Filming intimate scenes is really difficult. You have to pour emotions into it, pay attention to the camera, and even while lips and tongues are entangled, still manage your facial expressions… On top of that, there was Yoon Nam-hyuk’s flustered mood and Director Baek’s high standards. By the time they finished that take, Qi Hui’s lips had already swollen from the kissing.

Director Baek was very satisfied. He clapped his hands. “How are our two leads feeling? Can we start shooting the argument scene now?”

It seemed fine. Yoon Nam-hyuk let out a sigh of relief. After spending more than ten minutes in this silent one-man kissing act, he was already much calmer, and even his protective gear had quieted down. Just as he was about to nod, Qi Hui, still with his eyes closed, spoke first:

“Sorry, Director, can I take a break?”

Yoon Nam-hyuk: ?

The makeup artist, who knew every subtle change in an actor’s complexion, glanced at the camera and exclaimed in surprise, “Oh my, oh my! Look, Actor Qi’s ears are red! So red!”

The director immediately understood the situation and chuckled. “OK, let’s take a break. Thank you, everyone.”

The makeup artists’ chatter inevitably leaked through the walkie-talkies, and Yoon Nam-hyuk turned bewildered eyes toward Qi Hui’s ears. Other staff began to murmur among themselves too. That was the fun of on-set “sugar moments”—a lot of things never made it into bloopers or the final cut, they were just little secrets only the staff shared.

Standing to the side, Pyo Yoon-jeong suddenly announced, “Actor Qi treated everyone to afternoon tea—there’s coffee, juice, and cheesecake. Please come and enjoy it before the cake loses its freshness.”

“Oh! Cheesecake!”

Director Baek urged too, “Everyone, go on. Don’t waste Actor Qi’s thoughtfulness.”

The staff cheered and filed out in excitement, no longer paying attention to Qi Hui and Yoon Nam-hyuk at the center of the set.

Silence returned to the filming site. Qi Hui still had his eyes closed, saying nothing. He simply pushed himself up, quietly lifting his waist and stomach away from the other’s body.

“…Why don’t I get off first, and you can rest in your trailer?” Yoon Nam-hyuk offered, starting to rise. He guessed Qi Hui wouldn’t be able to outright ask a senior colleague to leave, so it would be better if he suggested it himself.

“Could you wait a little, Sunbae? Just a moment,” Qi Hui’s response caught him off guard.

Qi Hui knelt on one knee on the backseat, taking his time to steady himself. Yoon Nam-hyuk’s eyes lingered on the redness at the tips of his ears, watching until it gradually faded. For some reason, that fading left him feeling oddly disappointed.

“…Oh… alright.”

Qi Hui gave a small smile, as if in reaction to Yoon Nam-hyuk’s delayed reply. The latter grew self-conscious.

“Are… are you okay now?”

“Sorry, Sunbae.” Suddenly, Qi Hui leaned his forehead against Yoon Nam-hyuk’s chest with a heavy sigh through his nose. “It’s clearly my own problem, yet Sunbae has to endure it with me.”

“No need to apologize,” Yoon Nam-hyuk replied, deeply embarrassed. “I already rested half the morning. The assistant director even thought I was mad at you.”

“Then we’re even,” Qi Hui said. “Mm… no, not really. This morning I also squeezed your ankle red. To make up for it, how about hot pot tonight? A friend gave me some beef meatballs.”

He said it was a gift from a friend, but in truth, he had spent a fortune hiring a chef from Chaoshan to “make a business trip” to Seoul. The chef spent an entire afternoon preparing hand-beaten beef meatballs and fish cakes—high in protein, fresh, and delicious. Yoon Nam-hyuk loved that kind of food.

As expected, Yoon Nam-hyuk’s eyes lit up at the mention of handmade beef meatballs. “Really? With sesame paste and satay sauce too?” Then, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. “How come your friend always sends food? That must be a hassle, right?”

Was it a pursuer? Who else would often do such things?

“I helped him a lot with work, so he repaid me. It’s not troublesome.” Qi Hui smiled. “As long as you like it, Sunbae. I can’t finish it all myself anyway, and I don’t have company. Out here, you’re the only one I feel close to. So thank you for sharing the ‘risk’ of gaining weight with me. If you’re not scared, I even have chopped chili sauce. Super spicy.”

“…I’m not scared,” Yoon answered, awkwardly.

Qi Hui nodded, amused. “Sunbae is really brave.”

Yoon Nam-hyuk: “…”

Somehow, the atmosphere became lighter. Although Qi Hui was still bracing himself above Yoon Nam-hyuk’s body, Yoon Nam-hyuk began to feel much more at ease. He realized Qi Hui seemed to have some kind of power, an ability to unsettle him in an instant or calm him just as quickly. With just a word or a small action, Qi Hui could tug at his emotions.

Maybe it was this power that made him agree to join this project. More than that—he had already been obsessively captivated by his junior even before filming had officially begun, otherwise that drunken incident that crossed the line would never have happened.

To explain that night, one had to go back to the day Director Baek personally brought Qi Hui to meet him.

That had been Yoon Nam-hyuk’s second time refusing the role. They say “third time’s the charm,” so to secure the contract as soon as possible, Qi Hui immediately dropped all his other work and flew from the U.S. to Korea.

In reality, Yoon Nam-hyuk looked even better in person than on screen, and much more mature than in Qi Hui’s memories. But whether it was Yoon Nam-hyuk at 18 or at 28, in Qi Hui’s heart he had always been the untouchable white moonlight, the cinnabar mole—irreplaceable.

Dressed simply in a white T-shirt and jeans, like a college student, he greeted Yoon Nam-hyuk with a faint smile and a bow. “Hello, Sunbae Yoon, I’m Qi Hui.”

Yoon Nam-hyuk’s first impression of Qi Hui was excellent. He found him handsome, clean-cut, and polite. At first glance, no one could dislike him.

They chatted briefly about the script and ran through two scenes together—smoothly and effortlessly. Despite this being their first meeting, their chemistry was unexpectedly good. Director Baek couldn’t stop grinning. Yoon Nam-hyuk himself inwardly admitted: though new, this kid was a natural talent. His only flaw was being completely raw in technique…

“You’ve really never studied acting?” Yoon Nam-hyuk asked, puzzled, turning to Director Baek. “Which company signed him? Didn’t they give him any training?”

“Ah… well…” Director Baek scratched his head awkwardly. “He’s a rookie, yes, but not the kind you’re thinking of.”

That was when Yoon Nam-hyuk learned Qi Hui had another full-time profession. Director Baek had only met him by chance and decided he was perfect for this drama, so he invited him.

So that’s why… not an industry insider. No wonder he had said he’d only be available in a month. Yoon Nam-hyuk had mistaken him for some wealthy investor’s kid pulling strings, arrogantly refusing to meet right away. He felt so embarrassed for the misunderstanding.

He was like this—though he often seemed distant and stern, his empathy ran deep. His manager used to describe him as someone with an S-face but an M-heart: a guy with a cold exterior but a conscience forged from morality and kindness. If not for the luck of having a mother running an entertainment company, he might have been chewed up and discarded by the industry from day one.

No matter what, the fact remained—Director Baek could see that Yoon Nam-hyuk was satisfied with Qi Hui as his acting partner. The script must have appealed to him too, or else with his character, he would have flatly refused long ago instead of wavering.

So, thick-skinned, Director Baek made his request: “Um… Actor Yoon, if possible, would you give this kid a few lessons in acting?”

Since acting wasn’t Qi Hui’s main profession, he didn’t need foundational training, just some tutoring tailored to the script. That was doable, maybe even interesting. Yoon Nam-hyuk had never taken on a student before.

“He’s talented, though I may not be the right teacher for him… but I’ll try,” Yoon Nam-hyuk said.

“Great, wonderful!” Director Baek rubbed his hands together excitedly.

Yoon Nam-hyuk looked toward Qi Hui. “Do you live far from me? If you do, let’s set classes in the afternoon. You choose the dates—I’m free anytime.”

He still remembered Director Baek mentioning Qi Hui couldn’t free up his schedule for a month. That likely meant Qi Hui had other work obligations. Since misunderstandings had already cost Qi Hui’s time, Yoon Nam-hyuk thought it only fair to accommodate him. He’d have his manager rearrange things or pay contract penalties if needed.

But Qi Hui smiled slightly and said, “I haven’t settled down yet. Still looking for a place.”

“Not settled? You don’t live in Seoul? You’re renting?” Yoon Nam-hyuk was momentarily stunned.

Qi Hui nodded. “Yes, I need to rent. I don’t live in Seoul—I live in New York.”

…New York? 

The U.S.?

Yoon Nam-hyuk’s mouth fell slightly open, his eyes widening almost into circles.

Qi Hui felt an itch in his heart, his brows curving as he smiled. “Mm, I heard Sunbae wanted to meet me, so I dropped everything and came right away. I just arrived yesterday.”

Yoon Nam-hyuk was speechless. He felt like a sinner—the kind of sinner who bullies people.

“How about this then?” Qi Hui tilted his head with a smile. “Can I stay at Sunbae Yoon’s place for a while? It’ll be convenient for running lines and for lessons. In exchange, I can cook three meals a day and do the cleaning. Would that be alright?”

Director Baek nearly choked on his sip of coffee, coughing so hard he almost spat it out on the spot. This man wouldn’t stay in the presidential suite of a luxury hotel, but he wants to stay at someone’s house to cook and clean?! What is this—life experience training?!

Hearing this, Yoon Nam-hyuk couldn’t make up his mind. His apartment did have two bedrooms, but he had never lived with a stranger before. The thought of it instantly filled his head with troubles.

Trouble number one: His schedule was completely irregular. When he had work, he stayed up late into the night; on off days, he often went to bed very early. Being woken up easily put him in a bad mood, and anyone who didn’t understand that might take offense, leading to conflicts.

Trouble number two: He was extremely picky about food. There were many things Yoon Nam-hyuk didn’t like to eat, and at least half the week he was on plain, boring healthy meals to maintain his physique. For someone not in the acting industry, that kind of diet would be hard to accept.

Trouble number three: He had an extreme need for silence. Yoon Nam-hyuk thought of himself as a boring man. In his free time, he only read, watched movies, or worked out. Even his mother sighed helplessly, saying: “In that kind of house, you can hear a pin drop. Even a cat would meow once or twice. Do you plan to spend your life only with dust mites?”

So, if this 22-year-old junior wanted to play video games with friends, or watch long noisy TV shows… Yoon Nam-hyuk would probably kick him out.

Sigh… But still…

Inside, Yoon Nam-hyuk struggled. The other had flown all the way from New York. Finding a comfortable and affordable apartment right away would be no easy task. If he couldn’t rent a place immediately, he’d have to stay in a hotel. But a quiet, comfortable hotel would cost a fortune, and at 22, he was probably just a recent graduate. Could he even afford it?

If he went for budget lodgings instead, the environment would surely be poor, his rest would suffer, and that would be miserable whether for work or for studying acting. Wasn’t that unfair?

Yoon Nam-hyuk’s heart softened. “…Alright.”