605.
As lost as I was, I still had to act this scene well. My acting skills were mediocre, but at least I could make up for it with effort.
The scene to be filmed showed my character, a scholar tormented by love, unable to express his feelings, torn and indecisive. After bidding farewell to the second female lead, whom he secretly loved, he was left alone in front of the flowers, drinking to his solitude before collapsing, drunk, in the pavilion.
I asked the makeup artist for a touch-up, then, staggering, I sipped the clear water in my cup. While acting, I recalled Gu Yiliang’s advice. Little by little, my thoughts drifted completely toward him.
I was still immersed in my role when the director’s voice rang out: “Cut! Good, we’ll keep this one.”

 

606.
Huh?

 

607.
I froze, listening to the director praising me: he said I had good instincts, that I was improving quickly, that my emotions were spot on, that I had surpassed my usual performance…
A flood of compliments—it was only short of him saying I had a shot at winning an acting award.
Never had I been treated like this before!
I glanced around, then lowered my head and whispered in the director’s ear: “Director Lu… Mr. Huang put more money into the production, didn’t he?”
The director, who was on good terms with Lao Huang, gave me a tired look. “Call him properly. Stop saying ‘Huang’ all the time, it sounds crude.”
I clicked my tongue. “Fine… But asking if my dad put more money into the project isn’t exactly better, is it?”
He thought for a moment and seemed to realize I had a point, because he let it slide. He patted me on the shoulder and smiled: “I mean it, I’m sincerely complimenting you. You really acted well in that scene. Don’t take it the wrong way if I ask, but… you’re in love, aren’t you? Which young lady is it?”
The director was from the South, and when I heard his indistinct pronunciation of “niang” (gūniang = young lady) and “liang” (Gu Liang), I instantly flinched. “N-No, it’s not Gu Yi—!”
Director: “…?”
Me: “…”
I grabbed his hand earnestly and sang: “It wasn’t intentional… to stop being myself… For you, I gave everything, surpassed myself…”
Director: “… Not bad. Having that kind of mindset is good. Keep it up. Now go get ready for the group dinner.”

 

608.
Still in a daze, I returned to the dressing room after changing.
When I saw myself in the mirror, I jumped.
Who was that person with such a red face? Had I drunk eight liters of alcohol or what?!
The makeup artist had really gone overboard!
I took a makeup remover wipe and rubbed my face… then again… and again…
The redness only faded slightly.

 

609.
I looked at my reflection, my cheeks flushed all the way to my ears and neck. Slowly, I sat down on the sofa.
Okay… I give up. I’ve lost.
I have to admit it: I’m in love.
With Gu Yiliang.

 

610.
Niangzi’s progress toward making it official: 50%.
Last night, he’d even given me a goodnight kiss full of paternal love… Alright, let’s go wild and bump it up to 55%!
Floating in the memory of that fleeting kiss that had sent me straight to sleep, I absentmindedly opened the fan forum.
Scrolling through the detailed analyses of our interactions over the past few days, every new discovery now seemed sweeter than before.
— Even. Sweeter.
Gu Yiliang’s tweets, our interactions, his replies to fans… They were no longer just “sweet moments” meant for shippers, but answers and gifts my crush had left for me.
It had only been a few days since Lan Jue’s filming started, and the summary PDF had already gone from 139 pages to 189!
All these treats that the devoted fans treasured as priceless… were actually just the tip of the iceberg.
They were still underestimating the infinite possibilities between two people.

 

611.
Guided by the meticulously reconstructed timeline made by the fans, I replayed in my mind every moment spent with Gu Yiliang.
On camera, off camera, in the fans’ theories, in reality… Even moments the fans could never have imagined.
At each memory, I smiled—first faintly, then broadly, then foolishly—until finally bursting out laughing.
And while I was still laughing, I overheard a conversation near the door.
Gu Yiliang’s puzzled voice: “What’s wrong with him?”
Xiao Chen’s worried voice: “I don’t know… He’s been like this since he came back from filming.”
Gu Yiliang: “Which scene?”
Xiao Chen: “The one with An-jie… Say, Gu-ge, do you think he might have fallen for her?”

 

612.
Damn it, it’s you I love, Gu-ge, thanks to the fanservice we’ve been performing!!
Before I could even correct that absurdity, Gu Yiliang strode over, grabbed my bag, and said: “Come on, time to eat. Everyone else has already gone.”
I nodded and followed him out of the room. Walking at his side, I snuck a glance at him.
He couldn’t possibly… be jealous of what Xiao Chen said, right?
A soft warmth instantly filled my heart. +1% progress!
But his expression was completely normal… not a trace of jealousy. Disappointed, I subtracted that +1%.
Then I reconsidered.
No, actually, wasn’t that proof of trust in me?
So, I added it back.

 

613.
Maybe my emotional roller coaster was too obvious, because Gu Yiliang turned his head toward me and asked: “What’s going on with you?”
I chose my words carefully and joked: “Why don’t you believe I’ve fallen for An-jie?”
He smiled. “How could that be possible? It’s already amazing that you can even get into this role.”
Me: “…”
He patted my head. “Patrick.”
Me: “…”
Niangzi’s progress towards becoming real : 0%! Forever!

 

614.
Frustrated, I got into his car.
Frustrated, I arrived at the restaurant.
Frustrated, I walked into the private dining room.
Everyone was there already, standing in little groups, chatting. Three large round tables were set up in the middle.
While I was looking for a seat, An-jie waved me over: “Xiao Wei, Xiao Gu, come sit here!”
I nodded and was about to go over, when suddenly my wrist was seized. Gu Yiliang pulled me toward another seat.
Startled, I looked at him: “You…”
He gazed back at me innocently. “Huh?”
I said: “An-jie just called us to sit over there.”
Him: “Huh? Really? I didn’t hear anything. Well, let’s go then.”
That’s what he said, but he made no move to get up. In the blink of an eye, someone else had already taken the seat An-jie had reserved for us.
He then declared: “Ah, looks like the seats are taken. Well, we’ll just stay here then.”
I eyed him suspiciously. He tilted his head slightly toward me, looking completely natural: “What?”
Well… I never really understood what was going on in his head anyway.
I raised my hand: “Nothing. By the way, who’s treating us today? It’s not cheap to have a meal here—someone’s being awfully generous.”
He replied: “Lu Dao, apparently. He said a big investor just sent more money to the project. Since there are no more budget concerns for filming, we might as well celebrate.”
I asked: “Which investor is so generous? He’s got money to burn or what?”
Him: “According to Lu Dao, his name’s Wang.”

 

615.
Remembering Lu Dao’s southern accent, which muddled the sounds “Wang” and “Huang,” I fell into a long silence…
So his compliments hadn’t been that innocent after all!
He’d been trying to fish for information from me!
And he had even managed to trick me into his trap!

 

616.
Dish after dish was being served, bottle after bottle of red wine was being opened.
With resentment in my eyes, I chewed each bite fiercely, as if I were gnawing with rage on Lao Huang’s piles of gold coins. Then I gulped down mouthfuls of wine, as if I were trying to make up for all the blood Gu Yiliang had drained from me these past few days for his Mao Xue Wang. (TN: literally “Boiling Blood,” a spicy Sichuan hotpot dish.)
The relationships among the filming crew were fairly good. Many people went around with their glasses, toasting left and right. Everyone had already drunk a lot, including Gu Yiliang, who normally never even flushed when drinking. This time, though, his whole face was red. Whenever he turned to look at me, he broke into a grin. His flushed cheeks were so cute that I almost felt like he was going to drain me of blood again just by smiling.
He looked at me and said: “Xiao Wei ya——”
“… Hmm?”
And then he burst into laughter again.

 

617.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?!
I tugged at his sleeve. “Stop drinking.”

He blinked at me, his long eyelashes trembling slightly. His voice, soft and coaxing, carried a hint of alcohol. “Just a little, just a little, I just want to be a bit tipsy.”
Okay. If he keeps looking at me with those alcohol-laden eyes, then I…
…am going to make money and buy him a vineyard.
I held myself back from letting go and letting him drink freely. I was about to insist a little more when a minor actor from the eighth-tier, just arrived on set, approached with his glass raised.

 

618.
The minor actor wore a radiant smile, his eyes shining with feigned innocence. He lifted his glass in greeting and asked: “Yan-ge, have you already planned your next project?”
I paused for a moment before replying: “Not yet. Why?”
His eyes lit up even more, and he said in an innocent tone: “Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just that I think you’re incredibly lucky. Ever since your debut, everything has gone smoothly for you. I’d love to learn your secret…”
We were all cunning foxes here; no need to play Liaozhai tales with me. He thought I was being supported and wanted to subtly throw shade—or even send me a subliminal message?

(NT: Liaozhai Zhiyi (聊斋志异) is a famous collection of classical Chinese short stories written by Pu Songling during the Qing dynasty. These stories are supernatural, featuring ghosts, fox spirits, and demons)
I smiled broadly and replied: “Destiny is written by the heavens, luck belongs to each person, and happiness must be earned. I suggest you burn some incense at Nanpu Temple; they say it works wonders.”
The minor actor opened his mouth: “…Really? Haha, I’ll go then. One more glass!”
I was about to clink glasses when Gu Yiliang, suddenly expressionless, spoke: “Sit down and eat with us.”

 

619.
I didn’t understand what he meant. To my astonishment, the minor actor, delighted, immediately sat in the empty seat next to him and smiled charmingly: “Thank you, senior!”
Excuse me? We debuted at the same time, and I’m just “Yan-ge,” while he’s already a “senior”?!
And Gu Yiliang actually nodded along?!
Hello?! Your official partner is sitting right next to you, and you’re already recruiting a little concubine?
Very traditional, indeed!
You handle “NTR” face-to-face really well, huh? I swear I could hear Stephanie Sun’s Green Light playing in my head…
(NT: NTR stands for Netorare, a japanese term used in mangas and animes. It refers to a scenario where a character’s romantic partner is seduced or emotionally taken by someone else)

(NT: Stephanie Sun (孙燕姿, Sun Yanzi) is a Singaporean singer-songwriter)

I watched Gu Yiliang and the minor actor clink glasses, a strange bitterness in my heart. I felt greener than Louis Koo.

 

620.
Gu Yiliang stopped mid-toast. “Has no one ever told you that when toasting with a senior, you should hold your glass lower than theirs?”
The minor actor froze. “Huh?”
Gu Yiliang: “Eat.”
The minor actor, a little lost, hastily set down his glass and reached for the food, hesitating on which dish to choose.
I found that a bit odd. Was there really any need to hesitate?
Gu Yiliang continued coldly: “Has no one ever told you that when you take a dish, you shouldn’t wave your chopsticks around before deciding?”
The minor actor stuck out his tongue, quickly grabbed a portion of celery, and placed it in Gu Yiliang’s bowl. He smiled shyly: “I didn’t know what senior liked…”
I raised an eyebrow, chuckling inwardly. Well, he had just given him his least favourite vegetable.
Gu Yiliang: “Has no one ever told you that when serving someone, you should use the serving chopsticks?”
The minor actor froze again and, slightly embarrassed, apologized: “…Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
He then stabbed his chopsticks into his rice bowl before reaching for the serving chopsticks.
I couldn’t watch anymore.

 

621.
Gu Yiliang removed the chopsticks stuck in the rice and placed them down sharply on the table. “Has no one ever told you not to stick your chopsticks upright in the rice during a meal?”
Minor actor: “…”
Gu Yiliang: “If you don’t know how to eat properly, don’t come eat out. Learn the basics at home first.”
Wow… With that tone, it was like saying, ‘Don’t climb a mountain that isn’t yours.’
I watched, impassively, as the minor actor stood stiff as a board and silently left the table. Then I returned my attention to Gu Yiliang. “You…”
And in a second, he was back to the drunk little kitten, giving me a pleading look: “Just a little… Just a little more…”
Me: “…”
I opened my phone and sent a message to Xiao Chen: Get a taxi immediately and find a One More Drink that’s still open.
I needed to pamper him properly!

 

622.
Gu Yiliang nibbled on the straw of his bubble tea, eyes half-closed, gazing at me lazily.
I started to melt under his gaze. Thinking back to his dominant attitude earlier, I murmured softly: “Why were you so harsh with him? You basically insulted him by saying he had no manners… Aren’t you afraid he’ll badmouth you afterward?”
He asked: “Who?”
Me: “…The eighth-tier minor actor.”
Him: “Eighth-tier?”
Me: “…Yeah.”
Him: “So he has five tiers more than a third-tier actor?”
Me: “…”
Him: “And six more than a second-tier?”
Me: “…”
Me: “Stop. You’re done drinking.”
Him: “Just a little, just—”
Me: “NO!”

 

623.
I’m going to die.

 

Translator : DarNan