Song Xueyan: I am flustered.
The double-layered curtains blocked out the last glimmer of light, leaving the bedroom in pitch darkness. The air conditioner was set very low. Song Xueyan, half of his face pressed into the spring-autumn quilt, drifted between half-awake and half-asleep, finding himself back in Yan Qi’s bedroom.
The layout of the two bedrooms was originally similar, but with Yan Qi moving in, that room had been completely transformed, clearly taking on a more lived-in, cozy feel. The fresh, clean scent of lime was scattered everywhere, as if a giant net had swallowed Song Xueyan whole.
“I’m warning you, don’t force me to use my ‘small’ size to bully your ‘big’ size.”
When Yan Qi had said those words, Song Xueyan had paused. But seeing the smile in Yan Qi’s eyes, devoid of any malice, he had reasonably guessed that Yan Qi was just posturing, trying to scare him.
“Children who rebel get spanked,” he had advised kindly.
Yan Qi had stared at him for a long while, his gaze traveling from top to bottom, then back up, as if he wanted to flip him over and examine him thoroughly, inside and out.
“Just you? I could toss you with one hand, no problem.” Yan Qi had tapped the body lotion tube in his hand, producing a dull, thumping sound like a challenge. “Want to try?”
“Better not.” Song Xueyan had raised an eyebrow, looking dismissive. “You’ve made yourself smell so good; don’t go slipping and falling and needing to wash it all off again.”
A small dab of white lotion had spilled from the nozzle, sticking to Yan Qi’s fingertip, which he then wiped onto his knee and smoothed out in a few strokes.
Yan Qi had stood up. Being half a head taller than Song Xueyan, he had exerted a subtle, invisible pressure.
Song Xueyan had sensed something and subconsciously taken a half-step back.
The lotion tube had landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Song Xueyan was grabbed by the shoulders and pressed onto the long sofa by Yan Qi.
His white cotton slippers had flown off. Song Xueyan kicked his bare feet against Yan Qi’s abdomen, forcing him back two steps, then quickly reached out to grip the back of the sofa, using it as leverage to vault over. Just as his feet staggered to touch the carpet, Yan Qi attacked again, locking his arms around Song Xueyan’s waist and tackling him onto the bed behind them.
A stifled grunt was swallowed by the cool air of the AC.
Song Xueyan braced his leg against Yan Qi’s chest, his voice unstable. “You—”
Yan Qi had propped himself up with his arms. He had locked onto Song Xueyan with his gaze, refusing to let a single ripple on that face escape him. When Song Xueyan tried to pry his arms away, he countered by pinning Song Xueyan’s hands down.
Song Xueyan adjusted his breathing. “Are you trying to hit me? Or do you want to hear me call you that, too?”
“Neither,” Yan Qi had said. “I’ve watched all of your works.”
The topic had changed so abruptly that Song Xueyan was taken aback. “And so what?”
“Before this, I hadn’t watched any of your dramas. It’s not because they weren’t good, but because I don’t like heavy, realistic themes—I couldn’t help it, it’s just my preference.” Yan Qi had looked at Song Xueyan, his tone tinged with regret. “But after I finished them all, I felt that you acted so well. Many shots kept flashing through my mind, leaving such a deep impression. I regret not discovering them sooner, and I almost missed them entirely.”
Yan Qi had laid his admiration out plainly, but Song Xueyan had averted his gaze evasively. “Your fate with them hadn’t arrived yet; it just has now.”
“Do you remember Thirteen Palaces? The traditional martial arts drama? You played a side character who was neither truly good nor evil, named Bo Lu.” After Song Xueyan nodded slightly, Yan Qi had let out a “Wow.” “There were a few fight scenes in there; you looked so good fighting—the movements were graceful without losing strength, flowing like water. I think that was a perfect appearance. The screen time wasn’t much, but every scene was a highlight. There’s a highlight reel of Bo Lu’s fights online with a huge view count; I contributed at least twenty of them. The first bullet-screen comment I ever posted in my life was for you!”
Song Xueyan had been left floating by the praise, his raised foot losing half its strength.
Yan Qi had sworn solemnly: “After Dangerous Symptoms airs, I’ll be sure to watch it.”
Speaking of Dangerous Symptoms, Song Xueyan had remembered An Shigo. He had lifted his lids, glanced at Yan Qi, and said nonchalantly: “Well, when you watch that drama, you might want to pay more attention to the other lead.”
“I’m watching it because of you; I’m only paying attention to you.” Yan Qi hadn’t caught the subtext and continued self-assuredly, “Of course, I’ll appreciate the other characters too, and I’ll learn from the parts they acted well.”
Song Xueyan had had nowhere to vent his frustration. His hand, which had been pinned by Yan Qi, had twitched slightly, his fingers struggling to scratch at the back of Yan Qi’s hand.
Yan Qi had felt ticklish and pressed down as a threat, but he had used too much force and couldn’t pull back. Song Xueyan’s leg had slid up along the fabric of his chest, locking into a leg-over-the-shoulder position.
“Uh…”
“Ah!” Both their pupils had dilated at the same time. Song Xueyan had been more reserved—his eyes just shimmering with moisture—but Yan Qi had turned bright red from his face down to his neck.
The scene was truly too bizarre!
Yan Qi had stiffened, subconsciously trying to get up, but Song Xueyan, startled by the movement, had gripped his palms firmly. He hadn’t managed to rise, and had instead been pulled back; unfortunately, the two collided even more tightly!
A breath had escaped Song Xueyan’s lips, extremely faint, yet glaringly obvious in the stifling, silent atmosphere. He had looked at Yan Qi, saying nothing. All the emotions in his eyes churned together, making it impossible for Yan Qi to read them.
The scorching heat on his ears had left Yan Qi’s brain blank. Song Xueyan lay beneath him, his appearance against the black sheets like a pile of fresh snow. His face had looked like the sky after a sunset, his eyes holding a lake shrouded in mist—a different kind of beauty than usual.
Neither had moved, neither had made a sound. They had remained rigidly pressed together, unable to tell who had moved first.
Time was stretched thin and torn by the awkwardness, and the scorching hardness was on the verge of melting the fresh snow.
Song Xueyan had finally couldn’t take it anymore. His other hand had released the messy sheets he’d been clutching, and he had pushed Yan Qi away with force before kicking him off.
Yan Qi had stumbled back a few steps, but had felt a sudden release. Before he could say anything, Song Xueyan was already off the bed, kicking him again.
Yan Qi had fallen back into the single sofa. The white dog plush toy sitting on the back of the sofa had fallen forward and landed right on his head. Yan Qi ignored it. He looked at the red-rimmed corners of Song Xueyan’s eyes and, for once, felt cowardly.
Song Xueyan had smoothed his collar, stared down at him for a long time, and said nothing.
Yan Qi had eventually couldn’t stand the thousand arrows of the gaze anymore. He had squatted down, moved a few steps, and taken the initiative to straighten Song Xueyan’s two white slippers, placing them back by his feet. Conciliatorily, he stuffed the dog plush toy into Song Xueyan’s hands and whispered: “Don’t, don’t catch a cold.”
“Uh…” Song Xueyan had gripped the toy tightly, lifting his foot—
Driven by an inexplicable impulse, Yan Qi had reached out and, albeit clumsily, put the slipper on for him.
Song Xueyan had left, the door closing with a dull thud.
Yan Qi had looked up toward the end of the bed. The snow-white figure had moved away, but Song Xueyan’s scent seemed to linger on the black sheets—a faint, lingering trace that couldn’t be ignored.
The inexplicable impulse still stood tall, setting his throat on fire. Yan Qi’s throat felt parched as he stared straight at the end of the bed.
“Fuck.”
The summer night’s torrential rain arrived suddenly, hammering against the window in the middle of the night.
Song Xueyan woke from a dream with a start. He tilted his head back, his head resting against the pillow, his knees curled up, stifled groans leaking intermittently from his throat.
The dog plush toy lay across his face, covering up the secret turbulence.
Behind a wall, the bathroom was drizzling. Yan Qi leaned against the cold, damp wall, the water from the shower head wrapping around his breaths. The warm yellow light caught him from all directions, leaving the fierce desire nowhere to hide.
Soaked in the same rain, the two clutched their respective corners of the quilt, both losing sleep.
The next afternoon, when Song Xueyan left his bedroom, Yan Qi had not yet returned.
Yan Qi had many fight scenes in the drama, so he had to go off separately today for martial arts training. Following Fang Zhouji’s usual arrangement, the crew would organize a one-to-three-month special training for newcomers with fight scenes or actors who weren’t good at martial arts.
But Yan Qi’s fight scene during the screen test had been so beautiful that it won the hearts of Fang Zhouji and the show’s martial arts director, who made an exception and promoted him out of the special training class.
Song Xueyan poured half a glass of warm water and sat on the sofa looking at the schedule sent by Han Dongling.
The crew was hosting a kickoff banquet tonight. The cast and production side would all be participating, and investors would send representatives, though the specific candidates were uncertain.
The white-on-black table was detailed and tidy, but as Song Xueyan looked at it, his eyes grew blurry, and he couldn’t help but think of Yan Qi from last night. The heat that had finally dissipated gathered again, coalescing into a vague cluster. He hurriedly downed the half-glass of water.
It was still early. He put on his shoes and decided to go to Fang Zhouji’s house to drop off some gifts for the elders and visit Wangye.
A while later, his phone rang, and a WeChat message popped up.
An arrangement schedule for the kickoff banquet was posted in the group, and the crew group became lively. The director’s assistant specifically tagged him in the group.
Song Xueyan followed the crowd and replied “Received,” only to notice that Yan Qi hadn’t replied yet.
Adorable True Beauty Chen Wanlu: 【Dare I ask, who is coming from the investor side? @Red Bean Tycoon Fang Zhouji】
Un-nosed Real Handsome Guy Shao Bai: 【Who do you want to come? (Smirking)】
Adorable True Beauty Chen Wanlu: “Fu Yangle!”
Un-nosed Real Handsome Guy Shao Bai: “Unlikely, right? Although this drama is invested in by Yaoguang, it can only be considered a cultural project under the Zongchen Group. I think it’s probably the person in charge of Yaoguang’s TV project.”
A string of echoes jumped out below.
Adorable True Beauty Chen Wanlu: 【Don’t forget that Fu Yangle’s little baby is hidden in our crew @Dumpling King Tang Wanbai, and his wife @Red Bean Exterminator Group Leader Song Xueyan. You two, please work your magic! I want to see my male god! (Crying)】
Chen Wanlu had played Song Xueyan’s younger sister in Black Cliff; this time, in Ascending the White Jade Stairs, she was playing Xiao Zhenyue’s imperial younger sister. Playing siblings twice could be considered fate. Song Xueyan wasn’t an enthusiastic person, but Chen Wanlu left an impression as a witty and cute girl who had once helped him avoid trouble.
He was just about to reply when the other target who had been @-ed jumped out.
Dumpling King Tang Wanbai: 【This palace has already lost favor! (Crying) Please, I beg @Red Bean Exterminator Group Leader Song Xueyan.】
Another string of begged-for-mercy messages followed, only they didn’t dare to @ Song Xueyan.
Song Xueyan looked at the lively group and replied: 【Begging @Strawberry Cake Supporter Number One Tough Guy Handsome Guy Yan Qi.】