Typically, from preparation to filming, a movie requires significant financial backing, which means capital investment. Production sides often open investment fairs, and those holding the purse strings are generally referred to as “Party A.”
Seeing Pei Jin remain silent, Wu Yan frowned with a hint of distress and asked softly, “Is that not allowed?”
Pei Jin sometimes found it strange. The previous Wu Yan hadn’t just disliked him; he had arguably loathed him. Yet now, Wu Yan expressed such intense affection that it made one wonder about his true motives.
After a long pause, Pei Jin finally said: “Wu Yan, this is my work.”
Hearing this, Wu Yan deflated like a punctured balloon. He lowered his head, his tone becoming muffled and despondent. “Alright.”
Seeing Wu Yan’s disappointment, Pei Jin instinctively wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair, but meeting those eyes, he let out an imperceptible sigh. He softened his voice to explain: “When we film kiss scenes, we use camera angles (borrowing positions).”
“Then… can I go watch?” Wu Yan asked suddenly. “Yes.”
The moment the word left his mouth, Pei Jin was stunned himself. In the past, he hated others interfering with his work, yet facing Wu Yan, he had wavered. Perhaps a strange emotion was driving his heartbeat; he could practically hear the drum of his own pulse in his ears.
Wu Yan’s eyes widened in disbelief, a spark of joy flashing before quickly dimming. He pouted: “I’m not a staff member, and I’m not an investor. I have no status there. The security would probably kick me out.”
His tone was full of feigned self-pity, though his heart fluttered with anticipation for Pei Jin’s response. Usually, filming sets are closed to outsiders, a fact Pei Jin knew well.
Wu Yan tilted his head, staring directly into Pei Jin’s eyes, trailing his words: “Then… how about I be your assistant? Not only can I pour tea, I can also warm your bed.”
Pei Jin’s ears turned scarlet. He dodged the burning gaze and coughed to hide his fluster. “No need. I’ve known the director for a long time. I’ll just tell him.”
“Then won’t you owe him a favor? I don’t want to be a bother to you.”
Wu Yan was pushing his luck, but with a face as captivating as his, even anger was easily pacified. Pei Jin suddenly felt that if this continued, he was definitely going to fall for Wu Yan.
Despite their conversation, once Pei Jin left, Wu Yan messaged Xu Yike to handle the investment side. He couldn’t truly let Pei Jin owe people favors, especially in a place like the entertainment industry.
The “Special” Delivery
Half an hour later, Xu Yike appeared before Wu Yan.
Wu Yan leaned lazily on the sofa. “Why aren’t you sitting?”
Xu Yike was a bit dazed by the sudden politeness; usually, their interactions were strictly business. He sat down diagonally across from the youth.
“How did it go?” Wu Yan asked.
Xu Yike pulled several documents from a folder. “Everything is settled. You just need to sign, Young Master.” He handed Wu Yan a fountain pen.
Wu Yan looked at the title of the document, didn’t bother reading the rest, and flipped straight to the last page to sign his name in a flourish. He didn’t understand the legalities, but he knew Xu Yike respected his parents too much to scam their only son.
“By the way, some packages arrived for me. Have someone bring them up,” Wu Yan said.
Five minutes later, several cardboard boxes were stacked in the living room. Wu Yan signaled for Xu Yike to leave. “You can head back for now.”
“Alright. Aunt Wang made dinner; I’ll bring it over at six,” Xu Yike noted before departing.
Once the footsteps faded, Wu Yan used a craft knife to slice open the boxes. Inside were several outfits, various accessories, and silver chain bracelets. His fingers trailed over them as he recalled the model photos from the shopping site.
If I wear this to find Pei Jin…
He shook the thought away and stuffed the “bolder” items into a box at the bottom of the closet. He picked out a relatively conservative shirt and headed to the bathroom.
The “Private” Photo
In the steamy bathroom, Wu Yan leaned against the sink and looked at a photo on his phone. A moment later, he sent it to Pei Jin.
The photo showed a view from the neck down: pale skin partially veiled by a black, slightly translucent shirt. The fabric was sheer enough to show the hint of a red mark. The shirt ended just above his navel, revealing a supple waist.
A few seconds later, Pei Jin replied with a single question mark.
Pei Jin:? Did you send that to the wrong person? Wu Yan: I didn’t. It was meant specifically for Brother’s eyes.
Across the hall, Pei Jin’s gaze darkened. This was a blatant provocation. He took a sip of water, but his eyes stayed glued to the screen.
Ten minutes passed without a further reply. Wu Yan pressed the record button and sent a voice message. “Brother… do you not like it?” His trailing voice was as seductive as a small fan fluttering against the skin.
Seeing the “Typing…” status, Wu Yan smirked. He didn’t believe Pei Jin could resist—unless the man was a saint.
But ten more minutes passed in silence. He can really hold back, Wu Yan thought, giving the man a mental thumbs-up.
Just as he was about to send another tease, a message popped up:
Pei Jin: Open the door.
The Confrontation
Wu Yan didn’t even put on slippers; he ran to the door. Seeing Pei Jin, he froze for two seconds and then immediately tried to close the door again.
But Pei Jin’s large, well-defined hand caught the frame. With a slight push, he entered and closed the door behind him. “What? You send a photo like that and now you want to lock me out?”
“Brother, what are you talking about? I just wanted to ask if the shirt looked good,” Wu Yan lied, dodging his gaze.
“Is that so?” Pei Jin stepped forward and tilted the youth’s chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes. The air between them seemed to catch fire.
“Of… of course.”
Wu Yan could feel that Pei Jin was in a strange state. Pei Jin noticed Wu Yan’s bare feet pale as jade, with rounded toes. He frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”
“I was too excited because Brother said he was coming,” Wu Yan whispered.
Pei Jin let out a sigh, bent down, and scooped Wu Yan up in a princess carry, walking straight to the sofa. Wu Yan instinctively hugged his neck, feeling a spark of triumph.
“Why did you come to find me, Brother?” Wu Yan asked once he was set down.
“Don’t send me photos like that again,” Pei Jin said concisely.
“What a shame… I bought so many pretty clothes to show you,” Wu Yan pouted.
“…” Pei Jin looked at him, his emotions a mess. “Those clothes aren’t suitable for you.”
“Are they really not?” Wu Yan asked, feigning confusion. “But others say I have a great figure in this.”
Pei Jin froze. He caught Wu Yan’s hand, his voice laced with a sudden, uncharacteristic irritation. “You sent this to others too?”
The thought of Wu Yan sending such suggestive photos to anyone else made his blood boil. With such a weak body, he’s just asking for trouble.
“Ouch…” Wu Yan cried out. Pei Jin was gripping his wrist too hard.
Pei Jin immediately let go, seeing the clear red marks on the youth’s white skin. “Sorry.”
“Is Brother jealous?” Wu Yan asked, leaning in close and wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders.
When Pei Jin didn’t answer, Wu Yan whispered: “I didn’t send it to anyone else. A private photo like this… of course I’d only give it to Brother.”
Pei Jin’s Adam’s apple moved. His voice was hoarse. “I’m not. Sit properly.”
Wu Yan saw right through him. He leaned in even further, his warm breath fanning across the man’s cheek, and planted a fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“No matter how stubborn your mouth is, it’s soft when I kiss it.”