He Zheng slammed on the brakes, almost sending Wei Zhenye flying. He reached out just in time to block him with his chest, protecting him from injury. Yang Cheng in the back hit the seat hard.
“Sorry,” He Zheng said, pulling his hand back. Glancing in the rearview mirror at Yang Cheng: “You have no business interfering with Xiao Wei and me. We’ve reached the hotel. Give me the room key, you get out.”
Yang Cheng’s head was spinning, stars flashing before his eyes. The alcohol in his stomach surged to his throat, half his face flushed red, and nausea rolled through him. He pulled out the room key, tossed it onto the back seat, hurriedly opened the car door, and leaned over a nearby trash can to vomit.
He Zheng took the room key, got out, and went around to the passenger side. Seeing Yang Cheng practically leaning into the trash can, he said flatly, “There’s bottled water in the trunk.”
Yang Cheng shook his head violently. “…f*ck.”
He Zheng ignored him, dragged Wei Zhenye out of the passenger seat, and carried him steadily upstairs.
The presidential suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows were enormous and luxurious. From above, the cars looked like sparkling points racing along, buildings towered in the distance, and the Beijing nightscape stretched across the horizon.
He Zheng gently laid Wei Zhenye on the bed, the mattress soft and sinking beneath him, wrapping him tenderly. He took off Wei Zhenye’s shoes and coat, intending to wipe away some of the alcohol smell, but didn’t quite know how to start.
Although Wei Zhenye and he had lain on the same bed and even kissed before, that time Wei Zhenye was fully clothed, covered with a blanket, and the lights were off. He Zheng hadn’t seen what he looked like unclothed.
Wei Zhenye lay on his side, curled up, one hand over his head, instinctively assuming a protective pose like when he’s about to be hit.
Yang Cheng’s comments from earlier replayed in He Zheng’s mind.
He really had never asked about Wei Zhenye’s past. He had only found him in a trash can, not realizing he had been bullied, beaten unconscious, and thrown in there.
He Zheng felt a mix of emotions, sat beside Wei Zhenye, and took his hand, placing it in his own palm.
Wei Zhenye slept obediently, his black hair soft and fluffy, a few strands brushing his eyes. His eyelashes covered the tear mole perfectly. He was naturally pale, and after drinking, his flushed cheeks made him even more striking. He Zheng touched his sweaty forehead—it was hot to the touch.
After hesitating a moment, He Zheng unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time.
Large patches of skin were gradually exposed: collarbones, chest, abs, waist, and down to the V-line extending into his pants.
Truthfully, Wei Zhenye’s physique was impressive.
Not a thin, frail body, but a fit, moderately muscular one. Nothing exaggerated, nothing scrawny—the body fat ratio was just right.
As He Zheng considered whether to continue with the pants, Wei Zhenye groggily opened his eyes.
His mind foggy, vision hazy, he noticed the long hair in front of him and uncertainly murmured, “…baby?”
“Yes,” He Zheng quickly responded. “Are you uncomfortable anywhere? Headache? Want some water?”
Before Wei Zhenye could answer, He Zheng stood. Thinking he was leaving, Wei Zhenye suddenly grabbed his arm, covering his eyes with the other hand, rubbing them tiredly. “Wait a moment,” he mumbled.
He Zheng sighed. “I’m not leaving. I’m just getting you some water.”
Wei Zhenye reluctantly let go.
When He Zheng returned with water, he saw Wei Zhenye looking at his bare upper body. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and explained, “I took off your shirt because you were sweating.”
Wei Zhenye slowly lifted his head, looking at him with sincere, almost expectant eyes. “And the pants?”
“…You take them off yourself,” He Zheng said, setting the water on the bedside table, turning his face awkwardly. He then heard a soft laugh from Wei Zhenye.
He Zheng felt like the floor was on fire. He quickly changed the subject: “Yang Cheng’s coming up soon; I’ll have to leave.”
“Don’t open the door for him.”
He Zheng paused. “Did you two argue tonight?”
“He was drinking with his friends. I went to pick him up, and he led me into drinking, even took my phone to call you,” Wei Zhenye sipped the water. “They didn’t bully you, right?”
He Zheng shook his head. Thinking for a moment, he hesitated: “Yang Cheng… likes you, doesn’t he?”
“What?” Wei Zhenye didn’t catch it.
“I mean, does Yang Cheng have someone he likes?” He Zheng rephrased.
“Why do you always ask me about him?” Wei Zhenye replied blandly. “He doesn’t have anyone he likes… but he has a fiancée.”
He Zheng was stunned.
“His parents arranged his engagement early—business alliance. They each do their own thing.”
“Alright.” He Zheng sensed Wei Zhenye didn’t like talking about Yang Cheng, so he let the topic drop.
Of course, right then, Yang Cheng’s drunken shouting came from outside: “Open the door!”
He Zheng stood, checked that he hadn’t left anything, and said to Wei Zhenye, “I’m leaving.”
Wei Zhenye stared at him, silent.
He Zheng froze for a moment, then walked back to the bed, bent down, placed a hand gently on the back of Wei Zhenye’s head to lift his face slightly, and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Progress,” Wei Zhenye smiled.
He Zheng pinched his cheek. “Good night, little puppy.”
“Good night,” Wei Zhenye murmured softly.
….
The next day, filming officially started. He Zheng ran into an old acquaintance in the makeup room.
Li Ru raised an eyebrow at his surprised expression. “What a coincidence, huh?”
A female actor sitting in front of her turned at the sound, then quickly stood and bowed to He Zheng: “Hello, senior.”
“Senior?”
The term felt unfamiliar; He Zheng wasn’t used to it, but nodded politely: “Hello.”
“She’s a new actor I’m mentoring, here to cameo a few scenes,” Li Ru said, pointing at He Zheng. “This is your senior.”
The young actress was extremely timid, bowing repeatedly, almost kneeling: “Hello, senior, hello, senior.”
He Zheng smiled faintly. “No need to be so formal.”
Li Ru gave the actress a few instructions, then led He Zheng out of the makeup room into a quiet corner.
“Did you check Weibo?” Li Ru lowered her voice and handed He Zheng a cigarette. “The costume photos we posted last night—go take a look.”
He Zheng opened his phone. The moment he logged into Weibo, private messages exploded. In the crew’s latest official promo post, his costume photo was placed right in the center, with “Lead Actor” added before his tagged name. The comments had reached a terrifying 208,000, and the top ones were all attacking him.
They said he used to be a third-rate livestreamer who slept with a rich patron to climb his way up. Old dirt about his past with Huang Chen was dug up again and dragged through the mud. Even though his costume photo fit the role best out of everyone’s, people blatantly lied and stomped it into the ground, calling him a plastic surgery face, neither male nor female. The most ridiculous claim was that he also had an affair with Director Du Guosheng.
As he kept scrolling, He Zheng saw one comment that completely broke him.
“I have photos of his rich supporter’s face. DM me if you want to see.”
Seeing his expression get worse and worse, Li Ru still told him the truth: “I didn’t expect Xiao Wei to show his face. The photos are already out. There’s no way to control it now.”
He Zheng took the cigarette, lit it, and felt so heavy he couldn’t speak.
“Try to keep some distance from him in public,” Li Ru said, clearly worried. “Don’t let him get photographed. People are already digging into his background. The lead role for this drama was fiercely contested before, and now that it suddenly fell to you, there are too many people who aren’t convinced.”
“Got it,” He Zheng said, letting out a deep sigh.
His mood was badly affected, and his performance that morning wasn’t great. Du Guosheng assumed he just hadn’t gotten into character yet and told him to review the script during lunch break, think more about the character’s psychology, and try to improve in the afternoon.
At noon, He Zheng left the set to get lunch. An SUV was parked by the roadside. Wei Zhenye got out and was about to open the car door for him like before, but He Zheng quickly walked over, pulled him to turn around, and pushed him into the car without a word.
“What’s wrong?” Wei Zhenye asked, still confused.
He Zheng pointed at a few extras who had just walked out nearby. Their phone cameras were aimed at them, flashes going off nonstop as they looked toward the car.
He Zheng felt irritated. “Don’t come pick me up for now. We’ll get photographed.”
The smile on Wei Zhenye’s face slowly faded. “Do you hate people knowing we’re dating?”
“No,” He Zheng said stiffly. “People online are dirtier than I imagined. I don’t want your privacy violated.”
Wei Zhenye gave a quiet “mm,” clearly lost in thought. They sat in silence for a while before Wei Zhenye lit a cigarette and said, “I’m going back to Mexico tomorrow. I’ll be back in a week.”
There was no strong sense of longing. Distracted, He Zheng said, “Yang Cheng already told me.”
Wei Zhenye froze mid-motion as he reached out to hold He Zheng’s hand. His hand hung in the air for a long moment before he pulled it back and said nothing more.
They found a nearby noodle shop. From ordering to the food arriving, He Zheng kept reading the script the whole time. Wei Zhenye, being considerate, didn’t disturb him. He picked the meat out of his own bowl, placed it on a spoon, and quietly added it to He Zheng’s bowl.
He Zheng paused, then realized Wei Zhenye had been ignored for a long time. He set the script aside and softly called, “Xiao Wei.”
Wei Zhenye looked up and met his gaze calmly.
That look made He Zheng’s heart sink a little. “Why do you seem unhappy today?”
“I’m leaving later,” Wei Zhenye said.
It meant going back to days of being separated by a screen, unable to touch or hold each other.
He Zheng had never been very affected by partings and didn’t really understand his feelings. He only said, “Won’t you be back in a week?”
“Maybe longer.” Wei Zhenye’s face darkened as he pulled out a cigarette. Just as he was about to light it, a wave of chest tightness hit him. He slammed the lighter onto the table.
He Zheng was terrible at comforting people. After thinking for a while, he finally forced out four words: “I’ll wait for you.”
Wei Zhenye glanced at him and said for no clear reason, “Don’t get too close to Yang Cheng.”
He Zheng wanted to say, “You’re the one who should stay away from Yang Cheng,” but it felt like he’d be stirring trouble between them, so he swallowed the words.
He didn’t respond. Wei Zhenye tapped the table twice with his knuckles, not hard, just reminding him to answer.
“I know my limits,” He Zheng said.