There was no younger brother whatsoever; he had just been playing a bluff, never expecting that it would actually push Zhao Xingjian into a fit of annoyance.
It wasn’t until the live streaming room closed for the night that Zhao Xingjian finally called Cheng Zhou back, cursed him out thoroughly, and warned him never to go around spouting nonsense outside before knitting his brows and putting away his phone.
He was indeed going to get a divorce, but he hadn’t sunk so low as to start hunting for his next partner before the ink on the current divorce papers was even dry.
Back in the room, Chu Minghe was busy coordinating with Sister Hong regarding the clarification statement. Fifteen minutes earlier, Sister Hong had informed him that another twist had occurred online his past history had been dragged up once more, pushing the hashtag #ChuMingheBuyingIntoAshowWithCapital# right back to the top of the trending searches.
This had all started around noon.
Chu Minghe hadn’t shown his face in the entertainment industry for a decade; whether it was the anti-fans or his pitifully few visual-stan fans, both groups were due for an upgrade. For this topic to rocket back up to such a high ranking on the trending list was genuinely abnormal.
Still, it was also possible that his participation in this variety show was indeed yielding extraordinary effects, prompting marketing accounts to start cashing in on traffic and competing for performance metrics.
He hadn’t even had the chance to check the contents of the posts yet. When Sister Hong called earlier, he had just finished helping clean up the courtyard with the others, and he was still covered in grime.
The very first sentence Sister Hong uttered upon calling was: “Don’t go online shouting random things. Wait for my statement, then repost it. Do not do anything else.”
Chu Minghe’s reaction time was swift; he agreed first before asking what on earth had happened.
Sister Hong’s explanation was succinct: “An audition for a new drama is coming up.”
Chu Minghe understood. Most of the copywriting pushed by marketing accounts was probably along the lines of “After a decade, Chu Minghe is stirring up trouble again, trying to buy his way into a crew to steal xxx’s role.”
Otherwise, it wouldn’t have driven such a high trending search rank. Pausing for a moment, Chu Minghe asked out of curiosity, “What drama is it?”
Sensing that he was about to spout some self-sabotaging nonsense again, Sister Hong raised her voice in pitch: “What do you think you’re doing?! Never mind what drama it is even if it’s burning hot enough to reach the heavens, you aren’t touching it.”
Sister Hong was terrified of him by now. Chu Minghe couldn’t help laughing or crying. “I know, I was just wondering if they’re deliberately trying to piggyback on our traffic.”
“You’re not famous enough for anyone to piggyback on your traffic.” Sister Hong spoke that way partly to avoid discouraging him further; if they truly were riding their coattails, it only proved that Chu Minghe’s infamous history of being hated-yet-popular hadn’t faded away yet.
Though frustrating, aside from publishing the previously prepared clarification statement regarding buying into productions with capital, they currently had no other means to act.
“I’m releasing it now. Remember to only repost it and do nothing else.”
Chu Minghe agreed once more, though once he opened Weibo, he realized that even such a minor matter was quite tricky to handle, which explained why Sister Hong always prefaced her instructions with that warning.
He felt a slight urge to delete the original body’s previous Weibo posts—one about being a vase and another about getting married. However, doing so would probably trigger yet another trending topic right behind it:
#ChuMingheMarriageSours#
Unable to delete them, he casually set his posts to be visible only for the past six months before checking the statement Sister Hong had published five minutes ago.
The original body’s scandal about buying his way into productions was indeed a self-inflicted disaster, yet had his former assistant not accepted bribes from others to fan the flames behind the scenes, he wouldn’t have stumbled into the acting industry in the first place.
Just as the original body had claimed, he was simply here to serve as a vase to elevate the industry’s visual standards.
Aside from speaking with such unblushing frankness, he had no other major flaws; perhaps with a bit more development, he might have evolved into a lovable dork.
Yet none of these things could be changed now, and that former assistant of the original body had already become the manager of some major A-list star.
Wondering to himself, Chu Minghe pondered how much connection this incident had with that particular A-list star.
Sister Hong’s statement merely spoke in general terms of a “former assistant.” Since minor assistants rarely drew public attention, presumably the fire from this statement wouldn’t burn over to his side, nor would it scorch that A-list star.
Thus, the probability of Chu Minghe being besieged by multiple factions shrank considerably the only silver lining worth celebrating.
As Chu Minghe pondered this, a light tapping sound echoed from outside the door as someone lightly kicked a trash can. Snapping out of his reverie, Chu Minghe tapped the repost button, cautiously switched back to his burner account, and finally exited Weibo.
Zhao Xingjian stepped into the room carrying a faint trace of outdoor dampness. Locking the door securely behind him, he noticed Chu Minghe standing right by the bathroom door just putting his phone away, still wearing the outfit from their chicken-slaughtering session that afternoon.
“Why aren’t you washing up?”
This marked the first time Zhao Xingjian had initiated conversation with him so proactively. Chu Minghe tugged at his clothes, peeled off the apron, rolled it into a ball, and stuffed it inside a plastic bag.
“I’m about to… do you have clean clothes left?”
Casting a glance at him, Zhao Xingjian walked over to the wardrobe and retrieved two garments free of excessive zippers and buttons—clothes that wouldn’t dig into his body when lying down. “Will this set work?”
Inspecting them, Chu Minghe nodded. “Fine. It’s going to rain tomorrow anyway, as long as I have something to change into.”
Initially, Zhao Xingjian had assumed Chu Minghe’s pajamas hadn’t dried yet and wanted to borrow his; now that he understood, he calmly stuffed the clothes back.
…
Perhaps due to the way he had dodged away that afternoon, Chu Minghe sensed that Zhao Xingjian’s attitude toward him had shifted.
It felt as though past indifference had now been replaced by an ultra-polite, deliberate distance.
With no one speaking in the room for a moment, he actually found himself missing the times when Zhao Xingjian would flare up over nothing at least that brought some human warmth back into the room.
Pressing his lips together, Chu Minghe picked out a set of clean clothes, glanced sideways at Zhao Xingjian, and saw his expression remained entirely placid.
Pausing, he broached the topic: “When Cheng Zhou left today…”
Before he could finish half his sentence, half of Zhao Xingjian’s heart leapt into his throat.
Shooting him a glance, Chu Minghe continued, “I didn’t mean to overhear, but thinking that it wasn’t easy for him to deliver money all the way here, I packed a whole boiled chicken originally intended for him.”
Yet the chicken hadn’t been given away, and they had overheard that conversation instead.
Hearing him frame it that way made Zhao Xingjian want to pick up the phone and curse Cheng Zhou out all over again.
Noticing the shift in Zhao Xingjian’s expression, Chu Minghe murmured softly, “I don’t mind.”
Zhao Xingjian’s expression turned even uglier. Letting various chaotic thoughts churn through his mind for a moment, he finally squeezed out: “Mindance is useful?”
“Useless,” Chu Minghe’s voice dropped slightly. “I’m just afraid of holding you back, afraid that if you suppress things because of our relationship, you’ll end up breaking down inside.”
Anger flared instantly within Zhao Xingjian, yet he found himself unable to utter harsh words.
“If talking about ‘holding back’ worked, it would have worked ten years ago. It’s too late now it’s already broken.”
Startled, Chu Minghe swept his gaze up and down over him, muttering under his breath, “I didn’t expect…”
That look carried immense lethargic killing power. Zhao Xingjian swallowed back what he originally intended to say, his temples throbbing fiercely. “What are you looking at?”
“Your clothes are dirty,” Chu Minghe pointed at his sleeve. A patch of dried blood stained the fabric likely picked up from the chicken when Zhao Xingjian tied the apron around his waist that afternoon.
He shifted topics with impressive speed. Pressing his lips together, Zhao Xingjian stripped off his outer shirt, reined in his rationality, and shooed him away. “Go wash up.”
“Oh.”
Feeling that the room finally regained some human warmth, Chu Minghe stopped lingering and turned into the bathroom without pressing further.
Left standing in place with a belly full of stifled frustration, Zhao Xingjian clutched his dirty clothes and remained motionless.
Nothing had gone right for him today.
After the sound of running water had echoed inside the bathroom for a good long while, he finally stirred. Pulling on a pair of clean trousers, he scooped up the apron Chu Minghe had tossed by the doorway, intending to head down to the laundry room to wash the garments.
Yet before reaching his destination, he turned back on his tracks, marched right up to the bathroom door, and hammered heavily against it.
Running the shower under the bathroom heater, Chu Minghe hadn’t caught the sound clearly. It wasn’t until he turned it off that he heard Zhao Xingjian’s exasperated repetition from outside: “Your clothes! The dirty clothes!”
How could he possibly let Zhao Xingjian handle such a task? Pressing close to the door crack, he called out, “I’ll bring them out myself later, they’re already soaked through.”
Realizing a vast blur of white filled the frosted glass door, Zhao Xingjian instinctively took a step back, taking a long moment to squeeze out a few words: “Stand further away from the door.”
“…”
“All that whiteness” slowly edged away from the doorway only after dragging its feet. Dumbfounded with absolute admiration, Zhao Xingjian figured Chu Minghe hadn’t understood his implication at all.
In truth, Chu Minghe knew full well. He could make out a vague, shadowy black silhouette outside the glass and recognized it as Zhao Xingjian; naturally, Zhao Xingjian could likewise make out his shadow from the outside.
Yet what was there to make a fuss about? Forget about a shadow where details were obscured, he had even scrubbed down bodies at public bathhouses back in the day fifty yuan a session, eighty yuan if you added vinegar rubs.
Enduring it repeatedly, Zhao Xingjian prepared to bark another order for him to hand his clothes over so they could be washed together—it was already past one in the morning, after all. But the moment he opened his mouth, the rushing sound of water inside burst back to life, showing zero intention of entertaining him.
Exhaling a long sigh of resignation, Zhao Xingjian finally turned and walked away, getting tripped up by a small stool along the corridor.
Nothing was ever going to be peaceful again.
Coincidentally, upon arriving at the laundry room, he ran right into Zheng Yuan. Exchanging greetings, each of them claimed a washing machine.
Noticing his knitted brows, grim expression, and the single outfit in his hands, Zheng Yuan inquired, “Did you guys argue?”
Zhao Xingjian: “No.”
Normally, Chu Minghe was the one who bundled up both of their clothes to wash together. Having to handle it himself for once felt strange, yet Chu Minghe didn’t even appreciate the gesture.
As these thoughts swirled in his head, he gave a twitch of his wrist while pouring liquid detergent, accidentally dumping in way too much. Scooping out a portion, he dumped it into Zheng Yuan’s machine trough instead.
Judging by his clumsy operations, he didn’t look like someone accustomed to doing housework. Still, Zheng Yuan recalled Lin Dingshi mentioning that their household was far more than simply wealthy.
Observing Zhao Xingjian’s complexion, it screamed argument, yet domestic scandals weren’t meant for public airing, which explained why he denied it.
Since Lin Dingshi nagged him about these things daily, Zheng Yuan couldn’t resist offering a piece of advice: “Just coax him a bit; whatever he wants, go along with it and things will work out.”
Though Zhao Xingjian claimed “we didn’t argue,” it didn’t stop him from listening to Zheng Yuan share his experiential wisdom, never mind that he hadn’t intended to use any of it.
Zheng Yuan offered: “If he’s angry, don’t try to reason with him. Just follow his lead…”
Zhao Xingjian frowned: “What if he isn’t angry?”
“If he isn’t angry, it just means he hasn’t expressed it yet. When that kind of situation accumulates over time, it’s even scarier than an argument it leads straight to drifting apart.”
That phrase drifting apart jolted Zhao Xingjian back to clarity, though it lasted only a split second before he figured he was merely asking out of curiosity and wasn’t actually seeking counsel, prompting him to keep listening.
Thus, the two men sat down on small stools inside the laundry room and began chatting idly.
Emerging from his shower, Chu Minghe found Zhao Xingjian absent. Waiting quite a while without seeing him return, he assumed Zhao Xingjian didn’t know how to operate the washing machine and was too embarrassed to ask, getting stuck in the laundry room with no way back to sleep.
The night wind outside was chilly, and without a jacket, the drafts slipped straight through his clothes, causing him to sneeze instantly.
He couldn’t catch a cold; staying in poor physical shape would ruin his on-screen appearance and complexion. Quickening his pace toward the laundry room, he stepped inside just as he overheard Zhao Xingjian talking to someone.
He halted his steps.
The accidentally overheard conversation content felt a bit bizarre even stranger than the last time.