AYF CH21
Chapter 21: Home
The filming for the Mute Youth’s scenes was largely complete, so Shen Xici’s shooting schedule wasn’t as packed. He didn’t have to report to the set for three days straight.
He indulged in spending one full day researching the script and rehearsing with his ‘tool person,’ Sheng Shaoyan. The next day, Shen Xici simply slept until noon, a complete lapse into laziness. In the afternoon, his activities included, but were not limited to: watching financial news with Sheng Shaoyan, watering the bougainvillea on the balcony, staring blankly at the distant mountains, tidying the room, watching Sheng Shaoyan trade stocks, and even watching a few unfunny comedy shows with a poker face.
This gave him the same sense of displacement that comes after getting used to a rhythm of nine classes a day plus two evening study sessions, only to suddenly get a vacation—a feeling of not knowing what to do.
Small buildings lined the narrow street. Under the awning stretched over a fruit stall, the hanging tungsten filament bulb swayed in the wind, and the light and shadow danced with it.
The person standing in front of the stall wore a black shirt. When he bent over, the lines of his tight waist and abdomen were clearly visible. The metal zipper on his trousers reflected a sliver of light. He picked up a bunch of unknown fruit and put it into a clear plastic bag. The sparse neon lights around gave the scene a damp, textured look.
The old woman was watching a soap opera about “you love me, I don’t love you,” and casually scooped a handful of dried fruit into the plastic bag. The wrinkles around her eyes crinkled with a smile: “Handsome boy, A’Di didn’t come with you today?”
The old woman’s local dialect was slurred, but Sheng Shaoyan could mostly understand it: “He was tired from work, so he’s resting at home.”
Looking at the number displayed on the peeling electronic scale, Sheng Shaoyan quietly paid a little extra.
Hearing that Shen Xici was resting, the old woman immediately praised him with a delighted smile: “A’Di has good fortune, too, finding a partner who is handsome and takes care of him!”
Good fortune? In the past, he hadn’t treated Shen Xici well at all.
Sheng Shaoyan recalled what Shen Xici had said on the motorcycle: his father was an alcoholic and abusive, and his mother sounded completely indifferent to him. He had relied entirely on himself to get out of the mountains, only to run into someone like him, who was not worth entrusting feelings to.
The pre-amnesia version of himself must have had some feelings for Shen Xici, otherwise he wouldn’t have been with him, but compared to the tangible profits he could gain, those feelings were like fine ash that would dissipate even without a breeze.
Walking a few steps with a bag of fruit, Sheng Shaoyan stopped and asked, “Grandma, is there anywhere nearby that’s good for a change of scenery? He hasn’t been in a very good mood these past two days.”
The old woman immediately lost interest in the soap opera: “Good for a change of scenery?” She excitedly recommended, “You outsiders don’t know, but the March Third festival is coming soon—the Yage Festival of the Ling ethnic group. It’s like that Valentine’s Day you young people like to celebrate!”
Sheng Shaoyan’s brow moved: “Valentine’s Day?”
“Yes, that big village of the Ling people downstream, southeast of the county—there are a lot of activities going on recently! Throwing embroidered balls, giving flowers, and couples even sing back and forth at the song meeting, exchanging meaningful glances! It’s perfect for young couples like you to go join the fun!”
Opening the door to the rental apartment, the cross-breeze blowing in from the balcony hit his face. Seeing Shen Xici sitting by the window in a wooden chair, reading his script, Sheng Shaoyan asked him, “Do you want to go out tomorrow? The old woman downstairs said the minority village here is celebrating a festival, and we could go see it.”
Seeing Shen Xici turn his head, looking a little surprised, Sheng Shaoyan added: “We haven’t really gone out to play together before.”
He didn’t need to think to know the number of dates was very small, quite possibly close to zero.
“Tomorrow? Sure, I don’t know what to do tomorrow anyway.”
Counting the days, Sheng Shaoyan probably only had less than ten days left in this small county. Shen Xici felt a little regretful.
Given the severity of Sheng Shaoyan’s paranoia, once he recovered his memory, he would definitely categorize Shen Xici as a high-risk individual. After all, there was no way to explain his actions and remove all suspicion.
So, the time he could spend as a friend with Sheng Shaoyan was probably limited to these few days.
Shen Xici’s mood brightened slightly with a change of thought. At least Sheng Shaoyan was still standing here, safe from attack and not fighting for his life in an emergency room.
It was just a matter of not being friends anymore. This was a price he could accept.
An old movie was playing on the TV. Shen Xici used the dialogue as background noise, lazily leaned back on the sofa, and checked his phone to see how far away the village was.
“First thing tomorrow morning, we need to get gas for the motorcycle. The tank is almost empty.”
Seeing Shen Xici zoom out the map with two fingers, Sheng Shaoyan looked at the winding mountain road and wondered, “Can our motorcycle handle it?”
“If you say that, the motorcycle will be sad. It diligently carries us around every day, trying its best not to fall apart. Trust it; a village is not a problem.”
Sheng Shaoyan was silent for a moment: “Okay, I trust you.”
The navigation app was suddenly covered by an incoming call interface, displaying the name “Director Wan Shan.” Shen Xici immediately had a bad feeling.
Half an hour later, the post-apocalyptic-style motorcycle sped through most of the county and stopped in front of a small building.
This was the county’s best hotel, which the crew had completely booked. Director Wan and the main actors stayed inside, while other staff mostly lived in rented houses on the adjacent street, making a large area the crew’s temporary base.
Holding his script, Shen Xici got off the motorcycle: “A’shao, you should go back first. I’m not sure how late tonight will go.”
Shen Xici was very experienced with the sudden bursts of inspiration Director Wan would get before sleeping, pulling in the screenwriter and actors in the middle of the night to revise the script. It could be finished in an hour or two, or they could pull an all-nighter and head straight to the set at dawn, the main goal being to seize every minute.
Sheng Shaoyan’s feet touched the rough ground, riding a dilapidated motorcycle with poster-worthy aesthetics. He reached out and smoothed the hair on Shen Xici’s forehead that was messed up by the wind, his movements natural: “Call me when you’re ready to go home. I’ll come pick you up.”
The hotel sign relentlessly flashed neon lights, casting layers of different colors on Sheng Shaoyan’s face. When his eyes focused on someone, it created the illusion of tenderness and deep affection.
Shen Xici sighed inwardly. A man who looks like this definitely makes people obsessed: “Okay, I’m going up then. Be careful riding.”
Taking a step back, Shen Xici then regretted: “A’shao, we probably can’t go to that village tomorrow. I’ll likely be up all night. I’m not sure if my scenes will be filmed tomorrow or if the call sheet will be changed.”
Seeing his disappointment, Sheng Shaoyan comforted him: “It’s fine. We can go next time we have a chance.”
Shen Xici thought, perhaps, there won’t be another chance.
Even the best hotel in this small county near the border was quite ordinary. The walls were all painted white, but many local traditional paintings and woven crafts were hung up, adding a unique touch. Shen Xici walked and looked, planning to buy two as souvenirs before leaving Sui County.
Checking the room number Director Wan had sent on his phone, Shen Xici knocked. The director’s assistant opened the door. Stepping inside, good heavens, the director, the assistant director, the assistant, and three on-set screenwriters. The not-so-large room was packed. The table was covered with instant coffee cans and cigarette butts, along with messy drafts covered in illegible sentences and very stream-of-consciousness storyboard designs.
Before Shen Xici could even sit down, Director Wan called his name: “You’re here? The script on the table, the scene we just wrote. Give us a rough performance to see if the feeling is right.”
Putting down his things, Shen Xici picked up the paper, read it carefully, and asked, “Director, where will the camera and lighting be placed?”
He was thankful he had the foresight to tell Sheng Shaoyan to go back and sleep first. Given this situation, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to leave before daybreak.
A little past four in the morning, Cheng Ningyu appeared in her live stream.
She fixed her phone on the table and greeted the camera: “Good morning, everyone. I’m currently at the crew’s hotel, getting ready to take a car to the airport. Since the nearest airport is so far away, I have to get up at this time to leave.”
The number of comments wasn’t as dense as during the day, but there were still quite a few.
“—Is this the perk of staying up late! Ningyu-jie, look at me! Goddess hug~”
“—Is Ningyu-jie still with Jiajia? I heard it’s close to the primeval forest. I feel bad for Jiajia. The crew’s conditions are really tough.”
“—Oh my god, Ningyu-jie looks so good even without makeup! Please share your beauty routine! Am I the only one getting old in this world…”
Cheng Ningyu, wearing a mask, pulled her suitcase and walked out with her selfie stick, answering the comments in a low voice: “Yes, I’ve been with Jiajia for three days here. While the crew’s conditions are a bit tough, it’s all worth it to make a good film. When the movie is released, please support it.”
Closing the room door, the wheels of the suitcase made no sound on the carpet. Cheng Ningyu used the camera as a mirror: “I’m wearing a mask, covering half my face. Can you all still recognize me? Everyone should stay up less; it’s bad for your health. Jiajia? Jiajia originally wanted to wake up and see me off, but if he didn’t sleep well, it would definitely affect his filming state the next day, so I lied to Jiajia and said my flight was at noon. He’s still as easily fooled as when he was little, isn’t he?”
Just as she was speaking, Cheng Ningyu suddenly saw a young man in a white long-sleeved hoodie walk out from around the corner in the full-length mirror standing in the hallway. He was holding something in his hand.
It was that newcomer named Shen Xici.
Why was he here?
As Cheng Ningyu slowed down, she subtly adjusted the camera angle to bring Shen Xici into the frame without making it seem deliberate.
She had a strong impression of Shen Xici.
One was the astonishing acting she saw on set, a level that did not seem to belong to a newcomer. The other was that Ye Mei had complained on the phone yesterday that Cui Yunwei was watching her like a hawk and opposing her in everything. Ye Mei had also heard that Cui Yunwei wanted to sign Shen Xici specifically to target her and Xu Lingjia.
Initially, Cheng Ningyu didn’t take this newcomer named Shen Xici seriously. She had been in the entertainment industry for so many years and had seen too many people make a small splash in this sea only to quickly disappear without a trace.
She thought Ye Mei was overthinking it. What could a newcomer who hadn’t even signed with a company, with no background or resources, use to compete with Jiajia?
But Ye Mei was a bit worried, saying this newcomer had very good luck, initially gaining popularity on Weibo because of a set of photos taken by a bird-watching grandad.
People in the industry are somewhat sensitive to talk about luck, and she was no exception. Sometimes, these things were indeed inexplicable, otherwise, every crew wouldn’t light incense and bow before shooting began to pray for smooth filming.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Shen Xici, at the other end of the hallway, stopped in front of a door. Cheng Ningyu recalled that if she wasn’t mistaken, the person staying in that room should be the female lead, Wen Yage?
This was getting interesting.
Confirming the recording was on, Cheng Ningyu, wearing a Bluetooth headset, whispered: “Babies, wait a moment. Let me check if my ID is in my bag. I’m always uneasy if I don’t double-check.”
The comments were all laughing, saying that everyone was the same, always checking their ID four, five, or six times before leaving the house to feel secure, calling it Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
Off-camera, Cheng Ningyu didn’t actually rummage through her bag. She maintained the camera’s shooting angle and, feeling she had recorded enough, returned to the frame, smiling: “My ID is here! I’m moving on now. The car should be waiting for me downstairs.”
The ashtray was full of cigarette butts. Shen Xici returned to Director Wan’s room and was choked by the smell, almost suffocating, so he quickly opened the window for ventilation.
Another half hour passed. Director Wan took off his reading glasses: “I’m getting old. I used to pull an all-nighter without a problem, but now I’m dizzy and can’t handle it anymore. Is anyone hungry? Let’s go downstairs and have a bowl of noodles to perk up.”
Shen Xici silently thought: No need to be modest. Not only did you pull an all-nighter, but you even have the energy to go downstairs for noodles!
He had zero appetite right now. The words “I want to sleep” were the only things bouncing around in his head.
The assistant director and the main screenwriter were all strong all-nighters and eagerly agreed. Director Wan Shan looked at Shen Xici, who hadn’t said a word: “The screenwriters revised the script all night, and you followed along acting all night, all of it with imaginary objects, eye acting, and expression work. You’ve worked hard. I’ll have someone clear a room for you. Why don’t you go sleep for a while?”
The more he looked at Shen Xici, the more he admired him. What director wouldn’t love an actor who could completely embody a role that has been pondered and revised countless times?
Shen Xici could give him the most satisfying performance with almost no need for him to break it down, explain, demonstrate, or correct.
Shen Xici stifled a yawn: “Thank you, Director, but my place isn’t far from here. I’ll just go back.” He carefully asked, “I don’t have scenes today, right? The call sheet won’t change, right?”
Director Wan Shan was amused by his appearance: “Go back and sleep peacefully. We’ll push back the scene we changed for you!”
The dimples at the corners of Shen Xici’s mouth deepened: “Director, you are brilliant!”
Going downstairs, a ray of light had already appeared in the sky. Shen Xici stood by the sparsely lit narrow street, looking around to see if he could find a taxi.
The sound of tires crushing road grit approached.
“Shen Xici.”
Shen Xici thought he was hallucinating from staying up too late, until a black jacket was draped over his shoulders, and the familiar scent of laundry detergent wafted around his nose.
Looking at the person half a head taller than him, Shen Xici slowly processed what was happening: “You didn’t go back?”
“No. Get on. Let’s go home.”
The morning wind was cool. After giving Shen Xici his jacket, Sheng Shaoyan was only wearing a black long-sleeved shirt. His shoulders and back completely filled out the shirt. Holding the handlebars, he turned his head to look at Shen Xici. His features—brow, eyes, and nose—were sharply defined, showing no sign of fatigue. The deep blue in his eyes seemed to be conveying something.
The person on the bike suddenly leaned in and asked, “What are you spacing out for? Aren’t you getting on?”
The stray hair on his forehead, his warm breath, and even the heat from his body suddenly came extremely close.
“…Okay.”
Shen Xici was indeed stunned for a moment, feeling that the dim streets before dawn suddenly became brilliant because of this person’s appearance, and even the pale, cold moon in the sky gained a hint of warmth.
Settling onto the back seat and wrapped in the jacket, completely protected from the morning breeze, Shen Xici slowly, slowly, rested his forehead against Sheng Shaoyan’s back.
He felt a bit lost.
Being this good to him will only make it harder for me to let go.
But in the end, I still have to leave.
Shen Xici was already sleepy when he got off the motorcycle. Sheng Shaoyan had to pull him by the wrist up the stairs. The moment he entered the bedroom, he practically collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep shortly after.
Sheng Shaoyan closed the bedroom window, blocking out the noise from outside. He glanced at the person bundled up in the quilt and quietly closed the bedroom door.
He had only dozed briefly on the motorcycle but wasn’t tired or sleepy. Tearing open a random bread to fill his stomach, Sheng Shaoyan found the new behind-the-scenes footage of Shen Xici released by the crew. After watching it, he studied different editing directions and decided to cut a narcissism-themed video.
The pure-hearted Son of the Mountain God falls in love with the sinister Young Priest.
He searched everywhere for suitable background music, auditioned them, and repeatedly tried different editing rhythms and camera compositions. It wasn’t until the sunlight began to stream through the gap in the curtains that he realized it was already ten o’clock.
At the same time, on Weibo, Cheng Ningyu posted a recorded segment of her live stream, documenting her journey to the airport starting at a little past four in the morning.
Initially, the fans were all praising her beauty, her figure, and her good condition, asking about Jiajia’s hotel, his filming, and whether he was being mistreated.
Slowly, other comments began to appear in the comment section.
“—Behind Ningyu-jie, down the hallway, isn’t that the newcomer named Shen Xici? The picture quality is a bit blurry, but that face is so handsome and recognizable! Wow, does this count as spotting an accidental appearance together?”
“—This is the hotel the crew is staying at, right? That’s strange. At four or five in the morning, was Shen Xici just returning from outside?”
“—Are there any fellow ‘Song Fairies’ (Wen Yage fans) who can help me check? There’s a potted plant at the door with three small lanterns hanging on it, half-withered and half-alive. Is that the same plant our Sister Wen waters with tea every time she returns to her room after a scene?”
“—Fellow Song Fairy. It really looks like Sister Wen’s room, but that can’t be, right? Four or five in the morning, what would he be doing in Sister Wen’s room?”
“—Is it possible he wasn’t about to go in, but had just come out of the room?”
“—I only salute the sharp eyesight of this generation’s netizens. Do your eyes have built-in microscope functions? Are we about to witness the birth of some gossip? Exciting!”