“What are you thinking?! Zhuang Qin, I’m seriously starting to wonder if you’ve been cursed! Did you get kicked in the head by a donkey? Out of all the roles you could’ve chosen, you had to pick a gay film?! And you didn’t even consult me! Do you have any idea how hard it was for you to reach where you are today?”
Su Min had somehow found out about Zhuang Qin signing a contract with a barely known production team, and her anger this time was beyond anything he had ever seen before. She dragged him into the company and scolded him without holding back.
“Wen-jie, calm down. I knew if I talked to you, you wouldn’t agree.”
“You knew I wouldn’t agree, so you just went ahead without asking?!?” Su Min, known for her fiery temper but sharp instincts, had been instrumental in building Zhuang Qin’s career.
Zhuang Qin apologized softly, “I know I was wrong in this, but I can’t give up on this movie. The contract is already signed, and I can’t breach it.”
“Can’t breach it?! Now you care about responsibility? What were you thinking when you turned down Ding Dong Feng? You rejected Director Qu’s film just to work on this… what is it? Cang Xin?” Su Min slammed a stack of documents on the table. Papers and a pen holder toppled onto the floor, causing a loud crash.
The heated argument between the two echoed through the corridor, leaving passersby wondering what had happened to make Wen-jie so furious.
Su Min was beyond disbelief, feeling like Zhuang Qin had lost his mind. It wasn’t that she was against doing BL-themed shows, but this low-budget film with an unknown director, plus the rumor of Zhuang Qin even investing 500,000 yuan into it, had crossed both her and the company’s line.
And from what she had gathered, this wasn’t even a BL story but something based on real-life events.
Zhuang Qin, however, remained calm. “I’m confident this film will do well, maybe even win an award.”
“If you’re hoping to win an international award, then tell me, who is this Guo Bao… Guo Baozhen? Is he famous? Is he talented? Is he better than Director Qu Chengyi? You turned down Ding Dong Feng just to work with some no-name director on a no-name film?”
“Wen-jie.” Zhuang Qin’s expression darkened, cutting her off.
“This film is not some cheap project. Not at all.” he said seriously. “You can criticize me, and the company can punish me if they want. I don’t mind. If the company loses any percentage of my pay, I’ll make up for it.”
Seeing his calm yet resolute attitude, Su Min furrowed her brows deeply.
Zhuang Qin had always been the easiest artist she managed. He was obedient, never had strong opinions, and never argued—except for that one time early in his career when she took him to a party, and he had caused a scene. But after that, there had been no trouble.
Though he wasn’t the most outgoing, he was an extremely hardworking artist, practically working year-round without rest. That’s why it was no surprise he eventually collapsed from exhaustion. Reflecting on that, she suddenly felt a pang of guilt.
She remembered one night when Zhuang Qin, exhausted from filming a variety show, sat in the car and shared his true feelings: “I entered the industry to act. I really want to be an actor. I’m willing to listen to you, even when it means going on variety shows, as long as I can keep acting.”
He was just nineteen.
“What’s this film even about? Can it be released?” Su Min asked, rubbing her temples.
“It’s a crime drama. Don’t worry, there’s no intimate scenes. There’s only some vague tension, maybe something that makes the audience wonder, but overall, it’s just hugs—no kissing, no bed scenes.”
“Really?” She finally seemed to calm down a bit. “Who else is in it? Let me see the script.”
“You’re agreeing?”
“I didn’t say that. You broke the company’s rules by accepting this role on your own. The boss isn’t happy. You’ll need to figure out how to explain this to President Shen. If you can convince him, then I’ll have no problem.”
“Got it. I’ll send you the electronic version of the script later.”
Zhuang Qin had just received the new script and was only up to the third scene, but his memory told him there were no problematic plots in it.
As for President Shen of Yue Dong Media, Zhuang Qin wasn’t too worried. Since they’d signed that agreement, President Shen obviously wanted him to work hard, but not to the extent that he’d make a fortune.
Even though Zhuang Qin was considered a top-tier idol now, earning two hundred million wasn’t an easy feat.
Xiao Lian drove his own car, taking Zhuang Qin from the company back to his home.
Since Xiao Lian was a local, he sometimes stayed at Zhuang Qin’s place to help take care of him. He was quite a dedicated assistant.
Looking through the rearview mirror, Xiao Lian couldn’t help but glance at Zhuang Qin. “Brother Zhuang, earlier when you argued with Wen-jie…”
“Do you think I was wrong?”
“No, no, it’s not that. I just think…”
“You think the movie isn’t reliable?”
“Well… a little, yeah.” Xiao Lian scratched his head. “I haven’t seen the script yet, but I trust your judgment. If you say the movie has potential, then it has potential. But as for Ding Dong Feng, you said you couldn’t take it, so I’m thinking this one might flop too…”
“Hmm?”
Xiao Lian couldn’t quite put it into words. “The title sounds a bit like Wu Dong Feng. Who’s going to watch that?”
–
When the unknown caller rang, Guo Baozhen was scouting actors at a theater.
He had two phones, and the one ringing was his old Nokia. Only work-related calls came through that number.
“Hello?” He answered, “Who’s this?”
“I’m looking for Mr. Guo, the writer of Cang Xin.”
The voice on the other end was deep, magnetic, with a slightly teasing tone. Guo thought it sounded familiar.
“Yes! That’s me, Guo Baozhen. I’m the director of Cang Xin. Are you interested in the script?” Guo wasn’t sure if this was a sponsor or an actor calling.
Qiu Ming glanced at Li Mu, who was sitting next to him, tapping his knee lightly as if giving a signal. Qiu Ming understood and responded into the phone, “Yes, director, I have a copy of the script. I’ve finished reading it. I was wondering about the rest…”
“You’ve read it?”
Guo vaguely remembered. “You’re the one I gave the script to at the film academy, right? Wearing a beige suit?”
“Yeah, that’s me. Director, your memory is impressive.”
Guo certainly remembered him. “You left quite the impression.”
Even though the film academy was full of handsome young men and beautiful women, Guo, who had seen his fair share of good looks, had been struck by Zhuang Qin’s stunning appearance that day. Yet, the person on the phone still stood out vividly in his memory.
There was something here.
“Are you interested in the role of Jiang Zhuo? If so, we can arrange a meeting. If you’re serious about the role, I’ll send you the rest of the script afterward.” Guo said eagerly. He had already locked in most of the cast, many of whom were experienced extras he’d worked with before in Hengdian. They were both skilled and affordable.
He had already secured one of the leads, and now only needed the perfect actor for Jiang Zhuo.
There was a moment of silence on the other end, as if the caller was discussing something with someone else. Then the voice came back. “Alright, director, let’s meet. You pick the place.”
“Great! How should I address you? I’ll make a note.”
“Qiu Ming.”
“I’ll send you the address right away. Is this your number? Are you available tonight?”
He still had a 50 yuan voucher expiring today, perfect timing to use it.
…
Qiu Ming drove his purple Ferrari, catching attention as he cruised down the street.
“How about the hotpot place?” Qiu Ming checked his phone and confirmed the location.
After parking in a shopping mall lot, the two walked over to the well-known restaurant.
Qiu Ming was on the phone with Guo when he spotted a young man in a black sweater waving excitedly at them from outside the restaurant. “Over here, over here!”
“Told you, he’s definitely a student. No way he isn’t.”
Li Mu didn’t say anything, his gaze following Qiu’s. He knew this young director.
“Why aren’t you moving?” Qiu Ming tugged his arm. “Not your type of place?”
It was peak season for hotpot, and the restaurant was packed, smoke and steam filling the air. For someone like Li Mu, this was indeed an unusual place to be.
Li Mu shook his head and followed Qiu inside.
Guo had reserved a small private room, knowing it would be hard to talk business in the noisy dining area.
He had expected Qiu to come alone and was surprised to see he’d brought someone along.
Just one look at Li Mu, and Guo was stunned.
It wasn’t just his attire that set him apart; his looks and physique were of the highest quality. He was the kind of person you’d immediately recognize as being from a different world.
As soon as he walked in, the entire restaurant seemed to focus on him, though he remained perfectly composed, clearly accustomed to being the center of attention.
The three squeezed into the small booth in the private room.
The seating was a bit cramped, and Li Mu’s long legs didn’t quite fit. The space was too tight, and Qiu Ming, sitting beside him, was similarly constrained.
“Have you eaten? Want some?” Guo had been eating for a while and, feeling a bit embarrassed, quickly called for the waiter to bring two clean bowls.
“Director Guo.” Qiu Ming called out, “When are you planning to start filming Cang Xin? Have you registered it yet?”
“It’s all registered. Right now, we’re preparing for the final round of auditions.” Guo stood up to serve soup for the two of them, his eyes scanning their faces.
Just by looks alone, both of them were more than qualified to be big stars. But their vibe… it felt too unusual, more like they were investors than actors.
“Auditions, huh?” Qiu Ming sounded skeptical. This director seemed like a student himself, so why was he holding auditions at a film academy?
“Of course! One of my leads is already locked in, and the contract’s signed. It’s Zhuang Qin. A lot of people are interested in working with him.” Guo couldn’t help but boast, lowering his voice in excitement. “It’s still confidential, though, so please keep it under wraps.”
“Oh, Zhuang Qin.” Qiu Ming had some impression of him. He was a currently popular young idol, and Qiu’s mom was even obsessed with his costume drama, crying every time she watched it.
Qiu was surprised that the production had actually managed to sign a real star. He was starting to question his earlier doubts about the legitimacy of the project.
“If you join my production, you’ll get to act alongside him. This role is highly coveted; we’ve had a lot of people sign up for auditions.”
Guo shamelessly embellished his story. Now that Zhuang Qin was on board, he had more confidence, and a few people had actually reached out to him, expressing interest. Although none of them were big stars, one of the most experienced actors, in his forties, was perfect for the role of a man in his thirties.
This actor had been popular in his youth but was now mostly forgotten by younger audiences.
Still, for such an important lead role, Guo couldn’t just cast anyone. The idea of holding auditions had been a last-minute decision, so he could make the process seem more professional.
Li Mu hadn’t touched his food. He had an intense case of germophobia and never ate at places like this where people shared soup. Qiu Ming, on the other hand, had a few sips of the broth, and Guo couldn’t help but burp as he ate. “If you’re interested in auditioning, just call my assistant this week.”
He handed over a business card, which had his other phone number on it. He often pretended to be his own assistant.
“This is my office number.”
“Office?” Qiu Ming eyed him doubtfully. “Director Guo, what year are you in?”
“Eh?” Guo froze for a moment, then chuckled. “I’m thirty years old. Did you think I was a student?”
“You look so young.” Qiu was genuinely surprised, staring at his face.
The young director looked nowhere near thirty. At most, he had the face of a twenty-five-year-old, with smooth, youthful skin. Qiu never expected him to be older than himself.
Qiu paid the bill, as he wasn’t the type to let others pay. After he left, Guo quickly pulled out his 50 yuan voucher and rushed back to the counter to get a refund.
It was late, and Qiu Ming took Li Mu to grab dinner at a nearby spot. They walked over.
“Bro, if you really like this movie, we could just buy the script, hire a famous director, and shoot it for you. You can watch it to your heart’s content.”
“You won’t be able to buy the script from him.” Li Mu said.
“How come? Money can buy anything. If I offer the right price, that director will be begging me to take it.”
Li Mu responded, “Have you looked him up? He used to be a journalist. A few years ago, he interviewed my grandfather.”
Li Mu’s memory was sharp, and he easily recalled these details.
“He interviewed Old Master Ji? So, he’s actually a pretty good journalist? Wait, what’s a journalist doing directing films? Isn’t that a big career shift?”
“This script is probably his passion project. He won’t sell it so easily. Sure, you could offer a lot, but it wouldn’t be worth it.” Li Mu explained.
In his view, investing in it wasn’t a bad idea. He saw talent in the screenwriter.
“I’m just trying to help since you seem interested.” Qiu Ming had asked Guo for the rest of the script earlier, but Guo hadn’t brought it with him, so they added each other on WeChat, with Guo promising to send it later.
As they walked into the mall, heading up the escalator, Qiu pointed casually. “Look over there. That’s Zhuang Qin, the guy Guo Baozhen said is the male lead.”
Li Mu looked in the direction Qiu indicated.
Qiu clicked his tongue in admiration. “I’m telling you, if I got to shoot a steamy scene with him, I’d be down for whatever ‘glass-shattering’ drama they throw at me.”
The image was an ad for a luxury watch brand that Zhuang Qin was endorsing this season. It was displayed on the LED screen outside the store, showing a pair of bright, warm, unforgettable black eyes.
