The director’s assistant, Wang Jing, was waiting at the hotel entrance. He saw a taxi approaching from a distance and stopping at the foot of the stairs. A moment later, Song Xueyan stepped out.
“Teacher Song,” he greeted, walking up. “Taking a taxi isn’t convenient. Should the production team assign you a car and a driver?”
Song Xueyan said there was no need. He was staying at the hotel for now and would move to an apartment later; both were very close to the film city, so there was no need to waste resources.
Wang Jing knew his temperament and didn’t press the matter, leading him toward the banquet hall. “The various groups are in the West Hall, the actors are in the North Hall. Mr. Yu is also coming tonight, so a private room has been specially set up.”
Entering the banquet hall, Song Xueyan scanned the room. “Has Yan Qi arrived?”
“Not yet. Teacher Yan leaves even later than Director Fang. He had fight scene rehearsals all day and was soaked through like a sponge by the time he finished, so he had to shower in the lounge before leaving. I saw how meticulous he is he probably needs a thorough wash and a good tidy-up back at the hotel.”
Since even Fang Zhouji wasn’t worried about Yan Qi being late, Wang Jing naturally wouldn’t worry unnecessarily, nor would he take it upon himself to urge him.
The two walked along the carpeted path. When they reached the entrance of the private room, the Chinese-style hollowed-out sliding door was left with a narrow gap. Wang Jing knocked first, then pushed the door open to invite Song Xueyan in.
Inside was a wall with an ink-wash painting screen, with a low table of the same style standing against it; the lotus pot on the table was very seasonal. Song Xueyan walked past the foyer. The solid wood round table was spread with exquisite dishes; to match the atmosphere, only national liquor was on the table.
Fang Zhouji sat in the main seat, leaning sideways, talking to the person sitting to his right. It was a young man with an exceptional temperament, wearing a black shirt with his tie knotted meticulously. His hand, holding a wine glass, rested on the edge of the table, and on his wrist was the same rose watch that Fu Yangle wore.
Song Xueyan walked straight to the man’s side. “Mr. Yu.”
“You’re here.” Yu Jingchen looked up at Song Xueyan. “You look better today than before.”
Fang Zhouji, slightly tipsy from drinking, laughed as he heard this. “Usually, he’s diligently decadent and assiduously self-destructive, but when he works, he’s painstaking and earnest, earning enough money for his own coffin. He separates his life before and after joining the set from his normal life very clearly—this can barely be considered a merit.”
Song Xueyan pretended not to hear, turning to pick up a clean wine glass from the cabinet behind him, ready to pour wine, but was stopped by Yu Jingchen.
Yu Jingchen knew he didn’t like to drink and said considerately: “Let’s use tea instead of wine.”
Song Xueyan put down the glass and heard a laugh from the foyer.
“It seems I arrived at just the right time.”
Fu Yangle walked over carrying tea, pouring a small cup for Song Xueyan. “Chrysanthemum and Pu’er. It clears heat, dispels wind, calms the liver, and improves eyesight.”
Song Xueyan leaned forward slightly. “I toast Mr. Yu—wishing you great wealth and good health.”
Yu Jingchen said: “May the filming go smoothly, and may your future be bright.”
The two clinked glasses and drank.
Fu Yangle placed the tea on the cabinet, his hand brushing against the back of Song Xueyan’s waist as he rested it on the back of Yu Jingchen’s chair. “I knew you were coming, so I brewed it myself. How does it taste?”
“Mellow and flavorful. You are the Tea God of our time.” Song Xueyan turned sideways and set down his small cup.
Fu Yangle rubbed Yu Jingchen’s shoulder with his fingers, lowered his head to glance at his watch, and said with slight dissatisfaction: “Isn’t the other male lead a bit too much of a diva?”
Fang Zhouji didn’t know about the relationship between Yan Qi and Yu Jingchen, so he was just about to speak up for Yan Qi when the door opened again.
Turning his head, the “super diva” lead had finally arrived late.
Yan Qi wore a black high-fashion suit, unbuttoned, with a glimpse of a brown retro-patterned shirt visible underneath. A narrow silk scarf of the same color was tied in a casual, lazy knot around his neck. With his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long limbs, this outfit looked both high-end and effortless. Under the warm-toned light, he looked like he had walked out of a medieval oil painting.
Song Xueyan withdrew his gaze and reached out to touch the bead bracelet on his wrist.
Yan Qi scanned everyone in the room, his gaze finally resting on Yu Jingchen, while his peripheral vision slid upward unhurriedly to steal a glance at Song Xueyan.
Song Xueyan stood there, half-encircled by Fu Yangle’s arm, his expression calm and detached. He was out of place with the lively alcohol-soaked atmosphere of the room, like that small pot of tea sitting on the cabinet. He was still wearing the same white shirt, only the style was more exquisite than usual, featuring dark embroidered patterns. The collar was buttoned to the very top, covering a third of his fair, beautiful neck, making him look ascetic and clean. Yet, Yan Qi couldn’t help but remember him last night with his breath ragged.
At this thought, the 26-degree AC breeze in the room instantly vanished. Yan Qi straightened his cuffs, feeling a bit hot.
With Fu Yangle at his side like a gentle guillotine hanging over his neck, Yu Jingchen sensibly pushed his wine glass away, switching to plain water. As he looked up, Yan Qi was still standing not far away, his gaze stiffly fixed, his peripheral vision scattered and lost, revealing unmasked conflict.
Yu Jingchen was incredibly sharp, not to mention that “the eldest brother is like a father”—no one knew their “son” better than a father. Yan Qi’s idiotic look was clearly wrong. He tilted his head slightly, following Yan Qi’s gaze, his peripheral vision sweeping across Song Xueyan’s face.
Yan Qi didn’t notice Yu Jingchen’s thoughtful gaze, but the producer’s shouting interrupted his mood. He exhaled and walked to Song Xueyan’s side, pouring himself a glass of wine.
Their sleeves brushed against each other. Song Xueyan didn’t step back an inch, remaining where he stood.
“I’m late. I apologize to Mr. Yu.” When clinking glasses with Yu Jingchen, Yan Qi proactively lowered his glass, naturally acting obediently.
Yu Jingchen didn’t drink right away, eyeing him with a hint of amusement. Yan Qi didn’t understand, but felt inexplicably guilty. He quickly reached out to press Yu Jingchen’s cup, “audaciously” forcing him to drink, then offered a napkin after the fact.
Yu Jingchen laughed and reached out to take it.
After the toasts, Yan Qi and Song Xueyan listened to the tipsy producer blow his own horn, applauded to show it was blown well, and then left the private room together.
Once the door closed, the sounds of clinking glasses and conversation vanished instantly, leaving the corridor in silence.
The two walked one after another toward the North Hall. On the way, neither paid the other any mind.
The North Hall was divided into several small halls, separated by distance and shielded by large screens, each with its own topic of conversation.
Among the lead cast, Zhou Yi had the most seniority, but he had been injured filming when he was young, and now suffered from various ailments.
So he didn’t come tonight, leaving a group of young actors of similar age to sit at one table, the atmosphere much livelier and more relaxed than in the private room.
When Song Xueyan approached, he heard Chen Wanlu talking about Fu Yangle and Yu Jingchen. The girl was very excited, her tone rising.
Tang Wanbai was listening to the discussion while stuffing his mouth full of hot dumplings. His seat faced the screen, so he was the first to see Song Xueyan.
“Song-s… I mean, Teacher Song” He swallowed the dumplings whole and diligently pulled out the chair next to him.
Song Xueyan walked to his seat, said “thank you,” and sat down lightly. Yan Qi walked to Song Xueyan’s other side and took a seat as well.
“Teacher Song, do you want to drink this? It’s super fragrant!” Tang Wanbai performed his duties as a die-hard fan, trying to sell the food to Song Xueyan. Only after the other nodded did he scoop up half a bowl of lychee porridge and pass it over.
“Thank you.” Song Xueyan took out a spoon and pushed his small plate of dumplings toward Tang Wanbai.
Yan Qi glanced over, feeling that Tang Wanbai was smiling far too sweetly at Song Xueyan.
Tang Wanbai was a direct junior to Song Xueyan in university, two years his junior. Before enrolling, he had already heard of Song Xueyan as a famous figure. As a freshman, he had even followed the girls in his class to pry open the door of Song Xueyan’s classroom just to catch a glimpse of Song Xueyan’s handsome face.
Later, he saw Song Xueyan dance at the school anniversary ceremony and lost his soul and heart on the spot, crowning Song Xueyan as his number one male god. Unfortunately, the time Song Xueyan spent at school grew shorter and shorter, and that dance became just a fleeting glimpse.
Tang Wanbai had always assumed Song Xueyan would head in the direction of dance performance, and he had saved up quite a bit of his allowance in college just waiting to buy tickets to support him. He didn’t expect the other to suddenly switch fields after graduation and continue to be unstoppable.
He had debuted in a hit idol drama and their acting paths hadn’t crossed until he tested for a supporting role in Dangerous Symptoms, finally waiting for a chance to be in the same drama as Song Xueyan. However, the role was too small, and he didn’t have any scenes with him.
But this time, the character he was playing in the new drama was Xiao Zhenyue’s younger brother he would have many chances to be in the same frame as Song Xueyan!
Thinking of this, Tang Wanbai felt the dumplings were even tastier and couldn’t help but chuckle.
The people at the table were clearly already used to his die-hard fan behavior.
Chen Wanlu knew Song Xueyan’s personality and didn’t dare tease him, so she shifted her target to the other lead. “Little Teacher Yan, you’re so handsome! You must look even more handsome when drinking, right?”
Yan Qi understood, immediately poured himself a glass of wine, stood up proactively, and said: “I’m late, I’ll punish myself with three glasses first.”
Chen Wanlu said: “One is enough; drinking juice is fine, too.”
Tang Wanbai said: “When Yangle came here to drink earlier, he set a rule: only one glass at a time for sustained performance. Anyone who dares to gulp down three glasses turns from a drunkard into a dead person.”
“Alright.” Yan Qi punished himself with one glass, poured another, and raised his glass, saying, “Everyone here is my senior. I toast everyone with this glass, hoping for your guidance in the future. Wishing Ascending the White Jade Stairs a great kickoff, and may the show be a ratings blockbuster.”
Song Xueyan took out his wine glass, but before he could touch the bottle, the glass was pushed away by Yan Qi and replaced with a glass of plain water. He was startled for a moment, then gripped the water glass and stood up with the others.
After the toast, Song Xueyan sat down again. The dishes on the table were rich in variety and exquisitely arranged, but he didn’t touch a single chopstick, slowly drinking his lychee porridge instead.
“We were just talking about Mr. Yu and Mr. Fu. They are so loving; I’m really moved.” Chen Wanlu wiped the corner of her eyes, which were completely devoid of tears. “You guys won’t understand this joy of seeing your favorite couple together in person.”
“They are already very restrained in public.” Tang Wanbai said nonchalantly, “I’ve even seen them kissing in person.”
Chen Wanlu covered her heart and gasped.
Yan Qi didn’t dare mention that more than a month ago, the day he moved into the Yu family home, he had almost stumbled upon the two of them in the act, and was subsequently tossed into the swimming pool by Yu Jingchen.
It was a disaster to even think about it. Yan Qi drank half a glass of wine, his peripheral vision sweeping toward Song Xueyan.
Song Xueyan sat beside him, as cold and detached as usual. The skin at the corners of his eyes was as cold and white as fine porcelain. The reddened flush that had appeared because of him last night had just been a moment of lost composure; as soon as the sun shone, it vanished without a trace.
Tang Wanbai called Song Xueyan’s name, and Song Xueyan turned his head to listen. From his perspective, their heads were only a hair’s breadth apart.
So it’s not that Song Xueyan’s popularity is bad; it’s just that the people who like him didn’t show up that day.
Yan Qi set down his wine glass with a dull, heavy thud.