He Zhanpeng praised Jiang Lin briefly before instructing Li Qianxing and Liao Hai on the next scene. Just as he was about to send them on set, Liao Hai’s assistant approached with his phone, apologizing while pulling him away.
Seeing Liao Hai speaking quietly on the phone, He Zhanpeng didn’t seem impatient, only sighing, “It’s not easy.”
He stood up and said, “Xiao Li, take a break. I’m going to the restroom.”
Li Qianxing flipped through the script, noticing Jiang Lin still beside him. He turned, puzzled, “Don’t you want to nap in the car?”
Jiang Lin smiled, “No need. I want to observe and learn.”
He moved closer to Li Qianxing, adding, “Li-ge, may I cook for you again at lunch? Consider it thanks for your guidance last night.”
Li Qianxing was taken aback.
Jiang Lin turned to Xiao Zhu, “You don’t mind, right?”
Xiao Zhu covered her mouth, eyes wide, glancing between them, “Not at all! I can eat the crew’s boxed lunch. I can handle spicy food… Li-ge, what do you think?”
Li Qianxing looked at Jiang Lin, recalling the dishes he made last time, and nodded, “Alright, thank you.”
They agreed, and Jiang Lin asked Xiao Zhu for recipes while Li Qianxing continued reviewing the script.
A while later, He Zhanpeng returned, and Liao Hai finished his call. Li Qianxing and Liao Hai entered the set, rehearsed their positions twice, then began filming.
◆
The bartender entered the bar’s staff changing room. Feeling a presence nearby, he turned to look.
In the corner, beneath the exhaust fan, Ji Ming’an leaned against the wall, smoking.
The bartender greeted him while walking to his locker, opening it to change out of his uniform.
Ji Ming’an glanced up, mumbling a response before lowering his eyes and bringing the cigarette back to his lips.
As the bartender removed his vest and unbuttoned his shirt, he glanced back at Ji Ming’an, casually remarking, “Boss, that customer who ordered your special cocktail earlier… he’s your ex, right?”
Ji Ming’an paused mid-motion, looking up, “Is it that obvious?”
The bartender chuckled, “Pretty obvious. I’ve always wondered what the person you can’t forget looks like. Now that I’ve seen him, he doesn’t seem that special.”
Ji Ming’an stared at his back, his eyes darkening, though his voice remained neutral, “How special could he be? Everyone’s got two eyes and a mouth.”
He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly.
The bartender removed his shirt, turning to toss it in the laundry bin.
Ji Ming’an’s wandering gaze halted, his eyes narrowing slightly, “That name on your chest…”
The bartender looked down, touching the tattoo, a fleeting sadness in his eyes. But he blinked, his smile returning, “My ex’s name.”
Ji Ming’an: “You’ve split up, but you’re keeping it?”
The bartender shook out his clean shirt, putting it on, “I thought I’d remove it once I forgot him. Who knew I’d never truly forget?”
Ji Ming’an raised an eyebrow, “I’ve seen you change partners pretty often. You still can’t forget?”
The bartender sighed, “I’m just trying different people, hoping someone can help me forget him.”
He paused buttoning his shirt, suddenly turning to face Ji Ming’an directly.
Ji Ming’an met his gaze as the bartender lowered his hands, approaching with his shirt open.
Slightly shorter than Ji Ming’an, the bartender looked up at him, placing a hand over Ji Ming’an’s cigarette-holding hand. His pinky stroked Ji Ming’an’s hand lightly as his eyes curved, his lowered voice taking on a seductive tone.
“Boss, want to try with me? Maybe we can help each other forget the ones in our hearts.”
Ji Ming’an looked down at him.
They stared at each other silently as the bartender leaned in slowly.
But just before their chests could touch, Ji Ming’an raised his other hand, pressing two fingers against the bartender’s Adam’s apple and pushing firmly.
The pain in his throat forced the bartender to step back.
Ji Ming’an withdrew his hand, grasping the bartender’s wrist and removing the hand from his own, tossing it aside.
“Whether I can forget him depends solely on me, not on anyone else.”
The bartender rubbed his throat, coughing once before chuckling.
“Then… next time, can I ask out your ex? He seems a bit stiff, but I quite like his bod-”
His expression froze before he could finish.
Ji Ming’an’s eyes seemed to have absorbed all light as he looked at him.
In an instant, the bartender felt his scalp tingle, as if every hair on his body stood on end. A shiver ran through him, yet his body felt frozen, unable to move.
Ji Ming’an stared at him for several seconds, then lowered his gaze, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray atop the nearby trash can.
“Sure. I’m curious if you can even get him to agree.”
Ji Ming’an’s voice was unchanged, but he pushed the bartender away with considerable force.
The bartender stumbled back two steps.
Without looking at him, Ji Ming’an walked past him towards the door.
The camera zooms in, focusing on Ji Ming’an’s face as the bartender blurs in the background.
Ji Ming’an looks directly at the camera. Like before, his eyes are dark and intense.
◆
Even after He Zhanpeng called cut, Liao Hai could not escape the oppressive weight of Li Qianxing’s gaze.
His limbs felt heavy and stiff, his heart still racing from fear.
In his peripheral vision, he saw his assistant running over with a phone. But his gaze remained fixed on Li Qianxing, as if beyond his control, unable to look away.
The assistant passed by Li Qianxing.
Liao Hai clearly saw Li Qianxing shift his body slightly, as if avoiding contact. His glance at the assistant was like looking at something filthy.
For no apparent reason, Liao Hai suddenly shivered violently.
◇◆
For several days after, Liao Hai quietly observed Li Qianxing.
Li Qianxing was naturally aloof. Even now, influenced by his role, he rarely initiated conversation. He only sought out He Zhanpeng, Jiang Lin, and their two assistants. He typically ignored Liao Hai’s assistant entirely.
However, Liao Hai noticed multiple times that whenever Li Qianxing’s gaze passed over his assistant, his face instantly and openly flashed with contempt.
Given Li Qianxing’s status, he certainly wouldn’t concern himself with a mere assistant. So Liao Hai naturally concluded that Li Qianxing had issues with him personally.
Yet no matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn’t pinpoint when he might have offended Li Qianxing. Not knowing the reason, he couldn’t even begin to make amends.
This preoccupation affected his acting. He made several uncharacteristic mistakes, leading to repeated coaching from He Zhanpeng.
Liao Hai stared at himself in the mirror, sighing deeply. He snapped out of his reverie, washed his hands, and exited the bathroom.
Just outside, he bumped into Jiang Lin.
Liao Hai had complex feelings towards Jiang Lin, who was nearly a decade younger yet far luckier in his career.
Suppressing his chaotic thoughts, Liao Hai forced a smile and nodded at Jiang Lin, intending to walk past.
But Jiang Lin spoke, “Teacher Liao, I have something to discuss with you.”
Liao Hai looked up, surprised.
Jiang Lin’s expression was gentle, but his words were blunt. “Normally, as my senior, it wouldn’t be my place to say this. But given we’ve both spent years playing supporting roles, I feel I should warn you.”
Liao Hai frowned, “What do you mean?”
Jiang Lin met his eyes, “You might want to reconsider your approach to this role.”
Liao Hai’s pupils constricted sharply—his performance had not deviated from the script, but he had indeed been subtly portraying deeper emotions than written.
Jiang Lin did not seem to expect a response. Having said his piece, he nodded and walked away.
Liao Hai stared at Jiang Lin’s retreating figure, torn between thinking, “Is it that obvious, even Jiang Lin noticed with our limited scenes together?” and feeling indignant, “Director He hasn’t called me out, why is he butting in?”
Jiang Lin turned the corner, and immediately another voice made Liao Hai’s heart skip.
It was Li Qianxing, “How kind of you.”
Jiang Lin: “Li-ge, you haven’t left yet?”
Li Qianxing: “Why bother talking to him about this?”
Jiang Lin’s voice carries a sigh: “I just… felt a little sympathetic to my own kind, I suppose.”
Li Qianxing: “You are different.”
Those three words hit Liao Hai like a bucket of ice water.
Liao Hai was startled and walked over quickly, but seeing the two walking away, he’s at a loss for words.
Jiang Lin glanced back but did not stop, continuing alongside Li Qianxing.
“We’ve both spent years in supporting roles. I understand his eagerness to seize this opportunity, but his current approach is counterproductive. I wonder if he’ll realize it.”
Li Qianxing said in a somewhat cold voice, “If he wants to use his role to highlight the lead, it won’t hurt the film.”
Jiang Lin turned to look at him, smiling, “You don’t need highlighting.”
Li Qianxing: “Then let him highlight you.”
He turned to meet Jiang Lin’s gaze, repeating earnestly, “You’re different from him.”
Their eyes locked, and Jiang Lin felt his heart soaking in warmth, his smile widening uncontrollably.
Raine: Starting from next chapter, chapters would be scheduled with one chapter every MWF.
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