Because the night fell early, Zhuang Qin’s daily routine became more regular. He would go to bed around eight or nine and sleep until he naturally woke up. His shifu, being considerate, didn’t wake him up for morning practice.
The early darkness also brought early light, with the morning sun filtering through the curtains onto the old, dark wooden floor.
Zhuang Qin used to sleep well, his biggest worry being that he might forget his lines during the next day’s examination and get punished. As he grew older and experienced more in life, especially after that particular incident, he developed severe insomnia, making sleep a difficult task.
Even the slightest noise would startle him awake like a bird on edge.
He felt an itch on his face, so he reached out to brush it away, sensing something unusual. After a long moment, he slowly opened his eyes.
A handsome face, full of youthful vigor, was inches from his own.
“You…” He was startled.
“You’re awake?” a voice whispered in his ear.
Zhuang Qin, still groggy, mumbled, “Xiao Dao?”
The person lying on his bed was indeed his shidi, Xiao Dao.
Xiao Dao whispered, “Did I wake you? You can go back to sleep.”
Zhuang Qin, slightly uncomfortable, asked, “Why are you in my bed?”
Xiao Dao chuckled, “This is my room, shige. We used to sleep together all the time…”
Zhuang Qin’s eyes widened a bit. His shidi had truly inherited all the best features from their shifu and shiniang. His face bore traces of their youthful looks, and despite his young age, he was already showing signs of becoming a heartthrob. Perhaps due to the time spent abroad, he exuded an infectious enthusiasm.
Though Xiao Dao was still young, things couldn’t be the same as they were before.
“When did you get back?” Zhuang Qin sat up. Xiao Dao, sitting on the edge of the bed, replied, “Just now. I came in to check on you, but I didn’t expect to wake you.”
“Oh… Is school on break?”
“It’s been on break for a while. I only came back because I heard you were here.”
Zhuang Qin nodded, “This is your room. I’ll move to the one next door.”
There were two other rooms next door, belonging to their shijie.
“Don’t do that. Are you really unwilling to share a bed with me now that I’m back? We used to share everything, even a piece of candy. Shige, don’t you care about me anymore?” Xiao Dao blinked, looking pitiful.
“I care,” Zhuang Qin felt a headache coming on. Xiao Dao, being two years younger and very clingy, loved to act spoiled. Zhuang Qin had always treated his shidi well, and later, when Xiao Dao became successful and took in Zhuang Qin during a difficult time, Zhuang Qin was very grateful.
But… remembering how Xiao Dao came out later and how their shifu was so furious he ended up in the hospital, it seemed inappropriate to be so close anymore.
“Your bed is too small, and I don’t want to squeeze. There are other rooms in the house, so I’ll move over there.”
Xiao Dao looked hurt, clearly upset. After sulking for a while, he ran out. Zhuang Qin didn’t pay him much mind and went back to sleep, this time locking the door.
Xiao Dao stomped downstairs. His shifu, who was cooking, glanced at him, “Did you go see your shige?”
“I woke him up.”
“He didn’t scold you?”
“He’s moving to another room. He doesn’t want to sleep with me,” Xiao Dao complained angrily.
Shifu chuckled, “I told you not to disturb him. He’s a star now, and you’ve seen how tired he is. He’s exhausted, easily startled by even the smallest noise. You should let him rest.”
Xiao Dao sighed, thinking about all the things he’d read online, and couldn’t help but feel sorry for Zhuang Qin. He murmured, “Shige looks so tired. The way he looks at me, the way he talks, it’s all different from before. It’s like he’s carrying a heavy burden. Dad, you have no idea how chaotic the entertainment industry is… He has nothing—no background, no connections. Who knows how much he’s been bullied.”
Xiao Dao, sensitive as he was, felt deeply saddened by the look in his shige’s eyes. Growing up together, he knew Zhuang Qin’s physical condition well. They had trained hard since childhood, enduring the summer heat and winter frost, day in and day out. Despite his slender frame, Zhuang Qin’s body was like a whip—lean but strong.
How could such a body suddenly collapse?
Xiao Dao was acutely aware of any changes in his shige. Those bright, shining black eyes now seemed to hide something dark and heavy, leaving him with a sense of heartache.
“Dad, you should talk to him.”
Zhuang Xuejiu sighed, “That only works if your shige listens to me.”
The same disciple who had fought with him so fiercely to pursue acting was unlikely to heed his advice now.
He recalled the time his disciple had said, “Shifu, I can only sing and act. What else do you want me to do?”
He smiled bitterly. After a lifetime of performing Kunqu, he was now seeking refuge with his shixiong, who had had the foresight to establish a career in the U.S. If even he couldn’t make a living from it, how could he expect his disciple to do so?
With Xiao Dao back, the house was livelier than ever. Zhuang Xuejiu mentioned several times about Zhuang Qin moving to the U.S., but Zhuang Qin declined, so he didn’t bring it up again.
In the following days, Zhuang Qin returned to the ski resort but didn’t run into Li Mu again.
Two days later, the medical check-up results came in.
Shifu was fine, except for a small stone that wasn’t a big concern. Shiniang, however, had a cyst that needed to be removed.
The doctor remarked, “It’s a good thing we caught this early. If it had been any later, it would have been too late!”
Zhuang Qin’s eyes welled up with tears. He felt immensely grateful for the decision he had made. It was a relief to know he had come back… that he had been given a second chance to save Shiniang.
As they prepared for the Spring Festival, Shiniang had her surgery. Zhuang Qin overheard Xiao Lian talking on the phone, explaining to a family member why he wasn’t coming home for the New Year.
Xiao Lian said, “Dad, I told you, I’m abroad with the boss. Just a few more days… Don’t be mad, don’t scold me. I’ll bring you some gifts when I come back.”
Zhuang Qin overheard this accidentally and immediately sent Xiao Lian a New Year’s red envelope, booked him a flight home, and told him to return to China for the holiday.
The plane ticket couldn’t be refunded; it was a very expensive one. Xiao Lian, feeling guilty, wanted to change the date, but Zhuang Qin insisted he didn’t. Xiao Lian was worried that if he left, Zhuang Qin wouldn’t be able to communicate with anyone.
Zhuang Qin reassured him, “My English is fine, you saw it yourself when we arrived. Don’t worry.”
Xiao Lian remembered the time when Zhuang Qin’s English skills were so bad during a program that he was mocked by the whole internet for a week. But during these past few days in the U.S., he noticed that Zhuang Qin’s English was actually quite good—fluent, with hardly any barriers.
Could he have been secretly taking lessons?
Zhuang Qin was firm in his decision, and after much persuasion, Xiao Lian reluctantly headed home early. On his way back, he regretted his decision several times, especially worrying about Zhuang Qin and making him promise to send daily updates.
Shiniang’s surgery was successful, and the doctor advised her to rest and follow some dietary restrictions.
“Shiniang, it’s too cold here. Why don’t you come back to China with me?” Zhuang Qin tried to persuade her.
Shiniang sighed, “Xiao Lingdang, your shifu and I made the decision to come here after a lot of thought. We’ve settled down now, and at my age, I don’t want to move around. Once I’m feeling better, I’ll come visit you and stay for a few months.”
Unable to convince her otherwise, Zhuang Qin stayed a few extra days. But he couldn’t stay indefinitely; there were contracts and commitments waiting for him back in China that couldn’t be delayed any longer.
The company higher-ups were unhappy with him, planning to withdraw their support, but they couldn’t break the contracts that had already been signed.
Breaking the contracts would require paying a penalty.
His schedule for the next six months had already been planned. He needed to rush back to shoot a magazine cover, and Wen Jie was frantically calling him, saying she had booked a ticket for him and urging him to return immediately.
After a heavy snowstorm, Zhuang Qin didn’t let his shifu drive him to the airport.
To return to China from the Twin Cities, he had to transfer flights.
Zhuang Qin packed his things, including the script for “Cang Xin,” intending to read it on the plane.
However, while waiting in line to check in, he received a text message on his phone, notifying him of a flight delay.
It was due to the snowstorm. The airport broadcasted countless announcements that all flights departing from St. Paul Airport were delayed due to the weather.
Zhuang Qin called Wen Jie back, “Wen Jie, the airline is arranging for me to stay at a nearby hotel. It seems there’s no way the flight will take off today.”
He waited in the airport lounge for three hours before someone came to inform him that since the flight couldn’t depart today, the airline had arranged for him to stay at a nearby five-star hotel, with all expenses covered.
Wen Jie, frustrated, asked, “When will you be able to fly? I can’t delay the ‘Fashion Monster’ shoot any longer!”
“The snowstorm is really bad,” Zhuang Qin said, opening the car window slightly and holding his phone towards it. The howling wind could be heard on the other end. “Even cars can’t move.”
“Can’t you fly from another city?” Wen Jie asked after receiving a short video from him showing the snowstorm. It looked like the end of the world.
“Driving isn’t an option—the snow is too heavy.” He closed the window and put his hands in his pockets. It was freezing outside, and there was no telling when the flights would resume. Zhuang Qin couldn’t return to his shifu’s house, just in case the airline suddenly announced a confirmed departure time.
Wen Jie could only remind him, “I’ll talk to the magazine. You stay safe and don’t wander around the hotel.”
With his luggage checked in, Zhuang Qin had nothing but a backpack. As usual, he wore a hat and mask, keeping a low profile as he checked into the hotel alone.
The hotel was about three kilometers from the airport and was already crowded. Everyone was arguing, while the TV in the lobby showed footage of various accidents caused by the snowstorm. It was clear that this storm was powerful and would likely last several days.
After checking in, Zhuang Qin lay down on the large bed in his warm room.
The hotel, despite being a well-established five-star, had poor soundproofing. He could hear car horns outside and a child crying in the room next door. He dozed off for a few hours but was abruptly awakened by his phone ringing in the middle of the night.
He threw on a coat, grabbed a packet of biscuits from the minibar, and headed downstairs while munching on them.
It was already past midnight, but the hotel was still bustling with people dragging suitcases in and out. The floor was wet from snow, and the guests were anxiously asking if there were any rooms available, only to be told that the hotel was fully booked.
The hotel restaurant was closed, and Zhuang Qin, feeling hungry, was told by the friendly front desk staff, “Sir, you can go to the bar; they still have snacks available.”
Following the directions, Zhuang Qin entered the hotel bar. Perhaps due to the weather, there were still people inside, gathered in small groups chatting. He chose a seat by the fireplace, showed his room card, and ordered a burger, fries, fried chicken, and a drink from the menu.
Unexpectedly, the drink, which he assumed was a cocktail, didn’t have much of an alcohol taste. Instead, it was sweet with an apple fragrance.
The people next to him were speaking in a language he couldn’t understand, their chatter blending into a hypnotic background noise.
The bar’s sofa was soft, warmed by the fireplace. The flickering flames created a cozy, drowsy atmosphere.
At one in the morning, Li Mu was awakened by noise from the room next door. He called to complain, and shortly after, a hotel staff member came up to apologize and asked the guests next door to keep it down.
But Li Mu couldn’t fall back asleep. He changed into a sweater and went downstairs to the bar.
He wasn’t a morning person and was visibly displeased when woken up for no reason, his whole demeanor radiating coldness.
Sitting alone at the bar, Li Mu overheard two servers talking.
“That guest seems to have fallen asleep.”
“Which room is he in?”
“Should we wake him up?”
Li Mu glanced over and saw a familiar Asian face slumped in an armchair by the fireplace, head tilted and fast asleep, his face flushed from the warmth of the fire.
Li Mu thought to himself, He’s not just asleep; he’s drunk.
────୨ৎ────
Be my Patron ~ Buy me Ko-Fi
────୨ৎ────
✨Be a part of the story – support my translations✨
✨Buy me some Ko-FI | Paypal to support my effort✨
✨✨Advance chapter at Patreon✨✨
