He had… just actively kissed Lu Jing.
Lin Shen stepped out of the bathroom, water droplets trickling from his hair, dampening the skin at his neck and a small part of his collar.
Lu Jing turned from the window, his gaze settling on Lin Shen. It lingered on his damp hair before drifting downward, tracing his brows and eyes, nose and lips, collarbone, and even the curve of his waistline hidden beneath his pajamas.
Bathed in the glow of the neon lights behind him, Lu Jing’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
After a moment, he withdrew his gaze, walked to the storage cabinet, and picked up the hairdryer. “Come here,” he said to Lin Shen. “I’ll dry your hair.”
Lin Shen sat in front of Lu Jing, feeling the alternating warmth of the hot air and the gentle touch of fingertips through his hair. His heart tingled with a faint, restless itch.
Time seemed to stand still in that moment, with only the hum of the warm air and the steady thump of his heartbeat filling his ears.
After what felt like an eternity, the sound of the dryer finally ceased. Lu Jing casually ruffled his hair. “All done.”
Lin Shen turned slightly, watching as Lu Jing walked over to put the hairdryer away, then made his way back.
Lu Jing, of course, noticed Lin Shen’s gaze fixed on him. As he approached, he didn’t rush to discuss the script. Instead, he leaned down and asked softly, “What’s wrong?”
Sitting in the chair, Lin Shen looked up slightly to meet Lu Jing’s eyes. “I saw today’s trending topics.”
Lin Shen didn’t specify which incident, and it took Lu Jing a moment to realize. “I looked into it. Wang Yilin doesn’t know about our relationship, and he won’t be appearing in front of you again.”
The light shone down on Lin Shen’s face from above. His eyelashes fluttered slightly, making his expression hard to read. “Even though I’ve said these words many times already, I still want to tell you again—thank you.”
For the sake of Lin Shen’s career, Lu Jing had mobilized significant resources, doing his utmost to downplay his own role in the incident and position Lin Shen and Wang Yilin as the main figures.
This approach allowed the public to see Wang Yilin’s ugly true colors without giving the impression that Lin Shen was getting too close to Lu Jing or riding on his coattails.
Lu Jing always handled things with such meticulous care, attending to every detail.
Since losing his memory, Lin Shen had lost count of how many times Lu Jing had helped him.
His gratitude toward Lu Jing seemed endless, no matter how many times he expressed it.
Lu Jing’s profile, illuminated by the light, appeared sharp and strikingly handsome. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze deep yet gentle. “This matter started because of me in the first place. I should be the one thanking you for not blaming me.”
Not expecting Lu Jing to take responsibility, Lin Shen was momentarily at a loss. A thousand thoughts tangled in his mind, finally coalescing into just one sentence: “…How could I blame you?”
Lu Jing let out a low chuckle, his voice resonating beside Lin Shen’s ear, causing Lin Shen’s earlobes to flush slightly red.
“Alright, let’s put this matter behind us and get down to business.”
Lu Jing handed the revised script to Lin Shen: “Take a look first. This scene will be filmed soon, so familiarize yourself with it now.”
Lin Shen took the script and slowly opened it under Lu Jing’s gaze.
In the script, Wen Bei, played by Lu Jing, sat on the sofa. His tailored suit fit perfectly, his long legs crossed naturally. Holding a cigarette in his right hand, he gazed at Jiang Zhuo with a sharp and intrigued look.
“So you’re Jiang Zhuo?”
Jiang Zhuo, standing at the door, met his gaze: “Yes.”
A slight curve lifted the corner of Wen Bei’s lips, clearly very satisfied with the person standing before him.
“Come here.”
Jiang Zhuo stepped forward until he stood before him, stopping at just the right distance—neither timidly distant nor overly fawningly close.
Wen Bei shifted to a reclining position, straightening his back and looking up at Jiang Zhuo. “Bend down.”
Jiang Zhuo complied.
In the next moment, Wen Bei reached out, grasped the back of Jiang Zhuo’s neck, and pulled his head close until they were mere inches apart. He stared intently at Jiang Zhuo’s face, observing every subtle shift in his expression.
Caught off guard by the sudden pull, Jiang Zhuo’s breath hitched, but he quickly adapted, allowing Wen Bei to knead the back of his neck in this position.
Suddenly, Wen Bei tightened his grip, pulling him even closer.
With just a slight tilt of his head, Jiang Zhuo could touch Wen Bei’s thin lips.
Uncertain of Wen Bei’s intentions, Jiang Zhuo said nothing and made no unnecessary movements.
Wen Bei was pleased with Jiang Zhuo’s consistently unobtrusive reactions. He raised his right hand, took a drag from his cigarette, and leaned his lips close to Jiang Zhuo’s ear, his breath faintly brushing against Jiang Zhuo’s skin.
He blew a puff of air into Jiang Zhuo’s ear, the white smoke he had just inhaled curling and dissipating into the air, swirling before vanishing into nothingness.
“Made up your mind?”
A tingling sensation spread across Jiang Zhuo’s ear. Hearing the question, he replied softly, “Since I’m here, I’ve naturally made up my mind.”
His tone carried a slight upward lilt, tinged with a captivating allure.
Receiving the affirmative answer, Wen Bei leaned in closer, and Jiang Zhuo found himself leaning entirely against him. Wen Bei crushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray, his movements slow and ruthless yet tinged with a sense of pleasure and satisfaction.
As the last ember of the cigarette turned to ash, Wen Bei withdrew his hand and lifted Jiang Zhuo’s leg…
Outside the window, the moonlight was hazy, casting a pure, intoxicating glow over the sheer curtains.
Lin Shen’s hands were curved against Lu Jing’s chest, his neck resting in Lu Jing’s grasp, bending downward into a supple and graceful arc.
Their gazes met, the distance between them mere millimeters.
Lu Jing’s left hand wandered along his leg, traveling all the way to his waist, igniting sparks along the way, a slender and delicate curve…
Just as he was about to speak again, suddenly—
Lin Shen tilted his head and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.
Lu Jing’s mind exploded into chaos. All movement ceased, and his entire body went numb, leaving only his lips with any sensation.
The air seemed to freeze, and in the void, a sphere filled with too many emotions abruptly shattered.
How much time had passed? Perhaps a minute, perhaps a second. Lin Shen moved away from Lu Jing’s lips, and Lu Jing finally spoke again.
His gaze was heavy, his voice hoarse: “That wasn’t in the script.”
In the quiet of the sofa, only the pounding of two heartbeats and the deep, uneven breaths could be heard.
“I know,” Lin Shen’s voice was equally hoarse, tinged with a hint of heart-stirring shyness.
The hand gripping his waist suddenly tightened, and the palm against the back of his neck grew scalding hot.
As if confirming something, Lu Jing asked in a low voice, “So, was that kiss yours, or Jiang Zhuo’s?”
“It was mine,” Lin Shen said, “for Lu Jing.”
Not Jiang Zhuo for Wen Bei.
It was Lin Shen for Lu Jing.
In that instant, Lu Jing felt his heart beating faster than ever before.
Lin Shen’s face flushed crimson, his eyes shimmering like autumn waves. His hands slowly moved upward, encircling Lu Jing’s neck as he leaned in once more for another kiss.
Unlike the previous kiss, this time Lin Shen’s lips met not just the corner but the entirety of Lu Jing’s mouth.
Warm breath transmitted through their lips, and Lu Jing could no longer restrain himself. He cupped the back of Lin Shen’s head, taking control and kissing him back.
Their breaths intertwined, growing rapid, as if they had plunged into a hot spring. Lin Shen clung to Lu Jing, willing to sink forever into his embrace.
Sensing that Lin Shen was struggling to breathe, Lu Jing pulled back half an inch, allowing him a moment to catch his breath before commanding, “Open your mouth.”
Lin Shen’s eyes were dazed, his mind unable to think. He could only obey Lu Jing’s demand, completely submissive.
The next second, Lu Jing delved into his mouth, their lips and tongues tangling, nibbling and grinding against each other.
Lin Shen’s entire body went limp, unable to support itself any longer. He tilted sideways, collapsing into the sofa.
Lu Jing tightened his arm, firmly trapping him in his embrace, laying him back with his head resting against the soft cushions.
Their clothes became disheveled, and in the quiet air, their intermingled breaths were especially clear.
Amidst the hazy mist, the hot spring had already submerged his body and mind. He felt as if he were about to merge with the water.
Lu Jing was that spring. While allowing the water to envelop him completely, he clung tightly to Lu Jing, treating him as the last piece of driftwood before drowning.
Suddenly, the water receded entirely, and Lin Shen gasped for air.
Feeling the driftwood slipping away, he reached out and grabbed Lu Jing, who was starting to rise.
Lu Jing paused, allowing that hand to pull him close once more.
Lin Shen seemed not yet fully awake. His eyes were hazy as he whispered, “Where are you going?”
Lu Jing traced his features with his gaze, finally settling on those lips, still flushed and moist.
He reached out and gently brushed them, wiping away the moisture: “The bathroom.”
The touch and the answer made Lin Shen tremble slightly. He released his grip, his eyes shifting and avoiding: “Go ahead.”
Lu Jing rose from Lin Shen’s body, his long legs taking large strides toward the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of running water echoed from within.
On the sofa, Lin Shen lay motionless, his gaze fixed in the direction where Lu Jing’s figure had disappeared.
His cheeks felt warm, his lips burned, and the rhythm of his heartbeat not only refused to slow down but seemed to quicken even further.
Only when his breathing gradually steadied did he slowly raise a hand, fingertips lightly brushing his lips.
He had just… actively kissed Lu Jing.
It was supposed to be just acting, yet in that charged atmosphere, an inexplicable impulse surged from somewhere deep within, clamoring in his mind—
Kiss him, press against Lu Jing’s thin lips.
Like the tide rising with the moon, though Lin Shen had lost his memories of recent years, the subconscious part of him had never changed.
He was still the same person; even with amnesia, his body remembered the impulses closest to his heart.
A gentle breeze drifted in through the window, bringing a refreshing coolness.
Lu Jing stayed in the bathroom for a long time.
When he emerged, he had changed into a set of pajamas, his body devoid of any lingering warmth from the hot water.
The room’s lighting had shifted to a warm yellow hue. Lin Shen had already left the sofa and obediently slipped under the covers.
Lu Jing walked to the other side of the bed. Lin Shen lay with his back to him, half his face hidden, only a single ear still tinged with red visible.
Pulling back the blanket, Lu Jing settled in. Once the chill on his body had dissipated and warmth enveloped him again, he called softly, “Lin Shen.”
Lin Shen shifted slightly but did not turn around. “Hmm?”
There was no need to guess—he was still shy. Yet Lu Jing no longer maintained his gentlemanly restraint. “Come here,” he said.
The blanket rustled gently as the figure lying on his side wrestled with his inner turmoil, hesitating in a final struggle.
After a moment, Lin Shen turned over and inched closer to Lu Jing.
Once he was near, Lu Jing spoke again. “Lift your head a little. It’s stuffy under the covers.”
Lin Shen complied.
Lu Jing: “There’s one more thing to do before sleeping.”
Lin Shen’s eyes flickered, glancing toward Lu Jing’s forehead.
Just as he was about to lift his head and lean in, Lu Jing gently pressed him back onto the pillow.
Then, Lu Jing leaned closer, his direction shifting downward, and his lips met Lin Shen’s.
When the kiss ended, Lu Jing said, “From now on, this will replace the goodnight kiss.”
Like the moon dictating the tides, there was no room for negotiation.
Lin Shen, his face flushed, did not refuse.
Lu Jing turned off the bedside lamp, drew him into his arms, and closed his eyes, settling into sleep.
The half-performed script lay forgotten in the corner of the sofa, quietly awaiting its nightly return before the official shoot began.