IOLYF Chapter 13

Mo Ming gently stroked Han Shao Zhou’s dark, sharp eyebrows, as if soothing a restless large dog.

“Don’t do this again, Gege. If we get caught, it won’t look good,” Mo Ming murmured, his tone seemingly complaining, but his touch was exceptionally gentle. Han Shao Zhou, eyes half-closed, grabbed Mo Ming’s hand and pressed it against his face.

Without much thought, Han Shao Zhou chuckled, “What bad influence? Are you the one who can’t be seen, or is it me?”

Mo Ming wasn’t sure if this man genuinely didn’t understand or was just pretending. He let out a soft sigh internally. This man was becoming more and more presumptuous… He didn’t used to be this annoying.

Mo Ming tiptoed up and kissed Han Shao Zhou on the cheek again, speaking softly, “I’ll pack up quickly and leave with you, Gege.”

“If you go out now, isn’t it more likely your colleagues will see you?” Han Shao Zhou’s eyes lingered on Mo Ming’s rosy lips, and he laughed quietly, “Why don’t we just stay here, and I’ll keep kissing you until everyone leaves?”

In this cramped space, their breaths entwined tightly. Instead of feeling pressured by the possibility of being discovered, Han Shao Zhou found it thrilling.

In truth, he wanted to talk about what he saw earlier on set, perhaps make a few remarks or compliments, but now, facing Mo Ming, he felt that no words could express himself as directly as a kiss.

“Gege, don’t make it hard on my assistant. He’s more nervous outside than I am right now,” Mo Ming smiled and lightly bit Han Shao Zhou’s Adam’s apple, his hands wrapped around his neck as he whispered close to his ear, “The bathtub at home is ready. Let’s go back quickly, okay?”

All the blood in Han Shao Zhou’s body rushed to his head. Adam’s apple bobbed as he replied hoarsely, “Okay.”

“Then wait for me here for a bit while I pack up quickly.” After a pause, Mo Ming gently added, “Don’t make any noise, or we’ll both become the set’s laughingstock tomorrow.”

Right now, all Han Shao Zhou could think about was the bathtub. He nodded instinctively, “Okay.”

Mo Ming quickly changed clothes and quietly slipped out, only partially parting the curtain.

Xiao Song, still looking bewildered, glanced at Mo Ming, then at the curtain behind him, his mind full of questions.

“Make sure no one notices,” Mo Ming whispered to Xiao Song.

Xiao Song nodded vigorously, then sat resolutely on a stool in front of the curtain, as if guarding not just the flimsy door but Mo Ming’s integrity.

Behind the curtain, laughter and chatter echoed. Han Shao Zhou stared at the drab gray fabric in front of him, then glanced up at the bare ceiling, suddenly feeling like some sneaky adulterer.

The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Was he really here sneaking around like a thief? Wasn’t he Han Shao Zhou? Was there any need to be so sneaky?

With that thought, Han Shao Zhou felt a sudden urge to pull back the curtain and walk out. But just as quickly, he realized how ridiculous it would be to make an entrance like that. If he wanted to appear in front of Mo Ming’s colleagues, it certainly shouldn’t be by emerging from this shabby little cubicle—it would make him look stupid and weird.

Han Shao Zhou leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring at the crude gray curtain. His mind drifted back to the bathtub at home, and the thought of the fun he’d have with Mo Ming later that night helped him regain a bit of composure.

“See you tomorrow, Mo Ming…”

After the last colleague said goodbye, Xiao Song quickly got up and locked the door, finally feeling relieved. Just as he was about to ask Mo Ming who the man hidden in the changing room was, the curtain was pulled back, and Han Shao Zhou walked out, looking a bit grim.

Xiao Song stared at Han Shao Zhou’s sharp, cold face, finding it oddly familiar but unable to place it.

“You, go stand watch outside,” Han Shao Zhou ordered.

Xiao Song was stunned, “Huh? Oh… okay…”

Seeing Mo Ming say nothing, Xiao Song opened the door and stepped out. As he gently closed it behind him, he caught a glimpse of the man pinning Mo Ming against a makeup table, kissing him passionately. His hand pressed firmly on Mo Ming’s slender, supple waist with an intensity that seemed to want to meld them together, while Mo Ming clung to the man’s neck, eyes closed in surrender.

Xiao Song blushed and hurriedly closed the door. He had been Mo Ming’s assistant for a year, accustomed to his gentle and quiet demeanor, but had never seen him so passionate and unrestrained.

As he calmed down, Xiao Song’s mind raced. He seriously analyzed the situation… That man was clearly an outsider, close to Mo Ming, and they had probably been together for a while. Yet Mo Ming had kept this relationship a secret from everyone, even his closest assistant, which seemed…

If Mo Ming were a top-tier star, hiding his relationship to avoid a scandal would make sense. But with no ambition in the entertainment industry, living so casually and still being this secretive, there could only be one reason.

Mo Ming and that man’s relationship wasn’t proper…

The more Xiao Song thought about it, the more alarmed he became. He remembered the man’s high-end tailored suit, the mechanical watch on his wrist, likely a million-dollar Patek Philippe… Rather than suspecting Mo Ming of being a kept man, Xiao Song preferred to believe that Mo Ming was naturally low-key, which is why even his love life was underground.

“Are you angry?” Mo Ming asked, noticing Han Shao Zhou’s silent lips. He reached out and tapped them lightly. “Are you really mad?”

“After you hid me in there like some secret lover for so long, what do you think?” Han Shao Zhou grumbled but couldn’t resist nibbling on Mo Ming’s fingertip. “Do you know what I was thinking in there?”

Mo Ming pursed his lips and looked down, his fingers toying with Han Shao Zhou’s tie. “Were you thinking about the bathtub at home?”

“…Just you wait.” Right now, saying anything more would be a waste of time. Han Shao Zhou’s breath was hot and heavy. “Just wait till we get home and see how I deal with you.”

Mo Ming wasn’t afraid, smiling gently at Han Shao Zhou like a lazy, obedient cat.

Most of the actors had left the set, and the remaining staff were cleaning up. Liu Hekun was still with the assistant director, reviewing the footage from the evening’s shoot over and over.

Out of courtesy, Han Shao Zhou went to say goodbye to Liu Hekun before leaving. Mo Ming left the set first.

Having followed quietly the whole time, Xiao Song finally saw a chance to catch Mo Ming alone. But as Mo Ming’s assistant, it wasn’t really his place to pry into Mo Ming’s private life, so he cautiously asked, “Mo Ge, what’s that gentleman’s name?”

“His surname is Han. You don’t need to worry too much about him.”

Xiao Song recalled the name “Z Ge” from Mo Ming’s phone, and instinctively said, “Han? I thought it was Zhou or Zheng.”

Mo Ming didn’t respond. The night wind tousled his hair, momentarily obscuring his dark eyes.

“Mo Ge, are you… are you dating someone?” Xiao Song couldn’t hold back his curiosity.

“Dating?”

“Yeah, with that Mr. Han.”

Mo Ming furrowed his brow slightly, seriously considering it for a moment, then nodded softly, “Yes, we’re dating.”

That kind of vague, illusory emotional solace—almost like a love spanning time and space. He was genuinely addicted to that illusion, sometimes lost in it, sometimes sober…

Seeing Mo Ming acknowledge it without hesitation, Xiao Song relaxed and laughed, “Mo Ge, you’ve kept this so tight. I had no idea! But I have to say, Mr. Han is the perfect tall, rich, and handsome guy. Even though he seemed a bit… earlier, that’s just because Mo Ge is so charming.”

Mo Ming smiled at Xiao Song’s words. “He is quite good.”

Xiao Song, in high spirits, added, “Mr. Han must love you very much, Mo Ge…”

“Very much.”

“Then you must also love Mr. Han a lot, right?”

“Yes,” Mo Ming’s gentle voice was as light as the evening breeze, “I love him very much.”

Xiao Song felt more at ease now and asked curiously, “So, will you and Mr. Han go public, or will you keep it underground?”

“No, I won’t make it public… Just like this, it’s fine.”

Xiao Song nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, it’s safer for an artist to keep their relationship low-key.”

Mo Ming got into Han Shao Zhou’s private car, while Xiao Song drove himself back. Just as he was about to start the car, he saw Mr. Han coming out of the set and heading straight for the Maybach where Mo Ming was sitting. The streetlights cast a bright glow on his chiseled face, making Xiao Song freeze in recognition.

As he drove away, Xiao Song racked his brain, trying to place that familiar feeling.

After what seemed like forever, a thought suddenly struck him, and Xiao Song slammed on the brakes, pulling over. He quickly pulled out his phone to search for a name.

Staring at the images and news that popped up, Xiao Song felt as if a thunderclap had struck his brain.

Wasn’t this the eldest son of Shengda Group, Han Shao Zhou, who had pursued a top-tier star?

The richer and more prestigious the family, the more low-key and mysterious they were. And the Han family was the crème de la crème, a mountain shrouded in mist for the public, their wealth talked about in vague terms, too vast to grasp.

But Han Shao Zhou was an exception.

To pursue a top-tier star in the entertainment industry, he had turned himself into the darling of paparazzi and gossip columns. Even though he never officially debuted, he had countless fans. At the time, you might not know that Han Shao Zhou was the grandson of the famous Han Zhangzong, but you definitely knew he was infatuated with the top-tier star Wen Ci, pursuing him for years.

The last piece of gossip about Han Shao Zhou online was a video secretly filmed by a paparazzo, showing him dead drunk, being helped out of a nightclub by friends, slurring, “I won’t give up. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for Wen Ci to get divorced…”

After Wen Ci got married and left the industry, this noble figure faded from the public eye. But that grand love story, unparalleled in its intensity, remained etched in the internet’s memory. Though the entertainment world was never short of rich heirs chasing after stars, none could compare to Han Shao Zhou’s years of relentless pursuit of Wen Ci. Even under entertainment news articles, people still joked: “You may be rich, but you’ll never be as rich as the Han family. You may be devoted, but you’ll never be as devoted as Han Shao Zhou.”

Xiao Song’s brain was about to shut down again. He would never have imagined that the person with his Mo Ge was this bigshot. The internet was full of rumors that Han Shao Zhou was still single, waiting for Wen Ci to come back.

Xiao Song scrolled through the old gossip about Han Shao Zhou, most of it from three years ago. He clicked on a photo from a media report—Han Shao Zhou was presenting an award to Wen Ci at a ceremony. Both dressed in black and white suits, one tall and strikingly handsome, the other refined and dignified, a sight for sore eyes…

Xiao Song’s gaze lingered on Wen Ci in the photo. The more he looked, the more he frowned. He zoomed in on Wen Ci’s face with his fingers.

A few seconds later, Xiao Song was stunned.

“Crap.”

A curse slipped out as Xiao Song felt his heart plummet… Wen Ci’s eyebrows and eyes bore a slight resemblance to Mo Ming’s.

So, if Han Shao Zhou was with Mo Ming, was it because…

…

As soon as they got back to the apartment, Han Shao Zhou couldn’t wait to start running the warm water in the bathtub. He was in an exceptionally good mood, humming a tune—”On the Little Road.”

It was a song Mo Ming liked, simple lyrics with a light melody. He had set it as his alarm and played it in the car a few times. Unintentionally, Han Shao Zhou had learned it.

Mo Ming leaned against the doorframe, his gaze tender as he watched Han Shao Zhou test the water temperature by the tub, quietly listening to that familiar tune.

Time seemed to slip back to that afternoon. The man was perched on the windowsill, a guitar in his arms, one leg propped up, his long, slender fingers strumming the strings. Sunlight bathed him, casting a warm, almost ethereal glow.

“Does it sound good…” he had asked, smiling as he looked up.

Lost in thought, Mo Ming’s phone beeped in his pocket—once, twice, three times… It was as if he were being bombarded with messages.

Puzzled, Mo Ming took out his phone to check and saw that Xiao Song had sent him messages.

[Xiao Song]: Mo Ge, Han Shao Zhou doesn’t really like you!

[Xiao Song]: He’s with you because you look like his first love, Wen Ci!

[Xiao Song]: It’s fake! All of it! He truly loves Wen Ci!

[Xiao Song]: He sees you as a stand-in, a substitute for Wen Ci!

[Xiao Song]: You can talk about anything, just don’t talk about love!

[Xiao Song]: Don’t fall for him, Mo Ge, please don’t!!

Xiao Song’s messages came in like a machine gun, one after another.

Mo Ming pressed the side button of his phone until it automatically shut off.

“What’s up?” Han Shao Zhou asked, hearing the rapid-fire notifications. He turned to Mo Ming. “Did something happen?”

“Someone in the crew sent a red packet.” Mo Ming smiled and wrapped his arms around Han Shao Zhou’s neck, his voice soft like he had a cold. “I had terrible luck and didn’t get any.”

Han Shao Zhou picked him up and, without even taking off their clothes, stepped into the warm water of the bathtub.

The sunken, built-in bathtub was more than twice the size of the original. Han Shao Zhou held Mo Ming against the smooth, white edge, kissing him all over.

“If you want a red packet, I’ll send you a big one tomorrow,” Han Shao Zhou mumbled.

Mo Ming cupped Han Shao Zhou’s face with a smile. “Wait, I want to talk to you about something first…”

Han Shao Zhou’s eyes were full of frustration, and he held Mo Ming tightly, rubbing against him under the water. “What?”

“Don’t come to my set anymore. I’ll be wrapping up in a few days.” Mo Ming spoke softly, “The way you came today wasn’t great…”

Han Shao Zhou paused, frowning slightly. For a moment, he thought he detected a hint of disdain. He bit Mo Ming’s chin and squinted, “Tell me, what was wrong with it?”

“I get distracted.” Mo Ming looked at the face close to his, his fingertips gently pinching those thin lips. “I want to leave a good impression on Director Liu.”

Han Shao Zhou’s smile widened. “Just a little thing like that? Alright, I’ll wait until you wrap up.”

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