing Meng Xiao hum and haw for ages without actually spitting it out, he naturally knew what Meng Xiao wanted to ask.
However, in Meng Xiao’s eyes, Jiang Yue was fast asleep, whereas Qi Jiahe was wide awake—so Meng Xiao was talking directly to him.
Jiang Yue had assumed that since Meng Xiao hadn’t finished his sentence, Qi Jiahe would just pretend he hadn’t heard. He never expected this guy to just admit to it like that.
Jiang Yue sneakily opened his eyes, scanned the interior of the car, and finally fixed his gaze on Qi Jiahe’s face. After rolling his eyes, he slumped back against the car window.
“Don’t believe rumors, don’t spread rumors,” he muttered gloomily.
Qi Jiahe caught Jiang Yue rolling his eyes and heard what he said. In a flash, he turned toward Jiang Yue, pointed at him, and made a throat-slitting gesture near his neck.
Meng Xiao couldn’t help laughing when he saw that.
Gradually, the car drove out of the urban area, and tea-covered mountains came into view.
The courtyard chosen by Director Wang for the shoot was nestled between several tea mountains. While the road wasn’t particularly rugged, a short stretch of it required walking on foot.
The car stopped in front of a flight of stone steps. Meng Xiao unbuckled his seatbelt and got out. “Teacher Jiang! The car can’t drive any further ahead. Let me walk you two over.”
Jiang Yue opened his eyes, yawned, glanced at Qi Jiahe, pushed open the car door, and stepped out.
Seeing Meng Xiao in the back just lifting their suitcases down, Jiang Yue raised his eyelids to look at him, and after a moment, said in a low voice, “No need, they’re pretty heavy. We’ll go up ourselves, you head back. I’ll message you if anything comes up.”
Director Wang’s consistent style was always like this: neither managers nor assistants were allowed to follow the artists. As a result, even though Qi Jiahe had participated in so many of his variety shows, he had never once met Qi Jiahe’s manager.
The moment Meng Xiao heard the word “heavy,” he grew a bit anxious. “I should still come along.”
“No need.” Jiang Yue took the suitcase from his hand, refusing again.
As soon as he finished speaking, Qi Jiahe lazily opened his car door and stepped out on his long legs.
“Little Meng, it’s not that I’m nagging, but look how heavy Jiang Yue is—just let him carry it.”
Jiang Yue glared at him. Though reluctant in every possible way, his words didn’t match his thoughts: “Right, he’s right. I’ve been losing weight lately.”
Meng Xiao looked at him, nodding half-convinced, and willingly handed the suitcase over. “Alright then, you two go on up yourselves.”
Watching Meng Xiao drive away, Jiang Yue immediately gritted his teeth and looked at Qi Jiahe. “Why did you have to say I’m heavy?!”
At one meter seventy-eight (5’10”) and just over a hundred and ten jin (around 120 lbs), he certainly wasn’t fat, but he cared a lot about his appearance. Being called heavy struck a deeply unfair chord with him.
Qi Jiahe compared his height—which reached at most around Qi Jiahe’s chin—tucked Jiang Yue’s cap, and upon catching sight of the bite mark on his gland, couldn’t help chuckling.
“I wasn’t actually talking about your weight.”
Thinking Qi Jiahe was being inexplicable, Jiang Yue measured his own height again in the air. Hearing that, he nearly jumped off the ground.
“I’m still growing!”
Qi Jiahe gave a perfunctory nod.
He had only brought one suitcase, but Jiang Yue had brought two, and neither of them was light. Carrying two heavy suitcases all at once was a bit of a struggle for Jiang Yue’s build; by the fifth step of the stone steps, he didn’t want to walk anymore.
“Ahhhhh!” He slumped against the suitcase and yelled at Qi Jiahe, a cry that startled the birds roosting in the tree branches into a frantic flight.
Hearing the noise, Qi Jiahe turned around. Four or five steps below him, Jiang Yue was squatting on the ground in a posture of utter resignation, resting his head against the luggage.
I knew it.
Qi Jiahe walked down a few steps, stood on the step right in front of him, and looked down at him. “What are you yelling for? Didn’t you just say you could carry a one-ton elephant all by yourself?”
“I can’t carry it anymore. Help me with this,” Jiang Yue said, looking up at him with a guilty conscience and speaking in a negotiating tone.
Qi Jiahe shook his head. “Nope, I get tired just carrying one suitcase.”
“Hey!” Jiang Yue suddenly sprang up from the ground, only to find that from this higher step, he couldn’t even see Qi Jiahe’s chin. Tilting his head back, he said, “Please, help me carry one. I’ll definitely pay you back properly another day.”
Seeing the sweat on Jiang Yue’s forehead, Qi Jiahe finally relented, nodded, and took the suitcase from his hand.
“Fine.”
The tea mountain was overflowing with the fragrance of tea, a vast expanse of verdant green. Ahead lay large marble steps, and not far in front of them hung a sign that read: Wild New York Small Courtyard.
Qi Jiahe had once asked Director Wang why this courtyard was called “Wild New York Small Courtyard”—didn’t he find it strange? At the time, Director Wang had told him: “New York, but in the wild.”
Someone like Jiang Yue, who would normally avoid exercise at all costs, was now exhausted to death just climbing a mountain. After hauling a suitcase all the way up, he was still panting heavily.
He stared at the sign on the post, wanting nothing more than to take it down and stomp on it a few times. Spotting the characters clearly, he frowned. “Wild New York?”
Qi Jiahe nodded. “Wild New York, yeah.”
Who comes up with such a terrible name?
Jiang Yue wrinkled his nose in disgust, his eyebrows knitting into a tight knot.
The wooden door of the courtyard was closed ahead. Qi Jiahe walked forward and gently pushed it open. It was very quiet inside, with no sign of anyone around.
He and Jiang Yue walked in together, approached the room directly facing the entrance, cautiously pushed open the door, and poked their heads in. Instantly, all the gazes and cameras inside the room turned toward them.
Qi Jiahe pushed the door open wide enough for both of them to enter. In the sweltering heat, everyone gathered inside the room was panting heavily.
Seeing the director sitting opposite him breathing heavily as well, Qi Jiahe pointed a finger at him accusingly. “Why are you panting, too?”
Shouldn’t the director have arrived early?
“I just went downstairs to buy some things,” Director Wang said, taking a massive gulp of air.